Much like Elmer Fudd, I’m out once more hunting wascally wabbits. Thankfully we have separate hunting grounds; his acetate, mine in the far more elusive job market. I do hope I will have the good sense and good fortune to recognize a wabbit (a good job for those of you with heads low to the ground) when it kisses me on the face.
I’m tired of resumes. I look pretty good on paper; that’s not the problem so much as the realization that I am not the man that piece of paper claims I am. I’m tired of interviews. Interviewers ask the dumbest questions.
If I could think of three words they’d be “goatifications”, “indescrumptous”, and “rutebagel”. But if I could think of three words to describe me, they’d be “three”, “isn’t”, and “enough”. Honestly, if I could describe myself in three words, that’d be an incredibly short interview. I’m tempted to say something like “psychotic” “serial” and “killer” and really freak the guy out.
If there are three light switches on a wall, one of which turns on a light bulb upstairs, and I can only go upstairs once, and you think there’s only one answer to the problem of determining which switch turns on the light, then you’re not really interested in whether I can think “outside the box”, but rather whether I can psychically determine which hoop you want me to jump through. Now that you know I’m psychic, would you mind getting your hoops out of my face?
How much am I looking to make? I don’t care about the money, I care about quality of life, and not just my own. How much am I looking to make? How about “a difference?”
I want to work for someone worth working for. I want to work for someone who makes a difference in the lives of the people I care about. Near as I can tell, there’s only one boss like that, and I already work for him.
So I guess that means I’m looking for a new full time hobby.
Posted with : Bare with Me