The Decade of my Discontent: If I Liked Being Called a Bitch to My Face, I Woul...

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If I Liked Being Called a Bitch to My Face, I Would Still Be Married

That quote really has absolutely nothing to do with my blog. Just wanted to use it! Thanks to Kyra Sedgewick and The Closer, what a great line!

I have been severely blog challenged of late. I didn't even blog when I lost a out on what would have been a good job and a substantial wage increase--I was intensely rattled after having omitted a semi colon (maybe) and a comma (definitely) from my cover letter. I didn't get the job, but I wanted to share a sentence from my rejection letter with you. "While we have selected another applicant, but I want to express to you that we rated you very high in our selection process." Dietra, you want to share with the class why I am excited about that sentence? I wanted to send Mr. Barrows, who took credit for writing the letter, a thank you note. Thanks for trying to cheer me up after losing the job by putting a big, fat grammatical error in my rejection letter!! I secretly hope the 'applicant they selected' wrote the letter! My friend Melanie suggested I look at it as another test, correct it and send it back. Maybe I am making some progress, cause I'm pretty sure doing that wouldn't be high on the scale of winning friends, influencing people, or ever getting an interview with that company again. But she is correct that it would have felt great!

Since this blog seems to suddenly be about jobs, interviewing or the lack there of, let's continue. Why don't I have a real job?? I can do lot's of things in an office, hell I seriously used to run an office. It's been so long since I used anything like half my brain, that I have honestly forgotten that I use to know how to do things. I'm the classic underachiever who is deluded about being an overachiever. And after my last interview, obviously a crap proofreader (You are the exception, Rick Nowell)!

Let me share with you my top three crap interviews!

Number Three with a Bullet, a HOUSEKEEPING POSITION at Valley Health. I feel slightly bad about not making this number one, it is very close to being the worst, and certainly is the most pointless, interview I have ever had! But it was only about 20 minutes, so it lost some points for that. Let's begin with returning Barbara's call to schedule the interview. Barbara gave me directions to the appropriate section of the hospital where the interview would take place. Unfortunately, she knew I would never be able to access the interview because of the locked door with a keypad. Maybe that is part of the interviewing process, to see if you can actually get in? I went to the kitchen, kidnapped a young boy who couldn't get in either. All we needed was that elusive third stooge!!! Alright, back to the interview. I introduced myself and shook the man's hand, the same can't be said for him. To this day, I have no idea who he was! My boyfriend would (and did) chalk that up to my not being serious about getting a job. But Mr. No Name was a crack shot interviewer! He had two or three sheets of pre prepared questions donated by the Aramark Company that he was asking all the candidates. Mr. No Name was an apparent genius because he was able to memorize my answers on the spot. I know this because he never picked up a pencil or took a note. Note to No Name--I'm college educated, not going to fool me with "Describe the last time you were late for work", "Describe the last time you broke a rule", "Do your co-workers like you?". I would pick shit with even your chickens for more hours, money, benefits, ect. but I would never get that stick to beat my own ass with and tell you I'm late for work and break the rules! Ahhh, and Barbara. She sat in on the interview. And by sat in I mean she sat in the back of the room and worked her farm on a lap top. Barbara appeared to be as good an assistant as No Name was an interviewer. The phone rings. Barbara gets up, goes to No Name's desk, identified the caller and said, "Nope, I'm not answering that call.", and sauntered back to finish building her pig pen.

Number Two. This interview holds a special place in my heart because it was during the period that I was totally unemployed and would have taken migrant farm work. The interview was for a flooring company, located in the family McMansion on the other side of Strasburg, just inside Middletown. Just like Valley Health the interviewer either hated me on sight or had already filled the job, because I can assure you, she had no intention of ever hiring. We spent 10-15 minutes with her describing her company and the job. Again, based on that alone it would not be worthy of a place in the top 10, much less three. In this case the job itself moved it up the ladder. 20 or 25 hours a week, 8, maybe 9 AM, until 1 or maybe 3 PM, just depends. Salary, 9 maybe ten dollars an hour, just depends. Now it get's interesting. Would I mind being paid in cash and 1099-ed at the end of the year? No and I'm good with bamboo shoots under my nails too, though. And the piece a resistance!! Drum Roll--over a hundred people applied for the job. On the plus side the 20 minute drive allowed me to enjoy my hysterical breakdown before I arrived back home.

And Number One, that last job I didn't get. Again, to be fair, it probably shouldn't be here topping the list. It was a good job, it was a very tough interview. But dammit, I didn't get the freaking job!! Suddenly, I was at a large table looking down the barrel of three men. Number One guy lulled me to sleep and into a false sense of security by droning on about the job. Note to readers--when you don't understand the benefits package, you may be in over your head. Number Two asked me the usual questions. "Describe a time you were late for work." "Describe a time you broke the rules." Would have referred him to Valley Health, but no name and no record of my answers. Last, The Grand Inquisitor. The only think missing was the bare light bulb and the lamb stew! Fortunately for him, all it took was the red circles on my cover letter in the first 10 seconds to completely rattle me for the rest of the interview and testing process!! Note to Inquisitor--If I knew how to solve the frigging plight of the middle class, I wouldn't be middle class or need your job!!!

So, on the Con side, I toll away at two jobs, virtually unappreciated and frequently greasy and dirty. On the plus side, they did throw me the bad sentence in the rejection letter bone. And, I had to rewrite and retype almost this entire blog, because I no longer send out anything without proofreading and re-proofreading!

The Origins of my Discontent

You know I started this blog a while ago because I was reading the Washington Post Magazine and it seemed like Jayne Lytel had stolen my life, and therefore my potential blog--and I wanted to start my own before some other wannabe beat me to the punch.

Jayne Lytel is the Michaela Salahi meets Carrie Bradshaw of Blogging. She writes under the pseudonym of Ann Power, of Girl On The Edge. Being unemployed, or under employed with my ex under foot because we couldn't afford to separate, seemed like my life. Unfortunately (I think), the resemblance stops there. Let's just sum up Lytel with power points, shall we:

• Successful wife and career woman has child diagnosed with Autism
• Gives up career track to become successful Autism author and advocate
• Along the way financial strain from special needs take it toll on her marriage and she divorces
• Skies open and opportunity shines, she finds a wealthy man and returns to work.
• Gods are bored, she loses job to recession and boyfriend dumps her by email.

A would be blogger is born. In the basement apartment with her husband and children upstairs, Lytel writes about the benefits of unemployment--cookies and cabernet in the afternoon. She keeps up her 53-year old appearance and size 2 wardrobe (the hell she is eating cookies and drinking cabernet!) with botox and frequent trips to the salon. She also joined millionairematcher.com and took a trip to Antigua, because it was about the cost of the therapy she should have gotten. All this, drum roll, drum roll, while collecting food stamps! Here is where our collective paths separate. Cause I can promise you the only places I get to cruise to are my two jobs, and one of them involves food so I get as many free meals as my size 6 can take. I'd be happy just to split the difference with her and call it a size 4, and as close as I currently get to botox is I got to work the other day and instead of a black Apple House shirt I found the one that has botox written in crystals, so I had to wear a stinky shirt someone brought back or left behind!

I love to write, and I appreciate every single one of the two of you that read this!!! I hope I get to keep writing long enough to find my niche, my voice and my stride! Deborah asked last week why I hadn't written anything new--it can usually be explained by 30 hours a week at Kohnen-Starkey and 29.5 hours a week at the Apple House of Linden. If either of you readers have the fast track to a wealthy man (one foot in the grave and the other one close behind is a plus), feel free to post that comment any where I might find it. Certainly, if either of you know where I can find one job to support myself in the absence of that wealthy man instead of the two I currently have, send it even faster. But I would be equally as tickled if you found a third person to read my ravings! And a special shout out to Ann Power and Jayne Lytel for creating the origins of what I jokingly refer to as the decade of my discontent.