I’m Nearer to Death Than I Thought
I swore when I left the hell-hole I would never look for employment in the finance field again, but upon seeking gainful employment for the past two weeks, it’s become increasingly apparent to me that in the grand scheme of things that this is what I do best.
This is a very depressed area, with most folks around this section of the city collecting welfare, food stamps, and Social Security disability benefits, so in my field of expertise, there are many, many businesses that cater to this particular group of people.
When I call these businesses to inquire as to whether or not they’re hiring, that for the most part they say they’re taking applications, but once I arrived in all sixteen places, they took one of the 16 resumes and I’m told, “We aren’t hiring right now, but I’ll fax your resume to the home office.” I never get to the application unless I ask for one. It’s difficult too, for me not to notice that most of these females are in their 20’s and 30’s, dressed like they’re going either to a barn dance or a rave, and hold managerial positions.
Please, someone help me out here. What in the hell is wrong with this picture?
I did have a call-back from an online application from a huge call-center from an East Indian type fellow who said they’d love to set up an interview for Friday. He asked me if I were using Microsoft Word and Microsoft Excel if I knew how to switch programs. Woah! Be still my heart!
Not to be daunted by a little condescension, I said I would be happy to be there at 9 AM; and would of course arrive fifteen minutes early, as requested.
Little more than two hours later, another East Indian fellow called to confirm I would indeed be there at the appointed time and place, and could I also confirm that none of the information I had given had changed since my last conversation with the other representative of their company.
I wanted to tell him I’d moved three times since then, changed my phone number more often than my underwear, and given birth six times.
Yesterday I stopped in the grocery to buy a six pack of soda. I had no Bi-Lo discount card with me, so the cashier offered to get an application for me. In the meantime, she did offer another card to use until mine arrives in the mail. Cute little thing I can put on my keyring.
Bi-Lo for Seniors.
As an extra bonus, I have a birthday coming up in just 11 more days.
Perhaps I should pick out my shroud now.
Nearer to death??? Are you serious?? There is a reason you are great at collecting financial debt…you are a feistier than those poor, young fashion disasters. And when I say feisty, I am not talking Texas Pete, honey…I am mean habanero, baby!!! **MWAH**
Bi Lo for Seniours?
Did you give her the standard “lick my depends” talk?
Sheesh.
What the heck is going on in the world today?
And as a 32 year old Woman, I have to say, that I am so damn tired of going to our bank, where I expect Professionalism and having those same little twats who make mistakes but wear low slung pants, and halters to work.I have come to a point I think men hire little twits to occupy their thoughts all day so as to not remember their wives and kids.
Where the hell is dignity anymore?
Standards are low for employers and their employees. Also, those who manage these goofs expect very little because the attitudes of these employees are so horrible that they are just happy to get through a day without any conflicts.