I Can Haz Job Now?

Well, it took 2 and a half years, 120 job applications, and one broken soul, but I finally did it. The goal has been achieved.

I, ladies and gentlemen, am employed!

And not as a porn fluffer or a gigolo. I've finangled my way into a legitimate teaching position. That's right, dear readers. This fine specimen of the human genome is going to be teaching your offspring and improving the minds of the next generation. You may lodge your complaints at the nearest school board meeting.

Actually, to allow my ego to fully inflate to its maximum size, I should point out that I actually got TWO jobs. Two weeks ago, I interviewed with the same high school where I did some day-to-day subbing last year. Although I had good answers to the interview questions, I didn't think I did the greatest job. Despite my grandiose sense of self-importance, I was really nervous. I stuttered a bit, and I don't think my posture was particularly confident. Nevertheless, they called me the next day to offer me the job.

I accepted their offer; however, a few days later I had an interview with ANOTHER school, actually the adjoining school district to be precise. So I go into that interview with a bit of machismo. After all, I already have a job in the bank, so the stakes aren't so high. Of course, I'm still kinda nervous because this school has quite a bit of money to offer me, but I channel that nervous energy into some really excellent interview responses and some witty jokes that (surprisingly) did not offend the people interviewing me. I can use my creativity for good instead of evil... sometimes.

So I come out of that interview feeling confident, but I know that it's a more competitive position. Both jobs are actually one-year long-term substitute positions, but one can't be picky in this economy. Besides, the positions still pay the same as a full-time teacher. These are, to put it mildly, desirable positions.

As I learned yesterday, the second school offered me the job too... and with significant cash incentives. I'd rather not discuss the particulars of the schools and the salaries on an open blog, but suffice it to say, this second job is the more desirable position overall. I intend to accept it; however, I certainly don't want to burn my bridges at the first school, so I'll be turning that one down in a classy fashion. This gentleman won't be leaving a baggie full of dog shit on the principal's doorstep, no siree.

Actually, I got interviewed at both of these schools because two experienced teachers from the Writing Project recommended me. They teach at the two schools. This is networking at its finest. Of course, when I was turned down for a full time position at my student teaching placement in favor of the assistant principal's cousin, I was grumbling, "Goddamn personal favors getting people jobs that they don't deserve!" Now that backdoor handshakes and knowing the right people is getting ME the good spots, my opinion of favoritism has improved considerably.

Funny how that works.

I'm all excited about the full time position, and for the first time ever, I can actually contemplate buying some things. Even though I'm still earning a teacher's salary, it's still way more money than I've ever had. Compared to what I made as a grad student (the highest yearly income I ever had), I feel like Scrooge McDuck swimming in his money bin.

So put on your finery, ma! We're celebratin' at the Sizzler tonight!

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"A teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary." -- Whoever said this never needed an annual salary.

Job Search: Redux

So here we go again... round two.

Two years ago, my job search commenced. I scoured the want ads, Monster.com, websites, internet forums, and hobos on the street to find an English-related job in the corporate world. 90 job applications and 90 job rejections later, I gave up and returned to school to get my teaching certification for secondary English education. Now the day has returned. The moment of dread is upon me again.

It's time to do the job search once more.

The last time, I was casting my net wide - craning my neck to find any job under the sun that might accept an English major. Editorial assistants, proofreaders, tech writers, composition instructors, college Registrars, legal assistants, or anyone that sought the highly prized and financially valuable services of someone with a Masters in English. As expected, this search proved laughably futile. This is partially due to my own stupidity (as illustrated in glorious despair HERE) but can be mostly attributed to the simple fact that sarcastic but gorgeous English majors are a dime a dozen (a figure, incidentally, that English majors would be notoriously poor at calculating).

This time I have a more focused approach since I'm only looking for teaching positions. I've already applied to positions at two school districts and I've got four more on my To-Do List. While I'm waiting on long-term stuff, I've applied to substitute at my former student teaching site and my local school district (Woodland Hills). More stories to follow regarding my adventures as a day-to-day substitute at one of the more troublesome districts in the county.

Searching for teaching jobs bears almost no resemblance to the search for corporate jobs. For one thing, if I were willing to travel south, I'd have a job in a heartbeat; however, I'm terrified of living in a locale that's infested with scorpions, killer bees, alligators, giant flying cockroaches, and swarms of snakes. That eliminates most of the south. Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas, and of course the great state of West Virginia are still on my radar, but my primary focus is on Western Pennsylvania, and the PA job search is its own fickle mistress. For the uninitiated, almost every district in the state subscribes to a web service called "PA Educator." The districts post their job openings, and every teacher in the state signs up for the service. Then the educators use the site to filter out the teachers they want for the position.

On the one hand, this is sort of a relief. The employers are taking it upon themselves to seek me out. That makes me feel good. On the other hand, I feel like a powerless peon with no hope of helping myself. Nevertheless, I've learned from my year of failed job searching. I'm being much more proactive this time around. PA Educator can't stop me from sending in a very thoughtful and focused letter of interest. Their ridiculous search filter won't keep me from calling the school to make a favorable impression. And really, even without all of that, having a Masters in English certainly sounds impressive when you're looking for an English teacher... or at least I hope it does. Hell, the law of averages figures that SOMEONE must be impressed by it.

Don't let anyone kid you: teaching jobs are hard to come by. Even though openings are plentiful, there are thousands of applicants interested in the same jobs as me. I've got a tremendous amount of competition, and many of them don't have a dark cloud of misfortune hanging over their heads, and they're capable of speaking a sentence without saying something incredibly stupid or insensitive.

Interesting positive side: apparently the fact that I'm male and huge is a big bonus. That intimidation factor is important to a lot of schools. Of course, being judged on my looks and my gender makes me feel like a cheap piece of meat... which is AWESOME!!! School districts, you have my permission to hire me for the most superficial and demeaning reasons imaginable. As long as the money-dollars are forthcoming, my ego will be beaten into submission through sheer force of will and daily shots of tequila.

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"I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs, alcohol and insanity to everyone... but they've always worked for me."

Dude, Where's My Career?

Last week, a gentleman from a local staffing agency called me to inform me of a technical writing position in the area. I recognized the name of their agency as one that I’d used to apply for a job at a different company many months ago. Apparently, they actually kept my resume on file, and when this job opened up, they asked if I’d like to have my resume submitted for the position.

I haven’t been applying for jobs much since my acceptance to the teacher certification program. Every once in awhile, I’ll churn out a resume and cover letter for some editing assistant position, but I’ve gone from sending out two or three resumes a week to maybe one a month. Not only have I been thoroughly and heartily discouraged by months upon months of failure in the job market, but I’m also pretty excited to start the certification program. My inner masochist is just bursting with anticipation to fill my life with long, unpaid hours of hardship, stress, and torment. The sad part is that the previous statement contains no sarcasm whatsoever.

Nevertheless, with someone on the phone asking me if I’d like the opportunity to make actual money dollars without going back to school, I decided to accept the invitation. I sent the man an updated copy of my resume and cover letter for a job opening at a bank in, of all places, Kittanning. Well, actually it’s in the nearby “industrial complex” of Slate Lick, but good luck finding that on a map. This would, of course, mean that I’d be stuck living in Armstrong County for even LONGER, but I figured I didn’t really have anything to lose by accepting an interview.

All of this went down last Wednesday, and the gentleman on the phone told me that they’d be reading all the resumes the following day and that I’d hear from them either Thursday or Friday if they wanted me for an interview. It’s now the following Wednesday, and your humble author hasn’t heard a peep from them. I can safely assume that my resume is nestled comfortably in the “REJECTED” pile on the human resources desk. Even though I’m literally five minutes away from this place and have the general qualifications necessary, I figured that I’d be a long shot since I have no actual technical writing experience.

What baffles me is that I don’t know whether I’m unhappy or not about my not getting the job. A year ago, I thought I wanted nothing more than to trade my hopes and dreams for mountains of filthy lucre regardless of what menial tasks were required. I would have been happy to sell my soul to the corporate world and leave teaching to the suffering of others. I certainly haven’t suddenly developed a conscience, but it’s unsettling to me just how my thoughts repeatedly drift back into educator territory. For instance, I often find myself coming across articles in magazines and thinking to myself, “Damn, that would have been perfect for the Genre Analysis!” And then I catch myself thinking that I try to drown my overactive mind in cartoons and pornography.

I may not be able to handle the day-to-day classroom for decades, but I know that my interests and passions lie somewhere in education. That’s the stuff I like to read about, talk about, write about, or have mental breakdowns about. Just look at how many posts on this blog have the “Teaching” label! There’s certainly a noticeable trend.

I’ll still apply for other jobs because the fact that I’ve never successfully had a corporate job interview really gnaws at my self-esteem, but I’m pretty happy with my decision to go back and get my teaching certification. Once I’m given full reign over a classroom, I’ll have multiple groups of trapped high schoolers who will have to endure my endless Star Trek references and rants about how the hand dryers in the bathrooms leave my hands with a funky residue. Oh, they have no idea what they’re in for!

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"Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service us."

Thanks but No Thanks

Guess who had his first in-person interview on Tuesday! And guess who is going to turn down the job of his own free will. I'll give you a hint - it's not John Lithgow.

Back in November, in a fit of desperation, I applied for adjunct positions at four area colleges for the Spring 09 semester. I had hoped to earn some decent money on the side while searching for more gainful employment. This was before my recent decision to go to Pitt for my teaching certification. When I didn't hear anything from them, I wasn't really surprised, but I did despair over the fact that I couldn't even get a job in something for which I was fabulously qualified. Then early last week, one of the places I applied to, a Penn State branch campus no less, called me. The woman on the phone wanted to know if I was interested in being a part-time English instructor in the Fall 09 semester. She asked me if I was available for an in-person interview.

I was flummoxed. For the last ten months, I've wanted nothing more than for someone to call me to offer me money-dollars. I would have gouged out my own pyloric sphincter and donated it to a self-aggrandizing hipster if it meant getting a job. But the timing couldn't have been worse. In the fall semester, I'll be at Pitt learning how to become a stooge for the local school districts. The Penn State campus in question is about an hour and fifteen minutes away from Pitt, so that wouldn't exactly be around the corner.

Against all advice from the "Job Hunting for Idiots" books I read, I explained all of this to the woman on the phone, and I expected her to hang up, disgusted with my lack of commitment to higher education. But she was persistent. "Oh don't worry about it," she said. "Come on in anyway. We can talk about the job, and it'll be good interviewing experience. I always tell my son that any interview is worth taking for the experience." I couldn't really argue with that, and her damned folksy demeanor made her seem so gosh darn nice!

So two days ago, I finally got to put on the suit I got for my job interviews (back when I thought my calendar would be packed with them). While I realize that the majority of men don't like wearing formal attire, I LOVE wearing a suit. I always feel like a man with dreams, hopes, and a hedge fund. So feeling suitably professional and adult-like, I made the trip to the PA/Ohio border to what I have decided to be the dingiest Penn State campus I had ever seen. The entire college appeared to be converted from an old high school. I think my meeting was in what used to be the gymnasium. In any case, This mousy little woman in her mid-forties introduces herself as the English Department Chair. She then marvels at my formal-wear: "Well look at you! Aren't we handsome today!" I immediately felt like I was about to have cookies at grandma's house rather than interviewing for a job.

But if this woman was grandma.... the crazy uncle that no one trusts around the kids was about to arrive.

After setting me up in the conference room and getting me some water (sippy cup not included this time), the woman informs me that her colleague will be joining us shortly. We don't have to wait long. Bursting through the door comes this magnificent man decked out in black jeans, a leather coat (it's 65 degrees outside) and square humanities-major glasses. He's got this puffy white hair that's gelled and pointing somewhere behind him and a good distance above his head. His matching goatee would have made Colonel Sanders weep. He looked like some hybrid of Eddie Izzard and Billy Connolly. Go ahead and do a Google Image search for those two. You'll get the idea.

The two of them tell me that they're the entire full-time English department. I chuckle at what I assume to be a joke, but they're not laughing. Apparently Grandma teaches all of the low-level classes, and Captain Beefheart teaches the upper-level ones. This was easily the saddest English department I'd ever seen... and they wanted ME for their despondent team.

The grandmotherly woman tries her best to keep the interview professsional by asking me about my resume and such, but Batshit Insane English Guy kept jumping in with intellectual musings about the nature of the interview process. He likes to think of interviews as "vocational conversations." He then went on to mock the entire Penn State system, their job benefits, the faculty salaries, and stupid people. As Virgil well knows, any wacky old professor who can't stay on topic to save his life gets an A+ in my book. This guy was extremely honest about their little campus, much to the consternation of Sweet Grandma Lady.

I knew going into this interview that my chances of accepting this job were pretty slim. It was just too far away, and I knew far too well that the time commitment for teaching two undergraduate classes was nothing to sneeze at. But I wanted to treat this like a real interview so that I could get some real practice. Needless to say, that didn't happen. Instead, I kept getting even more reasons to avoid this job offer like the plague. Not only did they want me to travel all this way to teach two classes, but they would be two different classes, which would require two different lesson plans for each class. One of the classes they wanted me to teach was Business Writing, and that just completely blew my mind. If I knew anything about communicating in the business world, I sure as hell wouldn't be in my current situation.

But the capper was the salary. I knew part-time adjuncts didn't make much money, but I never truly appreciated the definition of a "pittance." I would only receive $2000 for each class... for the entire semester!!! That's $4000 for four months of work. I made more than that as a graduate student, which is sadder than sad.

By the time the interview was over, I was 100% certain that I didn't want this job. However, there was one problem: THEY BOTH LOVED ME! They told me that they would be eagerly recommending me to their superiors. Fortunately, they were realistic enough to say that they'd understand if I didn't want to do it. Colonel Wacky jumped in with a lengthy diatribe about how adjunct salaries should be higher. There's nothing worse than disappointing people who are truly nice and wonderful people and who are kissing your ass just the way you like it to be kissed. So I told them that I didn't have all the information about my schedule for the fall (which is true) and that I would get back to them once I did.

Coming out of that interview, only one feeling really gripped me and wouldn't let go: unadulterated guilt. This campus clearly catered to certain.... less-than-stellar students who were being taught by understaffed, underappreciated, and underpaid teachers. Clearly I was a star candidate, which must say something about their usual crop of applicants. These two seemed like genuinely enthusiastic, supportive, and intelligent teachers who really wanted to do well by their students, and I got the impression that this school was in desperate need of good instructors. I felt like a heel knowing that I'd be turning down their offer.

Of course, the guilt won't stop me from rejecting them, but I'll feel really bad as I'm doing it.

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"Did everything just taste purple for a second?"

Employee Ennui

I've heard the term "bored shitless" bandied about by people who claim to be REALLY bored, but I've never really understood the nature of the term. Is a person apparently so bored that he or she has endlessly empty bowels? But now I understand. I believe that the term refers to a state of being in which the only highlight of your day is reading books on the crapper, but one only has to go so many times in a day, so eventually one is simply shitted-out.... bored shitless if you will.

I, ladies and gentlemen, to use sophisticated verbiage, am bored shitless.

While my current temporary (though I'm starting to stretch the definition of "temporary") job has decent pay and very flexible hours, it's extremely menial work. On most days, I'm filing or copying church bulletins, organizing my boss's library, or sometimes I get to stretch my mental prowess by showing my luddite employers how to use Microsoft Word. Some days get really exciting. Just today I helped them take down their Christmas tree. How holly fucking jolly is that!?

Don't get me wrong. I really like my employers; they're incredibly nice people, and they are really gracious to give me an interim job when I so desperately need it. But when your entire day consists of filing papers in a position that doesn't have any bearing on your future career plans, the everlasting ennui (ten dollar word being used to prove that I still have an advanced vocabulary) begins to set in. I almost prefer the summer when I could be out mowing grass and weed eating all day. The manual labor often makes the hours go by faster.

Sometimes I amuse myself at work by coming up with clever and subtle ways to subvert the religious teachings of my boss in her church bulletins. For those not following along with blog continuity, Mrs. Employer is the pastor at a nearby church, and I am often responsible for proofreading and copying her bulletins. I'm fairly certain that Mrs. Employer doesn't know that I'm a soulless heathen, so she has no idea that I really have no spiritual life to speak of. While I would never change the words in her bulletins without her permission, I often play devil's advocate (sometimes quite literally) in arguments with her. In one instance, a bulletin had a section about the power of prayer, and I got into a rather lengthy debate with her about prayer seeming to challenge "God's will." I knew I wasn't going to change her mind - the woman has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Bible - but I killed almost 45 minutes of work time by listening to her explanation and got paid for doing so. Then she decides that she has to clarify her bulletin so as to account for any difficult parishoners (such as myself) who may be in attendance.

Today, I was looking through various bulletin covers to find a picture about communion. I found one with bread and communion cups on it, so I said, "I found one!" She asked, "Does it have a chalice in the picture or communion cups?" I held the picture up proudly. "Neither!" I declared, "JELLO SHOTS!! How very inappropriate!" She actually got a big kick out of that, and it led to a fine discussion about the importance of wine in the communion ceremony. My inner atheist is simply going, "Blah blah blah churchy-shit" but my conniving lazy side is thinking, "Ha ha! I'm finally getting paid for putting up with religious instruction."

These instances are few and far between. I'd rather not press my luck (unless whammies are involved). On the whole, one tedious day is the same as the next, and it gets a bit maddening after awhile. I'm trying to compensate by reading more and relearning to play the trombone (I plan to join the Kittanning Firemen's Band this year so that I have something to occupy my time), but it's hard to go to work every day to a job that doesn't challenge me. I never thought I'd admit this in writing, but...... I think I miss grad school. At least there if I was bored it was because my lazy ass didn't do the reading for class, and I couldn't contribute to the conversation. I think my fortunes will improve when I can start my teaching certification program in the fall. Then I can feel like I'm actually making some progress in my life again.

Or I could always decorate my employers' house with Satanic cult objects for my own amusement. For their sakes, we'll see if my sanity can hold out for another eight months.

As if it hasn't already gone out the window.

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JP: He may be a lousy employee, but he's a detestible human being.

Oh What a Life!

As part of my continued attempts to become more traditionally masculine, this afternoon I went to a musical with another man. A friend of mine is a music teacher, and she got tickets to the critically acclaimed musical Jersey Boys for her students. She had two tickets left over, and she gave them to my other friend Mike. Mike's girlfriend was unavailable, so he took me along instead. I must admit, I looked ravishing as his date.

Jersey Boys tells the story of the Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, a popular music group from the 1960s. I'm sure some of you are saying, "Who the fuck are the Four Seasons? Are they the guys who started the hotel chain?" Not exactly. You may not know the group's name, but you've heard their music. You have to know "December 1963" ("Oh what a night, late December back in '63. What a very special time for me..."); they still play it on the radio all the time, and I think Billy Joel may have done a cover of it. But their other songs have been used for countless product jingles over the years. I seem to recall "Big Girls Don't Cry" being used for a Pampers commercial, and I wouldn't be surprised if "Walk Like a Man" was used in Reebok commercials. I'm almost certain I once saw some tubby man serenading Mrs. Butterworth with "Can't Take My Eyes Off You."

The musical was excellent, but what struck me the most was the group's riveting tale of success. By the age of 22, Frankie Valli had a string of number one hits and a boatload of money. This doesn't even take into account the throngs of adoring fans. I'm 25 now, and my life consists of watching Boston Legal DVDs, making copies of church bulletins, eating leftover meatloaf (sometimes while listening to Meatloaf), and then blogging about my stygian existence on this blog.

Oh sure, the Four Seasons had their share of troubles, and the play ends with certain tragic overtones. One of their members racked up enormous debts to the mob. Frankie himself even ended up divorced, and his daughter was killed in her early 20s. But failures are so much easier to take after glorious success. People talk about how money doesn't buy happiness, but I'll bet the gloomy abyss seems a bit more bearable when you can drown your sorrows in the finest wines while cruising on your yacht with women of dubious moral character.

And I'm sure the royalties from this musical aren't keeping Frankie Valli awake at night.

Jersey Boys is ostensibly about living the American Dream. Even a group of poor Italian boys from Jersey can make it big. But to me it only highlighted the fact that I could have made it by this time if I'd been scrappy and cunning enough. This performance only drove home my own failures. It also didn't give me a lot of hope for the future. Even if success is achieved, you're still doomed to a failed marriage and huge mob debts. So if I one day become a wildly successful producer of pornographic films, I'll probably be diagnosed with terminal dysentery before my first check arrives in the mail.

Although there was one bright beacon of hope in the production. There's a small subplot featuring a exuberant but dopey kid named Joey from their New Jersey hometown. Apparently Tommy DeVito (no relation to Danny), one of the original Four Seasons, took great delight in their teenage years in tormenting and mocking poor Joey and using him to run errands. Tommy DeVito is the one who later accrued the massive mob debts, and he was kicked out of the group. Joey, meanwhile, would later group up to be Joe Pesci.... yes, THAT Joe Pesci.

And in a delicious twist of fate, Tommy DeVito now WORKS for Joe Pesci!! (I have no idea if character of Tommy DeVito that Joe Pesci portrays in Goodfellas is a direct reference to this relationship, but I wouldn't doubt it.)

I don't see myself as Joe Pesci in this little tale. Nay, I am Tommy DeVito. I find solace in the fact that at some point after years of wretched unemployment, some successful guy that I wronged in the past may take pity on me and offer me a job. In a cruel bit of irony, maybe I'll end up as the secretary for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

And then someone can write a glorious musical about my life.

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Big girls don't cry, but sometimes big unemployed bloggers do.

The Unemployable Element

I now believe in God... because I believe he hates me.

Astute readers may remember that I recently bumbled into an interview with a company in Washington D.C. It was, without question, the best opportunity I had found so far. It was a position with a well-respected company doing research about how to improve higher education programs. I met a guy in a relatively high position of power at the company, and he was able to help me get my foot in the door. I was qualified, and it was something that I wanted to do. I really wanted this job.

And today they turned me down.

Two weeks ago, I had a screening interview over the phone with someone in the company's human resources department. The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Perfect Interview has this to say about a screening interview: "Its purpose is not to identify and harvest talent, but to eliminate 'unacceptable' candidates in order to save the valuable time of the senior executive--the person with the power to hire you." The screening interview is essentially used to weed out the flotsam that doesn't meet the minimum requirements. I'm not only flotsam... but jetsam as well.

(And I'm upset... so I don't need to hear any complaints about my excessive nautical verbiage.)

I thought the screening interview went very well. I said all the right things; I plugged my research experience, my dedication to long-term projects, and I had some terrific stuff to say about how my teaching improved not only my ability to work well with others but my own research as well. In my mind, I was perfect: dedicated researcher with fresh ideas, a Masters degree, and experience working in higher education. I even had a guy who worked at the company who could put in a good word for me.

In short, it's not that I failed to get a job that's got me upset. It's that I had everything going for me this time... and I STILL failed. And after the SCREENING interview of all things. I wasn't even good enough to warrant an in-person interview.

My qualifications are about as marketable as sand in the Sahara. I have to give serious thought to how I want to proceed. After 60 unsuccessful job applications, it's clear to me now that this idea of breaking into the corporate world is just not going to pan out. What's worse is that I applied to four adjunct Composition positions at local colleges in the area, and I haven't heard back from any of them. I can't even get a job in a field in which I actually have experience!

As if life decided that my Christmas holiday wouldn't be complete without piling on the fail, I got my LSAT scores back the other day. For those not following along with the blog, I was recently considering law school, and while I decided I didn't really want to go, I signed up for the LSAT anyway just to see how I'd do. I figured if I did extremely well, it might be an area to consider. Fortunately for the world of law, I only scored in the 60th percentile, which isn't terrible, but it's not exactly a riveting endorsement of my potential legal prowess.

So I'm stumped now. I emailed the guy who first put me in contact with that company to see if he knew of any other companies that might have a use for my skills. I'm not holding my breath on that one. I think I'll also try a headhunter to see if a professional salesman can make JP the Busted Stationwagon look like a sleek Lamborghini to desperate companies.

But I believe the most promising option is what I've blogged about before... getting my teaching certification. I'm extremely qualified, and I've wanted to be a teacher forever. It may not be the perfect job, but goddammit, if I was perfectly satisfied, I'd have nothing to bitch about on this blog.

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If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. If you still don't succeed after 60 tries, you may be doomed to a life of failure.

Tell Me About Yourself

Through blind luck, I managed to successfully do some rudimentary networking. At a party last Friday, I met a guy who's an upper-level employee at one of the companies I applied for back in May. I told him about my attempts to apply to his company, and he told me that they receive a lot of entry-level applicants so I shouldn't feel bad; however, he said that they like young people with a background in research and writing - I just need a way to get my foot in the door. He gave me his contact information, and I sent him my resume and cover letter. He forwarded them on to a division head, and she was impressed. The original guy got back to me, and he told me that I should be expecting a call for a screening interview in the near future. If I get through that, they'll call me in for an in-person interview.

My size-15 foot is successfully in their door.

I am, of course, elated. In fact, I've been borderline giddy. It's all I can do to keep from dancing in the streets and giggling like a schoolgirl. The irony of sending out 55 resumes and cover letters for six months and then falling ass-backwards into an interview because of a kegger in Kittanning is not lost on me. At this stage of the game, I'd be happy with just about any job, but it's a nice bonus that this is actually a company that I'd like to work for. Furthermore, it's in Washington D.C., which would give me a chance to live in a whole new kind of place. This is a particularly nice thing to have land in my lap.

Of course, being a glass-half-empty kind of guy, I can't help but worry about the interview process. Despite my dexterity and intellectual saavy with the written word, I can be clumsy, nervous, and painfully awkward in actual conversations. I stutter, hesitate, and fill my pauses with lengthy "ummm"s and "well"s. In order to call up companies for contact information or to request an interview, I've had to practice speaking on the telephone because I tend to talk in a dreary monotone when I'm on the phone. You should have seen me in my room repeatedly saying "Hello, how are you today?" in dozens of different tones in order to find that right mix of casual but professional, definitive but humble, and cheery but mellow. A passing psychologist might have suspected me of schizophrenia.

You would think that someone with a Masters degree in English would have an easier time speaking the language. One might even think it a requirement for graduation. But no, I have to practice sounding natural. The fact that this is hard for me merely reinforces my already developing suspicion that I'm typically unnatural. For my upcoming interviews, I've typed notes with personal information and lines that I need to remember when talking to important people. I've even scrawled "TALK SLOWLY" and "SMILE" all over these note sheets.

My natural inclination when talking about myself is to make self-deprecating comments. It's a defense mechanism that's probably symptomatic of a personality disorder, but it's also a bad instinct in a job interview when you're trying to make yourself sound like the best thing to happen to a business since discount toilet paper. Lines like, "I taught English for two years because they couldn't find any chimps to do it for free," might not go over so well.

I've done a screening interview before. After I applied to my third job way back in April, a company in Uniontown called me up. I fielded the screener's questions for about 20 minutes, and I got off the phone feeling very good about the interview. A week later I got an email informing me of their rejection. Now I'm extremely suspicious of my own ability to assess a "good" interview. The screening interview is supposed to simply weed out obviously sub-par candidates in order to limit the number of people they have to talk to in person. Being weeded out by a company in Uniontown after a simple screening interview is disheartening. In retrospect, I can remember sounding very wishy-washy about my qualifications and doing my usual stuttering. I can see why I was rejected.

In some ways, the screening interview scares me more because everything relies on the voice. In person, there's a lot more give and take, and I can take my cues from the other person's behavior. I'm dying to get this damned screening interview out of the way. I don't know when it's coming, so I just have to be prepared at all times. (It's sort of like being a reader of this blog. You just don't know when to expect an update.) I'm excited and terrified at the same time. This sort of emotional roller coaster could drive a man to gorge himself on pumpkin pie. And that's exactly how I plan to excuse last week's diet.

One of the few good things about a lengthy and grueling job search is that I imagine that the job I finally get will likely seem that much more rewarding. After having my past examined with a fine-tooth comb, worrying about resumes and cover letters for six months, being flat broke, and subjecting myself to these painful assessments, doing the old 9 to 5 will probably seem like a vacation.

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The Interview Process: Creating anxiety in job applicants since "Roman Gladiator" became a full-time position.

Future Tense

Matlock: He puts the "corpse" in "habeas corpus"

Riding a tractor, doing menial office work, and hours of undesired down time gives one a great deal of time for self-reflection. Unfortunately, I don't like what I see.

With 55 job applications sent out to companies from Pittsburgh to Chicago to Washington D.C. to Boston to New York City and not a single promising prospect, I'm beginning to suspect that my current plan of simply trying out the publishing or journalism industry to see if I like it is no longer feasible. My wails of despair could be heard in the next township when read an article about the seven industries that were hit hardest by the economic recession and "Publishing and Journalism" was listed at number 3. Job prospects are not looking good for anyone in that field... especially for people with no direct experience and no degree in "Professional Writing and Editing."

But as I said, this lack of progress has given me a lot of time to think about my own life, how I got to this point, and what I really want to do. After careful consideration, I know that I don't want to be a technical writer. It sounds painfully dull and tedious. However, I'm also not so sure that I want to get into the publishing industry. Given my background in English, it seemed like a natural direction to take, and more importantly, it seemed reasonably lucrative.

This may sound unnecessarily saccharine, but the vast majority of the jobs that I've applied for would seem to have no impact on the lives of people. I'd be shuffling papers around, correcting grammar for inter-office memos, and essentially organizing the lives of other creative and productive people. I want to be able to make a difference.

Much as I bitched about teaching English 101, at least the work I did was making a direct impact on the lives of my students. Granted, some of them may have found my impact to be undesirable or at the very least monotonous and perhaps unlawfully titillating, but a difference was made. The class was mine to teach. That class was about writing and research, and as tedious as that might sound to some people, it's the part of English that I like. I have zero interest in teaching literature; I just can't bring myself to care about the metaphorical implications of fictional stories. It's certainly valuable, but it's not something I really want to do, so I don't think teaching high school English is a feasible option (since high school English tends to be very focused on the literature component). Also, children frequently irritate me - that seems like a deal breaker. And just for the record, going back to graduate school to get my PhD in English is not even being considered. I'd rather put my genitals through a meat grinder.

Therefore, with my current credentials and interests, I'm pretty well qualified to be an adjunct for composition and rhetoric courses. A few months ago, I set an arbitrary deadline for myself. I told myself that if I didn't have any solid leads for a job by the beginning of November, I'd start applying for teaching positions for the spring semester. At the time, November seemed safely far off in the future, but now that the future is now, I have to do something so that I don't feel like a financial leech and complete cipher of a human being. As a result, I've begun to explore my options for teaching in the spring.

But that doesn't really feel like a permanent solution. I've been in academia long enough to know that adjuncts make shit for money and have no job security. But I also like the idea of helping people and making a difference in the world. Which is why I am considering, as I did a year ago..... applying for law school.

Bear with me, gentle readers; I know this self-indulgent post is lengthy.

You're probably thinking, "You're fucking crazy. Law school costs major dollars and requires more studying than ten grad schools." And you're probably right. That's why I'm just exploring the possibility for right now. The way I see it, this is the perfect time to explore all of my options. I have no wife, no kids, no long-term career that I'd be giving up. I've got time on my hands and some short-term ways of making money. My current boss has a lawyer friend who is willing to talk to me about what he does. And with the recent election, I've developed an almost obsessive interest in how the political system works. Furthermore, at the risk of sounding arrogant (as though I don't do so every time I post), I know I'd get into law school too. My grades are exceptional, I have research experience and a masters degree, and I'm confident that I could do well on the LSATs.

On the other hand, just because I *can* do it doesn't mean that I should. A year ago, two career counselors told me that I didn't seem to have the drive to make it in law school. At the time, they were exactly right. My only drive a year ago was, "GET OUT OF GRAD SCHOOL." I really didn't care about anything after that. I also don't know much about the specific kinds of law that people practice. No good comes from being uninformed about career decisions. Two years ago, I ended up in grad school because it seemed like a good idea, but I didn't really give it the necessary consideration. I'm not making the same mistake twice. I'm only looking into it, and I will not apply unless I'm certain that it's the right choice for me.

So to sum this whole thing up: I'm having an existential crisis, and I don't know what to do about it. Desperation and discouragement can lead to hasty and unwise decisions. If I make a choice regarding a change in my career plans, I want to make sure that I'm doing it for the right reasons and not because of my crippling fear that I'll end up mowing lawns for the rest of my life.

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4 out of 5 readers think JP isn't even qualified to pump gas for a living.

Employment Reality Check

In the last week, I've been reflecting a lot about my job search thus far. Maybe it's because I have a lot of time on my hands. Maybe it's because I've been reading too many career help books. Or just maybe it's because I graduated five months ago, and I'm no closer to finding a job now than I was then. And to top it off, I'm going to have to start paying back my student loans in about a month.

My knee-jerk reaction is to blame the job market, the English department, surly HR people, or some combination thereof. But after considerable self-reflection (my old boss would be proud), I've decided that I only have myself to blame.

I really haven't been the best job applicant. I may have sent out a considerable number of resumes and cover letters (45 total so far... a number that includes the 28 cover letters with the maddening typo), but I haven't really done the job that I should have. For my own personal self-deprecation and your amusement, I'll list just a few of the ways that I've done a piss-poor job of finding a job.

1. The Name's the Same: Unless a person's name was specifically stated in a job profile, I never went the extra mile to call the Human Resources department of any company to find out the name of the person who would read my resume and cover letter. I'd say 90% of my cover letters begin with "Dear Sir or Madam." While technically valid (I can at least be politically correct), it's an immediate notch below anyone who actually went to the trouble of learning someone's name. I've never once tried to call an HR department to find out the name of the person who would read my resume. I deluded myself into thinking that it wouldn't matter. Well, goddamn it, it matters! Cover Letters for Dummies told me so!

2. Candidate X Loves Company Y: Along the same lines, I haven't done in-depth research of the companies that I've applied to. I'm intelligent enough to find out what every company does (and I've referred to the company's general function in each cover letter), but very few of my cover letters have that extra OOMPH that say, "I know a few things about your company that show that I'm not just copying and pasting your name into a generic cover letter template," which is exactly what I did. I can't even pretend to give a shit.

3. Yawn!!: My cover letters are boring. In addition to being grammatically incorrect, my first batch of cover letters were painfully self-centered and generic. I didn't really involve the company's needs all that much. In revising my template, I went a bit too far in the other direction. My new cover letters are way too long and tedious. I make several references to what my skills can do for a generic "your company," but there's really no zing to it. Hell, *I* don't even like to read my own damn cover letter. At first I thought I was just uncomfortable with reading a self-aggrandizing page about myself, but then I realized, I LOVE writing about myself!! That's why I have this blog. I even read my own entries from time to time... I'm that self-centered. No, my cover letters are a snooze-fest, and if I don't want to read them, my prospective employers certainly won't want to. I need to trim the size down to something more reasonable, eliminate the crap that's already in my resume, and punch it up with a few clever ideas.

4. Time Slips Away: I waste a lot of my free time doing useless activities (like, oh, I don't know... blogging for instance). Over the last eight months, I've sent out 45 resumes. That's averaging a little more than one a week. Considering that I didn't even have a regular (albeit grassy) job until August, that's downright shameful. I have no other excuse other than the fact that job applications are time-consuming, depressing, and seemingly self-defeating when you've sent out 45 of them with no response.

5. What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?: I still don't know. I'm throwing my resume and cover letter out to any company that seems to desire my skills, but I haven't really done much thinking about what I want to get out of my future job. In fairness to my own self-esteem, I've never done much with any career other than teaching, so my first job will be something of an exploration of careers when I get it, but it still keeps me from stirring up much enthusiasm for any one job. But a lack of confidence shines through on a resume and cover letter, so I need to find a way to either bullshit some confident-sounding words or hypnotize myself into believing that every job is the perfect one for me. I'm leaning toward the latter since it would give me an excuse to buy a gold pocket-watch.

6. Unpaid Internship? Go Fuck Yourself: More than anything, I wish I'd listened to my professors at Penn State Erie when they were raving about the unpaid summer internships offered through the department. I can still remember my past self smugly declaring to some unfortunate passerby, "Why would I do this lame job over the summer for no money when I can mow grass and get paid for it?" I was young and foolish (though dashingly handsome). I thought I wanted to be a teacher, so their crappy internships at publishing houses, newspapers, and insurance agencies were for those lesser beings who didn't have a plan like me. Of course, when one changes his primary plan during the second year of grad school, those indomitable interns suddenly seem a lot wiser in retrospect. My friend Dave recently reminded me that when I switched my major from engineering to English, I pompously stated, "I don't care if I never get a job. I can't stand being an engineer." The latter statement is still true, but after five months of unemployment, that former sentence stings a bit. It's like when the 21 year old frat boy proudly declares to his buddies that he doesn't care if he becomes an alcoholic but then grows to regret his earlier revelries after two failed marriages and an atrophied liver.

- - - - -

So in light of these personal revelations, I've decided to buckle down and start doing things right. I can't change my mistakes of the past, but I can keep from proliferating the same stupid problems. I've already bookmarked the contact information for a few companies that I'm applying to, so I can hopefully get on the right track with this stuff.

I also got a book from Barnes & Noble today called From B.A. to Payday: Launching Your Career After College, which provides practical and emotional advice for newly-graduated liberal arts majors regarding the world of job hunting (another possible reason for this current musings). I only started reading it, but in the first chapter, he essentially says, "Do you have a degree in the liberal arts and are now living at home with your parents with no job opportunities and no idea what to do?" I almost shit myself when I realized just how accurately his description fit me, but I don't know if I feel better or worse knowing that 75% of people who graduate with a liberal arts degree are in the same boat. The writers go on to explain the problem with me and my ilk: "It's not really arrogance in the truest sense of the word; it is more a combination of naivete and entitlement. Naivete because they know too little about how the business world works, entitlement because they believe they shouldn't have to learn."

Yeah, that seems about right.

So for the time being, I am newly motivated to improve my job hunt. We'll see if Hayden and Wilder know what they're talking about in their book, and we'll see if I can curb my paradoxically co-existing boundless pride and limitless self-pity.

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The Pennsylvania Lottery: Bypassing all of this nonsense ever since numbered ping-pong balls could be forced through a clear air hose.

To See or Not To See

It's rare for me to make two posts in the same week let alone the same day, but such glaring and stunning stupidity cannot go unreported.

As anyone who has spoken with me in the last few months is well aware, my job hunt has been less than fruitful. I've received three rejection emails and one phone interview that led to another rejection email. While I appreciate the feedback, these are not the results I was hoping for. I couldn't figure out the reason, but I do believe I'm stumbled across something that might begin to explain my less-than-stellar success.


I've sent out 28 job applications so far. Way back when I sent out the first one, I spent a considerable amount of time making sure that my initial cover letter and resume were in excellent shape. My mom was of considerable help. WVU's so-called "career center" less so. In any case, I thought I had my cover letter in very reasonable shape when I sent out my first job application; therefore, when drafting new cover letters for new jobs, I was using that first letter as a template and altering the information accordingly.

This is how all 28 cover letters begin:
"I was delighted see the job posting on [wherever I saw it] for a [whatever the job is], and I believe that I would be an excellent fit for this position."

It looks fairly nice until you realize that I left out two little letters that actually help to form a complete sentence: TO! The first part should read, "I was delighted TO see the job posting..." I went back and checked all the old cover letters, and much to my horror, I discovered that this typo survived into every.... single.... one! Now some of you might think that this isn't such a big deal. After all, it's just an innocent typo. Except that I'm applying for WRITING positions. In some cases, I've even applied to be a goddamn proofreader!! My cover letter and resume go on to explain how impeccable my grammatical and writing skills are. Fucking incompetent!!!

It kills me that this mistake just wafted through so many revisions. I've screwed up a few individual cover letters. For instance, I recently applied for a position at a Registrar's Office in Washington PA, but after I sent off my application, I realized that I spelled it "Registar's Office" all through the damn cover letter. Fortunately, the position was filled already, so my ridiculous mistake didn't matter.

But that was just one gaffe. I don't know how to explain this other one; and it's the first damn line too! I wonder how many HR people saw that first line and assumed me to be an idiot. I guess my mind just filled in the word "to" without really registering that this priceless little conjunction wasn't there.

At least I can rest peacefully knowing that these 28 companies aren't undervaluing me. They have a very accurate understanding of my writing skills.

I guess I just needed see that.

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I am to stupid too get a job.

Teacher? I Just Met Her!

My less than successful job search has me thinking about my most recent profession: apathetic English teacher. I have two years of experience teaching my own classes, two glowing reviews from my former mentor and my jackass of a boss, and more useless grammatical and literary knowledge than I'd care to contain in my incredibly sexy brain.

I'd probably make a damn good high school English teacher. But I just can't bring myself to want to do it. I know too much about high school students, school district administrations, and national education requirements to think of it as a positive career option. On the other hand, it's also the closest thing to a legitimate career path that I've had in my entire life. I've been told by many people that technical writing is usually a temporary job, since it's such a tedious and boring task that no one wants to do it for more than a few years (of course, if that's true, where the hell are all the available jobs?). So I can't really think of "technical writer" as a long-term career goal.

But I can't figure out what to do right now. I did NOT like grad school classes, so pursuing a doctorate in English is simply not an option that I'm willing to consider. I just don't enjoy the field that much. There's always the possibility of taking an adjunct position, but such jobs do not pay well, and you can lose your position at the drop of a hat. Teaching high school English brings all the burdens of the parents, administration, and standardized reading and writing requirements crashing down on one's head. But still, at least I'd be doing something that actually helps people (in theory, anyway).

What makes the option so appealing, however, is that all I would have to do is say the word and I could have a job. While at Penn State Behrend for my undergrad, I completed all the initial requirements for the Mercyhurst College teacher certification program. I even took the Praxis I test, which I aced. (That may sound like gloating, but in reality, the Praxis I could be completed by a maladjusted retarded spider monkey.) Hell, one of my professors nominated me for the Behrend Future Teachers Award. I haven't had the heart to tell her that I'm not teaching anymore. With two years of experience and a masters degree in English under my belt, I have no doubt that I could get through the certification with little trouble and land a job in no time.

For tech writing jobs..... I have nothing.

So what's keeping me from throwing my hands in the air like I just don't care and applying for a teaching certification program? Several things:
1. I can't get over the horrible lifestyle of the high school English teacher. English is a required course in high school, so you get EVERYONE taking that class. And just like with any large group of people, high school consists of a few winners and a whole lot of losers.
2. Money. I've already got a bag full of student loans hanging over my head. Another year of school to get the certification would not help matters. And that HUGE teacher salary would really make it go away fast.
3. As a single and unemployed man living in his parents' basement, I can't be sure that these are not the thoughts of a desperate man. I don't know if I'm considering this just because the job search has hit a slow spell or if I actually believe it. I can be REALLY self-deluded sometimes. That's how I ended up in graduate school.
4. I like writing and grammar and things of that nature more than poetry and literature; however, most high schools and even middle schools are geared toward literature.
5. It's a bit late to be applying to certification programs. Trying to apply to one in late June or early July could prove difficult or impossible.
6. Never having tried my hand at anything else, I don't know if I want to commit to teaching. Maybe I'll love tech writing. Maybe publishing is my bag. Perhaps I can make it as an editor, journalist, or even go to law school. Hell, I could end up throwing it all away to start my own successful Star Trek-themed restaurant called Deep Space Fried!

My mom has been giving me a bit of grief about me going to be a teacher again, so that's been getting my mind thinking about it; however, this is a mid-mid life crisis worthy of much thought and beard-scratching. In the meantime, I'm going to continue applying for jobs, but you never know what I'll end up doing... two women at once would be nice.

Wish I'd gone to more career fairs and applied to internships and things of that nature. Maybe I'd be more marketable that way. Curse the economy and its completely justified low pay for English majors.

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3 out of 4 parental readers are concerned about JP being a role model for their children.

Now Now, Why Don't You Get a Job

"Yeeeeeeaah..."

The job search continues. I've been scouring the internet looking for any company that will hire a sarcastic English major with zero experience. Thus far, I've applied to eight technical writing positions. I was rejected by the one in Uniontown, PA, but the others are up in the air. Four of the jobs are in the Pittsburgh area. One is in Washington D.C. One is in Alexandria, VA. One is in New York City. And my most recent application went to a company in Cleveland, OH. I haven't heard back from anyone.

The Cleveland application gave this surly job-seeker some much needed entertainment. I churned through the usual tedious online application form: contact information, education background, resume, cover letter, signing away a kidney, etc. But then on the last screen, they prompted me for the following:

Original Poem: Write an original poem of 40 to 60 words about your most recent or current job.

After staring blankly at the screen for a few seconds, I naturally responded with several minutes of shouting "What the fuck!!??" to the screen and any small rodents that might be living in the wall while flailing my arms in the air and silently cursing the English gods for their delicious sense of irony. I certainly wasn't about to back down from a 40 word poem. I'd written a 20 page paper about 19th century sex organs... this would be cake.

As I set about writing this epic masterpiece, it began to dawn on me that I REALLY HATE POETRY! I don't like writing it, reading it, or reciting it for throngs of hipsters in a tea house filled with pottery and patchouli oil. But I also couldn't figure out the reasoning for this little requirement. This was a technical writing position. Tech writers do boring shit like proofread instruction manuals, write the warning labels for kitchen appliances, and ensure that the instructions for all automatic hand dryers are clearly marked... (Press Button - Receive Bacon.) Why would anyone care if I can write a poem?

I suppose there are a few possibilities. Maybe it's a way to make sure people don't apply to the position without giving it some thought. Or maybe they're trying to see if I can think creatively. I believe the most likely explanation is that the guy coming up with the online application was a failed creative writer, and this is his revenge for years of artistic failure that was dubiously described by his peers as "sublime."

So I struggled with the poem. I wasn't sure what kind of poem a software company would want. Maybe a stream of consciousness? Too weird. A haiku? Too short. How about a sonnet or a jintishi? I'd probably just embarrass myself.

I finally settled on a simple rhyming poem that's in something resembling a truly perverted iambic pentameter. It kinda sounds like a corny limerick, but it fits their requirements and, most importantly, it rhymes.

Teaching writing can feel like a thankless job,
With students that sometimes make me want to sob.
But demonstrating the importance of writing to my students,
Is an opportunity that took patience, dedication, and prudence.
I learned from my students as much as they learned from me,
About the importance of writing, researching, and a professional family.

All together now.... GRRROOOOOOOAAANNNN!!!

I know it's hokey. I flinch just looking at it again, but my usual self- and student-deprecating style probably wouldn't serve me well when trying to sound like a qualified candidate. A healthy dose of shmaltz can go a long way, though I think I was pushing it with the whole "professional family" thing. God, that just sounds cheesy.

I only filled out this application a few days ago, but I was sort of hoping for a response. I think I would have been happy to be denied the job if someone had simply emailed me saying, "That poem was so terrible that it made me cry. I'm going to go slit my wrists and dip them in salt. I hope you're happy!" But I've gotten used to a lack of communication now. I can't help but wondering how many of my resumes and cover letters are currently residing in some guy's Recycle Bin. However, the corporate world keeps on churning, and I still can't wait to get into it so that it can chew me up and make me its bitch.

At this stage, I don't even care what the job is. Everyone wants job experience and I don't have any. I'd love to call up one of these places and yell, "Look!! Where the hell did your current tech writers get their experience from? Because I sure as fuck can't find a company that's hiring newbies like me!" If I can get two years of experience doing anything (even "assistant genital waxer" at a company's men's room would probably help), I'll have a lot more options open to me.

In the meantime, my seemingly futile job search continues.

NOTE TO EMPLOYERS: If you have any modicum of intelligence, you hopefully did a Google search of the poem above to make sure that it wasn't plagiarized from the internet. I can assure you that my handle of "JP" is not a fiendishly clever cover for my real name. The application that you're trying to verify was, in fact, written by the same charming fellow who wrote this post (assuming that you are a Cleveland-based software company currently desiring a technical writer). I hope you are honored to learn more about this particular prospective candidate than you ever really wanted to.

SECONDARY NOTE TO EMPLOYERS: The sarcasm and apparent ill-will toward my fellow man found in this post (and on this blog in general) are not representative of my general working attitude. When money and my real name are involved, you can bet your corporate ass that I will be the most polite, polished, and professional sumbitch you ever laid eyes on. But give me an anonymous virtual forum in which to publish my tirades and vitriolic rants, and the inter-web will be ablaze with the fire of my words!

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The Undesirable Element: Now joining Facebook and MySpace on the corporate list of websites that employers should check before hiring sardonic and acrimonious (but shockingly verbose) tech writers.

Business as Jewsual

Wading through the job descriptions over at Monster.com can be a really tedious process. All of them pontificate about the virtues of the company while making me feel completely unqualified. One description, however, had an entirely different flavor:

"Blattner Brunner is looking for writers with the kind of work that elicits envy, fear or a mixture of both from fellow creatives. Ideas will not be stolen. They will be met with large amounts of glee, audible hoots of approbation and comments such as, "You gotta see this!" as we schlep them around the department. Chances are, this will be followed by a mercifully un-businesslike phone call."

With the use of the word "schlep," I can't help but picture a raucous group of drunken rabbis giggling about their latest drawing of a yarmulke-adorned Jewish pirate shouting "Ahoy vey!" as they spin dreidels and laugh about their gentile employees.

The company is actually a legitimate advertising agency, but their little blurb amused me... and served as an inspiration for endless Jewish stereotypes! I was also really proud of my title. That alone was reason enough to post even though I just posted less than six hours ago.

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Blattner Brunner: Kvetching about Hershel forgetting the Kegerator since Jehovah only knows when.