The experiences and exploits of a college grad trying to make it in the "real world:" leaving school and friends in New England, moving south, and living with her boyfriend. Watch as I pretend to be an adult.
Ok, look. Let's cut the bullshit here for ten minutes or so and just talk plain facts. I'm here because I need money. Yes, I'm sure you have a wonderful company. I'm sure you make wonderful products that cure cancer and promote world peace, and hey, even reverse male pattern baldness. I bet you have wonderful employees- smart, kind, funny, fun people who I will get along with incredibly well. But I'm here because I have to have money to live, and I'm a little averse to going on welfare. If it weren't for that single fact, hell, I'd be out hiking around Tibet right now, or maybe sipping Mai Tais on a beach in Thailand. You know what, I take back what I said a little while ago. I wasn't being honest, and that's what I set out to do in the first place, right? So, honestly, I'm sure that your company is no better than the tens of thousands of other corporate leeches in this country, sucking sustenance by promoting wares in a culture of consumption. Even if, by some slim chance, you do have a product that does offer some good to the human race, it is probably manufactured in some horrible way- sewn together by 7 year olds in a third world sweatshop or extracted from the placentas of poorly cared for broodmares kept alive solely for your profit. And your employees? Well, I'm a pretty laid back person, and I'm sure I could stand most of them. But like any other large group of people, I am absolutely positive that you have a mix of the good, the bad, and the really, really ugly. Smartasses, dumbasses, brownosers and utter dicks- yeah, there'll be a few of each variety in your work force somewhere. And, you know, I don't care. These are potential employees, not friends. As long as they don't piss me off, and they get me whatever shit I need to do my job, well, then, they can go out and snort coke off the asses of 13 year old prostitutes every night for all I care. I am not here to win a popularity contest. Now I'd like a little reciprocity, please. See, this is where you drop all the bullshit about needing a highly trained, motivated, and experienced candidate to fill the opening and finally admit that a monkey of above average intelligence could do this job. I mean, really. Nothing here is that difficult. Ok, sure, I exaggerate, but come one. This is not rocket science, people. Nothing in the job description is particularly tricky, and it really does not contribute to a grand scheme in any meaningful way. Not, should I take the job, that you will admit to this later. You will undoubtedly have an anal retentive, pushy, overbearing, or otherwise obnoxious manager (and perhaps incompetent to boot) who will make my life miserable by changing deadlines, giving me contradictory assignments, and playing office politics. This manager will impress upon me the grave importance of every minute task...And, for some bizarre reason, I will buy into it. I will bite my nails and work long hours. I will hunch over computer screens, squinting my eyes at too-small text until the crows' feet add five years on. I will stress. I will feel guilty about taking a vacation, and will probably even work a bit from it. Weekends? Yeah, I'll be working those too- at least a couple times a month. Why? God knows. But it will happen- and what's more, you know it will. Phew! Well, I feel a lot better now, don't you? See, isn't it nice to have such complete honesty? So, where do we stand on that position... Oh...I see. Well, you'll call me if something opens up? Yeah..thanks...
After 22 posted at 10:03 PM
