job-hunting part x: the final dimension

Here is an interesting thing: the best way to get a job is to network, correct? And the best way to network is to meet people, right? So why are so many companies now forcing applicants to apply online, away from managers and bosses? I find this awkward. Hastings did this, and other big companies do it too, and I don’t understand why, other than it helps decrease the amount of work a hiring manager does (if they even have a hiring manager). But this begs the question: what the hell does a hiring manager do? It seems like these days people who work to interview potential work candidates aren’t doing their job — they’re letting a computer do it for them. So instead of getting a handwritten application (handwriting tells a lot about a person, doncha know), they get a form e-mailed to them that states a person’s worth in nothing but words. Their whole life, in a sense, is condensed into a one to two page resume, with optional cover letter attached.

The greatest irony for me with regard to applying for jobs is that I have a great writing voice, and yet I have no place to showcase it on an application. I probably completed the greatest application online ever recently. It was for DirecTV. I got sick of repeating the same old stuff I’ve been writing for everyone, constantly looking at my lack of experience, my terrible job history, and so when I filled out this online application I noticed that they had actual text boxes for me to write in, instead of radio buttons or check boxes. So I wrote and actually injected a little humor into the whole thing. I hope it works. I mean, come on, those people know that there are millions of people right now writing out millions of applications, typing countless accomplishments into countless computers as they update their resumes on careerbuilder. They have to know that this process is time-consuming and generally shitty. They have to. It’s not about the job itself, it’s about the process of getting the job. The job could be fighting mountain lions in a pool filled with ice cream sandwiches (best job ever) and I’d still get pissy about filling out the application form. It’s just draining.

And, you know, when I do finally get an interview it will allow me to be cool with a real live person, but even that’s daunting. I have a good personality and all but job interviews aren’t having coffee at the Dawson Taylor’s across the street, you know? You have to sit in a room and impress someone within five minutes of meeting them. You don’t get a chance to shoot the shit, or get to know the person. You just have to say, “I have certificates in every type of Microsoft software known to man. I can decode Windows 3.1 in two minutes flat.”

I can’t imagine being a hiring manager, just because I would want to get to know everyone, and it would be impossible. Instead of asking them about their qualifications, I’d be askind them what their favorite soft drink was. Instead of their job experience, I would inquire about their abilities in making sandwiches.

I wrote a short play called “Myspace Resume” which will never ever be produced, but was about a young goth kid who used a myspace survey for an application. So the boss calls him in for a job interview just to set this kid straight and the kid’s such a sorry sack of shit that the boss hires him out of pity. I only bring that up because I think I’d rather read someone’s myspace survey than their resume. It just seems so much more personal, and I’d rather hire someone who I could like and did the job well than someone who was excellent at the job but was a complete jackass.

But then again, I’m the unemployed one, aren’t I?

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Now playing: Hercules & Love Affair – This Is My Love
via FoxyTunes

job hunting; the ongoing struggle

This is my “looking for work” face.

The advent of the Internet has created a huge dilemma in networking today. It has, in effect, destroyed the interpersonal connections needed in order to get a good job. This creates a strange effect in which employers use sites like craigslist and careerbuilder to send out a mass request for workers, and yet they cannot discern if the people who reply are actually cool or not. All they can do is look at a resume.

This contrasts with the traditional job hunt because people everywhere will tell you, “Get your foot in the door,” to make yourself known to your potential manager or hiring manager. To look presentable. To shake hands, maintain eye contact. To, in essence, be a human being (leaning towards being yourself, but not necessary).

Everyone thinks that the Internet is the new hip place for finding work. There are hundreds of job sites and resume building sites out there, and there are also thousands of potential employers hunched over their computers typing out the latest position they need filled. Craigslist alone has tons of ads for work, and people who surf craigslist are just as eager to get the job they’re looking for. But there’s always a catch.

Right now I’m looking for work. I’ve tried both sides: the traditional path of walking to a location, filling out an application, and handing it to the appropriate person (or, at the very least, talking to them on the telephone), and I have also tried the Internet sites. The former option could be more successful in showcasing myself (and dim down the fact that I have shit for work experience), but the latter is just more quantity, and easier to apply for, that the appeal outweighs the risks. You mean all I have to do is hit “apply” and my pre-loaded resume and cover letter will just be sent to them? Or that I have to e-mail someone and attach my resume? From the comfort of my home? Done and done!

It shouldn’t surprise you that 95% of the jobs listed on craigslist are entry-level or worse. General labor. Housecleaning. Babysitting. Why should they be anything else? What CEO of a major corporation is going to go to craigslist looking for his next VP? What jewelry store owner is going to consult a faceless Internet crowd of hooligans for their next manager, the man or woman who will hold the keys to millions of dollars of jewelry?

There isn’t, nor will there ever be, a way to properly network yourself on the Internet. Until the day Facebook fully incorporates business into their profiles (which seems like it would cause a lawsuit), all you will be when searching/applying for a job is a Name and a Resume. In a way it highlights the resume like never before. Now is the time for fancy fonts and creative exaggeration. If only business resumes were like acting resumes, where at the very least you got to see the person’s face

I’ve gotten a couple of responses via the Internet job postings. The quickest one came from Quiznos. No surprise there. It was like the instant I hit the send button I got a reply — “Can we get an interview tomorrow?” and all that. You’d think a food service place would be the first to try to get some solid information about a person before they up and hired them. I guess that’s what the interview portion is for, but still. I’m only going because I’m desperate; I hate the food service industry and because of it’s strict laws on food handling, coupled with the finicky nature of most people these days regarding their meals, it makes me totally nervous. “You only wanted one tomato? Well this sandwich has two, so … okay, okay, one tomato, got it. No need to yell.” That sort of thing.

The perfect job for me would be a data entry job where I could type out shit for 45 minutes if I was guaranteed 15 minutes to browse the Internet. That would be awesome. That plus a lunch break and free sodas would make me the happiest person alive. Alternately, the exact opposite would also be great — some kind of outside job where I got to hangglide or something. Wrestle bears. Spelunk. Too bad I don’t have any experience with any of that.

I forgot to mention the other stupid part of the Internet job-hunting sites: spam. In a way I like it because it forces me to study the ads closer so that I don’t, you know, get twenty viruses on my computer or something.

In truth, I’m partially terrified because if I don’t get a job quick, I’m not going to have rent money, and that would be bad. On the other hand, I can’t be too worried or else it’ll fuck me up in other ways, like lack of sleep and headaches and all that. I hate that. Plus I know if I can’t make rent I can always live with my parents, but that would be shitty for my roommates. And I don’t want to live with my parents.

Somehow things always seem to work out for me in the end. Let’s hope that luck continues until the end of the month.

And that, my friends, is that.

the theatre degree; or, how to intentionally starve yourself with $40,000 in student loans

It’s becoming more and more clear as the days go by that my Theatre Arts degree from Boise State isn’t going to help me one bit. While most people say that just having a college degree to begin with is a good place to be, I find that most prospective employers take a look at a theatre degree and say, “What can we do with that?” The trouble, it seems, is that most degrees in college center on specific vocations: business, management, business management, fixing cars, nursing, being a doctor, film and television, english (teaching), history (teaching), mathematics (teaching) and, of course, teaching. Art, on the other hand, is shunned, and we — painters, actors, musicians, singers — are huddled into this corner where we become, ostensibly, Jack of All Trades.

Most people, for example, don’t know the sheer amount of business knowledge that a theatre major receives during our collegiate career. By the time I graduated I basically knew how to run a theatre company, and I sort of know the odds and ends in getting money from sponsors and grants. Technical theatre is about learning carpentry, electrics, and sound engineering. Playwriting is about English skills, proof-reading and creative writing. Directing is about management. In a way, the only truly useless person in a theatre company is the actor, because all they do is utilize their bodies for the show. They don’t build, they don’t manage. They are fodder for the audience. It’s surprising that they get so much attention.

The problem is that while theatre students learn all these different aspects, we don’t learn enough. We go into the job market with okay skills in everything. Our only boon is that we work well under pressure, since that’s what a rehearsal schedule is — two to four weeks of rehearsal, and we open, no matter what. But employers don’t see that. Employers see an actor who doesn’t have any job skills whatsoever. A bunch of roles in various plays doesn’t mean you have what it takes in the real world. In fact, it suggests the exact opposite — that you like playing in a fantasy world, and thus couldn’t handle real problems.

This, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. Theatre students are fully capable of handling any problem thrown at them, because they usually are at some point in the production process. We work well with others, and form bonds easily because that’s what we do. Some actors are prima donnas, yes, but those ones are shunned by the theatre community as well.

I graduated Boise State with a Theatre Arts degree, and my work resume is a hapless mishmash of three or four jobs I’ve worked since 2001. It looks like the resume of a 16-year-old. What it doesn’t take into account is that I spent most of my days in school, for twelve or thirteen hours, going to class and then going to rehearsal. Or that point a couple of years ago when I had to work to live in Boise, so I would go in at Hastings at 7:00am, leave at noon to go to class until 4:30, and then rehearse from 6:00 to 10:00. Most people who are business majors don’t do this. I don’t think anyone works as hard as people in the arts. I don’t think they even understand the amount of work we put in, on top of our jobs and extra-curricular activities. I’m not complaining. I’m actually happy about all of it. It’s tough but the end result is fantastic: opening night of a show you worked your ass off for, and now people get to see it. It’s great.

I just wish that employers knew what we did, so that they could understand what we can do for them.

And on that note, I should go and look for a job.