The truth of the matter is I NEED A BETTER JOB.
Even “truthier”…I needed it yesterday.
I looked in the mirror about three months ago and realized something has got to give.
My current job…for lack of a better term…simply sucks.
Turning off the alarm every morning at three o’clock following a short four-hour nap…sucks.
Punching in at the big box store an hour later…sucks even more.
Walking around like a zombie for the rest of the day after I punch out at eleven o’clock…really sucks.
Barely making $250 a week to show for it…well, shit…that is just depressing.
And before you start thinking I am being selfish in these troubled times…let me tell you this…I get it.
I am lucky to be employed…blah-dee blah-blah-blah.
It still sucks.
You know what is worse than being unemployed? Being under-employed. Word.
I have spent the better part of the summer filling out apps and sending so many resumes that I am both mentally and physically exhausted.
My hope is I get just one call back. Just one freakin’ call back. One. Uno.
So far I have gotten nada…nothing…zilch.
I wish I had the opportunity to entertain just ONE call back. Just one. If only to explain to the caller what my resume does not say.
Oh, sweet Jesus…for all that is good in the world…please take a freakin’ chance on me.
Sadly, my resume is not impressive. At all.
Trust me…if the inquiry ever does come…I have a laundry list of things to add to my pitiful resume.
I attended college from 1984-88.
Key word: ATTENDED.
I left school shy two required classes to go along with a semester of student teaching necessary for a diploma.
Want to laugh?
The two required classes were ELE Music and ELE PE. Yep. A total of FIVE more hours–in classes to instruct me how to teach music and P.E. to munchkins.
Why did I leave?
My parents were divorcing and there were still two young siblings at home.
I left campus for two reasons…to no longer be a financial burden to the folks and I figured a semester or two off to head to the homestead and “save the world” would be the best thing to do.
My intention was to get the family back on its feet with the hopes of returning to the higher-learning institution as soon as financially possible.
I achieved neither.
Want to laugh even harder?
When I decided to return I found the two classes necessary for my diploma were no longer required. Bad luck confirmed that in lieu of the two no longer necessary were about fifteen that were.
Oops. My bad.
Needless to say ~ I.was.pissed.
In 1989, I settled on teaching four-year-olds their letters at a local preschool. I loved it.
My salary was supplemented with a part-time job waiting tables.
The sad truth: I made more money waiting tables.
After weighing my options, I decided to sign up at a local business school. I figured I would become a
secretary…sorry~an executive assistant.
I headed to Fox College in 1993. The counselors there assured me with my mature age (ahem 27) all I would need to do is graduate in the top ten and I could name my salary. Apparently companies were in search of “mature” assistants.
I busted my ass for nine months. Busted.my.ass.
I typed 65 WPM on a manual typewriter; took shorthand at 90 WPM; learned about spreadsheets; studied accounting; learned about legal brief margins; practiced sending invoices.
I graduated number five.
The school sent me on my first interview. And then my second. I felt queasy during both. Damn nerves.
I got the call the morning after the second interview from the dean at the school. Apparently the company wanted to make me an offer.
Once a company made an offer a graduate could either accept or decline. Declining meant there would be no more offers/interviews.
The job was mine for $6.25 an hour.
Yep. A cool $250 a week. Before taxes. Before the monthly Metra pass. Before…before…before.
My current job–the one I held throughout school–the one where I waited on tables–afforded me over $500 a week. And I only had to walk a block to get to the time clock.
Decisions … decisions.
The next phone call I entertained was from the doctor’s office. Diagnosis for the queasy feeling/lightheadedness I had been experiencing?
I was pregnant.
The last nineteen years were spent raising kids and working odd jobs…all in the name of sacrifice and adding a few bucks to the family budget bottom line.
Which brings me to today.
The kids are nearly raised…and one is ready to head off to college next fall…and my forty-flippin’-six-year-old self is freaking out.
I had hoped to be knee-deep in a career at this point in my life…instead I send resumes to companies who are less than impressed with my lack of “experience”.
I wish there was a place on the resume to tell these folks that the experience I so woefully lack is more than compensated by the skills I possess.
What skills do I have?
You mean beside the ability to open three tubs full of body wash with a dull box cutter in a two-hour window?
I can walk and talk at the same time.
I come from the “old-school” type of thought…it is not what the company can do for ME–but more of what I can do for the company.
I can still type 65 WPM.
My shorthand isn’t really as sharp as it used to be, but let’s be honest…who the hell cares?!?
I can take direction and work independently. I can figure things out. Show me once and chances are I will catch on.
I do not care about benes. Sure they are great, but I am not the type to take a day off just because “I am entitled to it”. I am more the type of gal that will stay away only in the event I am coughing up a lung. Seriously.
I have no desire to be a millionaire. Truth is I would be perfectly happy clearing about $500 a week. $750 a week would be a blessing.
I can write.
I can spell.
I can spot a typo a mile away.
I can answer a phone.
I can direct a call.
I can balance a checkbook.
I have experience in accounts payable/receivable.
I have figured out the “internets”.
I can log on and off a computer. I have mastered Microsoft Word. Spreadsheets…smreadsheets. I am a pro at PowerPoint.
P.S…need info–deets–the rub on anything?? I can google the shit out of whatever interests you.
I am “social-network-savvy”.
Need someone to keep your Facebook status current…your Twitter tweeting…your blog updated?
I am your girl.
What I lack in experience I more than make up for with a willingness to learn.
The truth is I am forty-six years old. My kids are headed to college. I need to work until I am at least 100 or dead…whichever may come first.
Even “truth-ier”… while I lack a degree…I am willing to learn.
My dream job…an Oscar-winning screenplay writer.
What I would settle for…washing the floors in the building where the Oscar-winning screenplay writers write, just for the opportunity to get my two fat feet in the door.
My realistic self is hoping that someone is reading this and thinking to him/herself…”hey…this lady knows how to string a sentence together…I wonder if she has an eye for detail (psst…SHE DOES) and is willing to give 101% each and every time she shows up for work (again…affirmative)…I wish I had her e-mail so I could let her know I am interested in giving her a chance.”
Well–here you go–
firstname.lastname@example.org (any and all serious inquiries will not only be appreciated, but seriously entertained…thankyouverymuch)
Take a chance on me.