If there is anything I can’t stand more than cleaning toilets, sweaty humid weather or dog saliva it’s the process of applying for a job. It’s not that I am unskilled or that I don’t have a wide variety of experiences in unskilled and professional positions. I’ts not that I don’t have references that would brag about the things I do. It’s that the process is laborious and filled with bullshit ‘look at me’, ‘I did this’ and ‘I am the best’ that feels like the most unnatural and ingenuous processes. I hate that it takes forever to manufacture a perfectly crafted and embellished piece of social engineering/shit. I hate that of the hundreds of job applications, job posting websites, emails and L_#$%-In profile that none of it makes the process more streamlined. Can you guess the jobs on my resume that have actually come from applying through a formal process? None. The two positions I thought were legitimate were actually in fact situations where I wasn’t the preferred applicant, rather I was the 2nd or 3rd or 10th applicant where the first choice actually knocked back the offer. This isn’t confidence building and sort of marks me as ‘desperate’ from the start, which is true. I am Jack’s desperate 2nd choice (as Narrated by Edward Norton).
Some people aren’t beggars. That’s right reader; there are people who get to choose which part of carcass to eat from, while the scavengers of society, you faithful author, fight for gristle and entrails like a Boxing Day sales rack. It’s only after you have been a scab for so long do you lose the fight and realise the madness. You think to yourself, what an embarrassing and humiliating process. To bear all you are and for it to be judged as less than. I can’t seem to trick myself it to going though the process when I know it doesn’t work and that I have precedence to prove it. Who would have thought at my age and with my CV I would ashamed putting my song of achievements added to the Olympic sized swimming pool of 1000’s of candidates. I have never much been a competitive person. I prefer my actions and the things I have done and do to speak for myself. The process of documenting these things is practice of narcissism and sociopathy. The soup of lying and manipulating how much value you will be to a company rivals the pea soup spewing from the mouth of a possessed Regan played by Linda Blair.
I sit and start to edit that cover letter.
Dear so and so, I’d like to formally forward to you my application from position ‘X’
The serotonin is suddenly evaporating from my brain. I pause and sigh. Minutes pass by as I focus out the window at busy bees munching up pollen from the flowers. Workers bees not complaining. I am Jack’s whining inner monologue. Maybe being a housewife is what I am supposed to be. Maybe cleaning up shit is my calling. Think about it, even on set of the Exorcist, someone has to clean up the pea soup spew. My mind wanders a lot. I think I should work on that application. A waste of my time and your time. The what would be the way we started a Coonara or disposed of in the (PAPER ONLY) VISY bin, your carefully crafted begging, to be shredded and resold as BBQ briquettes for a golf club lunch with executives at unnamed corporations. Flapping their jaws away about cost cutting, record quarterly profits and bragging about the whole application process turning in to 1’s and 0’s where there is no HR person. No human required. Yes, just an algorithm that searches for key words and shortlisting suitable options based on words.
A game of matching words and flirting with a computer. I am Jack’s cyber seductress. You want me …. You need me…. I am your number one girl… I am 96% positivity, value and opportunity… I paraphrased the company’s mission statement… We match! What a coincidence! Wait… Scanning…. and delete.