Friday, October 03, 2003
One day, I dream of going into an interview and getting hired...
It happened once before, but that seems to be the exception...
Some day, I will go to an interview and I WON'T spend 30 minutes talking to them about their job, only to have them say at the end "We're really looking for someone who has experience"...
Sometime, I hope I won't have an excellent interview with two managers before one of them mentions that they already FILLED THE POSITION THEY ARE INTERVIEWING ME FOR BUT MIGHT CALL ME BACK IN TWO WEEKS BECAUSE THE GIRL THEY HIRED DIDN'T SOUND LIKE SHE WOULD LIKE THAT PARTICULAR JOB AND WOULD LIKELY GET BUMPED OUT TO A DIFFERENT POSITION AND THEN THEY'D CALL AND HIRE ME TO FILL THAT SPOT AND BE TRAINED BY THE GIRL THAT THEY JUST HIRED INSTEAD OF THE GUY THAT WORKED THERE FOR TWO YEARS.
But...
I must not dwell...
Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm going to take that and turn it into my DWELLING. I will decorate the walls with delightful pictures of hate and framed spite and furnish it with pure rage. The carpeting shall be malice and the wallpaper shall be sheer loathing. The Welcome Mat (made from the finest Manager's skin!) shall read "Fuck you all" scrawled in a most foul substance. The taps will run boiling bile and the fridge will be filled with all things Cannibalicious. The four-poster will have poison for a mattress, anger for sheets, insanity for a comforter and the pillows shall be stuffed with the finest, most rabid bird feathers to be found on earth. The key to the front door shall be crafted from the finger bones of a thousand employers, each of which was rent bloodily from their stubby, maligned clawed hands by my bare teeth while I cackle madly wearing a suit and tie stitched together from the thousands of copies of my trashed resume.
This is where I live now. In my own small angry world. I think you've already heard of it. I have visited it quite often, but the cottage has become quite the castle.
It happened once before, but that seems to be the exception...
Some day, I will go to an interview and I WON'T spend 30 minutes talking to them about their job, only to have them say at the end "We're really looking for someone who has experience"...
Sometime, I hope I won't have an excellent interview with two managers before one of them mentions that they already FILLED THE POSITION THEY ARE INTERVIEWING ME FOR BUT MIGHT CALL ME BACK IN TWO WEEKS BECAUSE THE GIRL THEY HIRED DIDN'T SOUND LIKE SHE WOULD LIKE THAT PARTICULAR JOB AND WOULD LIKELY GET BUMPED OUT TO A DIFFERENT POSITION AND THEN THEY'D CALL AND HIRE ME TO FILL THAT SPOT AND BE TRAINED BY THE GIRL THAT THEY JUST HIRED INSTEAD OF THE GUY THAT WORKED THERE FOR TWO YEARS.
But...
I must not dwell...
Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm going to take that and turn it into my DWELLING. I will decorate the walls with delightful pictures of hate and framed spite and furnish it with pure rage. The carpeting shall be malice and the wallpaper shall be sheer loathing. The Welcome Mat (made from the finest Manager's skin!) shall read "Fuck you all" scrawled in a most foul substance. The taps will run boiling bile and the fridge will be filled with all things Cannibalicious. The four-poster will have poison for a mattress, anger for sheets, insanity for a comforter and the pillows shall be stuffed with the finest, most rabid bird feathers to be found on earth. The key to the front door shall be crafted from the finger bones of a thousand employers, each of which was rent bloodily from their stubby, maligned clawed hands by my bare teeth while I cackle madly wearing a suit and tie stitched together from the thousands of copies of my trashed resume.
This is where I live now. In my own small angry world. I think you've already heard of it. I have visited it quite often, but the cottage has become quite the castle.
