Hire Me
Hire me, you stupid fucking morons.
Bring me on board. Make me part of the team. Give me a fucking job.
This whole job search thing is a crock.
I'm pretty certain that I'll flip out at the next person that tells me that they're sure I'll find a job without actually offering one to me. And I'm positive that I'll flip my finger at the next person that tells me they had a position but it was recently filled by a (choose one) relative, friend, neighbor, relative's friend's neighbor, or relative's friend's neighbor's son's girlfriend. Fuuuuck Youuuu, is what I say to that.
I'm also not pleased that I've spent about twenty bucks in thank you cards and stamps, just to mail all these fake thank-yous as responses to fake interviews. People mask pointless waste of my time meetings as "informational interviews," where the only information they share is that they like you, but they either don't have a job or they already filled it with any of the nitwits listed in the above multiple choice. Every time I write a thank you for meeting with me, for taking the time to talk to me about opportunities that really don't exist (excuse me, existed, past tense, and now exist, present tense, for that stupid relative's friend's neighbor's son's girlfriend), I want to add a quick "And fuck you for wasting my time!" at the bottom. Of course, I don't, because what if, by chance, they do have an opening someday and no relative who has a random friend/neighbor/cab driver who needs a job? I don't want to be taken out of consideration. And so, I just affix the stamp (THIRTY NINE CENTS?!?!) and call it a fucking day.
It is further disheartening - and yes, disheartening is most definitely the word - to see people with jobs that I would really like continuously fuck up. This happens on a daily basis, just walking around in life. The number of morons who are currently enjoying salary positions with full benefits makes me want to puke. Trust me, it's not that I think that I'm so great or special that someone should hire me (BUT THEY SHOULD); it's more that I can't stand that when I'm dealing with people in "management" positions, I want to shoot myself because I can't believe that this nimrod standing before me can go to the dentist without having to pay out of pocket.
Last weekend, by the way, when I went into the Christmas Tree Shop and saw they were hiring for employees, I actually stopped and read the sign.
The other thing that gets me is that some people are actually pretty nice and try to help me out. Like my mother today. She called me and asked how my job search was going. I never realized how annoying this question is, or, more to the point, how incendiary it can be to your sanity and stability. I can be in a perfectly good mood, happy about life, and someone will "harmlessly" ask how the job search is coming. It's like a huge cloud comes right overhead, and it's all I can think of: I don't have a job. In a few months, I'll be completely unemployed. I will sit around in my apartment (how I'll pay for it, god only knows) and I'll eat cereal from the box like Eric on Boy Meets World. God help me.
Anyway, my mother asked me how it was all going. I resisted the urge to eat the phone and told her that it wasn't coming very well at all because nobody wants to hire me and I can't find a job. My mother's response? "Well, if you want to sit and talk about it, we can."
Thanks, Mom. Really. She'll probably flip her shit if she ever reads this and think that I'm giving her a hard time and that I don't appreciate that she was just trying to be nice. The thing is, I am and I do and I get that. But, what is talking about my lack of job opportunities with my MOTHER going to do for me? Next time I'm on an interview, should I say to the guy, "Well, my mom and I were talking, and she thinks you should hire me." Why not just flush my resume for him?
Was she expecting me to say, "Wow, Mom, that sounds great! I'd love to make a time for you and me to sit and discuss in detail about me not having a job. Rather than spend an afternoon playing baseball, going shopping (actually, I really shouldn't be doing that), or just hanging out, I'd like to talk about how depressing it is that I don't have a job while every other fuck around me has gotten one. Great times. Why not do it twice a week, every week, until I either find one or kill myself?" Sweeeeet.
Earlier today, when I got the Sunday Globe (specifically to check out some of the job listings - and found nothing), I took out the Globe magazine. The cover featured people who are donors for people who can't have kids. The payoffs listed were for $15,000, and they listed things that the donors have done with the money: downpayments, bill payments, laptops and opening businesses. I even scared myself when I found that my first thought wasn't "Holy crap, that's insane," but "Holy crap, that's insane, but could I actually get away with that?"
Sometimes I wonder whether I should change my whole approach. Rather than be cheerful and optimistic about life (well, actually now that I think about it, I'm not that anymore anyway), maybe I should just go in there and be dead honest: "You probably don't have any positions available for which I am qualified. You will probably read my resume and think that I have all the credentials and related experience, but since I don't have the specific experience in the specific field, you will tell me that you're looking for someone with actual field experience. Of course, you, like everyone else, will not give me said experience, and so, I will return home to my cereal box after stopping at the 7-11 to play the $1.00 scratch cards and hope that I win enough money to pay for dinner. Thank you for your time." It's tempting.
I also hate how much effort goes into the job search, and so little return. Like a few weeks ago, I had to fill out all this crap on a website with my resume, etc. It took me about an hour to do. Then they let you search for jobs. I clicked on a few things, to get the search going, and then this little line appeared at the top in red writing: "Any jobs for which you are not qualified have been grayed out." Instantaneously, the whole goddamn page turned gray. I scrolled down. And further down. And down to the stupid bottom, all fucking gray. I thought I was going to punch in my computer screen, but it is quite possibly the last nice/hip/expensive item I'll buy in a long time, and so I refrained and threw my shoes against the wall again.
And so, in light of all these job search disasters, I've been trying to think of alternative ways to earn money. Everyone thinks I'm talking about becoming a hooker, but I'm not. I'm actually talking about business ventures. Like I came up with a t-shirt company that I could start that would sell witty sayings. This sounded like a good idea until someone told me that my signature phrase was already being used in a current TV commercial. THAT made my day. Anyway, I might still go for the whole idea. I'd write more, but I'm too afraid of some prick reading this and making the millions for his greedy self. Suffice it to say, the t-shirts would be funny and slightly (okay some of them are really) vulgar. I'm not sure Dad would be proud to read that his daughter was marketing t-shirts that insinuate that someone is a whore for a baseball player, but then again, I'm also not sure that Dad would be proud to read that his daughter was arrested for setting up camp under the Mass Ave bridge.
The other idea was to write a book. This is slightly more constructive, but much more work-intensive and risky. Tonight, I was talking about this with my best buddy Marisa. We were sitting in my room going insane over the fact that I don't have a job. Okay, I was driving the insane bus on that one, and she was coming along for the ride, but the point is, she was going with me. Marisa, who is also searching for a job (with some good prospects though), offered to be my publicist. Though I appreciate her PR skills, I still doubted that a lot of people would buy my book. So we decided, see, that we'd just threaten people at gunpoint to buy the book. That way, they'd really have no choice.
Can you imagine my mother sitting down at a table as we talk about my frustration and I mention to her that my new plan is to write a book and have my friend market it at gunpoint to booksellers?
Someone's got to hire me. I've got to be someone's cousin's best friend's neighbor's relative. Otherwise, my choices are pretty limited: unless people want to purchase personalized "--- is a DILF" t-shirts or Marisa wants to secure a Wal-Mart gun permit, I'm pretty much cooked.
A few weeks ago, I organized an entire storage closet. Two, actually, and I legitimately thought, "Huh. Someone should hire me."
And even though yeah, it's ridiculous to think someone should hire me because I can organize boxes, well, someone fucking SHOULD.
Bring me on board. Make me part of the team. Give me a fucking job.
This whole job search thing is a crock.
I'm pretty certain that I'll flip out at the next person that tells me that they're sure I'll find a job without actually offering one to me. And I'm positive that I'll flip my finger at the next person that tells me they had a position but it was recently filled by a (choose one) relative, friend, neighbor, relative's friend's neighbor, or relative's friend's neighbor's son's girlfriend. Fuuuuck Youuuu, is what I say to that.
I'm also not pleased that I've spent about twenty bucks in thank you cards and stamps, just to mail all these fake thank-yous as responses to fake interviews. People mask pointless waste of my time meetings as "informational interviews," where the only information they share is that they like you, but they either don't have a job or they already filled it with any of the nitwits listed in the above multiple choice. Every time I write a thank you for meeting with me, for taking the time to talk to me about opportunities that really don't exist (excuse me, existed, past tense, and now exist, present tense, for that stupid relative's friend's neighbor's son's girlfriend), I want to add a quick "And fuck you for wasting my time!" at the bottom. Of course, I don't, because what if, by chance, they do have an opening someday and no relative who has a random friend/neighbor/cab driver who needs a job? I don't want to be taken out of consideration. And so, I just affix the stamp (THIRTY NINE CENTS?!?!) and call it a fucking day.
It is further disheartening - and yes, disheartening is most definitely the word - to see people with jobs that I would really like continuously fuck up. This happens on a daily basis, just walking around in life. The number of morons who are currently enjoying salary positions with full benefits makes me want to puke. Trust me, it's not that I think that I'm so great or special that someone should hire me (BUT THEY SHOULD); it's more that I can't stand that when I'm dealing with people in "management" positions, I want to shoot myself because I can't believe that this nimrod standing before me can go to the dentist without having to pay out of pocket.
Last weekend, by the way, when I went into the Christmas Tree Shop and saw they were hiring for employees, I actually stopped and read the sign.
The other thing that gets me is that some people are actually pretty nice and try to help me out. Like my mother today. She called me and asked how my job search was going. I never realized how annoying this question is, or, more to the point, how incendiary it can be to your sanity and stability. I can be in a perfectly good mood, happy about life, and someone will "harmlessly" ask how the job search is coming. It's like a huge cloud comes right overhead, and it's all I can think of: I don't have a job. In a few months, I'll be completely unemployed. I will sit around in my apartment (how I'll pay for it, god only knows) and I'll eat cereal from the box like Eric on Boy Meets World. God help me.
Anyway, my mother asked me how it was all going. I resisted the urge to eat the phone and told her that it wasn't coming very well at all because nobody wants to hire me and I can't find a job. My mother's response? "Well, if you want to sit and talk about it, we can."
Thanks, Mom. Really. She'll probably flip her shit if she ever reads this and think that I'm giving her a hard time and that I don't appreciate that she was just trying to be nice. The thing is, I am and I do and I get that. But, what is talking about my lack of job opportunities with my MOTHER going to do for me? Next time I'm on an interview, should I say to the guy, "Well, my mom and I were talking, and she thinks you should hire me." Why not just flush my resume for him?
Was she expecting me to say, "Wow, Mom, that sounds great! I'd love to make a time for you and me to sit and discuss in detail about me not having a job. Rather than spend an afternoon playing baseball, going shopping (actually, I really shouldn't be doing that), or just hanging out, I'd like to talk about how depressing it is that I don't have a job while every other fuck around me has gotten one. Great times. Why not do it twice a week, every week, until I either find one or kill myself?" Sweeeeet.
Earlier today, when I got the Sunday Globe (specifically to check out some of the job listings - and found nothing), I took out the Globe magazine. The cover featured people who are donors for people who can't have kids. The payoffs listed were for $15,000, and they listed things that the donors have done with the money: downpayments, bill payments, laptops and opening businesses. I even scared myself when I found that my first thought wasn't "Holy crap, that's insane," but "Holy crap, that's insane, but could I actually get away with that?"
Sometimes I wonder whether I should change my whole approach. Rather than be cheerful and optimistic about life (well, actually now that I think about it, I'm not that anymore anyway), maybe I should just go in there and be dead honest: "You probably don't have any positions available for which I am qualified. You will probably read my resume and think that I have all the credentials and related experience, but since I don't have the specific experience in the specific field, you will tell me that you're looking for someone with actual field experience. Of course, you, like everyone else, will not give me said experience, and so, I will return home to my cereal box after stopping at the 7-11 to play the $1.00 scratch cards and hope that I win enough money to pay for dinner. Thank you for your time." It's tempting.
I also hate how much effort goes into the job search, and so little return. Like a few weeks ago, I had to fill out all this crap on a website with my resume, etc. It took me about an hour to do. Then they let you search for jobs. I clicked on a few things, to get the search going, and then this little line appeared at the top in red writing: "Any jobs for which you are not qualified have been grayed out." Instantaneously, the whole goddamn page turned gray. I scrolled down. And further down. And down to the stupid bottom, all fucking gray. I thought I was going to punch in my computer screen, but it is quite possibly the last nice/hip/expensive item I'll buy in a long time, and so I refrained and threw my shoes against the wall again.
And so, in light of all these job search disasters, I've been trying to think of alternative ways to earn money. Everyone thinks I'm talking about becoming a hooker, but I'm not. I'm actually talking about business ventures. Like I came up with a t-shirt company that I could start that would sell witty sayings. This sounded like a good idea until someone told me that my signature phrase was already being used in a current TV commercial. THAT made my day. Anyway, I might still go for the whole idea. I'd write more, but I'm too afraid of some prick reading this and making the millions for his greedy self. Suffice it to say, the t-shirts would be funny and slightly (okay some of them are really) vulgar. I'm not sure Dad would be proud to read that his daughter was marketing t-shirts that insinuate that someone is a whore for a baseball player, but then again, I'm also not sure that Dad would be proud to read that his daughter was arrested for setting up camp under the Mass Ave bridge.
The other idea was to write a book. This is slightly more constructive, but much more work-intensive and risky. Tonight, I was talking about this with my best buddy Marisa. We were sitting in my room going insane over the fact that I don't have a job. Okay, I was driving the insane bus on that one, and she was coming along for the ride, but the point is, she was going with me. Marisa, who is also searching for a job (with some good prospects though), offered to be my publicist. Though I appreciate her PR skills, I still doubted that a lot of people would buy my book. So we decided, see, that we'd just threaten people at gunpoint to buy the book. That way, they'd really have no choice.
Can you imagine my mother sitting down at a table as we talk about my frustration and I mention to her that my new plan is to write a book and have my friend market it at gunpoint to booksellers?
Someone's got to hire me. I've got to be someone's cousin's best friend's neighbor's relative. Otherwise, my choices are pretty limited: unless people want to purchase personalized "--- is a DILF" t-shirts or Marisa wants to secure a Wal-Mart gun permit, I'm pretty much cooked.
A few weeks ago, I organized an entire storage closet. Two, actually, and I legitimately thought, "Huh. Someone should hire me."
And even though yeah, it's ridiculous to think someone should hire me because I can organize boxes, well, someone fucking SHOULD.
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