What's in a name?

A few years ago, in my first job, I was facing yet another year where "economic conditions" meant that I and my colleagues were only going to be given a pay rise equalling the rate of inflation. The irony was, inflation was only around four or five per cent at the time, a sign that the economic conditions were actually rather good. Certainly the company I worked for was doing very, very well and some of that was down to the success of the department I worked in and, I'd like to think, the new directions it was taking design-wise under my direction.

The problem I had was that my low salary was stopping me getting jobs elsewhere. The annual Design Week salary review told me that I was some �10-15,000 behind my peers in the south of England which, even accounting for the higher cost of living, was quite a gap. I knew that my applications for some posts were not taken seriously as someone earning what I was earning couldn't be that good, or that experienced.

It's sad, but true. We are valued by how much we earn, not what we do.

My other problem was that my job title was distinctly "unsexy". I was a "marketing assistant", and although my role included a lot of marketing work I was in fact variously a designer, advertising executive, copy writer and brand manager. Today we'd call it a "portfolio role". Then, we called it "jack of all trades". (I don't know about the rest of the world but in the UK jobs usually come with job descriptions, which outline the functions, responsibilities and duties of the post holder. I never read them when I get them, turning instead to the last sentence which usually reads: "plus any other duties as determined by your line manager and employer". If that's there, what goes before is usually just for show. For designers, in my experience, "other duties" usually includes lifting cardboard boxes stuffed full of leaflets and catalogues off the back of trucks, handling customer complaints, caddying at the chairman's golf day, and being blamed for other people's errors.)

So I hit upon the idea of, for different job applications, using different job titles to get me past the first selection stage. None of them were lies, you understand - indeed they told more of the truth than "the truth". The only person who ever got upset at this was some guy in IT who didn't like the fact that I used the term "webmaster" on our site (which I designed but he uploaded - he felt he was the "webmaster" and looking back it was a stupid title so good luck to him).
But part of me didn't like the idea of doing this, partly because I knew if references were ever called for, it could be embarrassing.

Annoyed at the prospect of a small cost-of-living pay rise, I decided to ask instead for something that could ultimately be worth a great deal more: a better job title!

It didn't work.

Today I have so many job titles I never know where to begin. I am, payscale-wise and contractually, a "Senior Lecturer". When I attend official functions I am an "academic developer". When I teach I am officially a "part time hourly paid lecturer". When I freelance I am a "writer", "journalist", "designer" or "consultant". If somebody ever makes the mistake of asking me what I do, I often try to explain. I keep telling myself to just pick one and stick to it. But none are sexy. "Teacher" gets them hooked until I tell them what I teach, at which point they sort of go "oh..." and feign polite interest. I'd never say "journalist", partly because only about 2% of my income derives from it but also because nobody in the UK respects journalists (third bottom in surveys after politicians and estate agents!). "Writer" sounds like someone who is lying or just unemployed, and "consultant" is a euphamism for "recently made redundant".

Last week, on a date, I used the "oh you don't want to be bored with that, let's talk about you instead" trick I think I read in a magazine. It worked. But somehow, I don't think it'll cut the mustard when it comes to applying for that next job...