9/30/10

Like Smelling Your Own Farts; In a Phrase... Please Hire Me?

While I was in the bathroom this morning (the place and time where all truly inspired thinking occurs) I finally understood why I was not landing a job. It's all about the resume, but slightly about my inability to be liked by a person when they first meet me.

In my Technical Writing/Communication class, my professor likened a resume to a blind date, which seems to be a standard comparison. It makes sense; you acquaint the other person with the basics: your name, interests, skills, alma mater, previous work experience. Now, the important part is to make your 8 by 11 sheet of card-stock stand out among the billions of other fish in the sea. You must pay attention to font and pleasing spacing throughout the page, much like one would pay more attention to their dry elbows and uni-brow when meeting for drinks at the Castle Pub. All the cardinal rules of resume writing line up with the small-talk chitter chatter that two people use when deciding whether or not to date. With a resume, you're simply trying to establish a relationship with the company.

This sounds relatively easy. Well, the standing out part, maybe not so much, but most people are confident enough to go on a date thinking "They're definitely going to fall in love with my _____ (something) tonight!" At least on some unconscious level, most people believe that they've got one hook that they can offer that no one else can at the time.

Herein lies the rub: first impressions are my complete downfall. I've always referred to myself as "an acquired taste" when dating. It takes a date or two to get used to my nervous obnoxious laughter and my moderately off-putting jokes about flatulence. If a man is just desperate enough (or that entranced by my double d's) to stick around, he will usually fall in love with me.

Now, I'm not vain enough to suggest that every man I've ever spent time with that extended past dinner and a movie was proposing to me, but I seem to have a certain quality that keeps me busy with at least 2 or 3 obsessive suitors at a time. I just take some getting used to.

This is why I haven't found a job. I haven't been allowed the courtesy of an interview or even a second interview, so my resume is failing miserably on that first date. Like sushi or learning to appreciate the smell of your own farts, I just haven't been given a decent shot! I never get the chance to run into a company at Wal*Mart and guilt it into a second try, another go-around at Applebees.

Someday, I'm sure, some fortune five-hundred monstrosity of a company will be camped outside my house, begging for me to move into its cubicle and do data entry, or life as it knows it will simply not go on. the company will go on and on about my indispensable assets that it knows I'll bring to the relationship and say it can't live another moment without my charisma and charm.

Or maybe its the boobs.

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