Wednesday, April 28, 2010
"At least you're surviving" my friend said as I figured out the knot
WHAT ARE YOUR QUALIFICATIONS?
I speak clearly. I learn quickly. I'm a problem solver. I do well under pressure. I can type like a bolt of lighting. Graduated high school and college: I'm quite certain I'm not a drooling idiot.
I can perform your menial job.
That's all you need to know when hiring me. You can write “Must have this many years of experience...” but you know the statement has no weight. I can learn everything about your job in fifteen minutes. Your criterias are overinflated delusions to make yourself feel better about your current place in the world.
Not that it matters. Your going to give the position to your uncle's daughters second half brother twice removed who's twenty seven, has been studying general arts for eight years, still lives with his parents, and gets a weekly allowance. The over-privileged little fellow needs to be taught responsibility somehow.
WHAT KIND OF JOB DO YOU WANT?
The kind that allows me to eat and sleep in a place that protects me from the elements.
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
I want to be able to use my skills in an environment I find creatively constructive. I want to teach people about movies and books. I want to live off the things I want to make. I want to write and talk about things that make me so excited I can't help but break down into enthused dance.
Your office/temp/fuck me/juggling job is a stop gap. I can pretend that I want to sit in front of a computer rest for the rest of my life in a suit and tie worrying about customer reports. I would be lying. You're the piggy bank I have to babysit to live till the sky turns blue.
WHY DON'T YOU DO WHAT YOU LIKE? YOU SEEM PRETTY FALSELY CONFIDENT
I'm not THAT smart.
I didn't do well in school.
I don't know the right people .
The opportunity has...
The only thing that can get me through the day is the chance. The day that I bump into someone that is intrigued by what I'm reading.
“You like forms of entertainment?” he/she/it asks.
“Yes. Quite a bit.” I respond. “I write about it competently regularly on the internet and talk about it at length on a daily basis. I dabble in creating these forms of entertainment as well.”
“I would like to hire you to write/research/talk about these things that you enjoy” the thing says “I will pay you enough money to eat and live. Do you accept my offer?
“I do with great aplomb” I say.
We both walk away into the beautiful setting sun.
I don't buy lottery tickets because I think it's a waste of time, yet this thought runs through my mind on a regular basis. The fool is here and ready to take your calls.
Now give me your damn monkey job.
I'll say it with a smile if you'd like.
I'm really a nice guy.