Buzzword Bingo

I like word games as much as the next grammar geek, but I must confess that I'm growing weary of rewriting my résumé and tweaking state applications to contain just the right words that will be picked up by the bots and then hopefully land in front of a human. I understand the game: pour over the job description, select that perfect combination of words or phrases that will somehow indicate my being the best fit for that particular position, incorporate them into my work experience and, voila! The bots will swipe right. (I suspect chicken bones, hemlock and runes are also involved, but I can't prove it). I understand how the game works, but I'm tired of it.

However, since I have no choice but to continue playing if I'm going to land a gig, I need to figure out how to deal with this nonsense. So I choose sarcasm (duh), which will surprise no one. The recurring hits are just begging for a top ten list, so here they are, in no particular order:

Compelling. As opposed to what, boring as hell?
Strategic vision. Presumably a strategy is in place before hiring begins...
Web savvy. Does this really even need to be stated?
Multi-faceted. Two-faced?
Digital expert. h/t to Rojer, does this mean an expert thumb twiddler?
Implement (verb). Just say "start" or "put in place."
Collaboration. Just once I'd like to see this described as "playing nicely with others."
Analytical thinker. Wait. You want me to think and be able to analyze stuff?
Stakeholder. I'm not even sure why this one bugs me, it just does.
Facilitation. I'd like to see this one as "make stuff happen."

Of course, all of the above are perfectly benign, when encountered by themselves. It's seeing them day after day in a multitude of job listings that's making my head hurt. I'm thinking of making scorecards and setting up online matches for my similarly displaced compatriots. And, since thinking of this analogy, I can't help but picture Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons saying, "Worst bingo game ever!" 

The Continuing Saga of “This isn’t What I Planned…”

Unemployment misconception #437: Being out of work, I'll post on my blog every week. Nope...it hasn't turned out that way. Granted, I am putting serious hours into the job search, tweaking my resume this way and that, trying to make my skill set and work history sound compelling. There's another INFP stumbling block - I'm so over talking about myself. But even with all of that, I can't claim I'm putting in 40 hours a week, so why am I not cranking out the blog posts, or writing much of anything lately?

I'm really not sure. We've all heard, or possibly given, the advice to put the angst (or fear, anger, depression, etc.) into the art. And it makes sense. Great art comes from great upheaval. When all is well and we're cruising along with no conflicts, there's no edge, which is boring. So given my current unemployed status, frustration at the less than robust job market, and general feeling of "what the hell do I do next?" I should be writing like crazy. It appears my muse isn't so fond of angst. Or, it might be that I have very little tolerance for my own whininess and I just don't want to explore what's going on in my head right now. Most of my former colleagues are in the same boat, and things really could be much worse, but I'm pretty fed up with this week, with events ranging from ridiculous to annoying to disappointing to are you freaking kidding me?

It started with an email informing me that my online application was reviewed but I don't possess the desired qualifications to warrant an interview. Then, another day passed without a phone call about a job I interviewed for on the first. It's starting to look like the decision has been made but it has nothing to do with me. Awesome. Here's something I couldn't make up: I received a physical letter thanking me for going paperless. Seriously. The winner though, was an email sent at 5:30 this afternoon, telling me my application is being reviewed but they need my unofficial college transcript, by Friday at 4 PM. Um, what?? My transcript? In two days? I had no idea I'd ever need to even think about that again. So I went to Sac State's website, jumped through the required hoops and $26 later was promised a "rushed" copy, in three days. Super. I'm sure I'll see the humor in all of this...eventually, and possibly even be inspired. Perhaps my muse leans toward off-beat humor, which would surprise no one.

What’s an INFP to Do?

Somehow it's the end of August, and after my company was sold and the entire staff laid off at the beginning of June, I've spent the bulk of the summer looking for work. Applying for jobs, taking state tests and figuring out how to navigate the state application process (that particular bit of fun deserved an entire post of its own) have been at the forefront of my summer activities. I've revised, re-written or tweaked my résumé for each application. All of this in the hope, of course, of landing interviews, which have been few and far between. I did have an interview at the end of July, my first in ten years. Yes, I survived, no, I didn't get the gig. I didn't even make it to the second round. Sigh...

A decade (or more) between job interviews is what happens when you tend to stay put and not job-hop. I've never possessed, or even understood the kind of energy required to pretty much always have an eye out for the next gig. I'm not career-driven and apparently never will be, so that way of thinking will always be foreign to me. Are there really personality types who don’t mind being the FNG every few years?

Late last week, I received a call and set up an interview for later this week. So here I am, preparing for said interview, reviewing the job description, learning about the agency and coming up with answers to likely questions about my work habits, ability to play nicely with others, blah, blah, blah. But, in true INFP fashion, the thing that's most likely to make me break out in hives is the dreaded, "Tell us about yourself." I'm desperately hoping no one does that anymore. I know I can't get away with saying, "I'm an introvert and I freaking hate having to do this," but I sincerely wish I could just point to my résumé. Obviously it was deemed good enough to get me in the door or they wouldn’t have called me. As is typical of me, I'll worry about this until I arrive for the inquisition and then come up with something on the spot that I won't remember later. If the stars align, perhaps at least one of the interviewers will be of a like Myers-Briggs type. We introverts like to stick together. Separately, of course...

Attack of the Acronym

I've been submitting state applications at a pretty steady pace for the past two months, and I feel like I finally have it down. There's a learning curve just like anything else, of course, and a few friends have given me some very helpful advice, but it's really been like having to learn a whole new language, between the government-speak of the job descriptions and duty statements, not to mention the alphabet soup of SSAs, SSMs, AGPAs, SOQs and KSAs... OMFG...

It occurred to me that being frustrated at what seemed to be willful obfuscation was getting me nowhere fast. I needed to adjust my mindset and look at the process like a puzzle, a cryptic code to be cracked. I was, after all, dealing with words. So the game took on a new pattern: search the job listings, read the descriptions to find what looked like it might be a good fit, tweak the application and résumé to align with the duty statement and submit. And repeat. And repeat again. Each time I run down the checklist and think, this one is ready to go, and hit submit or drop an application package into the mail, I experience a sense of satisfaction that has nothing to do with the fact that my efforts may eventually land me my next gig. It's about solving the puzzle. It's about persevering and figuring it out. But I don't think I can add "state-speak" to my skill set under Additional Languages...

This is My Escape

I was talking to a friend the other day about writing fiction vs. writing non-fiction. I'd asked if a piece she's currently working on is a story or an essay. She said, "Oh, it’s non-fiction. I don't do fiction." We went on to discuss the motivations for different kinds of writing and it struck me that while I've written plenty of non-fiction, including newsletter articles for my last job and pieces for Yuba-Sutter Community Magazine, fiction is my comfort zone. It's an escape mechanism for me, as I like what happens in the worlds I create much more than what goes on in this one, especially lately. (What the hell, 2016??)

But setting aside the insanity that is the current political climate and the horrendous hits the music world has taken this year, I have to admit that I've always used fiction as an escape, from the stories I made up as a child, to the painfully awkward pieces I wrote as a teen, to my first novel. And I'm reasonably sure that if you were to ask ten different writers what fiction is to them, you're likely to get ten different answers. Carrying on with that train of thought, ask ten different readers what fiction is to them and get as many different answers.

Fiction might be dismissed by some as lightweight, or less important than non-fiction, especially if it isn't "literature," but I contend that a piece that's meant to entertain and offer a temporary respite from the woes of the world can also educate, enlighten and offer insight into the human condition.

And Then...

Sometimes you make plans—big plans, for big change—and everything comes together without incident. But sometimes, the Universe says, "Really? Think again..." A little over a month ago, I thought I was going to sell my house and move into a neighborhood I was keen to get into. In fact, I'd accepted an offer, and then a half-hour after digi-signing papers, I went into a company meeting wherein my colleagues and I learned our company had been sold and the new owners were going to close the office. Um...okay, so I wouldn't be selling my house, or moving, I'd be looking for a new job. <sarcasm>Fabulous! I'm so good at that!</sarcasm>

Now that I've had time to truly digest this turn of events, dust off the resume, deal with severance paperwork and file for unemployment, it's really sinking in how different this experience is from the last time I was in this predicament, an unfathomable almost ten years ago. When Tower was sold to a liquidation firm and we were all ousted, I had no idea how to be unemployed. I was completely freaked out about, well, everything. How would I pay my bills? Would I have to subsist on ramen? And the emotional element...I'd lost not only my livelihood, but my extended family and community as well. I spent far too much time alone and worrying, growing ever more depressed by the job listings I was compulsively pouring over every day. I'm still not sure how I resisted the impulse to throw my computer out the window upon seeing "Human Directional" (yes, that’s what they call the guys who wave signs around on street corners) under "Marketing jobs recommended for Denise."

Older, and hopefully at least a bit wiser this time around, I intend to do pretty much everything completely differently. No more searching job listings for three hours every morning. No more self-imposed exile because I think I shouldn't burn the gas. I know I do better with structure, so I do in fact have a daily schedule of sorts, but along with the job search, it includes time for bike rides, lots of reading and writing. I'm also volunteering at the Sacramento Food Bank & Family Services and the Friends of the Sacramento Library Book Den which has been great fun so far. How can shelving books in a warehouse for four hours make me so happy? In the wise words of a friend, "Once, therefore always, a bookseller."

I don't know how long it will take for me to land my next gig, but I know it will happen. I knew that intellectually last time, but this time I know it emotionally too.      

A Place for My Stuff

Nothing makes you take a good look at your possessions and consider embracing a minimalist lifestyle like contemplating a move. I don't mean the basics, like furniture or clothing, but the things we all accumulate, which seem to multiply exponentially the longer you stay at a given address. I've been cleaning out closets, trying to decide what I really need, while wondering how on earth I have so much when I thought I was already pretty much a minimalist. Add my book habit to the mix and, um...I have an awful lot of stuff.

Book junkie tendencies aside, I think Mr. Carlin was on to something, even before rampant consumerism became such a thing. Why do we allow our possessions to define us? What is it that makes us think an amazing personal library or prestigious art or music collection speaks to our character or what kind of people we are?

Doing a thorough spring cleaning or a pre-moving junk toss always reminds me of a book I purchased for the Tower stores many years ago, called, Material World: A Global Family Portrait. If any of us were to pile all of our possessions around us outside our homes, how would we feel? Proud? Surprised? Embarrassed? (And how much would be tossed prior to the exercise?) Is this just what happens in a consumer-driven culture? I read an article a few years ago, in which the author advised spending money on experiences rather than things. Good advice that I've tried to take that to heart, but looking at my possessions, and contemplating packing every last one into a box, moving and then unpacking them, tells me I have a ways to go. More experiences, fewer things. More living, less collecting. As long as I have a place for my important stuff...