Skip to main content

Underpaid. Overrated.

I think it all started to happen at that last interview.
See, I'd been on about 9 previous interviews, and had been unemployed for months.
I was at that point during your unemployment, where you start to begin to doubt yourself.
What they don't tell you about losing your "stable" career, is the amount of emotional turmoil your life begins to get ravished by.
First, you're happy right? This is the start of new, big, changes! Change is good! New chapter.
Lunch dates with your girlfriends to discuss future plans over champagne. Beach trips to soak up the sun and finally get that much needed, undistracted vacation you'd been craving for years.
Years that you gave up simple pleasures such as, sleeping in until noon, and disconnecting your work email from your cell phone so you don't have those moments of panic at 11 pm when you boss is frantically emailing you and you're just trying to watch the Eagles game with your friends.
You finally get that time back. Reclaimed time.
Unemployment is a joke, but its still...stable. You get x amount of money each week, for x amount of weeks. And you can begin to structure your plan based off of this determined set of parameters.
So you're ok for a while. A few interviews here and there. Just to test the waters, and see how you really measure up in "TODAY'S WORKFORCE". You re-do your resume a million times. Read blogs on interview techniques. Watch YouTube videos of professional recruiters giving you tips on how to "SELL YOURSELF TO THE RIGHT COMPANY". All that bullshit.
And then rejection comes. This one is offering a too low salary. This one is 3 hours away. This one wants someone younger, more "in touch" with the market. And on and on and on. So now you begin to feel useless. Low. Tired. Rejected. Dumb. Old. You begin to lose hope. You're literally applying to things WELL beneath your level because X amount of money is needed by X date. And you are DESPERATE .
Until you get to that final interview. In those final weeks. Before the X amount expected on X date, is no longer guaranteed. This is the all or nothing interview.

So you buy a nice new suit. You have you newly revamped resume, printed on the finest paper Kinkos has to offer. You print out projecions of the company - where it's succeeding, where it's falling behind,and where YOU, with your particular set of skills, can help make this company surpass all of its wildest dreams. You're basically going to be the savior of this entire company. You can already taste the oysters and overpriced scotch at the office Christmas party, toasting to your success. Cries of "WE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU CHRISTINA!" ringing through the corridors.

And you get there and the interview is going pretty well, and then someone notices you have a tattoo on your ankle. Why this old white man is looking at my ankles, the world may never know. But, yes, he catches it. And he begins to go on to this whole, very "judgey" story about a girl he hired that he thought had no tattoos, and then she took off her cardigan one day and had a full sleeve. He was shocked. I assured him, I don't have a full sleeve. I assure him that any tattoos I have can be hidden. No need to worry.
"Because, you know, my father is 71 and he comes into this office sometimes, and I dont want him to freak out. I get it, but he doesn't."
Oh, I'm so sure Bill. I'm sure you are a totally cool,down ass guy. It's your dad, I get it.

Then, the issue of the nose ring. They want to know if it's for religious purposes. Because as of yet, they're still unsure of my actual ethnic background. So maybe Indian? No. Not religious. Just trying to be cool when I was 21. Grew to love it. Totally removable.
"Good, because there are some companies that would frown upon that, you know. Health issues and all."
While I wasn't aware that a nose piercing posed any health issues for my coworkers, I went with it and agreed. Because you know, X amount of money was running out.

Finally, they wanted to know if I spoke Spanish. Because that would be a GREAT advantage for their "urban" clients. You know, hit 'em with a lil espanol in the barrio. Show them that they hired "real" people to connect with them. And also, more fishing for my race.

It was at this point that I told a boardroom of all Jewish men and women, roughly 45-62 years in age, that I was both, Black and German. That I did not speak Spanish. And that I was pretty sure it was illegal to even inquire about my ethnic background in a job interview. Of course they denied that's what the question was for, they were actually curious and ask all of their applicants if they spoke Spanish. And "isn't her complexion so beautiful? She looks like that girl in accounting? What's her name? Sadie.Yes, she has the same complexion as Sadie. Just beautiful."

I often wonder if white women get complimented on their complexions at job interviews. I wonder if people ask them if they speak Spanish. I wonder if this all was as "routine" as they made it to seem. But I think we all know the question to that.

It was then that I decided, I can NOT work at another bullshit company I don't believe in.
If I have to work for a bullshit company, at least let me do good while I'm literally denying who and what I am and all my beliefs.
I will work for the US government and teach these little asshole kids running around, because they should NEVER have to go through the hell I've just been through.

I will work to prepare High School kids, not just about how Shakespeare literally touches on the same subjects that your favorite rappers do, or present the genius of e.e. cummings in a way they can relate to, but I will also prepare these kids for real life. For unemployment. For job interviews. For people who will look at them every day with judgement in their eyes, and how to move up in spite of it all.
I want to help kids.

So I stopped interviewing.
Stopped trying to sell myself to companies that value profit, conformism, status quo.

I enrolled full time in my local community college. The mascot most aptly being a cougar. MEOW. A 36 year old freshman on a mission.
Delivering flowers, waitressing, driving kids to and from school. Among other things to get money.


But that's another subject for another blog.
For now, just know that your girl is on a path. And I think I'm on the right path.

Comments

  1. Know you are beautiful. Aimless and alive. broken and devine.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

::Fathers, Harems and Brown Eyes::

Ahh Fathers Day. A day to honor the wonderful men in our lives. The ones who have passed on their great legacies unto us. Given us their last names. Provided us with a roof over our head and food on the table. The ones who have sent us to therapy for our "daddy" issues. sidenote: Hello unavailable, emotionally distant, workaholic men. Please thank my Dad for making me fall for you. lol My dad was very typical. Cold. Distant. Left all the "child raising" shit to my mother. So I find it strange that he's actually had a bigger influence on who I am than she has. I find myself physically and mentally more and more like him every day that I get older. I guess when you spend your whole life trying to chase after someone's love, you get to know then on a unique level. I remember me going through his bookshelf. Reading every single book he had. Going through and stealing all his old records. Reading his old newspaper articles from the Korean War. Looking through his...

:: Real Housewives of NJ. Aka, the poor man's Sopranos ::

I'm still laughing hysterically at the Real Housewives of New Jersey. I don't even know where to begin with this group of botox overdosed butter faces. Yeah I said it. Like Butta. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable that the short "juicy" (his wifes words not mine) husband literally pays for everything in cash. Hundreds. Crisp. Like fresh out of a suitcase left in Penn Station by someone named "Left Nut Louie". Or off the back of an unidentified white van, with NY plates. Or you know...maybe it could just be fresh out a regular ole' ATM machine. Maybe he just goes and deposits his checks like everyone else. Standing in line at TD Bank. Getting a free lollypop and biscuit for the dog. I dont know. Call me crazy but I just think this dude's money is a little toooooo crispy. It literally looks like he's holding his breath at all time. And can't put his arms down. It's actually painful to watch. You just wanna grab a safety pin and pop him. And ...