If we are Facebook friends, dear reader, you were there for the bitching, the endless whining, winging, and self-pity parade that was JOB HUNT:2012. Confronted with the fact that I had maxed out my credit card like a white trash housewife with a case of Yuengleng and all-day access to QVC, I realized that my time as a care free (and paid) university student was over. Adulthood had officially began. I mean, I still live with my mom, but you know what I mean. And so, with the bright glint of optimism in my eye and spoon full of hope in my… (pocket? Whatever) I started filling out job applications.
Then more applications.
Then more.
Is my email working properly? I should’ve heard something by today!
Fifteen more applications.
“Hello? Yes, I applied to your company three weeks ago and I never got a call. The job is still posted online and I have a stunning resume AND articulate letters of recommendation, so what is the problem? *click*
More applications.
Twenty-eight more.
More! *weeps, rips out hair, screams irrationally at loved ones* and more!
And 3 months later I had filled out over ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY applications for employment. Apparently I am retarded and nobody bothered to tell me. Or maybe it’s just that nothing about my previous work experience or first class education at a top ranked university has qualified me to do any of the following: be a secretary, a teacher, an assistant administrator, a phone operator, a customer service agent, an animal wrangler at Petco, a server, a shelf stocker, a maker of copies, a checker at grocery stores, a people greeter at a hospital, or even a babysitter. It is a mark of my desperation that I was actually eager and desperate to be a babysitter. I was cheerfully willing to clean snot as my full-time job for a child that I was not genetically obligated to love through direct motherhood. That’s bad.
Then, like a gift/punishment from Heaven, I received what was literally my second interview ever. The first was for a job in the paint department at a Lowes located over an hour away from me each direction. I am allergic to paint fumes, they make me stop breathing, but whatever- desperate times. The next offer of an interview was for a company I shall call Chauvinism Chevrolet, a new and used car dealership located in the heart of ToothlessTown, VA where I now live.
I suspected something was deeply wrong with the job when my future boss informed me that diversity was key at Chauvinism Chevrolet with the following sentence: “In fact, we are so okay with people of every color and gender that we have hired eight colored people on staff, which is a lot more than the other dealerships in this town!” Gosh. That sure is great to know, but I don’t think I will be bringing my “colored” boyfriend to the company picnic this summer, ‘kay?
My boss was all very amiable through my three interviews, and tried to be accommodating when I asked for a schedule that still let me run down and visit my boyfriend-of-un-disclosed-racial-decent on weekends, even though he drives a foreign car. Then on my first day of work, everything went horribly wrong. Bossman plopped me down in my office, put on his Serious Face (and by this I mean his regular expression) and told me in no uncertain terms that “this was a man’s business” and I would likely “never be respected” by my fellow salesmen or by the men in the service center. “Even if you work here for years and try to prove yourself, there will be people here who look down on you, who will try to steal your sales and feel they have a right to because you are a woman. You just need to know that up front. Just toughen up your skin and check your emotions at the door.” Lovely.
The first task of the day was to meet the staff. I had met Mr. Chauvinism (who owns the dealership and for whom it is named) in a previous interview, but at the time he refused to meet my eyes, even while we shook hands. As every single employee told me later, he never looks at you because he is “always grumpy” and “hates everyone”. “Don’t take it personal, it’s just the way he is,” they said. Well super! However, it is my theory that Mr. Chauvinism is not merely appallingly rude, but actually an alien in hiding like in Men in Black. After working for over a month, I was forced to go to The Corner Office (which is always spoken of in hushed tones overlaid with doom) and for the very first time, Mr. Chauvinism looked me full in the face. His eyes are huge, all black and very wet looking in his thin, grouchy face and he never blinks. My soul sort of shriveled at the sight, and I feel sure he saw it. If he looked everyone in the face like that eventually someone with less authority issues would mention it and his cover would be blown forcing him to return to his planet of origin!
Then I met Bob, who looks like a mournful blood hound. He sat me down and the first words out of his mouth were an explanation of how he did not like anyone at the company. He did not like to socialize or speak to anyone. He only went to the company get-togethers because he has to as a member of the management. Then he launched in a beautifully devastating character sketch of every employee, out-lining their recent dramas, scandals, personal failings, and general lack of intelligence. Never mind that I still know nothing about cars or what it is I am supposed to actually DO with myself now that I am employed, Bob just kept pouring out the juicy details with rich and descriptive adjectives, and after all, isn’t that the kind of thing that is really important to know as a new employee? I like Bob very much. Since the first day, he has adopted me as a sort of pet. I think he finds my utter incompetence charming, or at the least, benevolently pitiable. Anyway he doesn’t seem to hate me.
Next I met Ron, my fellow used car salesman. He is tall, paunchy, mid-fifties, and universally loathed by every single person here. I didn’t get it at first, he seemed very nice and patient and helpful, if somewhat careless as to things like facts or tact. Still, not a bad egg, yes? No. To get into the details of his infamous crime would be to explain my job in way too much detail for anyone to stay interested. Suffice it to say, he lied, deceived, and was generally a Mr. Smarmy-Face. I wasn’t sure what to do to resolve the matter, so I went to Bob, my Car Sales Liaison and Ambassador, for advice. He told me to take the issue up with Bossman, and so swallowing up my authority and daddy issues, I tentatively tapped on his door and tried politely to ask his advice. Before I got even half a sentence out of my mouth, Bossman cut me off-
“You gotta stand up to Ron, honey. Pull up your big girl britches and deal with him! I don’t have time to run around after your feelings.”
“That was not what I was asking you to do, I am just trying to determine what I should-“
“You just gotta say your peace to Ron. Its time to be a grown up woman! Just don’t start trying to wear the pants, he won’t like that and then you’ll be like Janice over in the Service center. Jesus, that woman has a mouth on her and she’s always trying to relate to the guys in service. A woman should act like a woman, you know what I mean? Just be a lady, you know what I mean? Glad to see you wear dresses. Okay? All clear? Off you go.”
“Erm… Yes. Thank you.”
I work in a 1980’s sexual harassment video.
