Trying to find work is a job in itself.
I know, I know. I didn't come up with that saying. It's not in the least bit original, unique, or "smart". What it is, however, is very appropriate for my present condition -- that is, in the process of trying to find a job.
I went for yet another test on the weekend, this one for a part-time job with the city as a library page. What's that, you're asking? Well, heck, I'll tell you! Another word for 'library page' is 'gopher'. Which is to say, someone who does anything and everything she is asked to do for nominal payment. Yeah, that would be me.
Anyway, it's a job, right? And that's what I need. So to the test I went, with photo ID and pens in hand. I had no idea what to expect, only knowing the test was an hour long, was being held in an arena, and that I wasn't psyched.
After showing the big bossy people my identification and finding a spot at one of the long tables, I watched as person after person filed in and found a seat. There must have been close to a hundred people in all. And they all looked like me: dishevelled, would rather be anywhere else on a Saturday, and desperate for work. Not a good combination.
They gave us 45 minutes to do the test, but I was out of there in ten. Yes, the questions were that easy. Or else, I only hope they were that easy, and that I didn't make some huge mistake, and actually ended up doing everything wrong, which wouldn't be all that out of the ordinary for little old me. I should find out soon, I'm guessing.
Later on that day, I was telling Mr. Handsome about the test, and I mentioned that one of the multiple-choice questions was "How many branches of the public library are there?" And I made a stab at it because, although I had some idea, I really didn't know. And honestly, who does, unless you actually work in the library system already, or you're "one of those".
And then I told Mr. Handsome that they had also included an information sheet that they wanted all us hopefuls to fill out, stating which branches of the library we would be willing to work at, to a maximum of eight choices.
Mr. Handsome listens as I speak, but I notice he starts looking at me like I'm talking in Esperanto, or like an ear is growing out of my forehead. So, I finally ask him what's up, and he says, "So, this information sheet, did they give this to you BEFORE or AFTER the test?"
To which I reply, "During, because it was part of our package that they gave us when we sat down. Why?"
And Mr. Handsome said, "Because, ummm, all the library branches were written out for you. So, you counted them, right?"
And I'm like, "What?"
And he's like, "Right?"
And I'm like, "I don't understand."
And then, after another moment of intense concentration, I figured out what he was saying, and then I started to laugh and laugh, because really, I know I'm sometimes not the sharpest tool in the shed, but this? This is over and beyond any stupidity I could possibly even imagine. And I MISSED IT!! I didn't even realize they were giving away at least one of their answers right there in front of me!
Yeah, that's how smart I am.
P.S. By the way, I actually answered the "number of branches" question correctly, despite unknowingly having the answer right in front of me the whole time. That's right. I'm damn proud of myself. My children can only hope to be as smart as me when they're as decrepit as I am.
Throwback to College – Graphic Design Then
5 weeks ago