Tardy - but here
Bummers abound. I've gone on 3 interviews after submitting over 30 applications (carefully logging them for my shrew of a case manager) and each have been a mess.
The second one - the Child Thingy was truly an exercise in how to suck. I left early and took the only road in the country that would hassle me by way of flagger. It is potentially the first incident of road rage from me in a decade.
I made it on time by a hair, but only after beating the shit out of an elevator button that didn't summon the elevator and romping up two flight of stairs, twisting my ankle as I galloped along.
Wounded Horse was greeted in the hallway and ushered into a room so vacant a whisper would echo. All that was in the room was one long table and two women behind it, pens and paper pads in hand. Fun!
Wobbled in, sweating like a wild animal - it's only 103 in Nevada that day? My glasses were slipping off my face and I may have grunted relief to sit down. Then came the questions! I was not as good this time.
"What do you think is most important to children."
It came out in a blurt of honesty.
"Food."
/scribble scribble.
Am I wrong? I never said shelter, security, socializing and toys weren't in the equation. Basic needs? Food. Particurlarly sticky ones from my experience.
No need to say more on that one. When you hear "We'll let you know later next week." you simply know you are being bullshitted.
Warp to this morning. I had a gig that I thought would be ok. When she phoned to set it up and asked if I could pass a drug test, I said "sure, the heroin should be out of my system by then." thinking I was funny and completely forgetting THIS:
Thanks Kylee! Totally didn't cross my mind that the joke and the potential track mark looking bruises might be incorrectly correlated. "suuuuuuure, puppy did that huh? whatcha breeding, a moose?" To some extent, yes.
Right, so ten minutes before I left I went to the kitchen where Mr. Morgan was fetching a soda pop for himself.
"Where is my purse?" exchange looks and both adults bolt in diferent directions. My treck was fruitless and I went to the backyard to hear "You are SO bad!"
Within five minutes this crazy bitch ate my identification, my camera, some perfume, then time stopped.
"Oh fuck." as I pointed to the empty pill bottle. It was followed by a much deeper tone of "Oh fuck."
Mr. Morgan calls the vet who says "like we know.... bring her in." Which he did as I took off to the worst interview of them all.
Kylee has gone from stealing ciggarettes (smoker!) to being found caught with a bottle of Corona (drunk!) and today, ten minutes before I left for an interview stole a purse (theif!) enjoying it's contents, including a bottle of antibiotics I keep on hand for the ever so sneaky UTI (pill popper!) Anything else?
Envy my life yet?
After papers and odd questions, I meet Rachel. She's super. She made it clear that I was not desirable without year round long sleeves, a turtleneck and a facial extraction. This, in Rachels world meant no one would hire me because of visible tattoos and my itty bitty nose stud.
I got pretty offended. Am I to laser them off? No, just cover them constantly. I asked her if she didn't think that was misleading. Seriously, honest question. Should I be hired under a pretense then poof... they appear? I'd prefer to be straight forward. If an employer has a policy of not liking that, then it's her job to find me a place that isn't uptight. My qualifications are not a reflection of a wrist tattoo and nose stud. Most people don't even notice my nose stud in fact. Never once have I heard a remark about it, but she just HAD to say that professional office people make the attempt to fit in and "put your best foot forward."
Pausing to laugh. First off, most of you know me, I haven't a best foot between them. Second of all I've only worked since I was 16, and I've never caught someone gazing at my wrist. I managed to work all the same. Thirdly, aren't you an employment agency? Are you seriously going to act like you are doing me a favor when I know exactly how much you are making off me going to work? So I thanked and got up. Many people, oddly, like me and probably haven't counted my tattoos.
-DM
ps - and thanks to those who threw me under the bus.
The second one - the Child Thingy was truly an exercise in how to suck. I left early and took the only road in the country that would hassle me by way of flagger. It is potentially the first incident of road rage from me in a decade.
I made it on time by a hair, but only after beating the shit out of an elevator button that didn't summon the elevator and romping up two flight of stairs, twisting my ankle as I galloped along.
Wounded Horse was greeted in the hallway and ushered into a room so vacant a whisper would echo. All that was in the room was one long table and two women behind it, pens and paper pads in hand. Fun!
Wobbled in, sweating like a wild animal - it's only 103 in Nevada that day? My glasses were slipping off my face and I may have grunted relief to sit down. Then came the questions! I was not as good this time.
"What do you think is most important to children."
It came out in a blurt of honesty.
"Food."
/scribble scribble.
Am I wrong? I never said shelter, security, socializing and toys weren't in the equation. Basic needs? Food. Particurlarly sticky ones from my experience.
No need to say more on that one. When you hear "We'll let you know later next week." you simply know you are being bullshitted.
Warp to this morning. I had a gig that I thought would be ok. When she phoned to set it up and asked if I could pass a drug test, I said "sure, the heroin should be out of my system by then." thinking I was funny and completely forgetting THIS:
Thanks Kylee! Totally didn't cross my mind that the joke and the potential track mark looking bruises might be incorrectly correlated. "suuuuuuure, puppy did that huh? whatcha breeding, a moose?" To some extent, yes.Right, so ten minutes before I left I went to the kitchen where Mr. Morgan was fetching a soda pop for himself.
"Where is my purse?" exchange looks and both adults bolt in diferent directions. My treck was fruitless and I went to the backyard to hear "You are SO bad!"
Within five minutes this crazy bitch ate my identification, my camera, some perfume, then time stopped.
"Oh fuck." as I pointed to the empty pill bottle. It was followed by a much deeper tone of "Oh fuck."
Mr. Morgan calls the vet who says "like we know.... bring her in." Which he did as I took off to the worst interview of them all.
Kylee has gone from stealing ciggarettes (smoker!) to being found caught with a bottle of Corona (drunk!) and today, ten minutes before I left for an interview stole a purse (theif!) enjoying it's contents, including a bottle of antibiotics I keep on hand for the ever so sneaky UTI (pill popper!) Anything else?
Envy my life yet?
After papers and odd questions, I meet Rachel. She's super. She made it clear that I was not desirable without year round long sleeves, a turtleneck and a facial extraction. This, in Rachels world meant no one would hire me because of visible tattoos and my itty bitty nose stud.
I got pretty offended. Am I to laser them off? No, just cover them constantly. I asked her if she didn't think that was misleading. Seriously, honest question. Should I be hired under a pretense then poof... they appear? I'd prefer to be straight forward. If an employer has a policy of not liking that, then it's her job to find me a place that isn't uptight. My qualifications are not a reflection of a wrist tattoo and nose stud. Most people don't even notice my nose stud in fact. Never once have I heard a remark about it, but she just HAD to say that professional office people make the attempt to fit in and "put your best foot forward."
Pausing to laugh. First off, most of you know me, I haven't a best foot between them. Second of all I've only worked since I was 16, and I've never caught someone gazing at my wrist. I managed to work all the same. Thirdly, aren't you an employment agency? Are you seriously going to act like you are doing me a favor when I know exactly how much you are making off me going to work? So I thanked and got up. Many people, oddly, like me and probably haven't counted my tattoos.
-DM
ps - and thanks to those who threw me under the bus.
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
3:26 PM
2 Comments:
Well maybe you should take up writing on a professional level - it sounds like your adventures in job hunting will give you plenty of material.
You make an excellent point on the misleading matter. And you are about the only one I know that wears a nose jewel in a demure way. I guess Bush's mindblowingly high unemployment record has left employers and agencies thinking they can be asshats. That's all well and good as long as they don't care about the quality. And they are out there, so hang in.
Thank you. When she advised I should "fit in" I knew it was over. My mouth turned south as I thought "What if I don't want to fit in?" I'm not trying to be so outlandish I get arrested, but it's not my style to think like everyone else and that should be an asset. I know that is cerainly is to my friends and family. I don't try to be unique, just kinda am in my retarded natural way, and don't feel like aspiring to be a lemming.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home