Life Parallels

Hey! Sorry for the lapse in posts.  See that’s what happens when you move every year or year and a half.  Things get out of sorts for a while and your blog suffers.  Now taking bets on how long I’ll be in this spot.  It’s anybody’s guess considering I’m in a hostel for foreign visitors.  Inquire within if you’d like more information.

Anyway, I was talking to my good buddy Steve today, and I realized something that was probably already obvious to most of America and/or the world.  As I am currently amidst many life transitions, it seems that most of them are quite similar in terms of how one deals with each situation.  My current search for a new position mimics my social life.  What I am saying here is that a job search is basically “employment dating.”

After an online class I took to bolster the ol’ resume, I updated said resume.  I have to make it look good.  I have to make it stand out.  Hmm.  Does this sound familiar?  Before I go out with a woman or on the town, I have to look good and stand out.  I can’t show up in my tattered Jurassic 5 shirt and stained cargo shorts.  No, I’m going to dress like bold Garamond font.  I’m going to use bright, eye-popping borders.  I want to be noticed.  Much like I’d like my resume to be noticed by the hot blond Employer at the bar. 

Okay so I got the resume right where I want it: clean-shaven and dressed to the nines.  Now comes the mental part after staring in the mirror.  Maybe I didn’t shave it close enough; it’s too long.  Maybe it’s ordered wrong; the shirt doesn’t match the shoes.  I mean, what if the hot blond Employer takes one look at it and guffaws?  She’s already onto the next one.  Dammit, it was definitely the way I let my resume walk out of the house.

Say by some chance we do meet eyes and I get a chance to deliver an opening line to create conversation.  My cover letter.  I’ve got to give her a reason to keep checking me out.  I’m selling myself.  I’m saying anything to her to prove that I would valuable to her and her family.  Ditch the zeroes and get with the hero.  I’m saying whatever I can – even if it’s bullshit – just to get her eyes to stick to me.  I can only hope she’s falling for my charms and my smooth talking.

Then comes the aftermath.  The waiting game.  We’ve talked.  She knows where I stand.  I’ve sent the “I’m interested” text.  Now I just have to sit back and hope she calls me back.  It’s nerve-wracking.  It’s time-consuming.  It’s all I can think about.  My eyes are constantly on my phone.  Ring, dammit.  Ring.

If this goes the way the other ones go, I should just forget about her and move on.

Sigh.  When’s the next happy hour?  Back to square one.