A couple weeks ago now I set out on a "Get Hired or Die" mission. I went to two interviews. Well, actually I went to one institution to try to set up an interview because I was unable to attend the glorious "mass interview" process that is the introduction to the corporate retail world. Tragic, I know.
So, I got all kinds of "hire me!"-ed up and confidently breezed into the store with a demure smile that no one could refuse. Knowing me, I also probably had a clump of toilet paper stuck to my shoe, but some people find that endearing. Here's what ensued:
Me: Hi! I wanted to see if I could talk to a hiring manager?
Super Sweet Sales Associate (who I had bothered with this issue on several occasions and is still very polite): Of course! Let me grab her for you.
Me: Thank you. (Stares at a ridiculously beautiful store display)
SSSA: This is _____. She's our hiring manager.
Hiring Manager: I'm so glad you came in! You know we're having a mass interview tomorrow?
Me: Yes. Unfortunately I have a prior commitment which will make me unable to attend the interview tomorrow, so I wanted to see if I could set up a separate interview. (Big Girl language like this is key, but not everything).
Hiring Manager: Okay! Let me just grab you an application and if you could bring in a resume...
Me: I've actually already dropped off my resume and application.
Hiring Manager: Oh! Great! I can't believe we haven't called you yet. What's your availability like?
Me: After Thanksgiving it opens up considerably, but as of now I can't work Tuesday days, Thursdays from noon-3p or Saturday days and I'm doing a play that rehearsals and shows start at 7p. Other than that I'm pretty open though.
(awkward silence, me with a hopeful, naive stare and HM with a pretty blank one.)
HM: Um, well, I really can't use you then. That's probably why we haven't called you.
Me: Okay! Thank you for your time.
HM: Of course! Let me know if anything changes. Or you lose one of those jobs or... something.
This poor woman really didn't know what to say. For the sake of my own self-esteem I'm going to take all of this as they really did want to hire me but really couldn't justify hiring someone with such limited availability. Fair enough.
I would like to note now that working for corporations is something that I'm not usually super excited about. I really enjoy working for locally owned businesses, but in this case I'm a little desperate and just needed to get on the market. I don't have anything earth shatteringly, protest-worthy against corporations, I just generally hate the way the staff is required to operate (anyone that's ever worked at a Hooters can open your eyes on this one).
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| Who wouldn't want to work at a place that makes old electrical set-ups look this good? |
In any case, the next place I went was actually a mass interview and a sister store of the previous location. It was packed full of mostly high school students or freshman in college. I honestly can't tell anymore. I filled out the application, handed it in with my super-sexy looking resume and sat in the store for a good hour and half waiting for my turn to go in the back with my group of children. About forty-five minutes into my wait I smelled something. Something very distinct, something that kicked in a strange craving and made me want to throw up at the same time. I smelled McDonalds. I looked up from the clothing article I was fondling and there he was. Still in his Mickey D's regalia, there was Charles.
Now, anyone who shows up to an interview in their uniform from another job is pretty ballsy, or just a little dumb. I'm guessing Charles is both. I'm pretty sure he was the only one in the building older than me, but it was by at least three decades. I couldn't help but wonder what this fifty-something was doing in this breeding ground for corporate hipsters, so sincerely looking for a job.
When it came time for six of use to squeeze into the little back supply room, Charles was in my group. I have to say that the two of us answered the generic questions the best. We better have, anyone who answers the question, "Why do you want to work here?" With "Um, well, like, this would like, be like, my first job! And like, that's like, awesome!" or the question, "What's your dream job?" with, "Well, I like, really want to be a veterinarian when I like, grow up, so like, I know that doesn't like, have like, anything to do with like, clothes, but like, yeah." (Yes, those were two different interviewees and if I see them working there I will thank my lucky stars I didn't get hired).
Going through the interview process with Charles was a little reality slap in the mouth. It's funny to be how hitting a patch-o-poverty can really force me to realize how lucky I actually am. Good work-ethic was instilled in me from a young age, but sometimes I feel like my pride gets in the way of actually accessing it. I should by applying for a job at McDonalds. I could likely get hired, but the idea of working somewhere that I have so little respect for (that's not really a corporate thing, it's more of a humanity thing) is a little soul-sucking. I've been a bit of a spoiled brat over the last six years with where I've been able to work. A collection of really fabulous local institutions that all reflect the downtown of where I live so wonderfully. Surrounded by lovely people who are constantly finding a release for their creativity through side projects (actually, their job is usually their side project, their work is usually, appropriately, their life).
And so, week three on unemployment embarrassingly continues, and I would like to thank Charles for the much-needed does of perspective. Not to mention the specials I've been watching on Syria lately. I've got a pretty good thing going.
In other news, I've been eating an oddly large amount of apples and bananas lately.
Awesome bloggins! I have totally been in the un-or-under-employed-and-hating-myself category. It will pass and you'll still be a badass.
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