"Don't stress - it's only coffee!"

I had such high expectations when I left for Canada. I said to myself, "Yes, this is your chance to do something constructive; to use this year abroad for the betterment of your future. You'll find a job no problem - you've got a stellar work history - and once you've got some savings together, you can find an unpaid internship or work experience in The Film Industry."

Fast forward three months, and you'll be astounded to hear that hasn't happened. The savings that I thought would last me four or five months have lasted about half that, and finding a job wasn't nearly as easy as I'd thought. This was partly my own fault, since I grossly overestimated how much I had put aside at the beginning of my trip. Consequently, I spent the first couple of months partying like a first year, and now have much less than I would be comfortable with.

As for jobs, apparently I also overestimated my employability here. During one of the first few weeks, I saw a report in a newspaper of employers being pressured against hiring people with work permits. Whilst I brushed it off as hype at the time, I'm beginning to think more and more that it might be the case. The alternative, of course, is admitting to myself that I'm not a stellar employee. True as this may be, I don't think it's a revelation my ego could take right now. The result of all this is that I'm doing my absolute-last-resort job, and am back serving coffee to The Great and Powerful Public.

I'll admit, I do quite enjoy the job itself. My co-workers are lovely, and the routine of making drinks can even be relaxing at times since it requires so little brain power - as well as little direct contact with customers. But therein lies the problem: the customers. "You're in customer service!" I hear you cry, "It's in the damn name!" And you're right, so it is. Thank god you pointed it out to me. What the name doesn't include though, is the downright rude and obnoxious way that people in serving positions are treated - and I swear it's worse here than in the UK. Here there's no pretending; people don't even bother with pleasantries. The next time I hear the word 'please' instead of 'I need', I might just drop dead.

Of course, I shouldn't complain - this is a paid job, after all. And that's another problem right there: I'm not earning enough. I'll be heading out again this week to try and find a second job, but frankly I don't hold out much hope (not if my last attempt at searching is anything to go by). To make things worse, come September I'm being kicked out of this room, and since I won't have enough saved to move into somewhere new, I'll be moving back into the hostel. Don't get me wrong, I like the hostel - to a point. What I don't like is having to share a room with five other people, and having absolutely zero privacy except when peeing and showering. Something tells me it's going to be even worse now that I have to get up early for work.

Something else about the hostel: it's expensive. Much more expensive than renting. Whilst I can pay week to week and not in a massive lump sum (the problem with renting a room), I end up spending much more money for the same period. On top of this, I also have to start saving to move out in October, as well as beginning to prepare my Canadian winter wardrobe - yet another thing to add to the list of expenses. Once the winter wardrobe is bought (I'm expecting that'll be pricey too), I'll have to start saving for a plane ticket. That is if I don't want to see a bit more of Canada first, in which case that's another thing to save for. If I can somehow manage all of that on my single income, then I also need to be prepared for coming home, when I'd been hoping to move straight back to London.

I'm desperately trying not to lose hope over here, but it's getting hard. Every corner I turn there seems to be a new thing I have to scrimp and scrape for, and it's just wearing me down further. Knowing that I'm doing the job I'd considered a last resort isn't helping. At least if I were struggling back home, I'd know that it wouldn't cost me several hundred pounds to run for comfort and support; I'd have family and friends to fall back on. On the one hand, I really don't want to come home early (it'd feel too much like giving up - failing -  again), but on the other hand... Lord Almighty, do I want to be back in England.

So now, my final problem: do I stay or do I go? Both would cost me money, and both hinge on getting a second job. Right now, I have too little flexibility with my finances to do anything but stay in my rut. I know there's a room going in London that all but has my name on it, but I'd need to be there for October. Given my current predicament, I could afford the flight but not the rent, which would mean asking my parents for a loan (something I'm loathe to do right now). I want to be independent and able to support myself so badly, but for some goddamn reason I can't seem to figure out how to do it.

In the meantime, I'll keep looking for a second job. Hopefully something will come round the corner soon. Who knows, maybe one of the many CVs I've handed over the last few months will actually help. Maybe I'll get a call tomorrow and all my problems will (start to) be solved. Until then, I'll just be trying not to breakdown if things get too much - something I'm already failing at, having almost broken down in front of my manager twice last week. Here's to hoping this week is better.

Currently reading:

Heller, J. (1955), Catch-22, Corgi Books

Davison, G. C., Blankstein, K. R., Flett, G. L., and Neale, J. M. (2010), Abnormal Psychology, 4th edition, John Wiley & Sons