What Color is Your Masochism Part 4: The Job Search

Finding a job is hard. I've been looking for a new one for over three years, so I can say this with absolute certainty. I can't say that this three year odyssey has been fruitless, because I've learned more than I ever thought I wanted to know about the job search process. More than that though, the constant reconstruction of cover letters and objectives, the re-organizing of bullet points on my resume has given me enormous insight into my own skills, interests, and adaptability. I'm grateful for all of these things, but if I'm being honest here, I have to say that I would not have put myself through this if I'd had a choice. This mid-recession job market has been like a sadistic drill sergeant forcing me to realize I can do more pull-ups than I thought I could.

To summarize the process, I can say it involved a lot of reading: craigslist, Monster, CareerBuilder, individual websites for companies I was interested in, books on career advice (What Color is Your Parachute?), numerous online guides to resume writing, sample cover letters, salary comparisons, Yahoo news articles comparing various U.S. job markets, etcetera, etcetera! Then a lot of applying what I read to apply for jobs: sitting down and asking myself the eternal questions: What do I want to do? What am I good at? Why do I want this job? In some ways, the early stages of the job search are like interviewing yourself for a job, and often you come to the conclusion that you don't want to work certain places, or you aren't qualified for certain positions, but the longer you work at it, you come to be acutely aware of what jobs would work for you, and what you could work for.

I never imagined that I'd write so many cover letters. And it's an awkward thing to do, especially if you do it too many times. And by awkward, I mean excruciating. Sitting down over and over to describe your strengths, to figure out what is best about yourself, what other people will find interesting or valuable, and why those things are relevant, can start to feel extremely neurotic after one or two dozen drafts. I've watched my own drafts go from being succinct and professional to verbose and desperate to cheeky and irreverent. None of them have gotten a response in over two years. Not a single call. Not a single email or interview request. No matter what job or what form of introduction I choose. I am writing into a vacuum. So I've become even more playful, just to make the effort more entertaining for myself. Because at this point, I've come to the conclusion that I don't want to work for anyone who expects anything other than what I have to offer (and part of that is my humor!). I don't want to work for someone who requires me to jump through hoops and put up a false front to impress them. Of course, I might not feel this way if there were any chance that a false front, or any front for that matter, might get a response.

In short, I'm burned out, I'm tired, I'm confused, I'm frustrated, I do not understand what I have to do in order to find a job (or even be considered for one), but somehow it's making me more confident in myself and my worth, not less. I'm less willing to bend over backward, and in fact more particular about how I want to be treated by a potential employer. My demands are getting more imperative as the desperation increases. My backbone is getting stronger, and I find it absolutely mystifying. You'd think that after all this rejection and disappointment I'd feel broken and sad and defeated, but I feel stronger and sassier, and more convinced of my own value. I guess this comes from having to state my value over and over, but jesus m hot damn f christ, it's a bizarre and blessed side effect. Will this new attitude get me any closer to a job? If experience is any indication, probably not. But at least it doesn't feel so bad anymore. This is the color of my masochism: a sort of dusty iridescent shimmer.

(818) 764-xxxx

I'm secretly superstitious about phone numbers. Specifically, somewhere deep in my gut I harbor the idea that if a time ever comes when I really need to talk to the ghosts of my family, and I mean really, really need to talk to them, that the universe will somehow intervene and grant me a temporary connection through their old phone line. And if I call the number and it doesn't work, or if someone else answers, that's the universe telling me that I'm better off than I think, and I don't really need to talk to them just yet.

It's the kind of notion that's born of early loss - even though your rational mind knows that this sort of thing can't be real, frankly, your heart will tell you that the sudden death of someone you love can't be real either, so for the time being, all restrictions on imagination are off. Once the blow of grief strikes, a part of your brain never really fuses, a part of your heart is so haunted and fractured, that it requires a fantasy, a cognitive bandage to hold it together for the rest of your life. The phone numbers, two of them that start with 764, are my gauze and my adhesive tape, talismans, if not cures for the injured part of my heart.

At this point the bulk of my close losses is behind me, but it's been a devastating week for people I love, and I'm wishing that they all find the comfort and support they need for what comes next. Superstitions, band-aids, tourniquets, myths, legends, and lullabies: may they each find the talisman that soothes them.

Recipe: Boyfriend's Chicken Adobo

Ingredients:
2 bottles of Cabernet

Directions:
1. Drink
2. Enjoy!

He does the rest. I have no idea what happens, but it results in a delicious dinner. Ocho ocho ohhhh! :)

Sweet Potato Hash

I've been seeing a lot of mentions of "Sweet Potato Hash" lately and was dying to know what it tasted like. I tried looking around for recipes and they all seemed either unnecessarily complicated or way too vague. So I came up with my own and it was fantastic. While I was chopping I got to wondering about the history of onions, so I might do a little research and report back soon. In the meantime: the Hash...

2 large sweet potatoes, diced (half inch or so)
1/2 medium onion, diced
1/2 bell pepper (any color), diced
2-4 T of oil (I used coconut, but olive oil would be good too)
Any combination of the following spices, to taste:
coarse salt & pepper
paprika (I used sweet and smoked)
coriander
cayenne
more paprika (it really adheres to the sweetness of the potatoes)
Adobo (Goya brand seasoning. If you don't have this, use garlic & a tiny bit of oregano and cumin)

In a large skillet, saute onions in oil until they just start to soften, then add pepper. Cook stirring occasionally until pepper begins to soften and onion begins to caramelize slightly. Add potatoes and some spices. Cook stirring occasionally over medium to medium-high heat until potatoes are tender and lightly browned. Adjust spices as needed (in other words: add more paprika).

Serve with roast chicken or turkey, or for breakfast in place of home fries. It also tastes delicious on a fork while it's still cooking!

Note: fresh sage would be great in this too. Also, I saw recipes calling for Worcestershire sauce but haven't tried that yet.

Bored on Campus

The police academy at one of the community colleges I work is conducting outdoor training with guns drawn and car search simulations in the parking lot today. This same school had a lockdown due to an actual shooting and bomb threat this time last year. Since I was here during the incident last Spring and very narrowly slipped through the lockdown and subsequent freeway closure, it all looks a bit too authentic for comfort. Also the signs that say “Police Training in Progress” are too small and easy to miss. I came within inches of calling in “fuck this shit” before realizing it was all ok and we were just playing cops and robbers.  I wonder if this is setting the tone for a semester full of simulations, illusions, and fake-outs. Let the drama begin!