Wednesday, September 17, 2003

So far my attempts to break into the local graphic design industry are going about as well as my attempts to burn off my own body fat with ESP, which is to say, not very well at all. I've been cold-calling for the past couple of days and thus far, all I have to show for it is a slight deafness in my left ear, thanks to the constant, low-level wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeen on the line which I'm hoping that only I -- and not any of my prospective employers-- can hear. (Maybe that's the reason I've been getting such a cool response from them. No one wants to receive a call and be chatted up by a desperate jobseeker who talks like a telemarketer and who sounds like they're slowly letting air out of a balloon.)

Guh. I suppose I have no choice but to keep trying. Feh.

Oh, and to my bosses who thought they were "doing me a favor" by letting me go so I could seek employment at another company where I would be happy and my talents would be better appreciated. I hope God decides to do you a favor by picking up Hurricane Isabel, carrying it several hundred miles and depositing it right onto the part of the company lot where your SUV's are parked.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

The fact that you are reading this message is indicative of the fact that I was finally able, after approximately 87,000 hours worth of effort, to establish a viable internet connection from my parent's house. Hooray for small miracles.

Friday, September 12, 2003

The job hunt goes on...and on. The date of my approaching move-back-in with my parents draws nigh, and my desperate attempts to delay that day indefinitely led me today to drive over 100 miles to a tiny town in Western Minnesota known as "Sleepy Eye". Some of you (and by that I mean, "those of you who are really, horribly OLD") may know this town from it's being frequently mentioned on the show Little House on the Prairie." Sleepy Eye is also known as the home for a certain major product promotional company, which I paid a visit to today in order to interview for a prepress position. Unfortunately for yours truly, the trip turned out to be a total waste of time and gas. One of the first things I did upon arriving was to ask the HR people for a detailed description of the job. They handed me a sheet of paper, whereupon the words "must be willing to undergo long periods of concentration and high stress" leapt out at me. I narrow my eyes.

Wow (says I to myself,)I sure hope I get this position. Because if there's something my life is sorely lacking right now, it's stress. Never mind the fact that my concentration is all shot to hell, or that I've dropped two dress sizes because I no longer have anything even remotely resembling an appetite. I need MORE stress. MORE! Yes! BRING IT ON! YAY STRESS!!! (*Brain implodes from the singularity generated by own sarcasm. Brain is replaced. Rant goes on.*)

The next hurdle I faced was when I learned that the job would be simply drag-and-drop typesetting, involving nothing creative on my part whatsoever. My enthusiasm for the position however, didn't wane completely until I learned that the job would entail rotating shifts (which is employer-speak for "have your people work certain fucking insane long-ass hours for a few weeks, and then shift so that they have to work another set of fucking insane long-ass hours for a week or two and then shift back to the same fucking insane long-ass hours again. Repeat until employee feels urge to strap cement blocks onto his/her body and jump off the town water tower.")

I might have been willing to put up with this crap had this job been within commuting distance of St. Cloud or in a suburb of the Twin Cities, but no, this place had to be waaaaay out in Sleepy Eye. And I figure, if I'm going to pick up everything I have and move to the edge of civilization (the edge of civilization defined by me as "any place located more than 50 miles from the nearest fabric store") then I'd better have a damn good job. It had better be free of irritation and a fucking pleasure to work at. I'd better get orgasms just by sitting at my fucking desk, dammit. (Well...allright... I suppose it doesn't have to be THAT good, but it DOES have to not suck salted donkey nuts. Which this job obviously does.)

The worst part about all this wasn't the fact that my interview trip was a bust. The worst part was that I had told my parents about the interview beforehand and had gotten them all psyched up thinking that maybe this was "the one". This was their salvation. The Hail Mary pass. The last-minute save. The miracle which would keep me from having to move back in with them and all the fucking-up-of-their-lives that such a move would entail. But no. I had to whizz it because I couldn't deal with an uneven work schedule and a job which didn't challenge me. I'm SUCH a wanker. (I understand where my parents are coming from and how I'd feel if I were in the same position as they are but I still feel bad about it. I should've kept my mouth shut about the interview and not raised their hopes up. Especially given my not-too-stellar track record with this whole 'job-interview" thing.)

I can only hope I have more luck once I officially launch my campaign to find work in the Cities. (I mean, hell, my luck down there can't be any worse than my luck outstate... Can it?)

I drew another page of ES and another tarot card. I'll post links to them as soon as I find the time/energy to do so. Later...