Monday, April 30, 2012

On the Hunt

For a job, that is.

Segment one. Possibly the only segment, or possibly one of ten. I will warn you, should the number reach ten, that entry has potential to be a bit downtrodden in tone. Sitting unbathed on my porch at 2 o'clock on a Thursday, garbed in sweatpants, I anticipate this segment will be light, untainted by numerous rejections.

It was a month ago that I walked into an annual evaluation and told my supervisors I was considering leaving with a minor contingency plan. I am currently following that contingency plan, working at a restaurant as I seek the next step to what I still anticipate will be an illustrious career. At the crux of my decision to quit was a desire for different intellectual stimulation and creative challenges.

To be fair, I am learning a great deal working at a restaurant. My knowledge of fine wines is increasing exponentially, I know the difference between a cordial and an aperitif, and the other day I learned the most effective ways to get high using ketamine, a cat tranquilizer. While serving tables is an excellent interim job, I do not want the wheels in this big head to clog, nor do I want to become complacent and accustomed to sleeping until eleven o'clock and showering at three - incidentally, I am finding this to be an appealing trap. When I encounter a challenging job, then, I must apply.

This particular opportunity was presented to me by a co-worker upon learning of my departure. A friend had contacted him that very day regarding a position matching many of my desired criteria. Providencial timing? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is ironic timing, a cruel setup for shattered hope. Regardless, one must still act, and this brings me to the topic of today's post - applications.

I applied for two positions my senior year of college, so my encounters with the mundane process are quite limited. After revisiting it the past couple days, I have a comment or two regarding the required fields, questions, etc., and they are haphazardly, but hopefully coherently, documented below.

Segment 1 of 8 - Holy cheese! There are eight sections not including my cover letter, references, or resume. The first section was pertinent information such as address, phone number, license number, social security number, blood type, credit card number. And now they can steal my identity.

Segment 2 of 8 - Is my degree a bachelor of arts or a bachelor of science? Should I get invited for an interview at the University, I will brush up on the difference between the two degrees.

Segment 3 of 8- I spent an inordinate amount of time meticulously choosing the wording, font, spacing, sizing of my resume to most effectively relay my work history. It then is reduced to a fill-in-the-blank worksheet, where I literally copy and paste everything from my resume to the list of past employments. I did, however, add one additional position I held in high school so as to feel the twenty minutes was not an absolute exercise of redundancy.

Segment 4 of 8 - Titled "Other trainings, workshops, accomplishments." Is winning best dressed my senior year of high school a legitimate accolade? Because I believe it is. In all seriousness, though, I did put running a marathon as an accomplishment.

Segment 5 of 8 - Felonies, misdemeanors, and moving traffic violations. HAH! First of all, of what importance is it to you if I have an engine not built for modern speed limits? I only went back three years for the sake of space and made sure to emphasize the speed. Two tickets for 37 in a 25 and one for 85 in a 70 is hardly a reason to not employ me.

Segment 5 of 8 - References. Because there are so many people who think highly of me, I had a particular amount of trouble narrowing this list to three. I decided it wise to include my college marketing professor, but felt a tinge of guilt emailing her for the first time in two years merely to request a recommendation.

Segment 6 of 8 - Here, I face a moral dilemma. The question posed: "Do you have 4-7 years of experience?" Even including my junior year Integrated Marketing course, I cannot with good conscience answer yes. When speaking with the man hiring for the position, he said this would be quite alright as long as experiences thus far were strong. I tried avoiding the question by filling in the no response bubble, but it forced me to commit. I answered no.

Segments 7 and 8 were simply checking a box or two and hitting submit. I attached my resume rendered superfluous, list of references, a beautifully architected cover letter and hit complete application. Upon doing so, I received an email saying I did not meet the minimum requirements for the position and wishing me well in future endeavors.

All hope is not lost for this particular application, although seeing the automated response did hurt my soul a bit. I feel it would be much more time efficient if someone gave me the job I wanted and allowed me to rise to the occasion. Alas, this is not how the bureaucratic* world in which we live operates, and so I will continue spending my morning/afternoons in sweats, finding addresses of past employers, telephone numbers of people I have not contacted in years, and weighing the odds of reference's reliability. For now, I desperately need to shower.

*I do not know what "bureaucratic" means, but I really like the word.