On Account of Excessive Excitement

I got my 1,000,000th rejection email from one of the big, local insurance companies today. They really should have a giveaway associated with that, but seeing as they're mostly technically competitors, I can't see them going halfsies (halvsies?) on anything like that. The giveaway could be really exciting, like "Free Yugo with Your 1,000,000 Rejection!" or "Free Health Insurance for a Week with your One Millionth Rejection!" The alternative, of course, would be to just give me a fucking job, but whatever. Sweepstakes are apparently NOT FOR EVERYONE. ("Everyone" likely being all of us looking for jobs right now.)

Failure Like the Back of My Hand

If  you look at this picture, you might assume that this past weekend I got into some crazy bar fight, or I worked at the farm, or possibly slipped dramatically on my way into work today and cut my knuckles on ice or the odd stack of junk mail. None of that is the case.

On Friday night, I gesticulated wildly into an overhead hanging light fixture at a dive bar. I'm 99% sure I have hepatitis now. (No worries, I was only using my liver under the powers of evil, anyway.)

The Real Cost of Things

Simon, far, and Chloe, our newest family member.

On New Year's Day, the three of us - Adam, me, and Simon - woke up at Rob and Arnica's, who good friends of ours who probably enjoy Simon's company more than ours (though their yellow lab, Maddy, might disagree). I woke up first because the double bed the three of us were sharing was not big enough for two adults and a 100 pound puppy, and made my way through their house, helping to tidy at way too early an hour for a person who went to bed at 4 a.m. Arnica rose shortly thereafter and we  groggily cleaned and attempted to make small talk through the alcohol haze.

Salmo Salar

Salmo salar, the Atlantic Salmon,
image c/o nationalgeographic.com

It occurred to me today, as I sat fuming at my desk, methodically, if not emphatically, pushing the keys on my keyboard to the rhythms of Wilson Pickett, that I have a the unhelpful habit of consistently working against myself. Rather than selecting the most logical, easy, well-worn route to any destination, somehow, I almost inevitably choose the path of most resistance. Surely, there must be a singular word for people who consistently work against their own best interests, aside from masochist, but I can't find it. [Unrelated, if you Google "people who consistently work against their own best interests," you will get a slew of articles attempting vainly to explain why anyone votes Republican. I shit you not. Give it a try!]

The Importance of Being Earnest

I wouldn't normally write more than one post in a day, but it seems I have the time and the will this morning to do exactly that.

I just had the strangest phone interview of my life. After a very successful traditional interview for a work-at-home job I would positively thrive in, I returned a call from a headhunter regarding an account coordinator position to which I applied last weekend.

The headhunter, before saying anything other than typical pleasantries, asked what I wanted for pay because "this position doesn't pay well."

I responded by knocking down my ideal pay grade by $10k.

"Ok, so you're still in the running," she said. "Before we go on, I need to tell you a bit about what I call the job from hell."

Thankfully, this was a phone interview, so she couldn't see my eyes bug out of my head. The very honest headhunter went on to describe a job that would essentially entail sitting in an office for eight hours a day, responding to client emails, and translating client requests to the design department. 

"I'm looking at your resume," she sighed. "You'd be bored to death here. There is no room for professional advancement, only expansion if duties. You're far too creative and smart to stay with this horrible, poorly paid job..."

I stammered a bit. Firstly, the job she described wasn't really at all the job I applied for. The job I applied for described traveling and event planning and marketing. Secondly, the headhunter, who also owns her own marketing firm, broke it down so candidly that my brain shut off. Who the hell is that honest these days? It was so refreshing that it was like being forced to participate in a polar swim.

She went on to compliment me thoroughly and completely reject me as a possible candidate for this job. I understand that her job is to find a permanent employee for the position and she wasn't going to stick me in there knowing I'd be bored and leaving in a short time. We shared a hearty laugh over what I'm doing now, and she passed on a few company names that do what she does, but might actually have a job I'd like. 

I can't quite wrap my head around why she even contacted me to begin with seeing as she accurately determined I wasn't right for the job long before we spoke, but I was not only impressed but motivated by her candor; there are other marketing professionals out there with a intolerance for bullshit.