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Successful Job Application

It was eighteen months ago that I left graduate school and went to the job market. There I wandered about, selling myself to the various and sundry, but the various and sundry were browsers, or they were looking for someone other than me. The nights were so lonely! Nights I huddled on cold and vast concrete floors, unshaven, reeking of stale mustard and curry. Then mornings, I brushed myself off, checked my armpits for sweat, squirted on “Eternity” from a men’s room cologne dispenser, and stepped out to peddle myself again.

It’s a hard life, this self-selling, and at times it felt less like a market than an animal shelter. I wagged my tail so earnestly! Surely this family would take me home and cover their floor with newspapers for me! I would become the best dog they ever had! And they came close, too. They scratched my ears; children buried their noses in my fur. Sometimes I got so excited I peed all over myself! But then they would see the pit bull next door preciously tearing apart another water dish, and they would fall in love with her (Don’t they know she can’t be trusted?), or they would see I have a cut in my ear, a scar on my chin, and they would doubt, and they would move on, not to the pit bull perhaps, but, simply, to someone else. Even as they turned their backs I yipped at them, “Look at me! Please, take me! I’ve been neutered!” To no avail, of course. As soon as they began to turn, they never turned back.

Curiosity, hope, expectation, excitement, dejection, despair, disappointment, expectation, denial, indignation, determination, resignation: a too long job search is all of these and more besides. I hope I never forget it.

I hope also that I never go through it again. Today I got bought; today, after saving him from the well twice, Timmy found me at the pound. It’s over. Fifteen minutes ago, I accepted an offer.

I’m an editor.

Oh, yeah: K & I are not moving to Pittsburgh, now.



welcome to 9-5…

Actually, 8.30 to 5, with an hour for lunch. :)

(PS. Work up the hours per week and you’ll see one of the cushier sides of my new job; although, I’m exempt and have to work ‘til the job’s done…)


Big Ups, G. Our cake and beer party was a little delayed. Cheers.

Oooh. I forgot about the cake and the beer. I say Saturday, Chez Tornado, IT’S ON!

wooooweee, look who’s gainfully employed! Very happy to hear this, I raise my beer in your general direction.

Woop! Tonight I walked off the stupid night job. It was way more stress than the money it brought in was worth—although, had I an iron constitution, I could’ve pulled in nearly $200 in OT on Saturday… Plus, I wasn’t doing all that great on i and got intervened upon today. (K said, “You either didn’t pay close enough attention during training, or you’re reading too fast. Which is it?”—the former, if you must know.)

Ahhh, there are few pleasures more exquisite than walking away from a crappy job you hate, and no longer need.

I lustily agree.


does that mean you are
(a) not moving at all,
(b) that you’re moving somewhere w/in same city, or
(c) staying in same apt.?

no matter what, you must be happy as a clam!

(b) Our apartment’s already rented; anyway, I think neither of us want much to live there any longer. The cats don’t mind it, but we all get scared at night when the storms buffet the place.

Only downside is we’re past the prime apartment-renting time in town…

Congrats Greg. I, too, raise my beer to you.

Hopefully you won’t have the same 12-hour-day-six-day-week experience I’ve been having since starting my new job.

Many thanks, S (and C, too)! And re:workoad, even if I do have to work so much, it’ll be loads more interesting than what I’ve been doing. Scoring standardized tests (or the standardized scoring of tests?) is rotten, rotten work.

A belated, but no less hearty, congratulations from out West!