A FML Moment

No, I still don't understand modern day hiring practices.

Over the years I've come to terms with some uncomfortable realities, such as:

• My degree did not train me for a job. At all.
• 99.99999999999999% of employers want trained hirees.

But those are only a few common-sense factoids that I've generated from the cess pool of mind fuck that is the modern day job market. Recently I had the all-time biggest mind fuck of an interview-- an even bigger mind fuck than the interview I had with a local construction company where I was stood up for the first interview, and during the second interview one of the HR ladies texted on her phone and the other one, a no-nonsense twenty-something, arrogantly sat across from me while wearing a pair of Scooby Doo pajama pants.

I nailed the interview. I did not get the job.

The interview that I had recently was for a job that I really, really wanted. I researched the company and the details of the job title. I spent a couple hours reviewing common interview questions and mapped out how I would best sell my experience and characteristics for that particular position. I even picked up some new clothes that whispered I have my shit together. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that preparing well for an interview automatically makes me worthy for the job, I am just pointing out that yes, I covered the basics, and I didn't go in wearing a pair of Scooby Doo pajama pants.

I was nervous as I sat in the foyer and waited for the interviewer to fetch me, but I was more pumped than anything. I was going to shine, shine like Celine Dion in her A New Day Las Vegas show doing her infamous, Francophone power growl. And then Buddy came around the corner and stretched out his hand. Or maybe I stretched out my hand. Either way, our hands met, and BAM! It was instant awkward.

Why? I don't know, maybe it was the look he gave me and that subtle pause of hesitation that said, why did we bring her in? And then my following thought of, great, a perpetual nerd from planet Academia; help me Jesus.

Besides Buddy asking two or three questions that actually pertained to the job I was applying for, most of the questions asked were, well, annoying.

What is makeup artistry?

A little back story: as advised by my previous employment counselor, I have included miscellaneous achievements from over the years in my resume, even if they do not pertain to the particular job I am applying for. Since I have limited hands-on experience in the area in which I am pursuing, she insisted that this would help promote me as diverse and adaptive individual.

So yeah, what is makeup artistry? Sigh. Really? I mean, really. As I later relayed this to Bear, his reaction was, "Jesus [explicit] Christ. It is exactly what it [explicit] sounds like, [explicit]!" And that's coming from the man who responded to my use of the word "affirmation" by pointing to himself and saying "high school drop out", then pointed to me and said, "university graduate", then asked, "now what is affirmation? And can I buy it at Co-op?"

Another gooder:

What was your biggest challenge with selling Mary Kay?

Or,

What would make your current job more meaningful? How do you know that you're successful at your current job?

Or,

What newspapers did you do freelance writing for? If you could write full time, would you?

Don't get me wrong, I realize that Buddy may have had the intention to ask me off beat questions so he could divulge less censored answers from me. I get that. And when responding to these questions I did my best to twist the answers so they actually related to the position I was applying for, but at the end of the interview I walked out without ever really having the opportunity to sell myself or even discuss why I thought I was suitable for the job.

A few times throughout the interview I referred to working with young people and how I enjoyed acting as a mentor to them. Buddy later stopped me and pointed out how he thought it was funny that I referred to them as "young people", as I am so young myself. Then he went on to say that it is great that at my age I am in a supervisory position-- my employer must really see me as a leader.

This is the moment where I should have hit the pause button, ripped off my Celine Dion face and put on my Eminem mask. The moment where I should have stood on the chair and pointed to the dates on my resume with the toe of my boot while grabbing a fist full of hair and yelled, "I AM A WOMAN. I WILL TURN TWENTY-SEVEN THIS YEAR. YOU'RE WONDERING HOW I DIFFER FROM SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD BOYS IN HIGH SCHOOL? IT'S CALLED A MORTGAGE. IT'S CALLED GRADUATING FROM UNIVERSITY FIVE YEARS AGO. AND AS FAR AS YOU KNOW, I AM IN MY SECOND MARRIAGE, HAVE THREE KIDS, AND I AM SPORTING SOME WICKED C-SECTION SCARS. AND NO, BEING IN A SUPERVISORY POSITION AT MY AGE IS NOT IMPRESSIVE. PEOPLE MY AGE WHO HAVE BEEN AT THE SAME JOB FOR AN EXTENDED PERIOD OF TIME WHO ARE NOT IN A SUPERVISORY POSITION HAVE DEVELOPMENTAL ISSUES. AND BY THE WAY, WHO ARE YOU? DO YOU LIVE ON EARTH? AND NO, I DON'T HAVE ANY MARY KAY SAMPLES ON HAND.

But I missed the moment. It was one of those unexpected comments that left me stunned with a WTF thought bubble bouncing above my head instead of an assertive retort on the tip of my tongue. You know, the kind of moment that you wish you could go back in time and re-do. Dammit, I hate those moments.

My failure to progress to the next step in the hiring process was finalized on Friday when no one called me back. SURPRISE! But it wasn't much of a disappointment due to the interview being a patronizing mind fuck, which is why I am unabashedly ripping the experience apart on my public blog. I just don't care anymore. I don't think I will ever understand the social-political bullshit of the professional sphere. I am not sure I want to.

On that note, here is some uplifting words from my favorite deceased, overweight rapper: