Job Hunting: A Political Jab, Lessons in Phraseology, Etc.

Never give up; you never know until you try.

As I’ve written so much about this last year, I’ve been looking for a job. It’s an activity that can kill the strongest person, and I’ll freely admit that I’ve cried many tears of frustration and anger over the whole thing, because there don’t seem to be any rules. A + B is supposed to equal C. In the current economy, it doesn’t. There seems to be little that makes sense. Still, I’ve tried to keep my sense of humor, and that’s why I’ve been able to keep my sanity. I’ve seen some really strange job titles and descriptions and gleaned a little wisdom from interviews and things I’ve heard in passing. Here are a few. Maybe you'll find them as funny as I do:

Not too long ago, I came across an ad in an online job board for a “Pain Sales Specialist.” My curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked onto it and discovered that it was for a job with a pharmaceutical company, but the ad never came right out and said exactly what the job entailed—why it was called what it was. It sounded to me as if it could’ve involved working for the Marquis de Sade; or maybe it was a government job? Am I being redundant there?

I thought that one was odd—until I read the one for “Sales Representative—BS.” Clicking onto the ad, I learned that the job required a Bachelor's degree, but it didn’t specify whether it was Bachelor of Arts or Sciences. Since the “BS” didn’t refer to the educational requirement, does that mean that the salesperson would be selling “BS,” that oft-flung substance? Maybe that, too, was a government job.

Then there was one that started off “Can you sell the President?” Yes, it was a sales job calling for someone who was so good at sales that they could sell to someone really “important” or something. I’m guessing that one was aimed at people who, upset over the current economy, blame the President and would like very much to sell him to someone. Though to be fair, the President doesn’t create—or fix—disasters alone.

I could tell right away that the above-mentioned jobs weren’t for me. Sometimes the words in an ad are a dead giveaway that you don’t want to go there, but you can’t always tell. Sometimes everything reads right and sounds like something you might want to pursue. You apply and even get interviewed. That’s the time to keep your eyes and ears open, because there are verbal cues that let you know you really don’t want a job, unless you’re completely desperate, crazy, or something. I’ve had some most unwelcome surprises. Be on the lookout for things like:

“This isn’t really a job; it’s really a ministry.” I’ve heard this said of daycare workers and public school teachers, but it can apply anywhere. Translation: Your reward is NOT financial; you’ll be paid the bare minimum, probably with no benefits of any kind, and you’ll be doing the work of at least two people. You may receive heart-felt “thank-you’s” and little useless trinkets at Christmas.

“You must have a good work ethic and a positive attitude.” (This is often seen in job ads but they may omit it to sucker you in and hit you with it during the interview process.) This one is obvious—it means that you’ll work like a dog and be expected to smile and make nice even when you have irate customers or crazy supervisors yelling (possibly obscenities) at you. And you won't be paid squat.

My last observation is very similar. If you get to the office and there are posters everywhere reminding you to smile, or there is the same instruction in your employee manual or other paperwork, that’s a pretty good indication that you won’t feel like smiling if you work at that particular company. People who are happy don’t have to be reminded to smile.

I’m glad that God is still my source and not the "fat cats" who seem out to get everything for themselves. With that in mind, I can at least smile through my tears.