Now Hiring

Hello. I'm La Piazza Gancio, President and founder of Total Business Solutions.

We understand that businesses large and small can get overwhelmed when it's time to make a critical hire. Many companies report receiving thousands of responses for a single opening, meaning their HR staffs are stuck wading through applications when they could be managing executive-level perks.

Fortunately, TBS has a solution.

Our software engineers have turned what were once profit-draining headaches into revenue streams. With FourChoice business software, job-seekers control their futures at the same time you rake in the cash!

It's true! Our clients have turned employment openings into profit centers, and they couldn't be happier!

So. How did they do it?

By embedding Total Business Solutions' FourChoice software into their job listings, businesses offer each and every candidate four options which lets them decide just how far their application goes. 

This means you can say goodbye to annoying and time-consuming calls from frustrated or even angry candidates wondering what's become of their resumes.

Here's how it works.

When a job-seeker has finished the application process, they are asked to choose from one of the following. (If finances don't permit, applicants can opt out and apply another time.)

Accepted—Our first level doesn't guarantee a submission will be considered, or even read. But it does guarantee his or her resume will pass through vocabulary scanners unmolested, even if they contain words and phrases such as 'union', 'organize' or 'state ownership'.

Only you know the Great Pyramid of Giza will be dust before it's looked at.

Cost: $10,000

Read—At this level, the job-seeker's resume will be looked at, but for no more than thirty seconds. Submissions of this type do occasionally catch the eye of decision-makers and receive consideration, but only with the frequency that fifth-round draft picks wind up in the Hall of Fame.

That will be our little secret. And who doesn't love a secret?

Cost: $25,000

Considered—This price point guarantees the job-seeker consideration from the appropriate department head. If it is determined that the candidate is worthy of further review, references will be required. This requires vetting (available for an additional fee) based on a per-reference basis.

Cost: $50,000

Sold!—For the candidate's first year's salary or one-hundred thousand dollars (whichever is greater), the job is theirs.

Cost: $100,000 (minimum)

Applicants will then be directed on how to make their non-refundable payment based on your businesses preferences. 

All you need to do from this point forward is sit back with your favorite administrative assistant and count the cash!

Yes, FourChoice protects you from inappropriate applicants in ways that screens, filters and personality profiles just can't. Our proprietary algorithms guarantee that only the most-talented, most-deserving and wealthiest candidates get the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow.

Furthermore, Total Business Solutions research shows that multiplied by the typical number of applications per opening, FourChoice can turn every vacancy into a revenue stream washing between one and two-million dollars your way!

And don't forget our newest option—The Veil of Obfuscation. The Veil (as we like to call it) allows you to accept up to twenty applicants at the Sold! level and then withdrawal the position—without any exposure to liability whatsoever!

The small print in our user agreement states openings are based solely on needs of the business and aren't guaranteed in the event of a downturn, slow-down or recession. It's completely legal and litigation-proof!

FourChoice is the business software that turns problems into profits. Give us a call and find out what we can do for you. 

Total Business Solutions. Anything else is total b.s.

Oops!...I Did It Again

It’s never a good day when you look in the mirror and realize it’s not only possible—but probable—you are insane.

You’ve heard insanity defined as the continuous repetition of an act with the expectation of a different outcome. And while you’re not sure where this leaves the scientific community, in the context of a job hunt it means you're certifiable.

Worse is the realization you may also be a masochist. The American Heritage Dictionary defines ‘masochism’ thusly:

• A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

Regrettably, this definition also fits you like an Anne Claiborne dress shirt.

In this lottery of emotional impairments, you're a grand prize winner—only you don’t get to meet Linda Kollmeyer.

A notice arrives in the mail informing you that Kohl's is opening a new store in your area and are staffing it now. Because the above-named conditions remove the shield of impulse control, you apply to Kohl's a second time.

The flier says to expect great things. You make a note of it.

Since you have a lingering hangover from previous cashiering and customer service positions, you opt for an opening under Replenishment. The word evokes pleasant images of a gentle, fragrant rain nurturing parched earth.

The position requires you to place consumer goods on store fixtures in a neat and attractive way.

As you recently shaved and successfully returned the can of shaving gel and a razor to their rightful place on a shelf in the bathroom, you feel reasonably qualified to perform this job.

This doesn’t even take into account the innumerable household items you regularly restore to their proper place on shelves throughout the home. Yes, you have this putting-stuff-on-shelves thing down cold.

As instructed, you arrive at a hotel twenty-minutes early to fill-out the same forms you filled-out online. You sign sworn affidavits attesting to the fact that if hired, yes, these are the hours you are available.

So help you God.

You agree to drug tests and credit checks and criminal history checks and past employment checks. Every conceivable type of check except the ones beginning with 'pay'.

To your chagrin, the first question on the application asks if you have applied to Kohl’s before. Ignoring images of a guillotine in free fall, you answer ‘yes’ because you are an indomitable force of nature. You will not be denied a second time.

Applicants are then informed by a harried twenty-something that these positions are temporary. The room collectively deflates like a punctured tire. You are positive the word ‘temporary’ did not appear on the flier.

You check it a second time. You are correct.

You wrestle with the fact you are auditioning for a twelve-hour a week, near minimum-wage job. Then you wrestle with the fact you have no choice.

The facts win.

Returning your attention to the form, you attempt to fit the names of previous employers, their addresses and telephone numbers in boxes similar in size to the ones coupons list their expiration dates in.

The form then asks you to explain all periods of unemployment. Rage wells up inside you.

You want to answer that you abandoned your previous job to burn through your inheritance while on a meth binge in the Caribbean, accompanied by a dozen Las Vegas strippers.

But that would be snotty. Or unprofessional. Or both. And we wouldn’t want that.

Thankfully, you are not asked why you want to work at Kohl’s. You wonder if you could design job applications for a living. But then, you have an IQ.

The same twenty-something is now reading names from a list, which are followed by a number. You are assigned to group one. Group one then trudges listlessly to a meeting room.

At the group interview, you introduce yourself and attempt to put a positive spin on things. You try to sound youthful and vibrant. You want to impart the idea that yes, you are amazing. And if not that, employable.

But if you could do that, you’d be earning a bundle doing PR for Francesco Schettino, captain of the Costa Concordia.

When asked about recognition from previous employers, you respond that you hit speed and accuracy targets as a scorer of educational assessments and received multiple performance bonuses.

One of the women sitting at the table in the front of the room hears this and scribbles furiously. You allow yourself to believe you have made an impression.

Silly you.

A sharp knock on the door startles everyone. The interviewer announces they will have to abort the interview because they are running behind schedule. She reminds you to submit your completed applications before leaving.

As you walk through the vacant lobby, you cannot shake the feeling that you were at a dress rehearsal for an interview. You cannot imagine what kind of meaningful insight Kohl’s could have received from this exercise.

A week later, you find out.

Despite demonstrating “many qualities”, Kohl’s is unable to offer you a position at this time. You smile to yourself because you know what qualities were demonstrated, and you want no part of them.

This is insanity, and you are a masochist to pursue it. It is time for something different.

You have only to figure out what that is.

To the Unemployed...

...who understand that fifty is the new seventy.

...who understand deeply and resolutely that, yes, it can happen to you.

...who, just for a change, would like to hear the phrase ‘stay positive’ from someone who is actually unemployed.

...who are able to withstand being judged by that supreme arbitrator of worth known as Corporate America.

...who understand that America’s labor force consists of just two groups: the unemployed and hostages.

...who understand that ‘unemployed' means in 2012 what 'colored' did a hundred years earlier.

...who understand the purpose of the question "Are you currently employed?" and answer 'yes' with the specific intent of accomplishing what the question was expressly created to avoid, which is the wasting of an employer’s valuable time on an unemployed candidate.

(Don’t you feel horrible?)

May you always possess the faith of Mother Teresa and the persistence of Sisyphus.

You are my heroes.

The Many Roads to 'No'

No one will ever confuse me with Leif Erickson or Juan Pizzaro. Not Vasco da Gama, Hernan Cortes or Christopher Columbus. And yet I too have discovered something. A place only rumored to exist. I have discovered hell.

How else to feel with days that begin like this?


La Piazza Gancio,


Thank you for your interest in ____'s Department Stores. We appreciate the time you took to consider us for employment at our store locations.

We have given your background and qualifications careful consideration in relation to the opportunity for which you've expressed interest and have determined that we are unable to match your qualifications to a position at this time. We would encourage you to continue to check snagajob.com for future opportunities.

Thank you again for your interest in ____'s and please accept our best wishes for success in your future career endeavors.


Best Regards,

Human Resources


At least it didn’t open with ‘Dear’.

It is unclear exactly what aspect of my background renders me ineligible for even seasonal, part-time employment. Yet knowing the Van Halen-like heights (remember no brown M&Ms?) corporate fickleness has reached, I am likely better off in the darkness of my ignorance.

But as an occasionally-sentient human being, questions persist.

I smile. I make eye contact. I speak in concise, direct sentences that answer the interviewer’s questions. I am nicely dressed. I am enthusiastic. I sit up straight, don’t fidget and even made everyone at a recent group interview belly laugh—twice. I am sober.

You read this blog—do I not ooze personality? Does charisma not spill from me like filling from a buttery, cinnamon-laced apple pie?

What’s not to like? Isn’t my pixie dust sparkly-enough?

How can prospective employers fail to see how I could lighten a customer’s mood, especially when said customer discovers half the items they’re shopping for are either out of stock, the wrong size, style or color? At 11:30 PM on a weeknight with just three shopping days left until Christmas?

I would be a two-legged Mai Tai. A warm mug of spiced cider. A pungent glass of Pinot Noir. No tipping required.

Perhaps I've been branded a flight risk. Since the majority of my employment has (thankfully) been for wages higher than what seasonal positions offer, this means I will vacate the position at first opportunity—as if there were any.

Then there is my college degree, which conveniently confirms to any would-be employer that I will be bored. This somehow differentiates me from the sullen, texting palm zombies already hired.

Bail is set at extended unemployment

Could it be that I fail to sufficiently impress the young women I am invariably interviewed by?

When asked why I want to work at the ________ store, perhaps I don’t become starry-eyed enough as I relate how working from midnight to eight AM the day after Thanksgiving for what can’t even be described as a living wage has been a dream of mine since I was a little boy.

Which presents yet-another another problem: I have a penis.

This provokes in me the unsettling feeling that to these women, drunk on some vague notion of girl-power, regard me as their enemy. Middle-aged white guys stand in the way of everything they want to be, and always have. Isn't this their chance for payback?

Just for a change, I’d like to receive a wan smile, a limp handshake and the complete avoidance of eye contact from a middle-aged white guy after an interview.

But the hideousness doesn’t end there.

That would be when friends, acquaintances and overheard conversations confirm that many of those deemed fit for seasonal slavery don’t even show up for their first day on the job, nor possess the integrity to even call employer number-one and inform them that they have accepted employment with employer number-two.

Were circumstances not so bleak, I would laugh and spit that these corporate shitheads get exactly what they deserve.

But money is oxygen, and I am suffocating.

The Hamster Wheel

“Please make sure you arrive at least ten minutes early” said the voice on the phone. “We’ll send a confirmation e-mail that’ll list all the stuff you need to bring.”

I hung-up. When it comes to mounting productions that ooze ego and self-importance, only Broadway can compete with corporate America. There are screenings and pre-screenings and online tests and personality profiles and you still aren’t anywhere near an interview.

As directed, I arrived ten minutes early for the 9:30 screening, bringing a sheaf of papers that contained the vital information requested by my would-be employer. Copies of my high school and college diplomas. My W2s. Lists of previous addresses, employers, schools, and references. My driver’s license and of course my social security card.

I brazenly left last week’s grocery store receipt at home.

Upon entering the lobby of the hotel hosting the job fair, I saw a sign mounted on an easel. It read ‘Peapod’, with a big, green arrow underneath. Things were going swimmingly.

As directed by the big, green arrow, I turned right. I found myself in a corridor lined with hotel rooms. Ahead lay only an emergency exit and a vending machine room. It was difficult to imagine how either was connected to the job fair.

I turned back, and found myself being followed by half a dozen people, also attired in business casual.

“The arrow is wrong” I said. “There’s nothing down here.”

This was met by the tepid smiles of those reluctant to socialize. We trudged back to the lobby.

Only it wasn’t really a lobby—it was a hallway with pretensions. Architectural criticisms notwithstanding, I approached the teenager behind the desk. He politely looked up from his cell phone as I approached.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

“Yes” I said. “Where is the job fair being held? And while you’re at it, where are they hiding the Ferris wheel and cotton candy?”

A look of concern clouded his young face. He did not know. His eyes darted left, then right. His head extended just a bit beyond the confines of the desk as he scanned the hallway, er lobby.

“Just a minute.”

At least I wasn’t the only one to whom the location of the job fair was a mystery. I listened for the sound of calliope music. Nothing.

“Sir?” The clerk had reappeared.

“Um, Peapod isn’t ready yet. But when they are, it will be in there.”

He gestured to an area beyond the sign with the big, green arrow. Behind frosted glass windows, figures could be glimpsed.

“I see” I said. “Thank you.”

The clock read 9:35. I faced the others and shrugged. As the de facto head of the job fair search committee, it was my job to communicate.

“They can be late. They already have jobs.” one of my committee members noted bitterly. I didn’t argue.

I found an empty stretch of wall and attempted to lean against it inconspicuously. I took great care not to appear shiftless or lazy. First impressions, you know.

About 9:45 a joyless young woman emerged from behind the frosted glass and made an announcement. Her voice cleaved the silence like a hatchet.

“People—if you’re here for the job fair you need to cross your name off the list and come in the conference room and fill out an application.”

By now there were over a dozen of us waiting, and we moved en masse to a clipboard on a small table and scanned the list for our names. Free pens were available for those who did not have them.

I noticed a woman dressed in dark green pants with a light green top. I wanted to ask her if this was on purpose or just a happy accident. I refrained.

In the conference room, a large screen TV had been turned on, presumably for the entertainment of the woman who had barked at us in the lobby. I was relieved that my selfish search for financial sustenance wouldn’t interfere with her need for noisy, mindless entertainment.

“Hello and welcome to You Choose, the game show where you’re the boss! And how is everybody doing? Great! I’m your host Darrell Woodson, and today we’re going to be looking for two special contestants to compete for cash and fabulous prizes! Is everybody ready?”

I thought of asking her to turn it down, but realized my future lay in her hands. And if prolonged unemployment teaches you anything, it’s to be fearful. It would not be a good idea to provoke her.

If she wanted to watch a game show while I listed my previous employers and the extent of my education for the 1,422,309th time, so be it.

“Is there anyone here from Connecticut? I’ll give two-hundred dollars and a chance at today’s grand prize to anyone who can prove they’re from Connecticut! Who’s from Connecticut? Oh come on! There must be someone in our wonderful audience from the great state of Connecticut!”

I began to supply the names and locations of my elementary, junior high and high school, and of the two colleges I attended and the degrees received from each, and the names, addresses, phone numbers and descriptions of employment at the previous decade’s employers.

When I was done I reviewed my application. I wanted to ensure that my ‘t’s were crossed, my ‘i’s dotted and that my p’s and q’s were minded. I stood up and approached the table where Barking Woman sat.

“Hi!” I said, attempting to simultaneously convey warmth and enthusiasm.

“Have a seat” she said, without looking up.

She took the sheaf of papers and looked them over wordlessly. She pulled out the fresh copy of my resume I had been instructed to bring and inspected it.

“Why did you leave New Mexico?” she asked.

I told her it was a tough place to earn a living.

“What is Rio Grande?”

“A jewelry supplier”.

She fell silent. The game show seemed incapable of doing so.

“That’s right Gloria! You have your choice of a year’s supply of Captain Bob’s barbecued shrimp and an all-expense-paid trip for two to Las Vegas or whatever’s behind the curtain Monique is standing in front of! What do you choose?”

Satisfied she had extracted whatever was worth extracting, Barking Woman dismissed me.

“If the hiring manager feels your experience is a good match with the opening they’ll call and schedule an interview. Otherwise, you’ll get an e-mail. Okay?” She turned the papers over and placed them on the left edge of the table.

“I’d love the opportunity to meet with Peapod again” I said. “Thank you for your time.”

Barking Woman leaned to her right to make eye contact with the applicant behind me. “All set?”

I got up to leave.

On the big screen TV, Gloria chose the curtain. Behind it was a box of dog treats.

Through My Eyes

As a young man working his way through school by alternately washing dishes in the student cafeteria, scraping paint for the local public works department, wiring outdoor signs as an apprentice electrician, heaving forty-pound boxes of fine china around for Marshall Fields and writing for the school newspaper, I had a vision.

A constant in my life that lent meaning to even the most menial labor.

I knew that if I diligently and relentlessly applied myself in my studies, I could conceivably one day become (drum roll, please) a supermarket cashier. Not a full-time cashier mind you, for that is a position both beyond and unworthy of my station. But a minimum wage, union-dues-paying, part-time cashier.

This was something that could happen.

Which isn't to say I have anything against supermarkets. Or cashiering. Or even unions—at least what’s left of them. But it’s not what I busted my ass getting a college degree for.

A year and-a-half into my job search, is this really all I have to show for it? Two part-time jobs which will barely slow my descent into financial oblivion?

I like to think that somewhere down the line, my do-what-you-gotta-do grit would impress an employer. But in our over-evolved society, being a supermarket cashier is viewed as an unfortunate detour from the pristine career trajectories employers now prefer in their candidates.

Yeah, I’m bitter. Wouldn’t you be?

I live in a world where radio talk show hosts must relinquish their jobs for saying the n-word. Where funding for the most profound breakthrough in the history of medicine is put on hold over a notion that it is injurious to embryos. And in which judges wring their hands out of slavish concern that felons aren’t made too uncomfortable by their surroundings.

Yet I belong to a group of people publicly and repeatedly demonized by the representation entrusted to look out for it.

I belong to a group of people employers resolutely refuse to hire. One Republicans maintain is a drain on America’s economy, and for whom all public funding must be stopped lest we drag the country further into the death spiral of deficit spending.

This as they fight tooth and nail to preserve tax breaks for the wealthiest one-percent of the population.

Somehow, treating the unemployed as if they're carriers of the plague is OK.

It is difficult—if not impossible—to avoid seeing the world through your own eyes. And this is the world through mine.

Job Gap Killed. Employer Held as Suspect.

At last the light of employment has shone down upon my wretched soul.

It's not the sunlight of full-time-with-benefits employment, but rather the flickering light of a candle on the other side of the room. Which is to say the employment is both part-time and temporary. But it puts an end to the yawning job gap on my resume.

If you’ve searched for work lately, you know that possessing a job gap is akin to answering ‘yes’ to the 'Have you ever been convicted of a felony?’ question. It is being a serial rapist, a child molester and a meth addict, only without the appeals.

My newfound employment says to America’s human resource professionals: Look—company X hired him and didn’t contract a fatal disease, go into receivership or land amidst a congressional investigation.

It relieves them of being Mikey from those old Life cereal commercials. More importantly, it is an experiment conducted on someone else's dime, and not theirs.

Lastly, it also inebriates the sober reality that breathing has become a form of debt creation. I’m not out of the woods by any means. But at least a clearing shows up on my dash-mounted nav now.

It's My Life

It’s spring in Milwaukee. You know this only because the calendar says May.

It’s cold and wet, which are climatic conditions considered ideal inside a beer bottle. But you don’t live in a bottle of beer—at least not yet. Looking on the bright side of things, you have no fear of melanoma. This is because there is no sun.

Each new day presents multiple opportunities for miracle-making. Shall you part Lake Michigan? Walk on it? Or find a job? Decisions, decisions.

Spiritualist that you are, you attempt to find meaning in your ongoing failure to land employment. You make a robust attempt to see this as life somehow protecting you from another bad job, and saving you for a good one. It doesn’t work.

Someone sings that if it weren’t for bad luck, they’d have no luck at all. This is true of you, also. You are on a hot streak. You sizzle like Canada in January.

There is the brief flirtation with telecommunications giant AT&T. You pass yet-another hundred-question personality inventory. Then you’re one of a handful of applicants to pass a performance audition, which asks you to perform the job before being hired for it.

Your reward is an actual job interview. A smiling businesswoman in a tailored suit and fashionably-coifed hair shakes your hand and schedules it for April 7th. You stride confidently through the cold March air and permit yourself to feel good.

On April Fool’s Day the phone rings. The interviews have been postponed. You are disappointed, but relieved they said 'postponed' and not 'cancelled'. You feel the difference is significant. One month later, you wonder if the difference is significant to AT&T as well.

Then there is the census-taker debacle.

You are convinced Lewis Carroll was inspired to write Alice in Wonderland after seeking employment with the federal government. It is akin to being inside an M.C. Escher drawing. It is the definition of labyrinthine. Surprisingly, no one has a recipe for upside down cake.

You successfully negotiate this lunacy. But state governments present a new set of hurdles.

One of the 3,416 requirements for this position is a current, state-issued driver’s license. You possess a current, state-issued driver’s license, but it’s for another state.

Your austerity program unfortunately does not allow for new, up-to-the-minute driver’s licenses, not with several years left on the current one and an acute shortage of cash.

But the promise of a paycheck has you aflame, so you make a leap of faith and visit the local Division of Motor Vehicles facility. All goes well until after your picture is taken.

You are informed that the driver’s license facility is unable to produce your license at this time. This despite the facility having seen sheaths of documents that confirm your existence, the various locales wherein that existence occurred, and the receipt of several hundred dollars.

You ask why. You are told that random licenses are assigned for processing in the state capital, and will arrive by mail “in two to three days.”

You err critically at this juncture and fail to ask “Two to three days from when?” Because a week after your visit, you remain bereft of the state-issued driver’s license with photo necessary for consideration for employment with the federal government.

You discover the state's telephone system successfully prevents interaction with other human beings. Visits to the Division of Motor Vehicles facility provoke only shrugs. And e-mails go unanswered because they do not conform to the topics listed on the division’s web page.

In a symphonic crescendo to this collision of lucklessness and bad-timing, Friday’s mail brings nothing. Ditto Saturday's. The deadline has expired. This feels like punishment. What was your crime?

As a child, you went to horror movies to get scared. Now, you need only get out of bed.

The Interview

Interviews don’t happen very often. When they do, you greet them with the frantic enthusiasm of a plane crash survivor after nine days of tree bark and melted snow.

You review your favorite interview advice and conduct imaginary ones. You sizzle. You shine. You’re slaying them.

Then the interview happens.

They’re like the outdoor skating rinks you frolicked on as a child. The ones with the patch of frozen (and exposed) dirt. Everything is going along swimmingly until you hit the part without ice.

The last interview was in late-February. You girded your loins and convinced yourself you really wanted the job at an inner city blood bank. You were stoked like one of those old coal-fired locomotives.

You cleared the first hurdle, which was not answering the salary question with a number, but by responding that you were open and that it was negotiable. Check.

Next was the waiting. The interview was scheduled for ten, but it’s ten-twenty and you’re still eyeballing the characters shuffling in and out of the lobby. This is a test. Stay focused. You want this. Go get it. Check.

A technician in a white lab coat reads your name off a clip board like she’s reading the ingredients of processed cheese spread: Monosodium Glutamate, Artificial Coloring, La Piazza Gancio.

You stand. You follow the technician through the security doors, the lab and all the way to the back and an office on the right. There, a small man with a limp handshake asks you to sit down.

He starts the interview by asking you to tell him about yourself. Which you do, eagerly reciting the relevant experience of your life, education and work in tidy sound bites John Boehner (R-OH) would be proud of.

You remember to imbue your words with inflections that impart enthusiasm and a positive outlook. Check.

When you’re finished, he looks up from his desk. He asks you if you have any concerns about working with and around blood. Syringes. Stuff like that. Are you squeamish? Will you faint? Are you prone to vomiting?

Hoping to tread the fine line between appearing as a third-rate vampire and as someone with a less-than-stellar constitution, you respond that you are—quite literally—full of it and have a healthy regard for the role it plays in what has been until then your body’s ongoing functionality.

He looks up from the papers on his desk, holds up his hand and says “No joke. No joke. This is serious stuff.” and looks back down. You realize "No" would have sufficed. Strike one.

He goes on to explain the company, the training, and the job. You ask interested questions. He asks about your education again. He asks you where you are currently working, and whether they may be contacted for a reference. You respond that you are seeking employment.

“You’re unemployed? For how long?” You tell him. There is a long silence. The mood in the room is changing. He continues to scrutinize the papers on his desk. The part in his hair is remarkably straight.

Without sounding desperate, you remind him you are volunteering and are learning new computer skills while you reinforce existing ones at the local community college. You are keeping busy, staying active.

It is not enough. This is a deal-breaker. Your words disappear without a trace into a stony, impenetrable silence. The man with the limp handshake is ending the interview.

You hear an umpire call strikes two and three as he dials an assistant on the telephone and asks her to show you the remainder of the lab. Which is just a nice way of showing you the door.

You’re fuming as she outlines the operations. You try and ask pertinent questions.

But your head is swimming. Why didn't the man with the handshake see your resume? Why wasn't the person who set-up the interview the same person who conducted the interview? Why didn't the people involved consult with each other and decide what he/she/they were looking for in a candidate before they wasted their/your time?

Your girlfriend tries to cheer you by noting that working for a humorless paper-shuffler like the man who interviewed you would have been a perpetual struggle. And that anyone so obsessed with one aspect of an applicant is, to put it nicely, a little dim.

All true.

But you’re still jobless. You have no money. You are staggered by the realization that everything you are, everything you have done, pales in comparison to a job gap. This is what defines you. This is what you are. You have adult-onset cooties.

You wish vile and hideous things upon the man who has punished you for being unemployed. You hope he is soon to understand that unemployment is its own reward. That no further action is required.

Most of all, you hope you survive.

Job Hunting

One of the more entertaining aspects of unemployment is to watch the evolving language employers use to separate job seekers from actual employment.

The newest and most-popular example is ‘recent’. As in “Recent experience in the field of…” Or “Recent employment as a…” Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate being reduced to the last, unwanted slice of meat on a buffet tray as much as the next guy. But I have questions.

Namely, if I’ve cooled-off to the point that ‘recent’ indicates I have, do I still need anti-perspirant? And what are the first signs of hypothermia?

Like high school princesses, employers ask for the moon with every expectation of getting it. They’re like totally hot. And just a wee bit precious.

An auto dealership is looking for a car jockey. For those unfamiliar with the position, a car jockey moves cars around a parking lot, brings them into the service area for repair, re-arranges them to make room for new arrivals, etc.

It’s a nice summer job for a high school kid, with the added perk of being able to tell your friends you drove a BMW M3 or Porsche Cayman today.

The dealer seeks “A self-starter who is good in (sic) taking direction with the ability to inspire others.”

Hmmm. Exactly how do you quantify 'inspire' on an application? Collegiate football championships coached? Converts to Christianity? Former students who went on to become doctors? And is a driver's license important?

Then there are the reams of part-time and temp-to-hire positions.

Like a famous cartoon character, I enjoy carrots. But I prefer mine on a plate, not dangling from a stick wielded by a fickle and capricious employer.

This start-up announced its intention to seek a part-time, temp-to-hire “Customer Adovcate (sic). Candidates’ (sic) that we pursue:

Have a burning desire to solve problems via phone and email
Are a (sic) creative and analytical thinkers
Have volunteer attitudes and always go the extra mile
Are team players as well as independent thinkers”

Before I spontaneously combust, how does the term ‘volunteer attitudes’ relate to your pay scale?

And secondly, isn’t that last item an oxymoron? You know, like Fox News, bad sex and Detroit Lions Professional Football Club?

What do you think the likelihood is that a person embracing both these traits might be suffering from a multiple-personality disorder?

Someone in a Dilbert cartoon once said “It’s hard to think outside the box when you work in one.” Do you read Dilbert?

Of course, the beauty of this is that we learn from everything. All experiences have something to teach us.

And this is what I’ve learned: One, turn off spell-check. And two, stop thinking. It’s just making things more difficult.

The CEO Personality Assessment

Hello and thank you for your interest in the Legacy Group, a wholly-owned subsidiary of Icon Industries. We are pleased that you have decided to apply with us. The final step in your employment journey will be to complete this brief personality assessment. Time is a consideration, so don’t linger too long on any one question.

With the finely-honed mind of a CEO, we find that first responses are usually best. Don’t second-guess yourself. That’s what shareholders and the media are for! To expedite the path to the riches you deserve, we have included three acceptable answers in the group of four that follow every question. Remember—you’re too big to fail!


1.) Wall Street is unhappy with your company’s stock performance. The best solution is:

A. Immediately slash payroll, thereby increasing profit. Wall Street must be kept happy at all costs.

B. Immediately cut five-thousand jobs, reducing overhead. Wall Street must be kept happy at all costs.

C. Allocate resources to research and development, paving the way for better products and greater market share.

D. Immediately announce that unfavorable market conditions necessitate massive layoffs. Wall Street must be kept happy at all costs.


2.) Impending government regulation will markedly reduce your firm’s stock value. You:

A. Call a press conference and announce you are confident your company will “weather the storm” as you call your broker and request they dump your shares ASAP.

B. Announce you will “stay the course” and that there is no need to panic while privately selling-off your shares.

C. Encourage continued employee stock purchases with the phrase “we’re all in this together” as you instruct your broker to divest yourself of all company shares immediately.

D. Set-up a committee to explore alternate business models using existing company technology and infrastructure.


3.) When confronted with the information that the average U.S. executive earns more than three-hundred times what the average employee does, you:

A. Complain about the skyrocketing cost of tuition at premium private schools in the U.S.

B. Express concern over the inequity and immediately act to reverse it within your company.

C. Announce your intention to hire lobbyists and lower the minimum wage.

D. Complain about the skyrocketing cost of premium housing in the U.S.


4.) Your blue ribbon panel on profit enhancement has submitted its report. Which of their recommendations do you follow?

A. Explore new markets abroad.

B. Eliminate pensions and medical benefits for retirees.

C. Bribe consumer testing labs to lie about competitor’s products.

D. Have employees lease their computer and office space as a condition of employment.


5.) Which answer best describes your reaction when third-quarter sales show continued decline?

A. Did I expense account Bambi’s rent this month?

B. Go ahead—fire me. It’ll cost you forty-five mil. More if I cash in my stock option.

C. I need to get with sales and find out what the problem is.

D. What are those overpaid, profit-sucking parasites screwing up now?


6.) Performance-based executive pay is:

A. A socialist plot devised by the Obama administration.

B. A fair way to ensure shareholder value.

C. The triumph of mass-based mediocrity over the prickly genius of rugged individualism.

D. Another attempt by liberals to penalize success.


7.) Your rationale for requiring salary histories from applicants is:

A. We need to contain operating costs.

B. We collect salary data for the U.S. Department of Labor, but don’t actually use it in negotiations.

C. The limbo is the official office party game.

D. You’re already overpaid, asshole.


8.) What percentage of CEOs are ethical?

A. 100%

B. 98%

C. 99%

D. The same as in any other demographic of the population.


9.) Sixty-percent of U.S. corporations pay no income taxes. To express your appreciation for America’s largesse, you:

A. Outsource hundreds of thousands of jobs to Asia, India and Mexico, further eroding America’s tax base.

B. Establish offshore corporate headquarters to further evade profit-draining penalties and taxes.

C. Make numerous donations to non-profit organizations—provided they’re tax deductible.

D. Announce you’re moving your corporate headquarters, and play one municipality against another until relocating becomes a profit center in itself.


10.) Machievellli is:

A. A useful philosopher, depending on the application.

B. Your business model.

C. All the justification you need.

D. Your all-time favorite centerfold from ‘Business Weekly’.


11.) Production and distribution costs are rising. The best course of action is:

A. Mount an advertising campaign repositioning your product as a ‘premium’ or ‘gourmet’ one. Raise prices accordingly.

B. Shrink package size while maintaining price point. Customers won't know the difference.

C. Absorb cost increases in the hope they are temporary and/or seasonal.

D. Label product as 'New and Improved', thereby justifying any and all price hikes.


12.) Millions in government subsidies are available for growers of tomatoes. Your company mines coal. You:

A. Hire lobbyists to convince Congress that as a producer of energy, you are in a related field and thus qualify for the subsidies.

B. Admit tomato-growers have had a rough time recently and wish them well.

C. Invent an agriculture-based subsidiary and apply for the subsidies.

D. Hire lobbyists to convince Congress that in addition to coal, your company does, in fact, mine tomatoes and thus qualifies for the subsidies.


13.) Which of the following statements best describes your feelings about government regulation?

A. A lunar crater on the highway to America’s continued dominance as an economic power.

B. A necessary evil, as not all companies act with integrity and concern for their employees and customers.

C. A socialist plot devised by the Obama administration.

D. The reason jobs have been outsourced, and will continue to be until America’s business owners are allowed to operate their businesses as they see fit.


14.) What percentage of employees are essentially untrustworthy?

A. All of them.

B. 100%

C. The whole stinking lot.

D. The same as in any other demographic of the population.


15.) What word or phrase best describes your management style?

A. I take management cues from my political party of choice, making liberal use of threats, coercion, fear, the withholding of praise and the sadistic manipulation of psychological sensitivities revealed in applicant’s personality profiles to achieve stated business goals.

B. Open door.

C. Results-oriented and vision-forward.

D. Egalitarian.


16.) Downturns in business are:

A. Unavoidable.

B. Often the result of poor management and decision-making.

C. Inevitable.

D. Unfortunate, but your compensation isn't performance-based anyway.


17.) In addition to being CEO of an investment bank, you have recently been nominated to head the Securities and Exchange Commission. You:

A. Accept the nomination and enjoy the windfall.

B. Accept the nomination and adopt a laissez faire policy regarding Wall Street investment.

C. Realize this presents a potential conflict of interest and make plans to either decline the nomination or resign your position as CEO.

D. Accept the nomination and make a commitment to rigorously maintain the status quo as long as it favors your bank.


18.) Would you say your integrity is greater or less than that of your fellow CEOs?

A. Greater.

B. Greater.

C. Greater.

D. Less than.


19.) What word or phrase best describes your approach to the job?

A. When will the private jet and satellite office in Bora Bora be ready?

B. I don’t have an ‘off’ switch.

C. Whatever it takes.

D. Driven. Like a truck.


20.) What quality is most-important in an employee?

A. Unblinking obedience.

B. Sight-challenged obedience.

C. Experience.

D. Blind obedience.

A Bit of Silliness

Dear Sodomy Corp.,

I am responding to your Internet post seeking a Resource Allocation Specialist and am submitting my resume for consideration.

Resource allocation has been a passion since childhood, and a position with the Sodomy Corp. is a dream I never thought I’d have the opportunity to realize.

Let me tell you about myself and my qualifications.

As the senior member of a bio-team with working parents, I had extensive experience serving as a Resource Allocation Specialist (RAS). For instance, a junior team member was frequently assigned school projects. These typically required glue, paper, scissors, crayons and rulers.

As the on-site RAS, I would retrieve the educational enhancements from a hallway distribution center and deliver them to the appropriate team member. (I should add that I was instrumental in having senior management upgrade facility terminology to better reflect current marketplace realities.)

Another junior bio-team member was struggling with a pile of reports. After identifying the need, it became apparent our distribution facility did not stock the required item. Outsourcing was clearly the best option.

As a customer-driven RSA, I not only secured financing through our financial arm, but was able to locate and deliver elastic bands with a minimum of project down time.

The reports were secured and, most-importantly, the junior bio-team member received the tools they needed to succeed.

While I lack the requisite master’s degree in supply-chain economics and resource distribution theory, I have demonstrated, real-life experience in getting things to the people who need them—on time and within budget.

I am also certified in cyber and ‘legacy’ resource management, which gives me the product knowledge critical for thriving in a pluralistic work environment with diverse resource needs.

I am fluent in the operation of compressed air keyboard dusters, as well as mouse pad replacement. On the legacy side, I can source and replace chisel-point staples for Swingline units dating as far back as the nineteen-eighties.

In a summer internship with Phukum, Goode & Hart, I had the unique experience of training on a nineteen-seventies-era typewriter. My background is as extensive as my ability.

In an on-demand world, efficient and timely resource allocation can be the tipping point between project success—and project failure. Resource allocation stands on the very precipice of those extremes and demands strong focus and high attention to detail.

It’s not just handing out paper clips to receptionists.

The Sodomy Corp. is one with a reputation for standing behind its employees and one whose executives are well-known for the personal attention they take in filling every opening.

Through their careful probing, the Sodomy Corp. has achieved the market penetration that is the envy of the business world.

It is for these reasons I wish to bring to the Sodomy Corp. the results-oriented resource allocation it deserves.

Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you soon!

Sincerely,

Jonathan Hynde

Tales of the Unemployed

After a restless night with a four-thirty AM wake-up call, it’s kind of tough to find things to be grateful for.

When found, those things are usually of the “at least” variety. At least I don’t have pancreatic cancer. At least my car wasn’t stolen last night. At least I didn’t lose my keys.

Gratitude notwithstanding, the grind of unemployment continues. The fat, stubby forefinger of unanswered questions pokes my breastbone. What are you going to do?

I log on to the computer and apply at one of America’s biggest retailers—the one where the employees wear red tops and beige pants. Under the aegis of something called the Work Opportunity Tax Credit, the site asks me for my birth date.

Isn’t this illegal? I try to convince myself that as one of America’s leading companies, they’ll use that information responsibly. It doesn’t work.

I take a personality test which determines my suitability for wage-slavery.

What percentage of politicians are corrupt? What percentage of people would shoplift if they could get away with it? Is taking a pen home from work stealing? How many days a week do you feel angry for no reason? Are you happy with your life?

What percentage of your friends are more-satisfied with their lives than you are with yours? What is the consistency of your stool?

(Sorry. That last one is from my proctology exam--not the online questionnaire. It's so easy to confuse the two.)

The site then asks when I am available. Like the flotsam I am, I answer ‘anytime’. Two AM Saturdays, eight PM Wednesdays, seven AM on Mondays—it’s all the same to me. What I lack in life-satisfaction, I'll make-up for in availability.

It then asks me to confirm this yawning chasm of free-time using my digital signature, a combination of digits from my social security number and birth date. This is presumably legally-binding and allows the company to terminate in the event said employee isn’t as available as promised.

I am then asked a third time if I am actually this available. I take it as an insult.

The next question is ‘Have you ever applied to this company before, and if so, when?’

Answer ‘yes’ and your application is consigned to the circular file. If they didn’t want you before, why would they want you now?

Answer ‘no’ and your application survives until the next cut. (Or until your life-satisfaction is found to be wanting.) I lie and answer ‘no’. I wonder where and when I learned to obfuscate the truth.

I ignore the metaphorical implications and click the ‘submit’ button.

I do not hold my breath.

Later that night, I’m watching TV. A man defines insanity as the repetition of an action with the expectation of a different outcome. This bears a disturbing resemblance to my job search.

I go to bed. I do not sleep well.

I'm Employed! Wait! I'm Not!

I’m pretty sure that I’m becoming insufferable.

You see, this is my therapy. And I really, really need therapy. So if you feel an eyeroll coming on and need to click that white ‘X’ in the upper right-hand corner of your screen, I'll understand. No offense taken.

This has been a brutal year. A brutal, unforgiving year. I find myself wondering what it is I did. Did I swindle money from helpless and lonely old ladies? Did I rape? Murder? Vote Republican?

I ask these questions because life is beginning to feel like punishment.

Let me explain.

Last week, I found work. My relief was immeasurable. The compensation sucked, as did the hours. But it was a job. A paycheck. Something to plug the nasty employment gap on my resume.

I was ready to sing. Let God on high be praised!

But like all things 2009, it was too good to be true.

I submitted applications to two stores in a Texas-based chain specializing in used books, music and movies. After a year of joblessness, I was asked to interview at both locations. I don’t think the savviest bookie in Las Vegas could have calculated the odds.

It was off the charts. It seemed like a perfect fit, and I was thrilled.

OK. So what’s the problem? you ask.

I accepted an offer for temporary employment because it was the first one offered. (Yes, I'm that desperate.) Then a second offer followed. It was for permanent employment. Caving-in to my selfish desire to remain clothed, housed and fed for as long a period as possible, I then accepted the permanent offer.

Since all my fine china and stemware is in storage, I never entertained the idea that both interviews would yield job offers. Not me. Not in 2009. But they did.

In my view, this was an entirely understandable and acceptable decision. Especially in the revolving door that is retail. But retail isn't retail at Half-Price Books. This was an act of romantic betrayal tantamount to treason. One which demanded only the swiftest and most-severe punishment.

I first detected the foul odor of payback when the start date for the permanent position was postponed.

The next day I received a phone call from a district manager. He berated me for “exhibiting poor judgment”, explaining how I had maliciously played one store against another by interviewing with the second store while in the employ of the first. How I had deviously concealed from the manager at the first store where I was headed.

Firing squad being presumably unavailable, the offer for permanent employment was withdrawn.

As I had yet to even set foot in the first store when I interviewed with the second, I’m confused how I was in its employ. And while under the influence of ignorance, I also don’t understand if I never mentioned store A to store B and vice versa, exactly how did I pit one store against another?

In my admittedly limited experience, the sort of manipulation I was accused of required the disclosure that a second party was involved, which indicated increased demand for a particular commodity, which in turn enhanced one’s bargaining position.

But what do I know? I just write here.

The unemployed are told to remain positive in the face of evidence to the contrary. We are told to look forward, not back. And above all, we are told not to take unemployment and rejection personally. It’s just business.

Yet when the delicate sensibilities of a store manager are offended by an employee choosing a permanent position over a temporary one, it’s not just business. It’s personal, and someone must be made to pay.

Is Rambo available?

It doesn’t matter that the manager had a two-inch stack of applicants from which to choose a replacement. It doesn’t matter that the employee actually showed up for his final shift and even offered to work the following day if it would help minimize subsequent schedule changes.

It also doesn’t matter that the employee expressed genuine remorse for the short notice and explained in detail that his financial situation didn’t allow any other choice.

What matters is that a manager who was angry with herself because she awarded the permanent slots to a couple of dolts while she tossed the temporary slot to the keeper won’t have to bear the humiliation of seeing that employee work for a competing store.

What matters is that her shaky self-esteem has been soothed. What matters is that her out-sized ego has been stroked. That’s right—you’re still in control. If you can’t have him, no one will!

Her ruffled feathers have been smoothed.

Yes, I’m guilty of interviewing at two stores and choosing the best deal. But I’m fairly sure that’s what we do every day at the grocery store. Or the mall. And I’m fairly sure it’s what business does when it shops for a supplier.

It’s even what business does when it (ahem) shops for a prospective employee. It’s—dare I say—just business.

But don’t you try it.