roxy

I just got back from an interview. Lemme tell you a little story about my experience.

So I realize that the place I'm going is only eight blocks away, and this makes me happy. I can walk there, and it's a beautiful day. So I start on my way, with high spirits. Along the way, I realize that I have a spot on my nice business pants, and I get nervous about that. Oops, too late!

I get to the area super early (as my overly punctual self tends to do), and go across the street for some yummy iced chai to help me relax and to sooth my sore throat. You see, I'm still sick. After finishing the chai, I go back to the building and upstairs to the office, still twenty minutes early.

Well. It turns out that this isn't the office for the job I applied for. It's the office for the placement agency that the company I applied for goes through. Not only that, but I recognized the place at once. And it hit me that I had been there before.

About six months ago, when I was looking for a replacement job for the horrible one I was stuck in, I went there. The woman I talked to barely looked at my application or my resume. She looked at my face, my ears, and my hair. And gave me what she thought was great advice. She told me that to have any luck with that company or in any office environment I'd have to let my hair grow out in it's natural color (at that time it was purple) and take out all visible piercings (11 out of 17, at that time). And she dismissed me. Like that. I remember walking out of there fuming at the time, so angry at the judgement that is cast upon me because of the way I choose to represent and express myself.

I was remembering all that when I walked in there this morning. My first gut reaction was to bolt out of there. Fast. But instead, I figured I was already there, this woman had called me because she saw my resume and was interested, so I might as well go through with it. You never know, right?

So I sit down with this nice woman, Debbie, to talk about the company and opportunities that might be available to me. She asks a couple of simple questions about my application, and looks over my resume. My looks are never brought up, and I'm happy for that, and I start to get a glimmer of hope.

"But Roxy, what are you doing with hope?" this Debbie woman thinks, and then proceeds to DOUSE it. She tells me that my background is fantastic (the obligatory compliment before the shoot down), but I don't have the experience they're looking for. Apparently to be a fucking RECEPTIONIST in a law office, I need LAW background. Same for an engineering office, or an advertising agency. I was a supervisor at a successful internet company for a fucking year, and did an amazing job, but you're telling me I can't handle a receptionist job? Give me a fucking break. She then hands me back my resume, "I know these tend to get expensive!". Fuck her. The killer?? She wasted my time, she SAW my resume before she ever called me and I ever walked in there. She KNEW what experience I had, knew where I had worked and what I had done. While I was there, filling out paperwork and talking to nice Ms. Debbie, I could've been at home applying for other jobs. Thanks a fucking lot, Debbie.

I walked out of the building, crumpled up my resume in my anger, and threw it in the nearest trash can. Fuck. I'm so god damn pissed off at this city and it's lack of jobs for me. The thing is, I could kick most of these jobs' asses. They're all things I could do, all things I'm OVER qualified for. Fuckers.

If these people would take the time to actually TALK to their applicants, instead of dismissing them from an application, they would know that I'm intelligent and motivated. That I'm a hard-working, dedicated employee. That I'm a fast and willing learner. That I'm probably better prepared than at least half of the people they hire.

Fuck you Debbie. Fuck you Cobalt. Fuck you Seattle.