Job search brings out old stress

While conversating with an esteemed friend of mine, the question came up as to what I wanted to do, exactly, with the Time and Life magazine that I would be trying to slide my way into. In the pursuit of something so elusive and exclusive, I had shunned the typical questions that involve my day-to-day fulfillment on the job. What do I want to do and in what enviornment do I want to do it in? I don't know, honestly. I think that magazines in general suffer their readers with repetitive content. On the other hand, the ones which are packed with serious, world-changing articles are often too dense, namely Nature and Science. The Economist reaches perfection but has a Wizard of Oz aspect because none of the writers have bylines (although there are contributors from the world over). Time is for children, Newsweek is for liberally spawned children, and US News and World Report is for children who steal magazines from doctor's offices. Even the "fun magazines," such as the off-road and sky-surfing mags, are boring because they don't cover much ground and provide a bountiful portion of their pages to special interest advertising. I recall trying to read an issue of "Ski" and wondering where all the articles were. Even the articles seemed to just be about the equipment. The swath of magazines does little to promote their value: design mags, Utne Readers, Men's Mags, the Cosmo clan, it leaves the eyes reflecting their glossy sheen remarkably well.

And yet, it takes alot of guts and hard work to make a place in magazines. Presumably, this is because there are life-enriching jobs on the other end, which makes the entire industry appealing, as opposed to one particular publication.

This same friend, an academic by trade, questioned why I wasn't an academic. Well, it's simple: the English department at KU was the perfect metaphor. Buried in the depths of a huge, flat, building, Professors worked themselves silly and played political games that have nothing to do with scholarship (except that they now seem inseparable) in order to get an office that they would never have to give up. What was a typical office, though? It was a small, windowless space, one in a row of eight at the least. It was certainly quiet, perhaps as quiet as any building which serves for storage or abandonment. These geniuses, hard-workers, and (the few, the proud) the professors that could actually teach all earned a space in this building. Before the building became a repository for the purveyors of humanities, though, it was designed to be a parking garage. Essentially, the professors' workspace was their indefinite, labelled parking space with enough room to cram bookshelves and a desk, all enclosed in prefabricated walls. The unattractiveness of the space, however, is not the lesson, as other professors on campus had sunlight and a view, but shared their situation with the English professors entirely. From what I could see, professors worked very hard to achieve a position that they could never leave unless it was to their detriment. They traded flexibility and movement for a job which guaranteed security and creative influence, which is a fair trade, but perhaps not one that I'm willing to make.

What if I want to move or start a business? What if I wanted to be identified as a professional, someone who, depending on the job market, can start a practice in a new place without having to have extensive contacts. What if I wanted to risk my retirement on an investment? None of these things would be possible if I was dependent on the caretaking nature of the institution for benefits and for my livelihood. I'm not set in stone on anything, but I have an independent temperament that prefers to be alone than to be a team-player. Moreover, while the academic life may be the best in the end, I had to see for myself what it was like to live beyond the strictures of the university. I never feel satisfied with people's descriptions; I'd rather find out for myself.

Tomorrow I'll come up with some more job news.

Appearances are not what they seem

My job has all the appearance of being cool. Besides the fact that I don't do anything, there's the aspect that I'm in the music industry. I'm not looking over numbers concerning widgets, steel, or gasoline usage; I'm a part of the huge machine that makes magic! Of course, this magic is now being used to create Monsterah Carey and Nickelflack records. It goes both ways, but I guess I'd like to state my opinion here and now: in the twentyfirst century, the music biz is pretty boring, at least from the standpoint of the big boys. I wonder whether the small guys are doing anything really interesting. At least, above and beyond those who write, perform, record, sell, and tour their own material.

Now that I've seen that a certain industry is not particularly evocative, I look with trepidation towards the others which carry cache above and beyond the paycheck (and, often, to the detriment of the paycheck). Publishing, the supposed custodians of culture (since art is so hard to understand or feel anymore, at least, frequently), movies, the most vibrant and participated in art of our time (participating in architecture is passive for most), tv, the ultimate panacea, of which I am a fan despite its frequent poor quality, and fashion, where, despite the odds, a coat is never just a coat.

I think that my doubt lies not in how stimulating these fields may be, but in their ability to transcend a life from boredom to excitement. Jobs, even those that supposedly represent someone's life work, are still jobs, not some equivalent of going out and drinking. Even jobs where you can drink and hang out with friends (bartending) end up being work. Work is work, and the point is to find some people, a mission, and a group of tasks that are agreeable, not to think industry-by-industry.

Of course, staffers like people to be in the same industry, jargon usage, mostly.

I won't be complaining for long anymore

Yesterday I had several good things happen to me, but more notably, I got results from a couple of contacts. One contact, I feared, wouldn't ever offer me job, relationship, or any help that connected to her because we had partied together and she was used to my ribald nature. I have a hard time keeping anything to myself, especially anything vulgar or sexual. Why would she want to sully her company by letting me in the door? Well, the truth is that she sees my pure heart, at its very core to say the least, and my sufficient intelligence, and she probably knows that I provide a breath of fresh air to any diffcult situation. So, she personally passed on my resume and cover letter to the HR department for two jobs, including a job in the HR department, no less!

It should be clear that I've railed on HR departments before, so why would I want to join the herd of benefit checkers and resume tossers? Clearly, because there's always room for improvement. There's always another chance for me to practice being nice to total, and often pushy, strangers as well as impolite co-workers. There's alot to know with health insurance, one of the most critical parts of life when someone gets sick. As I've said before, HR is a critical component in the success of a company.

The other contact that got in touch with me was a friend of my cousin's. She works in the Time and Life building, conveniently located right across from Radio City, where I work. She said that she's been impossibly busy but would love to make time and talk to me about the publishing industry, hopefully providing me with a referral if I can ever apply there.

I've never gotten anything from a peer referral. My current job was less of a referral and more of a favor granted by the president of the company. Still, though, anything to minimize the gap already inflicted by the internet is a great advantage.

I had a dream 10 minutes ago

Taking a break from an unusually slow workweek, I decided to join my co-worker in a little nap. My garrolous friend, a real nice guy, does production for the Steve Harvey show right next to me and could be considered a huge nuisance. In fact, if he wasn't nice, I'd be complaining every day. So, I just limit it to once every two months.

His day, as a Producer for the Steve Harvey Morning show, starts at five at a local Urban station. Then, after the show's over, he comes uptown and works/naps/watches movies on his PSP until five. The guy confesses that he does this to keep out of trouble, because with all the napping he could leave earlier. Still, though, people expect downloads from him (and he expects downloads from other people) so he would have to work at home as well. Being in radio production is tough. Another veteran producer who works for a notorious right-wing talker is going to law school soon.

Now that I have zero to do, I too take occasional office naps. It seems so legit when your co-worker is sleeping right in front of you.

During this mini-siesta, though, I had a small dream where I was talking to a job consultant of some sort. He was placing colored square stickers on a piece of paper, depending on what I could do for a job. Whenever he came across a sticker that said Manager, he said, nope, can't do that. I didn't feel either way about it because it's how I've been looking at the job boards anyways. Apparently, though, it's on my mind even though I've applied for relatively few jobs this week.

McGraw-Hill needs a prize made just for them

Those hallowed textbook publishers that also own Standard and Poor and a couple of other operations (McGraw-Hill Construction, for instance), defnintely came through late in the day yesterday with a pick-me-up that was uncharacteristic of HR. After a small spate of messages left on both ends, their HR rep finally got ahold of me to clarify my job application. She told me that she wasn't sure if I really wanted a part-time job, because she sensed that I was going for a full-time position (probably stemming from the fact that I'm working full-time right now). She was very polite and told me to keep right on applying and checking their resource board now and again.

In the publishing world, which gets swamped by the intelligensia jumping the SS Academia by the droves, there's no real need to be nice: if one is disappointed with the HR attitude and leaves in a huff, ten more appear from nowhere brandishing their unappealing academic credentials.

Then again, there's no reason to be mean, either. What can be handled in a short and gruff manner can also be dealt with civilly and adroitly. There is no excuse for treating applicants like scum, and if I run into an HR group laughing about their evil ways, I may dress them down for all to see. They may crumple up my application and throw it away in the trash, instead of the permanent waste dump that is the file drawer, but at least I'll leave a sting with my mother's glare and acerbic choice of vocab words.

Politeness is an inconvenience, despite its virtue

The race to the bottom of the heap, mired in manure to the chest or even the chin, is the secret of success for many conspicuous personages. I need only ring the bell for James Frey, at least before the expose, Donald Trump, the prince of gaudy eyesores and incorrigible bankruptcy bailouts, and our pencil-thin pariah Paris Hilton, who has not a bone of saving grace, to point out that being a miserable person will be rewarded handsomely! This is, without a doubt, the 21st century rags-to-riches story, but Horatio Alger be cursed, because doing what mom and dad said will only result in rewards no more exciting than plain vanilla ice cream, definitely not Breyer's.

Enter my blog! If it takes off, I could be walking hand-in-hand with other notables. For instance, there are bloggers who regularly give themselves a manure facial, such as the Washingtonienne: a coke-sniffing Pennsylvania Ave. street-walker, proud of herself beyond all reason. More prominently, and with much more appeal, are the self-made Hollywood automartyrs, like Morgan Spurlock, the once praised but now forgettable McDonald's antihero and creator of Super Size Me. As I digested my Burger King breakfast, it came to me in a carb-loaded vision that this non-native New Yorker pulled off a rather common coup-de-tete: he stole the lifestyle of the urban lower class and made money selling it to the middle class. Hopefully, since he is clearly an exploitation artist, he can go over some new ideas with Harmony Korine, who acutely purges melodrama all over her movies with the finesse of a Lifetime movie that interjects daytrading scandal and German war crimes into a typical waspy wham-bam-beat 'er up hormone fest. At the very least, these vision-in-the-flesh directors have given screentime to everyone from frumpy hipster girls to lanky slang-slinging rollerbladers, those who would normally never get the chance.

The problem, though, is that my blog keeps floating up from the bottom of the manure spread, where it could be popular. If no one responded to my resume, I'd look pretty sorry and therefore prove a real point to a mass audience that likes to be shown which conclusions they should jump to. I'm fifty resumes in and I've already gotten three calls! One of them was a dud, the other was for a job that I shouldn't have applied for, and, most recently, I got a call from a young lady who left me with the wrong message concerning my resume. When I checked my voicemail yesterday, I had a message from Robert Half, another legal staffing firm, asking me to call them back. I called back later on, only to be asked brusquely which position I applied for, and to which I was told that I did not apply for that position, despite the fact that I had applied for it and nearly all the other positions within my reach. Then, she had another call to take, and couldn't get ahold of me again, yesterday or today. I gave her a courteous reminder call that she could return my call anytime, but apparently my application and her position as a legal staffer were irksome details in her life, so, no call back.

I'm not sure what to do about jobs today, besides doing the one that I'm paid for.

It's about time

Would you believe it, 50 resume postings in and I get a job offer? McGraw-Hill called me up on my cell phone, which I conveniently left at home, for the position of Traffic Coordinator within McGraw-Hill Construction, a far cry from their books or stock rating (Standard & Poors) business. Now, unfortunately I overlooked a critical detail about this job, that is, that it's part-time, 16 hours a week. I'm pretty sure it won't be a high enough salary to justify leaving a full-benefits 40 hour a week job. Overlooking details is going to cost me my job, even if it's a job I never had in the first place.

It might be worthwhile to go in guerrilla and find out what kind of skills I would need to become a research analyst or an editor. While staffers loathe the noncommitted job searcher, they should take a step back and realize that it's a natural response to a job market in flux. Both of my parents will swear away the notion that they wanted the jobs they had, in the sense of wanting to do that activity for a living. Instead, they took what they could find and what they could make money doing. And make money they did. They instilled a value in me which says that if I can't find something in the next two years, I'm applying to the MTA.

Let me usher in a story about getting a great job

Usually, I only get two small benefits from IM Chat: I get to keep up with people that I rarely see, and those that I can't seem to see enough of. Today, though, I got a real job story. Come over to 166 Newel and shake hands with the man himself, because he pulled off something incredible.

Devin Vermeulen, Architect, NYC:

Did I ever tell you how I got the job with the first architecture firm I started working for? I actually met them when they came into Blue Smoke as an office for an X-mas lunch. While I was dropping off food, the principal architect jokingly said to the server, "Hey, you're not an architect, are you? Because we need someone to design a website," or something of that nature. I perked up as the server said, "Actaully, I'm a graphic designer and this is my last week here, I just got a job." The principle said, "Oh, that's too bad, we missed the boat," so I said, "Well, I'm an architect and I'm availible." He said, "Really?" and I said, "Yeah, I had just moved here a bit ago after getting my degree in Kansas." He gave me his card and said to call him after the holidays, I sent him my resume the next week, called him in January, set up an interview, and was working for him a week and a half later.

Devin has since found another architect job that he's pleased with even more.


Chat with me on Google Chat or on AIM Wellsmus to share your story on the blog. This is about getting jobs, after all, not just letting me prove that I can't employ myself better.

I don't care for your style of interviewing

Last night, instead of organizing papers, I was on the floor with an ironing board. I'm aware of the idea of using a stand to raise the board to waist-level, but, last week, in a fit of impatience and rage, I tore the legs off because they wouldn't fold down. In any case, I had some clothes to nicen up for an interview right before work today with an Office Staffing Firm. Part of the reason I'm leaving this job is for the almighty dollar, which I'm not making now, nor will I be in the future, because radio is on the downturn and no one is doing anything right to reverse it.

I felt priviledged to get an interview so soon after starting my new job quest. This particular firm was looking for paralegals, and it was made blatantly clear to the staffer that I had no legal experience, either on my resume or otherwise. Still, though, she wanted me in for an interview by the next day and, operating on the principle that interviews are a pain and therefore only given when absolutely necessary, in other words, when employment is a possibility, I gladly agreed.

I came and filled out a general application that seemed frivolous. After all, the most pertinent and individualized information could easily be culled from my resume, especially with the search engine technology availible. I filled it out hastily and got on to my interview, five minutes early, feeling absolutely sure of myself and my ability to learn a new job. The woman was nice and asked me briefly about my resume, mostly focusing Kansas, actually, because she wanted to know if it was nice in Kansas. I was not really in the mood to chit chat all morning, though, so I answered everything with brevity until she told me that, as I had no legal experience, she had nothing for me. She then suggested that I do some pro bono work, somewhere, somehow, so that I could gain the experience required to be a bigtime corporate legal heel. I told her that I was confused, because it was made clear before the interview that I didn't have this experience, to which she gave a stock answer that she wanted to get the meet-and-greet out of the way, in case anything more in my league came up.

Before I left, I made sure to tell her that I wouldn't work for any less, but only somewhat more, than what I'm making now. After all, I have a cush, pleasant job in radio. Why should I trade it for a bottom-rung carbon copy gig where I have to bust ass around a bunch of suits and ties all day? A law office must be what passes for a video arcade in the 9th circle of hell. Fun, you say? Stimulation? Not a chance! Everybody has a price, though, and mine is five grand more, which is only three grand less than I would ask to work for Heidi Fleiss.

I'm having a hard time picking up the staff and walking on this morning, I'm feeling the curse of the English Major heavy on my heart, which feels like a hungover attack of remorse that won't go away. I beg anyone looking at an English major to stay away, learn to read and write some other way. All those weekends I stayed in to study have only earned me the right to get suggestions from people. It still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Who does volunteer work to do office jobs for major corporate law firm? Ugh. I might as well scrub hood ornaments for charity or recycle cigarette butts to needy bums to get a look from some Big Shot auto manufacturer or tobacco company.

American families don't leave their kin without a referral

For those of you who haven't listened to my hour-long explanantion of the maternal side of my family, you probably don't know that my first cousins and I have made a persistent effort to stick together. We're still cousins, no doubt, so we don't hang out all the time, but we've gotten to know each other despite distances or age differences, minor as they are. I've been told to straighten up and fly right by my youngest cousin, I went out in drag with another cousin, and I've stayed at my eldest cousin's home a couple of times - that's what you get for being the first homeowner in a generation.

I sent my blog to this particular cousin, actually, because I was sure that she wouldn't divulge this blog to anyone who would cause trouble, which would be my parents. I have to hide this from them because I've found that blogging can be affected too much by their opinions, which still carry the disciplinary undertones from my teenaged years. Also, they think that anything on the internet will come back around to haunt me, essentially getting me fired and blacklisted from working near a computer again, unless it's a computer to type in orders at a restaurant.

She wrote back, approved of the blog, and then reminded me that she had a best friend working as an editor, no less, at Time Inc. and her husband had an editor friend as well. Excellent! While these are hardly a jobs-on-a-platter, they're always worth probing and certainly better than applying through the internet. Even with the internet, it's great to put a referral in your resume. HR employees love people, that's why they stretch an attractive human skin over their cold, robot bodies before going to work each morning. It's inevitable, then, that they'll ask your referral a few questions and listen to see if you're that ace-in-the-hole employee to fill the job. I must say that this has never worked for me yet. I had to go to the Pharaoh of Talk Radio to get my job and I'm sure that for a promotion he'll want to eat my first born. Hopefully the producers will record the noshing sounds for a lead-in after commercials about herbal impotence drugs.

Yo, I think they like me!

Did you ever hear the two pieces of strategy for success on internet job boards? One: use key words in your resume so that it can be found in a search engine and two: update your resume frequently, because big time recruiters want only the freshest candidates. I decided that this was a super time to at least update my resume, since putting tons of "dynamic, resourceful, punctual, detail-oriented " esque words in my resume tends to makes my sentences spin. Besides, since most of my job hopes are in publishing, I have to make a valiant effort to blot my eyes, floss my tees, and pee on my queues.

Try as I might to attract nothing but the best, I did catch sight of some trolling lures trying for a gullible bottom-feeder, but this fish don't bite so fast! Let's see:

The Army wanted to hire me. You know, over 200 ways to serve the Army, 200 different ways of getting yelled at by some jerk and feel awkward around overly male men (and the occaisional Demi). Well, I'd like the gayest position the army can throw at me: Combat Button Design. Oh, Sarge! This will hold your collar snug and keep out all that gritty sand. Besides, it doubles as a torture device! Just pull it apart and, look, it snaps back together. You can pinch anyone anywhere with this black beauty, ow-wee! Don't use that on me, sir!

Also, a real winner of a corporation really got me excited. Horizon Foods, purveyors of overpriced gourmet foods, at least according to their website. Well, the problem for me, that kept me from even calling for information, was the mildly disturbing pictures of their employees. The Sales Manager looked like a conglomerate of so many divorced alcoholic golfers, so he's good for the Glenlivet but off in his game. Then, the Executive of some bullshit position looked like Cramer's (Kelsey Grammar) dad. Crap! What am I going to do when I meet these guys and they turn out to be less personable than the people they look like? I'm going to look so sad, and sad boys don't sell steaks. Besides, I got to thinking and I became sure that they'd make me invest my own money because otherwise I'd get the job, leave the job, and drive a pick-up full of steak, ice, and wine-in-a-box to Yale to celebrate my sister's almost graduation.

Finally, someone wanted me to move out to nowhere California for a sales job with a confidental company. Ooh, California Confidential! I can't wait to sell cookies to Girl Scouts, then sell Girl Scouts to Girl Scout Slave Traders! Then, get the Girl Scout Slave Traders hooked on special brand Horizon Foods Steaks! Well, at least I could have some fresh squeezed orange juice while sweating away in the Valley, I think that's how every seedy Californian lives with himself.

I did apply to 25 more jobs today, though. The more interesting ones were at Macy's, Scholastic (remember the books you forced your parents to buy, even though your school library had them already?), Random House (Bertlesmann Job Feed), Zurich Underwriting, and Sesame Street (Please GOD I want my Sesame sheets after all these years of asking, even though they'll have all these new characters that I'm not willing to accept. And there better be more than Elmo, the Machiavelli of cuteness.)

On the less interesting side, I applied for a bunch of paralegal jobs. In our old office building right next to the City Center Stage (where Doubt is playing) there was a huge law firm that occupied about twelve stories. I'd see the paralegals come and go, they seemed happy, normal, and chatty on a Friday. I even stalked one of them because I was certain that he was an old high school mate of mine, but then I found out that my old mate was in Michigan, likely to be laid off by a major auto company.

And, I should mention that one of those legal staffing firms called me last night. They had a few preliminary questions, two of which I answered in the negatory: Have you ever worked for a lawyer or in any legal profession, and Have you ever worked as a paralegal? Redundant, your honor! They still want me for an interview, which I'll go to before work tomorrow.

Your comment is needed right now! Should I give up my cush radio job for a grind job with some Big Shot lawyers for a measely few more grand, or should I keep trying to weasel my way into publishing or, if there is a God, TV? Cocktail parties were never the end all be all for me, were they? Was I just another pretty face, can't you think of me as anything more than a little traipse in a black dress?

Negativity is for losers

This blog started out being cynical. Clearly, I'm still a teen at heart, an angst-ridden teen who wears his heart on his sleeve. And for those that don't care, well, you know I'm mad at you.

How I wish I could have lunch with my old high school guidance counselor, on him of course, so that he could point that out as my big "little step in the wrong direction." All the while I would be thinking about booze and bros, or the English teacher's daughter, Lindy. I guess those were the golden years after all.

But no one can find a job with a lousy attitude, so I've got to chin-up each day and tell myself that I do want a new job, that I do believe that these positions that I apply for will make me a little happier and guide me in career choices!

Bertlesmann update: Their automatic job update service, JobAgent, sends me jobs everyday, at least for the past two days, so I'll keep applying with them. I'll loosen up my McGraw-Hill filters too, so that they send me more jobs. Small advice: for those looking for an entry-level job without any real background, don't set the job filters to only one field. Instead, let them send you all the jobs and ignore the ones that don't interest you, as well as the ones that you're simply not qualified for.

Careerbuilder Update: Hablas Espanol? Have you ever applied for a bilingual job? Then you have something coming, let me tell you! I'm not bilingual, but I applied for an Admin. Assist. job with that stipulation because sometimes they just need someone to smile and say "Oui, oui" when a customer is explaining all the problems he went through to get to the airport. Here are my new bilingual opportunities, delivered to my mailbox at the fresh hour of 2 in the morning:


Garden City, NY Copy Editors (Spanish Speaking) YES Solutions 02/13
New Brunswick, NJ Bilingual Outside Sales Rep needed for NJ!!!!! Zep Manufacturing
New York City, NY SHOW PRODUCER Univision Communications Inc. 02/10
New York City, NY NEWS REPORTER Univision Communications Inc. 02/10
Newark, NJ Bilingual Spanish/English Social Worker NJ Division of Youth and Family
Paterson, NJ Bilingual Spanish/English Social Worker NJ Division of Youth and Family
Roslyn Heights, NY Part-time Administrative Assistant / Processor - Bilingual
New York, NY Bi-Lingual Accounant Accountemps 02/04
Hicksville, NY Sales and Marketing Representative - Bilingual Skills a Plus! Lloyd
Mineola, NY German, Mandarin, Japanese Instructors; Spanish for Kids Berlitz
New York, NY Bi-Lingual Sales Representative AOK Staffing 01/30
New York, NY Sr. Manufacturing Estimator - Bilingual (Spanish) The McGraw-Hill
New York City, NY Financial Counselor - English & Spanish Greenpath, Inc. 01/27

Note that Univision has now extended their privately owned mano to Senor Ouwells. Finally, a chance to break into the exclusive Mexican talk show programs. With only 32 programs per network, yould have to be Srta. Hilton to knaw your way into a spot.

Oh, and in case you were in denial of what Career planners think about administrative assistants, here's a job that would suit any fantastic secretary! When you're so close to the bottom, what's wrong with tasting the carpet?

Morristown, NJ Supervisor of Office Cleaning 02/14

First Rejection

Nearly as fast as I posted it, the HR department of Bookspan has deemed me unworthy of consideration, today or in the future. This collar isn't Ivy colored, after all, and it's clear that the publishing world needs these intellectuals. After all, who else could bring us such works as Nicole Richie's memoir. I mean, they're clearly not capable of writing like this, but they can make it immortal for generations of impressionable girls to come.

From: myfuture.processing@bertelsmann.com

To: xxxx.xxxxx@gmail.com
Date: Feb 15, 2006 5:05 PM
Subject: Your interest in Bookspan

Dear Richard,

Thank you again for your interesting application.

We have carefully examined your qualifications and have checked the availability of a suitable possibility for you at our organization. We regret to inform you that there is no match at Bookspan at this time.

We appreciate your interest in our company and wish you success in your future career endeavors.

Regards,


Human Resources
Bookspan

First 20 applications - 10 to Bertlesmann

I sacked Bertlesmann last night and today: Editorial Assistant, Production Assistant, Site Administrator, and many other assistant positions, including a couple of Adminstrative Assistant positions that looked like I might do more than reschedule flights and rental cars.

Other organizations were less known, the highlight being a job which consists of explaining the company's database applications to its employees. The company was UNFCU, I believe, which I think is the United Nations' Credit Union. I support Credit Unions for the simple fact that they help homeowners get better loans most of the time, which, seeing as how I grew up in a mortgage household, I'd love to encourage the same and help to it to proliferate.

I found the other jobs at Monster, Careerbuilder, Mediabistro, and Craigslist. Even applied for one on Craigslist to do weekend proofreading. I wouldn't mind bringing in some more cheddar on the weekends. This city, though, demands that you bring in as much extra dough as possible by cultivating a feeling that you're perpetually behind in shopping, saving, and travel.

Welcome to the gutter of the rat race.

Two Januaries ago, I was lucky enough to score a paid internship in radio, my one major interest during college. I soon found out that it was a terrible job with a dismal future. As I had moved to New York for this opportunity, I was dismayed that I had little to look forward to each day. No potential friends, no skills to learn, nothing to do, really. I sure spent alot of time learning and writing German, which was never totally effective because I wasn't immersed in the language. I also answered emails with the crack of a whip, making myself to be a shining star in the game of correspondence.

There's a natural solution to this: find another job. But, thanks to my parents, my friends, and anyone else I could talk to, I got all the straight talk that said that my job prospects were rock bottom. It's not hard to see, here's my experience, which doesn't apply to corporate experience:

Algebra Teacher
Short-term African NGO worker
Language Student
Physics Lab Assistant

Corporate experience, the ability to do everything for everyone, talk to people like you're glad to see them from morning to night, and to promote yourself and all your endeavors, is only natural among those who have cardboard-flavored personalities. Happily for those bland unfortunates, they stand a good chance of getting a nice job because they give off an air of dependability. Unlike most movies, tv, and books, though, the flagrant, boisterous personality is not rewarded with a lifelong prize, such as a great job and a spouse, in real life. Instead, anyone with a healthy dose of colour can get stuck wiling away in a loathesome, subservient job, if any job at all, while dreaming of joining those he most resembles with a career in movies, tv, or books.

The exceptions are brilliant bulbs, those whose flair enwraps trend-following investors and lionizing journalists in their quest to become the top rock of them all. It should be clear, though, that this is a rare occurence, like a Beethoven pounding idiot savant or twins who are willing to do pornography. The differential is staggering: there are only a few stand-out CEOs, directors, and other leaders compared to the teeming masses cramped up in hip neighborhoods. Even those who make a small name for themselves, which is hard enough as it is, can be crushed within a few waves of fads.

These thoughts permeated my mood last year, eventually rendering it too difficult to apply for another job. I never received a phone call from any employer, save from an investment company that wanted me to sell questionable mutual funds for direct commission. I turned to esoteric comforts for my future, such as studying international politics in Berlin or becoming a teacher while attaining my master's degree. Both of these options are wrong because neither of them reflect the future I want.

My job only got better as my mood lightened up because I was surrounded by friends and a girlfriend. I also had fun earning money on the side by moving furniture in the city and deejaying on Monday nights. As I was basking in the glory of a great after-work life, though, I started to realize that I was still pointed towards the same dead end as when my job began. The same friends who comforted me were getting new jobs and promotions, and my girlfriend was working on her book with TV and movie options trickling in. America, especially in the go-go city of New York, is a terrible place to sink into apathy.

Therefore it's time to repeat what I did one year ago, apply for jobs. Nearly all online, of course, because in this city the are in skyscrapers and, because of 9/11, completely inaccessible by those whose presence is not pre-approved by the comapny. Online applications stream into these corporations by the thousands, so I would love to know how long it will take before someone picks mine for an interview. Last year I sent at least a hundred and never got an interview. Let's see if I send one-thousand-and-one.

No job will be out of my ability level or, for that matter, interest. This means strictly assistant and "associate" jobs (minor level above assistant) that do not require any significant technical ability because I am carrying a resume rendered from the humanities. Fortunately, New York, with it's multitude of publishing, PR, advertising, investment, and insurance companies has quite alot of opportunities for people like me. The only problem is, of course, that there are tons of people like me doing the exact same thing. What's more, many of them are older, in their 30's even, looking for the exact same entry-level position to start their career path.

With friends, though, I think I can make it through 1001 rejections, if need be. Then, it's off to Grad school.

The best person to read this is anyone beginning a Liberal Arts program. Remember, you should start your career now with summer internships! I chose to paint watercolors on Greek Islands in the summer, and look how I have to pay for it.