For What it's Worth

I spent three hours applying for one job this week.

It’s not even the kind of job I would call my husband squealing in excitement over if I got it. Just a solid, local job I’m absolutely qualified for and could do in my sleep.

I’d rewritten my resume and cover letter specifically for the job, uploaded them both, then copied the exact same information in countless individual text boxes because screw you, you want this job? Fill it out again! Dance for us, clown!

Or something like that, anyway.

Fifteen-plus years of my work history. Typed out…twice.

Every employer, supervisor, date, address, position, and even salary.

It’s bizarre that we’ve invented AI, but still can’t get an application to read the information in a document it SPECIFICALLY ASKED ME to upload.

Then came the essay portion:

Please list skills, experiences, and certifications related to this position.

You mean, like…the information contained inside the resume you just made me update and the bajillion little text entries I just filled out?

Why do you want this job?

'Cause I like money and you’re offering it?

'Cause my bills all have a strange expectation of monthly payments?

What the hell do you care why, so long as I can do the job and not scare people while I do it?

I mean, should I lie? Should I rhapsodize about how this particular Initech-looking facility has been my dream since I was a little girl?

What are your strongest personal attributes?

I answer emails and I've never burned popcorn in the break-room microwave.

How have you improved professionally in the past two years?

I now understand that 'touching base' is preferable to "I already fucking told you this."

Also, muting before swearing.