I can’t quite believe it.  I am no longer qualified to do anything.

Yesterday I had the most unfortunate interviewing experience I’ve ever had.  That’s saying a lot if you saw my resume which is varied AND vast.  I have never before, in my life, filled out an application for a McDonald’s job.  I’ve helped other people do it, I’ve seen those applications… but I had yet to do it myself… that is, until yesterday.

I applied for a supervisory position and was interviewed for a part-time entry-level job that requires a h.s. diploma or GED equivalent.  Silly me, I was actually shocked.  And I was overdressed – way, WAY overdressed for such an offering.  I wore a pressed shirt, suit pants and heels.  Y’know, such as one might wear to discuss a supervisory employment opportunity.  When I walked into the office I knew I should just leave, but I’m not rude like that.  (yes, I’m rude in a lot of other fun ways – but not like that!)  The place was a dump.  Worse, one of the therapists who negligently worked with my foster-daughter is now working there as I saw her while I was filling out my McJob application in a state of overdressed confusion.  I wanted to run then, as well… but like I said, I didn’t want to be rude.  So I waited 40 minutes for the hiring manager to meet with me.  He is a dumpy late-twenties sadsocialworker.  He made no apologies for being 40 minutes late though he knew I was there, early.  During the interview – after it became painfully clear that he was interviewing me for a McJob – I was rude.  In truth, it was my surprise that forced the manners.  I asked him why he called me in to discuss this particular job ‘opportunity’ as it didn’t make much sense, given my credentials.

Needless to say… my attire, my ‘attitude,’ my failing to need this job was more than he could take.  When I discussed my prior employment experience, my publications, my activism and interests he finally read my resume, while I was sitting there, and then I could see that it was just dawning on him that I might be a touch over-qualified.  Ya think?!

And I felt bad afterwards.  I felt bad because I did not misrepresent myself in my resume or in correspondence with his appointment staff but somehow he missed, prior to meeting me,  that it was a pathetic excuse for a job that I won’t be offered.  And I woke up yesterday angst-ridden because I didn’t even want the damn job.  I just thought that the supervisory position I was applying for might match my skillset and that if it seemed like a good space, I might give it a whirl.

I’m staying home.  I’m good at caring for the kids, being an activist, helping others.  I’m not so good at the phoney-baloney of human-services provision as is offered by “non-profit” conglomerates in my state.  When people need help, they shouldn’t have to go to a heartwrenching, dirty, squalid office with rude staff who act superior for having a minimal education or it’s equivalent type of job.

I don’t know if working for a school district would be any better to be honest.  Y’gotta be a good social worker to be a teacher these days and I don’t know if I can deal with the lack of support in blimey bureaucracies that run school districts either.

And let’s not forget that my employment history is riddled with cancerandlawschoolflunkie gaps.  My future’s so bright….

a bitchin feminista mama at the intersection of political quagmire and real life.

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