I had two things happen to me that were kind of interesting this past week.
My husband read one of my blog posts. He liked it. He liked it so much he shared it with people at work. And they loved it. This was nice.
The other thing was a conversation I had with our librarian. Somehow we got on the subject of preschool and the fact that I used to teach it. She asked if I had ever considered starting my own. Why yes I have, but I don’t have any space in my house for such a thing. When I shared this with her, she motioned to the empty building across the street and said, “There’s a whole empty building over there. You should look into it.”
For the first time in quite a while I was actually a little excited. Might be something worth looking into. I loved teaching preschool. Then I opened my mouth to my husband, who shot me down. He was just being his usual, honest self. But I felt a little like I’d been shot in the heart. I crawled back into my hopeless hole of despair and unemployment.
A couple of nights ago I basically tried to sell my soul for a job at a major bank. It was a teller position. After I applied I was told I had to take a test. I was told I had to take it in a quiet place, and have pen and paper handy. So I did what they said. It was ridiculous. There was ONE question on it that had anything to do with money. The rest were questions about how comfortable I felt selling products to people, and what kind of sales awards I had received, etcetera. Needless to say, I’m sure they won’t be calling me. What ever happened to just dealing with money? Why does everything have to be SALES? Why DID I spend five years in college again?
I am forming a theory about some of the places that I have applied and who looks at the stuff that comes in. I have to, because if I don’t laugh at it I really am going to start to cry. Queen Bavmorda is out today in a baaaaaaad way. I think she may have killed my cheerleaders, or they are just very, very sick.
I think that Statler and Waldorf are in charge at some of the places I apply at. Or somebody like that. I have this whole imagined scenario in my head of each place I have applied of what happens when they receive my stuff.
The Clinic-There is one particular medical clinic n my area that I have applied for several positions now. Here’s what I think went down recently:
Person #1: “Hey, this person has applied for close to twenty jobs with us now. We’re running out of people to fill all of these positions that we always have open, should we give her a call for an interview?”
Person #2: “Nah, I am really, really liking this monkey. He can fling his poo and everything.”
The University-The Lab School
University Hiring Person: “This girl is perfectly qualified for this substitute preschool position we have open!”
Unpaid Intern Person: “There’s purple on her resume. I HATE PURPLE!” Then he tosses the resume into the incinerator.
The University-Secretary and Coordinator Positions
Resume Reader Person: “BWAH HA HA! How dare this person think she is even worthy of applying to our sacred school of perfection. She is like a flaming bag of dog poop!” Then he tosses my resume into the, well, flaming pile of dog poop that just happens to be there.
The Library-There was a wonderful position open at, yes, a public library. I really thought I might have had a shot at this one.
Librarian: “I sense a disturbance in the force. I feel…yes, this person has a blog. I hate blogs.” Makes a paper airplane out of my resume and flies it into the chandelier.
The City-I admit this one was stretching it a bit, but I really was qualified for the position.
City Person A: “It says here in several previous positions she worked with children.”
City Person B: “Ewww! I bet she smells like children! Into the shredder!”
The Community College-There were two very interesting jobs here. I’m sad.
Resume Expert: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! My eyes! My eyes!” Eyes catch on fire as she looks at my resume. Medical attention is required. As she receives medical help, the resume is dropped on the floor and swept up by the janitor.
The Place Where My Husband Works–
Human Resources Person: “As impressive as this resume is, I can’t hire this person because we have already hired her husband. If we hire her, the degree of awesomeness this company will experience will cause the END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT.” Puts my resume far, far, far back into the drawer of the file cabinet.
Target-Yes I applied at Target. Don’t judge me. I’m desperate.
Professional resume reader with a large target tattooed on her head: “Oh look, another Target shopper thinks she can work here. WRONG!” Hits delete.
I think I’m going to be like Noah Wyle on “The Librarian”. I am going to go back to school and major in every possible thing I can. At least maybe someday I’ll have a shot at a job!
DISCLAIMER: I have a wonderful cousin who works in Human Resources for her job. She is nothing like these people. I’m sure she doesn’t keep a pile of flaming dog poo in her office, either.