The Accidental Trad Wife

Today started like all days. Wake up, open emails, check for new vacancies. I have alerts set up to numerous job sites, for numerous job titles. So when an algorithm says my CV meets the requirements of a role, I get an email notification of the job. Recently I’ve had ‘Head teacher’, ‘Roofer’ and ‘Dubai based executive assistant’ suggested as being ‘excellent fits’ for me. 

Isn’t AI great? 

My scepticism of AI is growing daily. Me, and the other 1.81 million people job searching in the UK, might genuinely be competing with software. I got that stat from an LLM, not because I wanted to, but because it’s the first result on Google. What a positive sign for our future that search engines now seem to prioritise results that cause the most environmental impact. 

I’m a hypocrite. If I’m offered a job where I need to use LLMs and manage AI designed learning tomorrow, damn right I’d take it. 

I’ll move on from that rant. 

Last night, we ripped up our bedroom carpet to see whether there was salvageable parquet flooring beneath. A couple of weeks back, we pulled up the laminate in the hallway and found a mish-mash of parquet and concrete, but still had hope for the bedroom. Underneath the cheapest ‘Landlord special’ bedroom carpet, the parquet is intact. It needs a lot of restoration, but bringing back the 1960s charm is worth it. 

This morning we planned on being really productive, get the mass of carpet and laminate to the tip, organise all the ‘under the bed’ stuff and sort through various piles of clutter. None of this happened. We went to B&M to stock up on cleaning supplies and then went to the pub for lunch. 

Over a disappointing lunch of oven chips and microwaved nachos, another job pinged up in my emails. I asked my husband ‘How far away is Havant?’ For a hybrid role of two days a week in the office we looked at trains and it’s absolutely commutable. The role looked good, really good: double pension matching, private healthcare, 33 days holiday. I was ready to apply. I mentioned the company to my husband; he laughed, a lot. He finally explained, it was a weapons company. Against my morals, I still considered it for the rest of my glass of Sauvignon. Clarity hit me at the last sip, fuck no.