Monday, June 6th, 2011, 12:54 pm
It’s been a good long time since I last looked for a job. When I got laid off five years ago I was in the middle of selling my house and barely had time to move into my apartment before I got my poker blogging break. When I got laid off two years before that I used a temp agency to get my foot in the door at Del Monte before they hired me full time. Come to think of it I temped at the job before THAT until they saw the light and took me on.
So it’s been awhile since I actually beat the bushes and snared myself a gig. The job market here in Pittsburgh is allegedly better than most, so that’s heartening. I’ve been leveraging my social network in my search (translation–I’ve asked everyone I know either live or on Facebook/Twitter “Yinz hiring??”) and I’ve been applying for quite a few jobs online that I’m interested in and, if hired, I think I’d kick ass at them.
But the mere act of applying for a job can wear one’s patience down to the nub. An example–there was a marketing position that was so tailor-made for yours truly that I expected the description would include phrases like “must be a tight-weak poker player” and “must own flatulent chocolate Lab”. In my wheelhouse, I mean to say.
So I click the APPLY button and begin the process of introducing them to the wonder that is Mean Gene. My first task was to copy and paste a text-only version of my resume into the box they so graciously provided. I did this with a click and a CTRL-V so deft it’d make fall to your knees and weep. I was then asked to copy and paste a cover letter, and just as Roger Federer’s balletic backhand is surpassed only by his resplendent forehand, this I did with equal aplomb.
I was then asked to upload a copy of my resume. And upload a copy of my cover letter. Wait…I just did that. But OK, they want a text-only version and then one with all theÂ pretty fonts and italics. I dutifully uploaded the contents of my professional character and hit NEXT.
Well, NEXT I had to fill out a series of 500 text boxes asking for information like my name, my address, my employment history, my education. “Wait a sec,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I just gave you all that info. It’s. RIGHT. THERE!” I said, pointing at the sections above where my CV, in two different formats, sat inert as if preserved in amber.
But no matter. If this company is so hungry for information about me that they’ll ask for it three times, what can I be but flattered by the attention? I filled in the blanks, checked the boxes, dimpled the radio buttons, and in the end was informed that my application had indeed been submitted. I wiped the sweat from my brow, poured myself something cold and refreshing, and reflected on the old saw that looking for a full-time job is in and of itself a full-time job.
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