When You're a Jet

I was all too pleased to visit my alma matta yesterday, as nothing like the buzz of garbage to make your shitty day a bit more shitty. Former students had informed me that garbage had in fact been renovated and was looking very glamorous. I noticed no such change. In fact, as I was approaching the group of soda cans standing outside smoking their cigarettes like a heard of cows grazing, not so much as stopping between inhale/exhale to open up the door for a fellow peer in a wheelchair, I was reminded why this establishment was relegated to simply a hang out spot for the Sharks and the Jets to settle a lower Manhattan feud.

However, nothing could make me more nostalgic than a meeting with garbage's career services, or in garbage's case, career disservices. My readership might be shocked that I would subject myself to such inhumane treatment, but truth be told, I made the rookie error of believing after many lengthy conversations, that the shithole from whence I came, might want to assist me in a quest for suitable employment. This was clearly an egregious error because after explaining to the DMV worker that I have done all one can possibly do in the hopes of becoming an attorney and was even willing to take her former post in traffic control, she gave me the following suggestions:

1. Change your email address: EUREKA! This makes perfect sense. I mean this entire time I have been using a combination of my first and middle name, next to my phone number and full name as my resume identity. I am sure firms were anything but amused when they saw such a careless effort on my part as everyone knows that employment is based solely on an email address and not the owner of that email address. I imagine firms were not aware of the fact that sometimes email addresses are not actually the emailer's actual name. This must have caused quite a bit of confusion. I can picture it now, just when they debated calling me in for an interview, they probably had a forty five minute debate as to whether or not they should call me Ms. Middle Name or Ms. Last name and then just said, "oh, let's just call the whole thing off."

2. Take out the Bullet Points from Your Resume: Just when I was hoping that one of the bullets that organized my resume would leap off the page and shoot me in the head, I learned that it would be by far better to simply take them out as my experience is not so extensive that it needs to be organized. This piece of advice was followed by a pamphlet of sample resumes from garbage that passed the DMV’s maitre d’s muster. Last night, I had the pleasure of flipping through this pamphlet and I dare say Suzie May's, John Doe's and Liza Purnell's resumes all thought that bullets were a grand idea. The one discrepancy I did notice from my fellow garbigites samples is that at the end of the resume they listed their skills: Proficient in Microsoft Word, Can Speak English & Literate.

3. Lower Your Standards: I guess that the DMV’s maitre d thought that my expectations were too high when I told her I was willing to work for the city. After a long discussion about not so much my desire, but indifference, to go work for a certain agency, she explained to me that this agency was awfully competitive and that with my credentials, I most certainly would have a tough time competing in this market. Thank you so much DMV extraordinaire who also graduated from garbage, but do you not think this is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black? I highly doubt that any self respecting human is considering working as an attorney for the government. Last time I checked there were not a series of Harvard Law Grads, despite their recent incentives, lining up outside the Department of Homeland Security desperate for employment. Given that I have in fact worked for the government, I am well aware that most of the "attorneys" eat dunkin' donuts until five o'clock and have arms and legs growing out of their moles. If I can not get a job there, well I am going to have to call it a day.