“You have to apply online only. ”
“There is no one to talk to. It’s all done online now.”
“HR only speaks to those who already work here. Apply at our website.”
I am looking for work in a bar in a hotel in Portland, Oregon and I had no idea that this recession/depression wasn’t just a news channel’s reason to name it something like “Economic Anemia”, “Jobpocalypse” or “Obama’s First Failure”.
I am about to walk into a place with my laptop and slap it on the counter and fill out their online applications right then and there. The whole planet has gone online and now I’m thrown in the mix with a ton of other people who are either absurdly overqualified or are too busy growing beards and buying vintage clothes to notice that there isn’t any one person you can just talk to for a job. It’s a corporate ordeal of internet questionnaires and slick websites that only remind you that apparently the real money is in designing websites and providing a service to those 1 percenters that own the earth. No, not those 1 percenters. These ones. I’m essentially unable to display my unique ability to charm people into giving me money and jobs and stuff.
Crimeny, a thousand people are applying for the same lousy bedturning job and living in the state with the 2nd highest unemployment rate in the nation, my confidence is waning. I figured I would just come home after traveling, decompress, talk to a few folks, bark up a couple trees, and voila: a job. What’s the problem? Not only have I failed to properly acclimate to the frigid air, tight pants and “sustained” lifestyle of my lovely beaver state, finding a gig in my particular burg is a seemingly insurmountable feat.
I have yet only to begun to track down those who actually do the hiring because once they get a load of my grinning idocy that precedes my astute ability to get the job done right, I’m in like James Coburn.