Breaking the Ice Through Brute Force

The Interview.

If you didn’t shutter or nervously chuckle at that, there’s something wrong with you.

Interviews are like the Final Boss of the job search. If you win, music plays, you open the big chest, and DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOOO! Your job offer hovers above your triumphantly raised hands rotating.

It's your eviction notice.

This is a tricky place, however. You get asked questions and you’re expected to come up with good answers. Not *just* good answers, but AMAZING, SURPRISINGLY ELOQUENT answers that would make Cicero jealous.

"You leave me out of this."

And, naturally, when you’re away from the high-pressure area of Mr. Boss’s office, you can come up with some pretty good answers.

But when you go there,  you’re going to fuck it up. Royally.

Oh yeah. All the fucking time.

Yeeeah, there can be some pretty catastrophically awkward moments in an interview. And they are damned near unavoidable. One misstep, and it’s into awkwardland you go.

And no one can prevent it.

It’s impossible to avoid the ensuing onslaught. The best you can do is to follow some sort of procedure in order to either get out of the awkwardness or to brace for impact…

Everyone faces awkward moments. Just most don't completely implode when it happens. 

... this *might* be the reason I'm still unemployed...

Comment and share below! 

The Hall(mark) of Horrors

As the holidays approach, there’s many things to look forward to.  Cookies, decorations, Santa, food, presents; all these things just bring out the awesomeness of Christmas.

But there’s a dark side to this, as well, and any guy who’s been in a relationship before knows there are certain obligations. And these include, amongst other things, watching Christmas movies.

… specifically, watching Hallmark Christmas movies.

Know Thy Enemy

"What's a Hallmark movie?" you ask, stepping off from the plane you took from your native North Korea after hours of customs processing and hiding from the secret police. IT IS THE BANE OF YOUR MANLY, LOGICAL EXISTENCE. 

Every Hallmark movie I've seen (and, with 5 sisters, a fiancée, and a LavaMom who LOVES that satanic channel, I've seen too many THE HORRORS OF WAR), has had the following prognosis:

Middle Aged Female Protagonist's life is going sooooo well for the first 15 minutes. Then, it all turns to shit and she ends up alone (divorce, separation, or her 14 cats all died of dysentery). The next FIVE HOURS are then devoted to her finding a friend and working herself back up to an even better position than when the movie began, through a series of way-too-good-to-ever-happen-in-reality events. All the while, no matter what, you are perfectly clean, well dressed, and considered attractive by your alternate-universe's social standards. And, at some point, the SuperRichAndGoodLookingGuy™ magically becomes attracted to you. Of course, 3 hours of the courtship revolves around how "it'd never work." At the end of the movie, Middle Aged Female Protagonist is now happily planning her wedding to SuperRichAndGoodLookingGuy and everyone loves her so much and SHE GOT TO BECOME AN ARTIST LIKE SHE ALWAYS WANTED. YAY.

... oh, and it's all produced on a budget the size of my monthly allowance. (read as: 15¢)

Over the years being tortured by this shit, it’s become clear to me that there is a pattern that occurs every time a Hallmark movie comes on. 

Interestingly enough, it’s the Stages of Grief.

Stage 1: Denial

"Oh no, we can't *possibly* be actually watching this," you think. These movies are terrible. Surely she knows that! She MUST be just flipping channels...

Stage 2: Anger

You rise up from your seat, dazed, confused, and angry. YOU THOUGHT SHE LOVED YOU. Or at least liked you enough to NOT subject you to the terror that is a Hallmark Christmas movie. That level of cheese is dangerous to one's health.

Stage 3: Bargaining

You frantically search for excuses, reasons why, and favors you can do in order to avoid your fate. 

Stage 4: Depression

You have run out of options. It's all over and you know it. You will be forced to go through this.

Stage 5: Acceptance

You've been hypnotized into a mindless shell of your former self. You have no identity, no wants or desires outside of the fatal case of Hallmarkitis. Your personality has melted into a formless glob of cheese. You're a Hallmark Zombie.

Remember to share and like this post and others! And leave a comment, dammit!

On Scams and Sadness

Hello! Yes, I am alive, and I’m sorry for the wait.

On Friday I had an interview with a well-known company for an Asset Protection position. Basically, I’d be someone who watches customers and employees and make sure than safety is observed and that merchandise is not stolen or damaged. 

So, I showed up for the interview at 4:30 as I was supposed to.

And waited.

And waited.

… and waited.

Twenty minutes later, I was FINALLY interviewed.

And, naturally, one of the issues that came up in the interview was as follows:

Huh.

Well, if that wasn’t a bait and switch, I don’t know what is. I mean, come on, who does that?

So anyways, he listed a few things that ultimately had nothing to do with what I wanted. And, on top of that, they were all sales position, that were seasonal, and “they’ll extend an offer if you work hard.”

I hate sales. And I also hate being essentially lied to. It sucks. But hey, I need money pretty badly. 

So… I guess I’ll just take it.

The interview proceeded and then ended, and I was invited to a second interview.

“Awesome, I suppose.” was my thought at that time. It was such a let down to go there and be told “oh, they thing we called you in for isn’t available, BUT YOU CAN DO THIS INSTEAD, RIGHT?”

I had such a feeling of “meh” I could’ve been a hipster. It was ridiculous.

But I need the money.

So, I agreed to show up yesterday (Monday), again at 4:30, to take a second interview.

And, again I showed up on time.

… and I waited.

See any similarities here?

“We’re very sorry, but we filled all of our positions. We’ll keep you on file, though!”

… seriously? What made this place think it could waste my time, effort, and gas money? It was really upsetting in the moment.

There are a TON of scams out there that are technically legal, but unethical as all get out.

"It's not child abuse if they do it to themselves."

It is absolutely terrible. So terrible, I’m gonna make an infographic about it.

Best infographic EVAR.

And the thing is that they paint this picture like it’s a fix-all when it’s really a make-your-life-shittier.

After all this bullshit, I sometimes need to take a break and remember that it will get better.

Unless, of course, it doesn’t.

 Know of any scams? Just want to rant? Comment about them below! I promise I'll reply!

Also, leave a comment with any number 1-5 to select which topic I'm writing about next!

The Tale of the Jitterbug

Oh there's no place like home for the holidays.

No, seriously. It's crazy.

Every year for Christmas, my family does the whole "secret santa" thing. For our friends joining us from Mars, this is when you draw a name out of a hat and then your "secret mission" is to figure out what the person wants and then give it to them on Christmas (within budget, usually about $20 if I remember). Christmas comes and everyone's happy.

Now imagine a strange, cruel world where all of that is backwards.

That's what a Yankee Swap is.

This past year, we held a yankee swap within the family + LavaGirl confederation for the first time. Here's how it works.

1. You buy a gift worth maybe $5.00. Something cheap. And it can be ANYTHING. (More on that in a second).
2. You bring it, wrap it, and everyone puts it in a pile.
3. You pick a number.
4. Whoever picked number one picks up a present and unwraps it.
5. Number 2 picks a present and can then choose to keep it or swap it, and the swap MUST be facilitated. Then, that person's turn is complete.
6. Everyone goes through in order; you can swap with anyone who's gone before you.
7. After the last person it goes back to number one who has the last laugh as he or she can then choose to swap with anyone.

This is all well and fun, unless of course you have someone like me in the mix. Then it's anarchy.

Enter the Jitterbug.

No, I'm not kidding. This thing actually exists.

When I saw this thing, I knew I had to get it. This was the Yankee Swap gift. This terror that some woman in Idaho made simply to scare kids into therapy was perfect.

And, naturally, the results were amusing.

I had a field day. It was simply too good, and I lucked out in the Yankee Swap, so I didn't get it.

Or so I thought.

Sonuvabitch. My family sent it to me. While I was in college.

When my roommate saw this thing, he nearly had a damned heart attack.

Of course, it didn't help that I planted it in his bed first, but still.

For the next three months the Thing™ went everywhere.

It's still out there, somewhere.

Waiting.

Watching.

Fingernails: A Tragic Comedy of Errors

Today was an adventure. LavaGirl needed to grab some things here and there, including some screws to fix the futon that I've called my home for far too long. LavaGirl also wanted to pick up some clothes, which is the bane of men everywhere.

We went to the mall, where thankfully I was released from my duties as Supreme Guardian of the LavaGirl whilst she was shopping for clothes, and thus I went about adventuring the mall looking for gifts. Namely for her/us because there's only so much Hulu one can watch before the incessant ads melt your brain.

I went all over the place, only to find a store that specialized in two things: cat calendars and overpriced board games.

Disheartened, I went back towards the store LavaGirl was (still) in.

But, look! Wait! The day may be saved! For what games cannot fulfill, WINE CAN!

Wine: Helping white people dance for 13 millennia

I headed towards the wine store...

Only to be stopped by the nearby troll.

Uh. What?

Now, I'm a courteous kind of guy, and I won't just completely ignore the guy, but I knew I was in trouble when the product was freaking tested on me.

I GOT FUCKING MANI-RAPED.

Anyone who knows me is completely aware of the fact that I don't give a shit about manicures. It might just be my opinion, but I will never willingly get a damned manicure. I'm a mountain-man type of guy, which is why LavaGirl complains after two weeks of not shaving...

Anyways, I digress.

This salesman is trying his darnedest to make damn sure I get to buy his nail shit. This isn't my first rodeo, however; I've haggled and bartered with men and women all over the world. But, dammit, this guy was pretty good.

I, however, persevered and did not give him any money nor get any nail care kit of glory.

But he didn't need to take any money...

He took my manicure virginity by force.

The rest of the mall trip was a nightmare of "what the shit is on my nails, why God why?!?" I used every opportunity I got trying to wipe off the Shine Of Doom™ and "SuperMagicalOil."

Nothing worked. I still have overly shiny nails.

I hate it.

And, according to my ManiRapist, it only lasts A FRICKIN MONTH.
A MONTH.
30 DAMNED DAYS OF THIS SHIT.

My life is but a shadow of its former glory.

Oh, and to boot; when we got back to LavaGirl's apartment, a marvelous thing happened when we were fixing the springs on the bottom of the futon...

I bent the nail back on my forefinger.

Oh, but don't worry.
That'll stop feeling weird in a few weeks.

Along with the other fingernails.

Great.

Aggravation: The Musical

Today was a long day...

Wake up in th' morning, feelin' like a zombie

Grab my coffee, I'm out the door, gonna hit the city

Before I leave, check G-mail, and google maps too

'Cause when I leave for the day I know what I'm gonna do

I'm talkin'

Takin' that Civil Service

Tryin' to get a high score

Finally get a job, job...

~Ke$ha in an alternate universe, theoretically.

DEAR GOD, WHY.

How to Have a Long Ass Day

Step 1: Leave to go to your civil service exam and head towards the nearest gas station.

The dotted line means "fly here."

Step 2: Try your Luck at the Gas Pumps

Step 3: Leave the Gas Station with only $5.43 worth of fuel and drive like a maniac while keeping an eye on your fuel gauge

Step 4: Find a Gas Station, quickly fuel up, drive the rest of the 2 hour trip and arrive at the testing center...

... 10 minutes late...

Step 5: Drive BACK another 2 hours and bake some bread you've been planning for... and the dough is stickier than a toddler that discovered maple syrup.

Step 6: Preheat oven to 425? No problem!

Pictured above: Problem.

Gaaaaaaaah! Screw this, I'm being a Pirate.

Have any tremendously bad days that make you want to commit Omnicide? Or maybe you have a good story to cheer me up? Tell me about it in a comment below! 

Resumes, Cover Letters, and Dealing with Supreme Boredom

At the forefront of any job search is the Resumé, which is French for "this document will either propel you to stardom or doom you to ignominy."

This document is the front line in your battle out of poverty. You send them out like an army, one by one, every goddam day so that you can proceed forward toward employment. 

And, as mentioned elsewhere in this blog, they're mainly comprised of bullshit. 

While the resumé is necessary, it is sadly insufficient. Managers are people, too, and they're not just going to take a resume and say "oh, okay."

You need a tactical airstrike. Shock and Awe.

You need a cover letter.

Oh, not just one cover letter. Nope! You need one for every. damned. posting. you. apply to.

This leads to some bouts of insanity.

Okay, maybe a LOT of sanity.

You're never any fun, Phil.

But if you stick with it, and work hard, you'll finally get a response:

Well, there's always prison.

~TheBluCru