pause...hopefully for a while!

So, in short, I landed an awesome gig with an awesome company which means that this awesome blog will be awesomely ending. At least for a while. Hopefully an awesomely long while.

In the meantime, please, check out my other, shinier, newer blog here: Daily Randonimity

Actually, it's been up for a few months now, so you should probably catch up if you haven't yet.

Thanks so much for following my on my job search journey. And I'm sure in the near future I might even recount that journey right here, in the old job search blog.

I'm Like an Elephant

No. This post isn't regarding the way I feel about the size of my hips. Or my steel trap of a memory. (Except when it comes to remembering where I put my keys...or my sunglasses. Ask me what you were wearing the third Saturday of August 2006, however, and I could tell you.)

I'm digressing. My boyfriend sent me this amazing video of a rescued elephant and it reminded me of something: myself and all my fellow entry-level job seekers. Here's the link to the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=He7Ge7Sogrk

In case you'd rather read the rest of my post before you watch it, I'll give you the synopsis: Rescued elephant takes a paintbrush and paints an elephant holding a flower. Sure, it's not Rembrandt, but it's pretty damn amazing.

Before I saw this video, I had no idea that elephants could paint anything other than shaky lines and splotches. To watch an animal paint a self portrait of sorts really opened my eyes to something: I've been underestimating elephants.

And you know what else? A lot of times it seems that people underestimate entry-level job candidates in the very same way. Just like the elephant, we have no track record of proven effectiveness. We have little to no professional experience. We've never before had the opportunity to show the world what we're truly capable of. Well guess what? That elephant has mad artistic skills, and until some caretaker gave him (or her) the chance to shine, nobody ever knew it. And without that chance, nobody probably ever would have.

I understand the importance of experience. Nevertheless, I think entry-level job seekers have the upper-hand in a different way. We're hungry. We're slightly naive (in a positive way, of course). We're passionate. We have a lot to learn, yes, but we're especially eager to learn it. All of it. To us, that first job is like a shiny new toy. That first taste of real experience is delicious. It's not just another step. It's our first step...and we don't want to screw it up. Talk about wanting to give 120%.

I know that's the case for me, Sally. I know what I'm good at. I know what I'm passionate about. I know what situations really allow me to shine. And although a few years of experience will surely enhance that someday, if given the chance, I know that I could prove to an employer that I could truly create some doggone good stuff.

A freaking elephant painted an elephant because the right person gave him some paint and a brush.

I can only imagine what we entry-level job seekers could do if given the right tools.

I'm off to commission that elephant to paint a mural for above my fireplace. He really does do good work...

Careers I Wouldn't Want Part I

So I was listening to a Chicago morning radio show as I dropped my son off at school this morning when I heard something...disturbing.

Before I get into what that disturbing something was, I'll have you know that it got me thinking. The gears were turning and I thought it would make a great regular feature of my blog. I have decided that when I discover an odd or quirky job that seems off-the-wall, I will write about it in a multiple-part series I'm currently calling "Careers I Wouldn't Want."

Now, if you're a sharp one, Sally, you've probably guessed by now that the disturbing something I heard this morning was a career I wouldn't want. (So kudos to you. Pass go, collect 200 fake dollars. Just don't try to pay your rent with it...your landlord probably wouldn't see the humor.)

Are you tingling in anticipation yet? Do you want to know what the first career of the series is?

Wait for it...

(It's worth it, I promise.)

...the first Career I Wouldn't Want is...

Bikini Area Bedazzler.

No, your eyes are not deceiving you. There is someone out there making a living out of applying rhinestones to newly waxed hoo-has.

Now, I thought that bedazzled belts, hats, and doilies were pretty bad. And up until this point, I figured that the Bedazzler tool had bedazzled everything it possibly could. But, necessity is the mother of invention, and apparently someone found it necessary to dress up her nu-nu with a little bling. And voila! A new career was born.

Now I assume that a Bedazzler tool is not involved in the process and that the rhinestones are not permanent, so my choice to avoid this career at all possible costs has nothing to do with my fear of blood or piercing someone else's skin.

The true fear lies in having to explain what I do for a living. I understand that salon technicians work in a very specialized and demanding field. (Believe me, I appreciate their hard work. When they succeed in making this stress-filled, single mom look like a super model, I realize that they've got their work cut out for them.) However, at what point after all of that training and specializing, does one decide that he or she will take on the task of applying jewels to private parts?

More important, how do you put that on your resume?

I imagine it would look something like this:

Experience:

Beauty World Salon and Day Spa
Wax Technician
-Performed body waxing on clients with precision and care.
-Specialized in: Upper lips, under arms, and bikini area
-Used creativity and a (very) steady hand in order to adorn the bikini area to resemble a Fabergé egg.

But I imagine that resumes aren't the most embarrassing places to divulge the fact that you have bedazzled hoo-hoos for a living.

I would assume that social events, where a common question is: "And what do you do?" would take that embarrassment to a whole new level. "Well, Sally, when I'm not plucking eyebrows, or demonstrating make-up techniques, I'm bejeweling crotches."

I suppose, since this service is offered, there are clients that must appreciate it. In my opinion, you can achieve the same effect with a swanky new pair of glittery panties, but that may not be enough for some. I guess I get it.

And I don't want to offend the bikini area bedazzlers out there. Yes, I think the whole idea is silly, but hey, I'm the one still searching for a job while you're out there making bank.

I'm just saying this is one career I simply wouldn't want.

As for the procedure itself...I wouldn't want that either.

I'd rather have a bedazzled flowerpot or oven mitt than a bedazzled nu-nu.

My First Award!

Awarded to Tiffany Svitko

It's a Darn Shame

So I've been thinking.

I recently graduated in December with a B.A. in English - Professional Writing and a 3.54 GPA.

For the most part I received good grades. During my second semester I went through some personal things that made me put school on the back burner and unfortunately instead of dropping classes, I took poor grades. It was a valuable lesson in itself and I realized that it was better to drop a class if the load was too heavy than to accept a below par grade.

But I'm digressing now. Here's the real sad situation: Upon graduating I learned that Purdue Calumet's Outstanding Student Award had some very poor limitations.

I managed to balance up to 3 jobs at a time, 18 credit hours (that's 6 classes, Sally), and raise a young child while graduating with an above-average GPA.

It would seem that my ability to get through the pressures of school and the added pressures of life off-campus would make me or anyone else in a similar situation a darn good candidate for the Outstanding Student Award. This is not the case, however.

The Outstanding Student Award only recognizes those students who maintain a good GPA as well as participate in extra-curricular activities and community service projects. It makes no room for those of us who, due to our off-campus responsibilities, could not fit extra-curricular activities such as glee club, theater, intramural sports, student government, or other various clubs into our busy, high-stress schedules.

The reality is that there are plenty of outstanding students who cannot fill their plates with extra-curricular involvement because they've got too many other responsibilities.

So I didn't join the dance team. How many students managed to work those 3 jobs, take 6 classes a semester, while raising a healthy, well-adjusted child? Extra-curricular activities are important. They help to create well-rounded individuals. But a person can become just as well rounded by working and taking classes at the same time, or even raising a child at the same time. I wasn't Student Body President; I did, however, have one of the hardest jobs in the world: raising another productive human being. There's something to be said about that, wouldn't you say?

I split my time between academia and my son for 5 years. That's a big sacrifice on both sides. There were times when I thought I was going to pull my hair out in frustration, or that I was going to break under the pressure. Times when I had to come home and start my homework at 10pm after a long day because my son needed help with his own homework or just wanted to play.

I'm sure there were also students who didn't have children but still had to work hard to pay for their educations that maintained good grades through it all.

But we get no recognition for this fact. And when it comes time for the job search, our resumes suffer as well. We can't rightly put "single-parent who took 6 classes at a time while working 3 jobs" under our "Activities" section. Some of us, myself being one of them, couldn't even fit an internship into our schedules because of the fact that many of them are unpaid. How could we possibly devote anywhere from 15 to 40 hours a week for an internship without any income for three months?

So even though we worked hard and managed to find a balance between work and school and family, it seems to go unnoticed. It's a scary thought. It's a very sad situation.

But I refuse to think that this is just the way that it has to be. That our hard work is useless because we didn't participate in French Club. That our degrees are worth less than the degrees of students who had more flexible schedules. It's just not true.

When I do find a job and establish myself, I would really like to find a way to honor those students who, like myself, managed to excel in academia with outside responsibilities fighting them at every turn. I would love to be able to establish an award that lets those students know that the struggles they faced are understood and that just because they didn't play in the band or study abroad, it doesn't mean they didn't get the most out of the college experience.

I will succeed, not only to better my life and better the life of my son, but also to show those students out there who are struggling like I struggled that what's important is doing what you can feasibly do---and doing it all the best that you can. That what works for you is what matters and your dreams are just as reachable as those who may have had more options in school.

The fact that we are even in school shows our determination and drive. That in itself is our first success. That in itself makes us outstanding.

I am not Vanilla...

Vanilla. It's a staple in the realm of flavors. And although I think there is a time and place for vanilla (in the confines of two sticky and delicious, mushy ice cream sandwich cookies, for example), I've realized that vanilla says a lot about the person ordering it---especially when given a choice between other, more colorful or interesting flavors.

So what brings me to question one's choice in a flavor? (More important, why is this relevant to the job hunt?) I attended a luncheon today, arranged by the big boss of my current workplace. He wanted to thank us for being his "family" of sorts. After a hearty lunch of salad, breadsticks and an all-you-can-eat, design-your-own, cooked-to-order pasta bar (suddenly I find myself on a hyphenated adjective kick...go figure), the waitress kindly reminded us that it was time for ice cream.

Normally this would have made me jump for joy (especially since, in addition to a salad and pasta bar, the club also had a sundae bar), but I made a New Year's resolution to eat better. I figured I would pass on the opportunity and eat vicariously through my coworkers. Fortunately for me, however, the waitress listed four flavors of frozen deliciousness to enjoy: vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate, and raspberry sorbet.

Sorbet! Yes! Less fat, refreshing, and a bit exotic. That sweet tartness of raspberries served up in a frothy, icy ball. Perfect. The waitress went around the table taking our orders.

"Raspberry sorbet, please," I smiled.

The next few seconds played out like a skipping record, one by one my coworkers ordered:

"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
"Vanilla."
And finally....
"Vanilla."

At that moment I had another one of my epiphanies: I was surrounded by a tableful of "Vanillas." It went beyond ice cream at that point.

I dove into full, psychological evaluation mode.

What did their choices say about them? Well, vanilla is comfortable, plain, and ordinary. It isn't dressed up or unique. The only way to give it pizzazz is to cover it with flavored syrup or sprinkles. To make vanilla stand out, you have to cover it up with bells and whistles.

I am not vanilla.

I'm not necessarily raspberry sorbet either, but it was my only option at the time. If anything, I'm a bright pink bubble gum: sweet, surprising, and fun or margarita ice: tart, zesty, and out of the ordinary.

What I'm saying is that in that moment, I realized that I was surrounded by a group of people content with where they are at in their careers. People seemingly afraid to step out of the line and dare to be a little different.

That's just not me. I have some pretty great dreams, and they're not vanilla. They're flavorful and bright and positively delicious. The same holds true for who I am. I'm different. I want to stand out and be noticed. I don't want to stand in line waiting for things to happen, I want to get out there and do those things. I want to get to a different place than where that long line is leading.

I'm not saying that I'm an oddball (at least not ALWAYS...), it's not like I'd try too hard and declare myself some form of flavor-overkill like Head Cheese - Anchovy Triple Cod Liver Oil and Fudge swirl. That would just be presumptuous.

I'm unique, but not weird.

Besides, if you have to de-bone any part of your ice cream, I'd suggest passing on that particular flavor...just don't settle for vanilla.

Ralphie Syndrome

If you haven't seen "A Christmas Story" then I hereby consider you too far out of the loop to continue reading this post.

I mean, come on--it runs for 24-hours straight during Christmas.

I feel a special connection to this movie because it's set in my stomping grounds: northwest Indiana. More specifically, it's set in Hammond, a stone's throw away from my front door.

But this post is not a movie review or some syrupy nostalgic journey down memory lane. I have discovered a relevant connection to the job search and this immortal cinematic experience.

In the movie (and yes, I will explain in case you didn't take my advice and are still reading without having a clue as to what this movie is about...which by the way, shame on you for 1.) not ever seeing it and 2.) not listening...but I digress...), Ralphie, the main character through which the story is told, wants a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. After every request he's met with the same roadblock: "You'll shoot your eye out kid."

Even Santa agrees, and proceeds to kick Ralphie down a very long slide and back into his sad reality.

But Ralphie is persistent, going so far as to write an essay arguing his choice for a Christmas present.

This is where the job-hunt comparison begins. So listen up, kids.

Before turning in his "theme" (that's what they called essays back in the day...even when I was a kid in the 80's...), Ralphie imagines his teacher's joy in reading what he considers to be the best essay ever. After failing the rest of the class in Ralphie's daydream, his teacher, Miss Shields, comes to Ralphie's essay. In his work she finds relief and adoration, going to far as to give him an A + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +...writing the pluses on the walls of the classroom.

The class cheers. Ralphie is a hero. He has turned in the best essay ever written.

In his mind, he has written the most amazing theme in the history of the 4th grade, nay, the world.

Unfortunately, Ralphie's expectations are quickly shattered when he receives a "C" on the paper and a little note from Miss Shields: "You'll shoot your eye out."

What does all of this have to do with the job hunt? (I can hear you asking, Sally. Be patient. I'm getting there...)

I have sent out many resumes and with them have included what I considered to be a very unique and effective cover letter. I've had visions of sugarplums...wait, wrong story, visions of potential employers walking out of their offices upon reading the thing and holding a ticker-tape parade all the way to my front door: "Hip hip hooray! Tiffany is what we've been waiting for!"

Unfortunately, like Ralphie, I've only been met with, well, not even a "C" and a little note. I've been met with crickets. Silence. Nothing.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not arrogant. I know that my work isn't the freshest, best thing the world has ever seen, but I did think it was a unique and effective approach. And, I wasn't asking for a weapon that could possibly lead to the need for a glass eye. I was asking for a chance to get to know me. An opportunity to just give me a chance to show a prospective employer that I just might be someone they would find helpful.

Ralphie Syndrome.

That's what it is. It's thinking that your dreams and your approach mean as much to everyone else as they do to you. But the harsh reality is that it simply isn't true.

Sometimes you're forced to stand in humiliation a la a pink bunny suit before your hard work and determination pays off.

In the movie, Ralphie gets his BB gun, and oddly enough he does in fact injure his eye. (He also drops the F-bomb...another feeling often associated with job-search rejection...)

I guess all I can do is continue to better my techniques and go through some humiliation and defeat before it all pays off. Only I truly hope the big payoff doesn't result in ocular injury...

Frizzy AND Frazzled...

I have a hair appointment in two weeks...which is far too far ahead as far as I'm concerned. I woke up this morning resembling a poodle with mange, mixed with a cockatoo. It's brilliant. Luckily I'm not short on hair ties and gel and was able to coax it into less of an explosion on my head.

In addition to having a mad case of frizz, I also have an equally awful case of "frazz."

Okay, so I am fully aware that "frazz" is not a word. But if kids these days can shorten "whatever" to "whatevs" then I find it completely plausible to shorten "frazzled" to "frazz" via use of my creative license.

Why so frazzled? Well, the job-search is not going so well, Sally. That's right. I've sent, I've contacted, I've marketed myself, I've done it all.

All I have to show for it are a few automated email responses and one hand-addressed postcard. (I'm actually pretty impressed about the latter. It shows that at least someone actually looked at what I sent in order to find my mailing address.)

But that's it. Not a single internship or job for which I have applied has shown any semblance of results. I'm running out of options here.

So here I sit, with frizzy hair and a frazzled mind just trying to keep it all together.

It ain't easy.

But I look on the bright side: if it keeps up at this rate, the worst that could happen is that I could end up simply pulling out all of my hair in frustration...so long as it's before I go to the stylist I can't see being much worse than my current style (or lack thereof)...

Jumping Through Hoops

Literally. That's right, I've started a new hobby: hoop dancing. It's a combination of dancing and exercise and really it's just plain fun. Five minutes of keeping the hoop up and practicing new tricks, and your blood is pumping, your heart is racing, and any other issues that you met during the day are far off in the back of your mind and out of the way.

Of course there is a bigger benefit than all of that, too.

When I was in school I had to remain focused and to constantly absorb and implement new information and strategies. It was like exercise for my brain. But since I've graduated, keeping up with that cerebral stimulation is a bit more difficult. Between parenting and my part-time job, as well as my other regular duties like chores---oh yeah, and the job hunting---because there is no school to force me to focus, it's now completely up to me.

In addition to reading up on things related to my chosen career path (so far I've completed The Elements of Style by Strunk & White and am 3/4ths of the way through How to Succeed in Advertising When All You Have is Talent by Laurence Minsky and Emily Thornton Calvo; I'm still waiting to hear from Borders about Pick Me! Breaking into Advertising and Staying There by Nancy Vonk and Janet Kestin--I ordered it a month ago...), I've found that learning a new hobby like hooping is helping me to keep my mind sharp and my motivation level high.

You see, when I hoop I set goals for myself. I visualize a new trick or move and I repeat it...over...and over...and over, until, inevitably, I can do it. Okay, so I'm not an instant success. I've found that it's still if-y when I try and lift the hoop from my waist to over my head, but I can do it. More important, I keep doing it. I do it until my legs are aching and my hips are bruised. I don't tell myself that I'll never be able to do it. I tell myself that eventually it will feel like second nature.

Practicing this type of discipline is beneficial (in my humble opinion), especially when it comes to the job hunt. It keeps you sharp and it keeps you positive. It also shows you that with a little work, anything is possible.

I started hooping two weeks ago. The first time I tried it, I could barely keep the hoop up for thirty seconds, and forget changing planes (that means changing the plane of the hoop from being level with your hips to either rotating up toward the ceiling or downward toward the floor).

Two weeks later, the hoop has become an extended part of my anatomy. When it's around my waist it feels natural and keeping it up (heck, even bringing it back up if it slips) is as second nature as raising my arms, smiling, or kicking. I've even learned how to successfully change planes.

I'm not explaining all of this to brag about my progress, because in reality I have a looooooong way to go. I'm explaining this because it proves that with a little effort, results can be seen in a matter of time---no matter what it is you're trying to accomplish.

When you take that understanding and carry it with you during the job search, the whole process becomes much less daunting. Eventually something wonderful will come from your efforts.

My suggestion, whether you're looking for a career after graduation or in general, or you're looking to move up in your current field, is to start a new hobby. Not only will it help take a bit of the pressure off, but you learn a new skill and you build up your motivation...in every aspect of your life.

Now get crackin'! (And if anyone chooses to go into putting ships in bottles, let me know. I want to see how it's done...)

It's like dating...sort of.

I realized yesterday as I checked my email for the 4,009,993rd time that searching for a job is a lot like dating.

I've been out of the dating pool for two years now, but when I was there I was in neck-deep.

Sending out resumes and contacting employers is just like going out on a first date with a potential suitor. After it's sent, it's very similar to the morning after--in more ways than one.

If you felt that what you submitted was exceptionally great, you're sitting around waiting for that employer to call. It consumes you a bit. You try to pretend that you're distracting yourself, but really in the back of your mind it's still there.

Then you begin over thinking: "I think my cover letter contained a comma splice!", "I shouldn't have listed my time spent as a cat wrangler under 'Relevant Experience'.", "Crap. Did I give them the right contact information?", "Maybe their email and phone system is down.", "Maybe MY email and phone system is down."

It's a ruthless, never ending cycle.

Or perhaps you pushed the envelope. Perhaps you decided to try and blow away the competition with some wacky, off-the-wall approach. It's akin to a one-night-stand in the way that in both situations, once you realized that perhaps it wasn't the best idea, the next morning you're doing a red-faced walk of shame. (Okay, maybe not a "walk" per say, but your mind is backtracking to the point when you decided that sending a life-sized cardboard cutout of yourself to a potential boss was a good way to get his or her attention. Unfortunately, at that moment your perceived brilliance masked the fact that there are two types of attention: good and bad.)

It's been a week since I sent out the first onslaught of resumes and cover letters and I still haven't heard from anyone--besides the MLM scams and "Entry-level Marketing Management" opportunities that require you go door-to-door selling knick-knacks and pens...for no base pay.

So here I am, just like back in my dating days, constantly placing blame on myself for what I MUST be doing wrong to not get any callbacks.

Was it my hair? Perhaps I misused a semicolon? Did I come on too strong?

I suppose my only saving grace is the fact that I spent a lot of time in the dating pool, was met with a lot of rejection (although, I did some rejecting myself...), and learned quite a bit about not blaming myself for circumstances beyond my control. And eventually I was able to climb out of those murky waters with a really great guy , my confidence in tact, and a deeper understanding of who I truly was and what I deserved.

I'm hoping that the outcome of my job search will be similar...but without the awkward silences and broccoli stuck between my teeth.

Sea Turtles - 1/22/08

I came up with an analogy based on an analogy (now that's redundant, isn't it?) that my boyfriend suggested. As we were talking about sending out resumes and cover letters he told me that the process was akin to something that I can't quite remember now. (It's not that it was a bad analogy, dear, but it's still early and I can't bring it to the front of my mind...)

I thought about what he had said and I came up with my own comparison.

If you're like me, immersed in world of employment, you've probably worked very hard to not only craft your documents but your approach, as well. Countless hours have been spent researching and editing, formatting and spellchecking, etc., etc.

And then, you toss them out there into the world, waiting anxiously for a bite. Which reminds me, that was my boyfriend's analogy: Sending a resume is like casting a line and waiting for a bite. (See, I told you I'd remember.)

Although I agree, I think it goes a bit deeper than that. I think the process is more like baby sea turtles.

Momma Sea Turtle lays her eggs in the sand with the hopes that they will be safe and protected until her baby sea turtles hatch and make their long journey for the sea.

I work tediously preparing and perfecting my resume and cover letter and send them out through email or regular mail, hoping that they survive. Not survive in the sense that they don't get lost in the mail or end up buried in a Spam folder, but in the sense that they accomplish their goal: to snag an interview with a company that I have researched and really want to work with.

Hundreds of sea turtle eggs hatch and hundreds of tiny sea turtles make their way to shore. Nevertheless, only a handful survive.

The same holds true for the resumes and cover letters. Hundreds are sent out, but maybe only ten are read. And of those ten, maybe two will prove worthy of an interview.

Momma Sea Turtle doesn't know who made it in the vast ocean and who didn't, unless one day she's swimming along and bumps into one of her offspring.

We as job seekers often don't know what impact (or lack thereof) our resumes and cover letters had on a prospective employer unless we get an interview, or at the very least a rejection letter. In today's fast-paced world where the competition is fierce and overly abundant, there often isn't time to contact each and every applicant for a specific job. In that respect, when it comes to our countless resumes, we job seekers are like that Momma Sea Turtle, not knowing what became of eggs 23, 76, and 109. We hope that they didn't suffer. We hope that they're in that Prospective Employee file cabinet in the sky.

Every time we lick that envelope or hit "Send" we're sending out a little piece of ourselves with no guarantee of a warm welcome or even with some sort of apologetic sympathy.

But we have to keep doing it. Because the smallest sea turtle that makes it to shore can grow to enormous proportions. And that's what we all hope for when we send out those resumes: a chance for something bigger.