Do you enjoy being tortured? Perhaps, you are a fan of feeling sorry for yourself? Is doubting whether you know anything or have any skills appealing to you. Are you older than 16? If you answered yes to any of these questions, don’t waste any more time, apply for a job! If you like being challenged, move to a new city where you don’t know anybody or have any connections whatsoever.
Search for a job, apply for said job, go on an interview, wait to hear back, experience rejection, repeat it over and over again until you don’t remember how to spell your name. It is one of the worst processes known to humankind. You ask around. You browse website listings endlessly. You already have a job you don’t get paid for, also known as putting together your resume. You attempt to use a template. You feel like a moron. You re-read it over and over until the screen blurs. You attempt to write an intro email that is professional, but not overly rehearsed. You read and hear things like, “Be yourself, but don’t be too open. Talk about your strengths, but don’t sound arrogant. Be what they want, but stand out from the pack!” Receiving advice on how to get a job might be just as painful as getting a job.
People take forever getting back to you. It is the waiting game of all waiting games. Your stomach drops anytime your phone rings or has an email notification. If you are fortunate enough to get a first interview, there will be at least a second one, if not more than that. Each time, you desperately try to make yourself look the part and are consumed by nervous nausea. “Do they like me? Is my face okay? Do I know how to form sentences? I can’t remember how to shake another person’s hand!”
Essentially going on an interview is the same as going out on a date. They know a little bit about you. They are most likely judging you. They are spotting things they like about you, as well as finding some things they don’t particularly like about you. Your insecurities begin to flood in as you are keenly aware of the fact the interviewer is deciding on if you are likable or not. You leave the building wondering if it went okay enough to not drive off a cliff. You convince yourself it went well and you have a probable chance of getting it. You send the obligatory, “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me, I appreciate the opportunity,” which is the equivalent of texting, “I had fun, we should do it again” only to be met by silence. You never hear anything. You are left sad in your bed, eating stale cereal, scanning Craigslist for hours.
The following is a list of things I would rather do than go through this cycle again. Thank you, goodbye.
1. Cut all of my toes off. I doubt I actually need them. I can at least spare my pinky toes. I can do it with a lawn mower? Quick and painless. Having pogo-sticks for legs could be a great icebreaker.
2. Make small talk with my neighbors. They are basically aliens. I don’t care about the weather or if your child is allergic to the new rug. I will want to slowly back away or pretend to answer a call. However, this could help me with making eye contact and I’ll get even better at fake laughing.
3. Do my laundry, even all of my bedding, and jeans, and swimsuits, and tank tops that don’t fit but are at the bottom of my hamper and hold weird sentimental value so I can’t get rid of them. It will take me 1,029,583,457,489,388,920,939 hours to complete all of this, thus I can die instead of trying to land a job!
4. Grow a tiny penis on my forehead. I could paint it or cover it in glitter. Everyone will be too scared and/or confused to ask me about it. A real win for all.
5. Write and star in a one-woman show of a retelling of Austin Powers and advertise it on social media taking it extremely seriously. It will be time-consuming. It will be embarrassing. Everyone I love might disown me, but in the long run it will be less harmful to my self-esteem.
6. Drop my suitcase on a stranger sitting below the storage bin while an athletic onlooker fails to assist me. The death glare will hurt. I will awkwardly have to lift it off of him or her. Everyone around will whisper and stare. The athletic onlooker will roll his or her eyes and sigh loudly.
7. Lick a door handle at a bowling alley. Oh well, my immune system is growing stronger. This probably contains less germs than having to shake hands with an interviewer.
8. Wear only orange for the rest of my life. Just like the majority of people, I hate the color orange. It would be worth the sacrifice.
9. Throw up spicy shrimp scampi on a baby’s face. Oops, sorry, miniature human. You’ll forget about this someday. There could be a lawsuit. I’m the McDonald’s serving scalding coffee in this scenario. I’ll make it out unscathed.
10. Be on Tyra Bank’s bad side. This is NOT a safe place. I repeat, this is NOT a safe place.
11. Wallpaper every room in my house with hot glue and raw hamburger meat. Two words. Art. Installation. I will grow use to the heinous smell.
12. Train a pack of raccoons how to play baseball. They are intelligent and would look adorable in the uniforms. I would be a great coach. Teaching a group of critters an organized sport seems less difficult than talking about my long term goals with a stranger.
13. Take piano lessons every week from a preteen. The preteen for sure will have a condescending attitude and will frustrate me to tears. The lessons will build character though.
14. Become Santa Claus. The hours might be demanding and I will have to undergo a real transformation, but becoming an elderly magical man seems easier at this time.
15. Eat. Sleep. Watch Beverly Hills, 90210. Pine over Dylan McKay. In other words: Pursue what I truly love.