Job, noun: a specific piece of work required to be done as a duty or for a specific fee.
Hunt, also a noun: a pursuit for food or sport (as of wild animals)
A job hunt. That’s what they call it. One goes out and pursues a job.
Though, that’s not exactly 100% the truth. A person does not simply go out, find a job, and bag it with a .22 rifle. The average person goes out and says, “Hi, I’m needy. I have bills and rent to pay and my girlfriend likes it if I take her out every once in a while. I believe my life is worth about $7.30 an hour. Well, at the very least it is worth $7.30 an hour by government standards, which you’re likely to give me and not a dime more. I’ll wash dishes, have people treat me poorly for their disappointments with your company, and much much more. You probably won’t give me this job, which isn’t O.K., but I will go next door and say the same thing.” People really don’t say that if they want a job. But, it’s the truth.
The hunt is more of a suicidal sacrifice. The unemployed, like starving deer, walk right up to the businesses’, the real hunters’, front doors. The employed give up vast amounts of their life for a very minimal amount of money. In these poor economic times, they are, whether they believe it or not, lucky to do so. I do not fall into this category.
I was lucky enough, however, to be called in for an interview. It sounds a bit cliché, but it was too good to be true. Most places looking for employees now list their want ads online and have online applications. I used to dress up and go store to store, coolly asking if they would be interested in hiring me. Now, I apply for jobs in my underwear. I wake up in the morning, roll over, and start applying for jobs. For example: Today, I put in six applications. From floor sales person to bookseller, from making tacos to Lufthansa flight attendant. So, when I was called in for an interview, something danced inside my stomach. The job advertised $14.75 as starting pay. “Hell,” I said to myself, “I won’t need to work full time, but dammit I am– if they offer it to me.” I got up, showered, shaved, wiped my boots off, and dressed as nicely as I could. I had no idea what I even applied for. Bad sign #1. Bad sign #2, the interview was at a mini-mall. I pulled up and noticed other people in suits leaving the building. I cursed a bit. I was only wearing a nice buttoned up dress shirt and khakis. No tie. However, I did remember to wear a brown belt and brown shoes.
The waiting area was nothing more than fold out chairs and a card table with sheets on clipboards. These sheets were for other applicants and me to fill out about ourselves. They wanted to know about our hobbies, residence, relationship status, what our five year plan was, and interests, as if it wasn’t the same as hobbies. Most males cannot be 100% honest with the hobbies section. There’s always one thing we like to do by ourselves, probably more than any other hobby we have. We all know we do it, we just don’t like to admit we do it. So, I left it off of my hobbies section, even my interests, and sat there quietly until my name was called, mispronounced. I corrected the interviewer and he tried to repeat it but still mispronounced it. I smiled and pretended he got it right. I even said so.
In side what he said was his office even though someone else’s name was on the desk, we chit-chatted for a bit about this or that. I commented on the giant Bowie knife on the desk. They sold knives but not this particular type of knife. The Bowie knife is, in fact, not named after Jim Bowie, who died at the Alamo. The knife was actually named for his brother, who had the knife made by James Black after he broke his dagger stabbing it into a bull’s head. I told him this. He had no idea who Jim Bowie was. He told me I could wait in the other room, if I had time. I thought, “I’m jobless and poor, what else would I be doing?” I said instead, “Sure” and went into the next room.
Eventually, two other people came in and we watched the beginning of Farris Bueller’s Day Off. We didn’t say a word to each other. The interviewer came and in stated that many people he interviews had never seen this film and many more of them had never even heard of it. This was coming from a man who never heard of Jim Bowie.
For the next two hours we heard about this company. Up until now this was the most we had heard about it. We would be house to house knives salesmen. This didn’t seem like a hot idea. Selling knives house to house in Toledo? One might as well be handing out 9mms on the streets of LA. I stopped taking real notes and started doodling on my sheet of paper once I found out how the business actually worked. They lure people in with the promise of $14.75. This is not per hour, this is per demonstration of their product in someone’s home. This someone’s home was usually a family or a friend of yours. They also made their salesperson (not employee as we were to be called) buy a starting sales-kit. This kit would normally cost $800, but they were going to be giving them to us for a cut in the price, $300. We would receive this kit after we attended a three day no pay training session on the 4th of July weekend. I doodled fireworks blowing up in Bic pen blue on my sheet of paper spelling out: YOU CAN BLOW ME!
We were given a test. On this test we were supposed to repeat information given to us during this session. What film did we watch? Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. What year did this company start? 1946. What five goals do you have for your future? Not work here, move to Germany, write a book, get married, and find a real job. He called my name, still mispronounced. I got up and handed him my test. He pretended to look at it and congratulated me for passing the interviews. I received a pass to attend the three day no pay training program. I wadded it up as soon as I walked out the door.
I went home, stripped down to my underwear, and turned the fan on. This is how I apply for jobs. This is how I hunt.
Love as always,
Kurt Doonesbury
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