On Finding a Job (With Jokes)

I graduated from NYU a month ago. Well, 40 days ago — but who is counting? Ah yes, that’s right, I am. Counting furiously, in fact. Since that fateful day six weeks ago, my resume has hit the market over 100 times, to mixed reviews. I get it — the hiring process is called a “process” for a reason. These things don’t happen overnight. If I’m as bold and creative and fantastical as I claim to be in my cover letters, it’s only a matter of time before someone rummages deep enough into the slush pile to find me. From there, the rest shall be history.

Supposedly.

I’m a positive person. I believe in myself. Nine out of ten Disney Channel Original Movies agree that this is all it takes for success to find you. Though I can’t help but feel I’ve shed enough belief to fund at least fifteen Lizzie McGuire efforts (making this letter the sassy lil’ animated version of myself). My parents and friends believe in me. I have regular phone conversations with my father that end with him saying, “something will turn up,” in a high-spirited but increasingly weary manner.

I know this is my fault seeing as I’m trying to be a writer. I’m essentially trying to get paid for my opinions and my grasp of the English language — could not anyone else be subjectively better at these things?

Perhaps the only saving grace of this entire situation is that the job hunt itself (when not demeaning and exhausting) constantly borders on hilarity. When you, as an applicant, are doing your very best to make yourself appear crisp and radiant, it becomes increasingly easy to notice all of the little (and not so little) ways in which employers simply do not give a sh*t about you. One must simply smile to themselves and say “Ah yes, this will certainly all be different when I am on that Dental Plan and have a nice orchid for my cubicle.”

Sure, I don’t need the HR department of a company I have never been affiliated with to be concerned about my mood and/or temperature on any given day. I am not so entitled as to expect a red carpet rolled out for my LinkedIn profile. Still, that doesn’t make my entire current life state any less hilarious.

I present to you a collection of Craigslist ads, carefully curated by yours truly. I have naturally been scouring Craigslist’s Los Angeles division daily (hourly…) as it has found me pretty decent freelance work in the past. After a hard day digging through the rubble of Indeed.com, one turns to Craigslist as a more lightweight refresher — a place where you may not be expected to write a cover letter or submit a stool sample. Consequently, the hiring managers of Craigslist give the fewest f*cks of them all.

Translation: Mysterious Old Man in Smoking Jacket Seeks Witty Broad for Fantasy Fulfillment (And yes, I did apply to this and never heard back, so I guess the joke is on me).

I know far too many people who are far too qualified for this line of work.

Who, in God’s name, loves to wax? If that is the qualification, I would advise all patrons to avoid this salon as it is likely staffed with sadomasochists.

This ice cold lawyer wants YOU to help him sue his old boss. Or is this the plot of a DiCaprio movie? I can just imagine that teary-eyed courtroom scene now…

Mhmmm, darn tootin’!

GOD. SO TEMPTING. GET ANOTHER DOG. BE ON TV. LOOK AWAY. (My boyfriend is actually quite upset that I did not pursue this opportunity.)

Is this an application for a job or did Kenny Chesney get loose on Craigslist?

Non-EOE.

At some point I got really distracted and started playing Neopets in some sort of childhood regression. But it all worked out because I randomly found 18,791 Neopoints?! Google Search: Does Sallie Mae accept Neopoints to pay off student loans?

*clicks*

*sets DVR* (I am also very interested in the emphasis on “appearing between the ages of 16 and 30.” Who makes the call?)

Special Skills: Photoshop, French, Good on the phones.

I’m not even going to look up what this actually means. I will just forever sing the Ramones song as “Teenage Phlebotomy.”

Tim Allen is bae?

CONCLUSION:
Craigslist is a most glorious place where anything can happen. You can achieve your dreams of teaching phlebotomy or being on MTV. You can be a ghost writer or a SoulCycle janitor! Really, it can all happen if you just believe in your self enough and dream big enough.

For all of my fellow job-seekers out there, I salute you.

The End.

Written by

pro sad girl. katiefustich.com

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