Hunter/Gatherer

Why isn't "hero" a job anymore? I would save princesses all damn day.

Unless I get accepted to the University, (and I probably won't), I will be waiting for the next two years to begin my actual nursing school. It's not a sure thing. I might get in. But if I were a betting man I'd say no.

I am attempting to enter what they call the "second degree option," a program specifically suited for art school burnouts who want to start a new career but don't want to take English Composition I again. This means I can transfer my credits from my first trip through college and just jump right in with the juniors (and by jump right in I mean I had to take 16 credits worth of biology courses). This is great because it means I can get a bachelor's degree in the same amount of time it would take to get an associates degree at my current school (and that's not counting the two year waiting list). Unfortunately, it looks pretty bleak.

The problem is with my grades. You see, I wasn't always a straight-A student. I got a fair amount of B's, and there were even a few C's my freshman year while I adjusted to life out on my own, juggling homework and copious amounts of drugs.

C's were never acceptable to my parents. After my first grade card the following conversation took place:

Mom: "You shouldn't be getting a C in Art History."
Me: "What could my grades in Art History matter in the long run?"
Mom: "You never know. You might not always want to be an artist."
Me: "I would rather die than not be an artist!"

I did eventually learn to be a good student. At some point I just got sick of being told my art was shitty and I started spending more time on it. As for the history classes, I just stopped taking them.

My cumulative GPA at the time of my application will be just above a 3.6. This isn't terrible, but the fact is it might not be good enough. A lot of it will depend on who else applies. They only accept 8 people per semester to do the second degree option. If I'm not one of them, I'm not exactly going to be surprised. And it's nice to know that so many of the people entering my field are huge nerds. Of course, what this means really is if I don't get in I will have two years to kill, and I have started to plan accordingly.

...

Job hunting is one of my least favorite activities. There is something so humbling and artificial about all of it, from the way I feel I am supposed to dress* to the way I am suddenly forced to answer questions that don't have right answers. At these moments, it is as though I am watching myself on a video and I can see what a jerk I am being made to look like. It all feels like a test to see if I will play along. Usually I do, but I come across as so awkward or milquetoast that I wouldn't hire me either. And there are the times when I decide to inject a little humor, you know, to liven up the interview process. I've heard that you want them to remember you when you walk out the door, but I'm not clear on how to accomplish this. I'm not very tall. I have ordinary clothing. I don't wear cologne. The only thing I really have is a sense of humor, one which I have learned through trial and error is quite strange.

The thing is, even though I know this, I can't always contain it. Sometimes, when I'm put in a situation that calls for seriousness and good manners, I can feel something diabolical swelling inside my chest, like an hysterical laugh in the middle of church, and I say something I don't fully understand. Once I was asked what type of animal I would be. In a low growl, I said I was an animal. Another time I was asked which position I was applying for, at a restaurant mind you.

I answered, "I don't know... Bounty Hunter?" The guy look at me like I was crazy, and I think he was onto something. He repeated the words Bounty Hunter very matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," I said, my initial enthusiasm quickly receding. "Do you have those? No? Okay then, cashier I guess." As I left I thought I could hear the shredding of an application.

There was a time when finding a job was extremely simple. I would go to a place where a girl I liked worked. I would fill out an application, which probably didn't take long because I had no prior experience. I would get an interview, to which I would dress nicer than I ever would again for that job, and suddenly I would be offered a job. At one point I had a perfect track record—I had been hired for every job I'd ever interviewed for, and I don't remember doing anything special to prepare besides laying off the weed for the afternoon. I can't figure out what I've lost in the time between when I was a greasy high-schooler with no goals and now, where I have had a dozen jobs, earned two college degrees, and I don't wear sandals to the interview. Whatever it is, they all pick up on it immediately. I never get offered jobs anymore.

To date, I've applied four times to Whole Foods, the stupid jerks. I go to the store and I can see who they're hiring instead of me. Usually it's more teenagers with filthy hair and no experience. One thing I have noticed is that their employees tend to have odd names, like Maverick, or Yessiree, which is why on my most recent application I wrote John "D'Brickashaw" Photos.

Based on a bit of advice from a former employee, I also tried to pull a fast one.

The application is an annoyingly complex process that has to be done entirely online. In a way this is good because I can not get the job without even leaving the house. But there is also no way to tell if anyone is actually reading my résumé. With this in mind, I put on a tie, drove to the store, and asked to speak to the manager. I calmly explained that when I had pasted my info in the text box it looked all jacked up and silly, and here was a copy of my properly formatted résumé on ivory stock, to which they replied, "Let me get the Team Leader."

Andrea, the Team Leader, was friendly, but I could also see she felt like I was either too stupid to use the online form or too pushy to follow the rules. She asked why I wanted to work at Whole Foods, like it's a lifestyle decision or something. I told her I loved Whole Foods, particularly the bakery to which I was applying, and in fact had made a pie only the night before.

"What kind?" she asked.

For some reason when I said "apple" it sounded so obvious that she probably thought I was lying about baking it in the first place. She thanked me for coming in.

If I don't get hired at a grocery store it won't be so bad. What I'm really hoping for is a job at a hospital. Unfortunately, even the most rudimentary positions require either some kind of certification or prior experience, and this means yet more school. Still, I applied for 7 different jobs at various hospitals—everything from housekeeping to outpatient aide. I even wrote a nice cover letter outlining my plan to become a nurse and my desire to work in the field. I felt I was convincingly assertive yet humble and eager. I made it clear that I would accept any position offered, but still no word.

I've also applied to a local coffee chain, a national coffee chain, and the hippie grocery store where you have to be a "member." Frankly, I don't see how any of these places are going to hire me either. Even as I fill in my work history, I can see that there is nothing I'm putting down that is going to convince the manager I would make a good barista since I haven't already been a barista.

Some of the applications ask more personal questions, such as "are there any accomplishments or awards you would like us to consider?" What on Earth do people write? If they'd truly achieved something worthwhile they probably wouldn't be looking for work at a coffee shop. And even if they have, how would it carry over?

I could write, "I once beat The Legend of Zelda in one sitting. I also defeated Contra** without losing a single man. And I can jump over the hood of a car." I honestly think these things are impressive, but they aren't going to demonstrate my prowess with giving people correct change, as though people use cash anymore.

Alas, I'm back to surfing Craig's List, but that is truly a dismal place these days. I did find a job post titled "Stable Help" that required "some experience with horses," this way the person they hire won't be frightened by the amount of poop. I never really wanted to muck stalls again, having done that throughout highschool for my pony, Thunder. I taught at one of the most prestigious art schools in the country. I earned a master's degree when I was 23. But I guess you can't escape your past. I'm just a shit-shoveler after all. I'll probably call tomorrow.


* Actually for someone who has never held a job that required ties, I own a pretty solid collection. I just feel stupid walking into Starbucks dressed up and holding my application. It's so obvious to everyone that you are hoping to get hired at Starbucks. It's like asking someone out in public, and they say they have to think about it.

** That means I could beat it without using UUDDLRLRBASelectStart, suckas! Interesting side note: my little brother once went Trick or Treating as a "Contra Man" (his words, which he had to repeat at every door). He wasn't allowed to go shirtless though, which is fine because he probably weighed 60 pounds. Instead he carried a laser gun, wore a red bandana, and a beige top. I went as a football player, which was also met with some confusion when it was pointed out that there was no team called the Michigan Rams.