I Finally Found the Right Breath Mint!!!

20 points for the reference.

At lunch with a friend today, I was lamenting the fact that I put in* for other agency jobs all the time, and never get interviews. How is this fair? I'm really smart! I'm ever such a good worker, really I am, if only I have stuff to do! I'm gosh-darned nice to work with. Bosses always love me.** Why doesn't anybody want to hire me?

My friend explained that at the agency where we both work, HR is staffed by the sort of people who need detailed written instructions (which they move their lips while reading) on how to scratch their butts. I nodded a little impatiently. I knew that; that's HR pretty much anywhere.

"But you have to completely change the way you think about this," he went on. "You must remember that the hiring process is not intended to find the best person for the job. It's intended to keep the agency from being sued. Any other consideration is secondary."

Valuable advice, then, from a valued friend.

I turned in another application today, this one for a job at another campus in a different part of town, maybe a bit beyond the reach of my bike, or at least its sorry excuse for an engine. Still, I'm a little antsy to get out. My boss, who already demands monthly and weekly status reports, recently suggested it would be a good idea for us to start documenting our time by the half-hour each day, as this would be helpful in determining where we could be more efficient. "It would be for your own reference, just so you could see where improvement is needed," she hastened to add, "not for you to show me."

Oh whatever. Like I haven't been around long enough to know where this is headed.

The HR representative who received my application wanted to know why I was submitting a printed paper one, rather than using the online form. I explained that I had heard from reliable sources that the online application did not always come through successfully, sometimes blanking out fields which are required for the application to be considered.

"That couldn't happen," he said huffily. "If we gave applications with blank fields to the hiring supervisor, they'd be calling us to know what was going on."

Which is why any such application is immediately discarded by HR during the pre-screening process. But I didn't want to argue. I just wanted to turn in my application and smile and nod and go back to my desk and not incur the mountainous, paper-rattling wrath of the HR flunky. You know how bureaucracy works, right? You do not want to piss these people off.

I have three other active applications out: a love-to-have, a like-to-have, and an eh-I-guess-I'll-take-it-if-it's-the-only-thing-going. The first two I submitted on paper - and fortunately a different, non-bitching HR flunky was on duty when I did. The third I submitted online, because, you know. Eh.

And today, late this afternoon, too late in fact for me to bounce around squealing at any of my friends because they all go home by 4:30 (you slackers!!!) the love-to-have called! I have an interview! Next week! Details tomorrow morning.

Hallelujah! Could it be? Am I possibly not a complete loser after all?

Tomorrow, an interview. Next week, the state!

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*As opposed to putting out. Why! The very idea!
**Except for that company in Corpus, but everybody knows they were batshit insane.

Alalalalala!!!

Today my boss walked in on me filling out an internal job application, but that's okay. HR will probably accidentally send my receipt letter directly to her again, anyway.

Oooh, but wish me luck on this one, my little electronic friends! I actually applied for it about a week and a half ago, but then realized I had left off some particularly relevant job experience - or at least some job experience HR would consider to be particularly relevant. And I want this one. So I submitted a new application, on paper, in person, and specified that today's application supersedes the one I submitted online last week.

Let's hope somebody there will know what that word means.

It's primarily a writing job. Wouldn't that be perfect? The tricky part is demonstrating to the brainiacs in HR that I possess written communication skills. Upon careful consideration, I decided that giving them the link to my blog would probably not be a good idea. Which is a great pity, isn't it? It's sort of like applying for a job as an L.L. Bean model when your portfolio consists entirely of naughty pictures from your days as an exotic dancer.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Anyway, I really do have my fingers crossed for this job. I want it! It involves not only writing, but project management, travel, and that new-fangled internet thingummy, you may have heard of it. I'd be perfect!

If I get picked for an interview, I sure hope my boss will pass on the message.

Alien Resources

HR policy dictates we have to hire the applicant with the highest level of qualification, without regard for how grotesquely overqualified this person might be; without regard for how much more s/he earned at previous jobs than we're able to offer; without regard for whether the hiring supervisor believes the applicant would be a good fit for the position. Qualifications are scored according to pre-set criteria, and the highest score gets the job offer. End of story.

The new guy, whom my supervisor didn't really want to hire, started 11 workdays ago. He gave notice yesterday. Today, perhaps suffering pangs of conscience, he brought doughnuts.

Did you ever see that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Troi gets knocked up by a passing ball of light?

Let me be a little more specific, because I think that might have happened in more than one episode. Frequent impregnation by unknown life forms is one of the hallmarks of a good science fiction program. The show never really delved into any of the other issues that might arise from copious amounts of promiscuous, unprotected space sex, but I imagine Dr. Crusher had a hell of a pharmacy on board, if you catch my drift.

In this particular episode, Troi goes through the entire pregnancy and gives birth in a matter of days.* The baby is walking and talking within hours, and only a day or two later, the child announces sadly that he must now return to his ball-of-light origins, but will never forget his humanoid mommy.

The new guy situation is exactly like that, only without prosthetic foreheads.

ST:TNG was an ideal model for the modern corporate workplace, with its neutral beige cubicle decor, its ergonomic swivel chairs, and its tastefully subdued, never flickery fluorescent lighting. Sure, the ship was partially staffed by nonhumans, but I find that's true in many of the places I've worked. On the other hand, the highly cooperative computer is like nothing I've ever seen. And, to judge by the high morale and the harmoniously working staff, the Enterprise must have had a well-organized, sensitive and effective HR department.

I'll buy faster-than-light travel, but come on, get real.

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*The show also never touched on the issue of stretch marks. I suspect the writers were men.

And We're Off!

Well, one of us three "new" hires has now been eliminated from consideration for our own job. HR deemed this person not qualified.

It doesn't mean the person will be let go or anything, of course. It only means that, after hiring one of the remaining two newbies, and then posting a requisition for the opening that creates, our supervisor will have to tweak the job requirements a little to make sure everybody gets "permed."

But I just don't understand how the rules can possibly be this stringent. If I were to judge based solely on the caliber of people I see working around me, I'd assume the complete job application looks something like this:

1. Do you have skin? Y_____ N_____

___________________________________________
Signature / Date

Not that I've really looked all that closely at a lot of them. And you wouldn't either, if a significant number of your coworkers looked like this:

Artwork by Robbie, because one picture is worth a thousand grunts.

Happy Confederate Heroes' Day!