Friday, February 01, 2013

Cleanup On Aisle Four!

So. I woke myself up laughing this morning. Dreamed about going back to work. I'm so excited at the prospect, I don't know what to do with myself. That said, I am having serious jitters just thinking about....~drumroll~... The Hunt. You know, the job hunt.

It's a well-known fact that looking for employment is the worst part of working. How ironic that I last worked in an unemployment call center. I could actually get back on that job but I don't know if I can handle the stress that I could post-sarc. Previously, a call with a cranky claimant would go something like this:

Them: "So, I'd have been better off to get fired from my job instead of quitting?"

Me: "Well, I don't know about better off, but since you did quit - without allowed reason - you are subject to a waiting period."

Them: "So you're saying I should have just bitch-slapped my supervisor instead of restraining myself long enough to tell her I needed to resign before I had to go to jail for her smack-down?"

Me: (Marveling at that long recitation without a breath being taken.) "Um, sir, I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea to slap or smack down anyone you work for. I'm just informing you of your wait-period."

Them: "No, I get it. You can't come out and say it, but you are letting me read between the lines. Why else would you tell me that I have to six weeks JUST BECAUSE I QUIT THE LOUSY JOB???"

Me: "Sir, if you'd like to take a moment and calm yourself, I will explain the next steps you need to take  in filing your claim."

That was the old, nothing-ruffles-me me. Yeah. Well, I don't know if it's the sarc or if it's the fact that I haven't had a cigarette in FOREVER (or 40 days), but I know that I just would not be that nice this time around. The conversation now would go more like this:

Them: "So you're saying I should have just bitch-slapped my supervisor instead of restraining myself long enough to tell her I needed to resign before I had to go to jail for her smack-down?"

Me: (Taking a deep breath and restraining myself so I don't go too far and get fired.) "I'm saying that I'm going to come and bitch-slap you unless you shut up and let me get your claim filed before I have to leave here today. I am just not in a freaking mood for any bullshit. Okay? Okay."

Hmph. These days I can itali-talk with the crankiest of them.

That might not go over too well, so I have been envisioning interviews for other types of employment.

Since I love to shop (even on a tight budget), it's occurred to me that I should go into retail. Like, say at,  I don't know... Walmart. But then, I thought that even though I have to survive on a dime for now, I'm too uppity to work anywhere less bourgeois than maybe... Nordstrom? Now, that is a real wanna-be central. The only problem there is, I also hate the types of people who shop at Nordstrom - including myself whenever I do shop there. Ever notice how a perfectly nice, normal person walks into Nordstrom and, all of a sudden, their nose tips up just a notch and they start acting like they have their own reality show? Yeech! Not for me.

My other option is to do something in the field of job training. I did it for a big company for five years and I was damn good. (It's a true story that I once taught a Polish man - who spoke very little English -how to classify imports. If you think that's easy, try miming your way through your job for a few weeks.) Of course, I might end up validating that old stereotype of those-who-can't-do... On the other hand, that's one job, outside of acting, that approves of cue cards...

I do know that, when jumping into the job pool, I have always managed to land on my feet. Don't be surprised if you see me directing aisle traffic at Walmart. I think I could convince them that they need someone for that.

I don't know. The possibilities are endless (and that's the scariest part) and my hopes are high. I will just go on my searches with something in mind that one of my brothers taught me: When interviewing for a job, act like you might not really need one.