When I tell you I apply for jobs, you don’t even know the half of it. I hit send, submit, email all day long. I apply for fancy full time jobs with real health benefits and 401ks. I apply for part-time, seasonal temp jobs that are this short of holding a sign off the exit ramp of your local freeway.
I get nothing. I don’t get rejected. I don’t get denied. I get nothing. And I know why.
Because thousands are out there just like me, except with all the twitter, social networking, microsoft office, powerpoint, blackberry experience ready to go. I, myself, am for sale too, but “as is.” I need an itty-bitty tune up, as apparently 10 years out of the workforce will do to a mom, and jumping back in with all the unemployed, laid off, downsized techno-savvy neighbors and colleagues does leave me at a slight disadvantage.
I actually drove my resume to my dream job in a nearby city the morning after it was posted. Hand delivered. Schmoozed the receptionist and while making many friendly, oh-so-charming comments, the neighborhood mailman (yes, a real, live postman) came in with an absurdly high stack of resumes. Hundreds of them. And this non-profit had a sophisticated application process via their website which no doubt yielded hundreds upon hundreds more. Ugh.
I’m not desperate. Yet. Okay, maybe just a little bit.
But here’s the real deal. The only interviews I’ve gotten have been the slapstick, stretch queries. When I pitched a graphic design job to add along a writer. When I queried a non-profit to volunteer and got an interview instead. When I applied as an office assistant and the response was, “That job’s been filled, but we may be looking for a writer. Interested?”
Why, as a matter of fact I am! What would be a convenient time to meet?