It’s fucking November.
Can you believe that crap? It gets dark early, my ass inevitably widens and I think last night I saw someone wearing a Christmas sweatshirt. Already.
Oh, I didn’t get that job I interviewed for. I got my first ever rejection letter for a prospective job. It occured to me during the process that there has never been a job that I applied for that I did not get. Granted, my only jobs have been, in order: Receptionist/Sectretary for a Human Resources group that provided summer employment to underprivileged children, Certified Sandwich Artist, video store clerk (best job ever), waitress/bartender and a film festival intern/assistant. The film festival position might seem fancy, but remember festivals are non-profit organizations who prey on the wageless work of college kid interns. It wasn’t that hard to nab.
However, post graduation, I did not get hired to work in a call center. You heard me right, even with a degree and 7 1/2 years customer service experience I was passed over. I passed all the pre-screenings and computer tests–that wasn’t it. It was after my face-to-face interview that I heard nothing, only to receive notice by mail that I was not chosen for the job.
Which, in a way, yay me. When I applied I was thinking only about how much I’d be earning (the pay was fairly high for that sort of job), that I might get a 9-5 type job that allowed me to wake up in the mornings like the rest of the world, and that I might never have to kiss some bitch’s ass for a $2 tip. But in the time since my interview I’ve learned that a call center job just might have killed me. I was fully unaware of the horrors that working at a busy call center might entail in the haze of my I’m-getting-a-new-job! frenzy.
Get this shit. They tell me I would have had to talk on the phone all day. Go ahead and laugh at my ridiculous naivety, but I mean all fucking day. Truth be told, I hate talking on the telephone. I was told I’d have to take call after call after call with no break in between until time to clock out eight hours later, jaw sore and mind weak. Much like a hard days work making porn.* So, I guess it is sort of okay I didn’t get the job. Besides, I may have had to work the night shift anyhow, which was one of my main reasons for leaving my current job.
Ya know, though, I wouldn’t mind knowing why not. I was doing fine until the one-on-one interview. I can’t help but wonder what the deal was. I thought the interview went fine, with me giving all the right answers to his barrage of questions about my strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps it was the extensive criminal background check I agreed to that disuaded them. I have a DWI on my record, but I confessed to it up front on the application. I wasn’t hiding anything. It’s not like I have to drive the freaking phone.
Chances are I’ll never know. Had I been turned down for something more substantial I don’t think it would have been that big a deal; so, I’m underqualified, I’ve no experience. Understandable. But this place was hiring 20 year olds for fuck’s sake. And some not-so-smart ones, to boot. I think I’ll pretend I was overqualified for the phone slave job. It’s best on my ego that way.
In other news, the VCB and I finished the entire 30+ hours of “Twin Peaks.” We waded through shitty, worn-out rentals of the 2nd season, and devoured more donuts than I’d like to think about. Naturally, the VCB was taken with the series, because he is smart and has fantastic tastes. He seemed particularly fond of the Windom Earle plot line in Season Two. He was hesitant at first, not sure of what he thought after just the pilot episode, but in due time he came into the fold. Next step: Convince the VCB to attend the Twin Peaks Festival this summer.
In other, other news:
-I am reading Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything and am loving it. It’s more than safe to say that my science background is lacking…it is downright pitiful. So for the first time ever I’m learning about how planets were discovered and just how unfathomably enormous our galaxy is and how it is that this vast and crazy universe began. And I get to laugh out loud at least twice per page. Can’t beat that.
-Here I Type is back at it. This brings me inexplicable calm.
-Me and the VCB broke into my 2nd story apartment with a huge ladder in the middle of the night. Well, it was mainly the VCB, I just stood on the ground propping myself up on the ladder with one hand, alternating between whining and hurrying him. He had to sort of dive into the window head first upon reaching the open window, just after overcoming his lifelong fear of heights. Which totally makes him my fucking hero.
-I finally saw The Breakfast Club. It was not at all what I expected or very good.
-Ladies: Avoid rummaging through your boyfriend’s old photographs all willy-nilly. Odds are you’ll end up crying.
*I, uh, guess.
13 comments ↓
Thanks for the recommendation of Bryson’s book. I’ve been eyeing it every time I go into Barnes & Noble, but I always opt for a more technical book, or a novel. Something about the in-between bothers me. But it’s on my list now.
Yeah, you didn’t get the job not because you’re overqualified, but because you’re overqualified *and* I’m betting the interviewer caught on to your personality.
Anyone who’s even remotely creative can’t possibly sit at a desk and answer a phone for 8 hours. The interviewer knows this, and won’t hire anyone who will quit within 2 days.
I strongly suspect you were overqualified for the call center job. They probably figured you’d wise up to what a crappy job it was and leave before you were past your probationary period. I once got passed over for a job at Kinko’s, even though I have years of experience in the printing business. At first I was upset… no, not upset, but perturbed. Like you, I’d never been turned down for a job before. But after the original shock wore off, I realized how lucky I had been not to get that job. And now I’m really glad, because I wouldn’t have stumbled into my current job, which, while not my “dream job,” is a pretty good position.
So don’t worry–you’ll find something that suits you, probably when and where you don’t expect to find it. Keep your eyes and ears open, talk to as many people as possible (I hate the term “networking,” but the concept is very effective), and in the meantime keep writing, writing, writing. That’s going to be the key to your long-term success and happiness.
Scott
For what it’s worth, guys have this problem, too. Sarah’s photo album is rich with pictures of her cuddling with various reprobates, sociopaths, and drug-dealers, smiling just like she smiles in pictures with me. I don’t like it.
Guys- avoid rummaging though your girlfriend’s hard-drive all willy-nilly. Odds are you’ll end up burning copies for yourself.
Regret is a weird, weird feeling when unaccompanied by guilt. But it’s not as bad as crying, I’m sure.
“Sail On” is right up there with Liz Phair’s “Divorce Song” and Afghan Whigs’ “When We Two Parted” in my list of great breakup/divorce songs. best line: “I know it’s a shame / But I’m giving you back your name”.
And Twin Peaks was way weirder than I thought. Watching it late at night while sleepy kept making me think that i had nodded off and dreamt something, like I used to do in history class. but reviewing the next day just showed that, nope, I really did see that weirdness. So sad about no third season. Almost as sad as I am that there is no second season of My So-Called Life. ABC sucks.
Jeez, you and my old pal Milky John were both passed over by the call center… but they hired Tara. I’m scared. The Universe is just a big chaotic shitstorm, isn’t it?
So many things to comment on in this entry.
And I can’t remember any of them, since I’d have to backpage to recall.
Oh yeah, did the TP marathon thing in Denver. It was weird on so many levels.
And there’s no greater sat than running your own biz. We actually managed to get a house just on sock sales! Well, we are still renting, but it IS a step up, noe that we have an Official Warehouse.
And please, please don’t burn any pix you might find. I lost so many wunnerful pix because my ex found a few with me and other girls in them. But I’m sure you’d never do that.
You know, it could also be that they did a web search on your name and decided they didn’t approve of your blog, past and present. That’s the worst thing about posting anything incriminating (even if just mildly so) on the ‘net–once it’s out there, it can’t be taken back.
One of my favorite college professors (who was recently killed in an accident) used excerpts from some of my advanced exposition journals in a textbook he and his wife/coauthor published. I didn’t think much of it at the time, except to be excited and honored. But much of what I had written was fairly incriminating, including several very explicit accounts of drug-fueled adventures from my early adulthood. The book was used extensively in the writing program there at the university where they taught, and many of my samples were published on-line as part of course websites. Therein lies the rub–to this day, I can do a fairly simple Google search and track down those entries, complete with my full byline. I’m not ashamed of what I wrote (though some of it seems embarrassingly self-indulgent when I read it now), but I know that if anyone really wanted to gather some dirt to sling at me it wouldn’t be hard to find. I don’t think I’ll be running for president or anything, but those journal entries could still someday come back to haunt me.
Just a thought….
Sarah’s photo album is rich with pictures of her cuddling with various reprobates, sociopaths, and drug-dealers, smiling just like she smiles in pictures with me. I don’t like it.
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Profound. I’m serious.
I agree.. that is profound…. I found myself shivering after I read that. I don’t even like thinking about it.
I love Bill Bryson. Have you read any of his other books? They’re mainly travel books, but even if you have no interest in travelling, they’re still a hoot and a half to read.
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