I've been applying for employment for the last several weeks. While I had already been looking and applying, I kicked it up a gear or two, considering I have a cool piece of paper called a "Certificate" to add to my list of credentials.
Perhaps I'm a wee bit cynical at the moment.
Perhaps a wee bit tired.
But I don't ever recall when I was younger and looking for work having to show so much enthusiasm in just the application process.
The questions.
Why do you want to work for US specifically?
Tell us HOW you will show up with 100% positivity each and every day.
Uh, I don't know any of you, and 100% enthusiasm each day is going to require a lot of chocolate.
And then there is the list of characteristics and skills they want you to possess. Some days I scroll through the list of skills they require (often followed by the "would be nice TO have" list) and I'm like, what is this? A sequel to War and Peace?
Here it is in a nutshell: We want a human who can come in, do the job every day with GUSTO and ENTHUSIASM. Get along with everyone all day. LOVE LOVE LOVE your job and SMILE SMILE SMILE. Then we want you to have this list of 50 skills. And we will pay you a whopping $25-$40/hour.
WOW!
WHERE DO I SIGN UP?!
Employers today can get away with this - more than ever.
They know the market is saturated with eager faces and many desperate Souls - many of them younger, with faster metabolisms and more energy than I have.
But you still have to answer those questions if you want the chance at an interview.
So I answer.
And I fake it.
Who doesn't?
I mean, seriously - who really wants a mediocre job that just falls short of paying the bills?
It. Feels. So. FAKE.
But I do it anyway.
I think back to high school when I did the same.
I was trying out for the May Day Court.
I knew I didn't stand a chance.
I was not in the "it" club.
Not that I was in the "out" club either.
I was somewhere in between.
People knew of me.
Without KNOWING me.
At least the people on the committee selected to pick which young girl would move to the next stage in the process knew OF me. Some I had known since 2nd grade. I saw my competition. A couple of cheerleaders. The Class Clown. The Valedictorian. Girls who had already been homecoming queen. We were all asked the same question that we had to answer in front of that classroom. (Did I mention I ALWAYS hated speaking in front of my peers?)
The question we were all asked: What is your favorite memory from high school?
Now, immediately I knew what that memory was. It was the time my girlfriends and I cut class, left campus, and enjoyed a shopping trip at the mall, followed by Big Macs and French Fries before heading back to school. The air was warm. The sun was out. Windows were down in my friend's parents' '67 Mustang. It. Was. AWESOME!
But I knew I couldn't tell that story. I had to show School Spirit and, most importantly, not show how I violated school rules. Couldn't have a deviant on the May Day Court, after all. Plus, my frontal cortex had yet to fully develop, so I was not able to show how doing that was showing at least Spirit.
Which I had that day.
As I LEFT the School.
I had already been listening to the answers of the other girls.
And cringing the whole time.
Such fake answers.
But it seemed to be what the panel of my peers wanted.
So when it was my time, I took a deep breath, walked to the front of that room, and, with my legs suddenly feeling like Jell-O, I said the following:
"Playing Powder Puff Football my senior year last fall left me with such a wonderful experience of being a part of a team, engaging in a time-honored tradition. I was filled with pride for my school that day."
Gag me with an 80s spoon!
I did my best to smile.
Lift up my chin.
Did my peers buy it?
Maybe. It was hard to tell.
I remember the Class President giving me a deadpan stare. One smiled politely. The rest just looked - bored.
I waited for a few moments before they told me I was free to go and called the next girl.
I knew I was screwed.
I was not going to be allowed inside that elite little pool of popular people, no matter WHAT I had said.
Not that I totally lied.
Because that Powder Puff Football game indeed was one I will always remember.
But not for the fake reason I shared above.
I loved it because I was able to take out some long-held teen angst and aggression and throw a junior player flat on her ass. MANY TIMES.
And I LOVED IT.
And quickly understood the thrill behind football.
Although I could have done without the aches and 5" bruises I had on my body the next day.
Picture it:
Both teams run out onto the field.
Get into our positions.
Senior Girls had the ball first.
In front of me was a Junior.
"Hey, I know you," I said, smiling.
She growled back at me.
Yes, GROWLED.
Confused, I dismissed her response, and as the whistle was blown, that growling little brat plowed straight into me, grabbing me by my jersey and slamming me into the ground.
I lay there for a moment or two, stunned.
Reality kicked in.
Oh, so you want to play it that way, I thought.
I brushed the gathering debris off my jeans and got back into position.
But this time I stared at her with the Eye of the Tiger.
And raised one eyebrow.
Then when the whistle blew, I leaped her way and slammed her right into the ground with the force of my locked arms and upper body.
Then I spat next to her.
This continued throughout the game, with each of us spending our own share of time on the ground. She was stockier than I was, but even though I looked small, I was an angry beast with power and pent-up emotion. Over 3 years of high school angst came pouring out of me. The years I was bullied by a group of girls. The teacher who dated a student and no one said a thing. The drunk teacher who hid in the closet and came out a raging beast at times. The favoritism. The jocks. The cheerleaders. The cliques. I hated every part of that high school experience. And I let it all out that night.
With Spirit.
THAT is the story I wish I had told in front of my peers.
THAT is the kind of real I appreciate.
That kind of competition is no different when we are adults. It shows up in the job search all the time.
Anyone can come up with a fancy list of skills and feign enthusiasm as to why they want this job or that.
But we all know the truth.
Most of us would rather be doing things we LOVE every day, and finding that on the job is challenging.
How refreshing it would be if I could just tell the truth: Look, I'm a mama on a mission. I need money to house and feed myself and my daughter. Because this job is not just about me but also about my daughter, that motivation alone will ensure I show up and do the job as assigned.
And look at the bonus you get by hiring me: How many employees look the other way when faced with uncomfortable truths? How many employees follow the rules to such an extreme that they will fake their way through uncomfortable situations just to avoid making waves?
Because it is the WAVES that create CHANGE.
And someone comfortable riding the waves and comfortable with change is what makes the best kind of human. The kind you can trust. The kind you can count on.
And that is a very good skill set for any employee.
I wonder how I fit that on a job application.
💖
Victoria
Welcome! I'm Victoria, Mama, writer, pianist, and storyteller.
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