Art and Life

[pieces o nine]

Well kids, I am deliriously happy to be able to log in here this evening (make that morning!) and see what you all have been up to. Around 7:pm I thought the pc had suffered sudden death. It took me over 4 hours to methodically remove several files I needed on the hard drive (because each command was taking over a minute to process and folders just randomly closed on me), then restart (again), run the complete Nortons battery and optimize. Finally! the mouse interacted with the desktop icons again--hurray!



Then I spent another hour going back into the *latest* candidate application on-line portfolio -- the one that the pc spun on for *one hour* trying to save my files and numerous fields of BS commentary on each before having the pc equivalent of a grand mal  seizure and giving up -- to verify that all the files had uploaded correctly, delete inexplicable artifacts, and finish the requirements.



Thank you, employers of America, for deciding that Each and Every One of you needs his own, proprietary software, which must be downloaded (with, may god have mercy on my soul) yet *another* round of usernames and passwords and chest-pain-inducing struggle to get *my* resume data to fit *your* sadistically designed fields, after uploading the formatted-to-your-filetype-specifications version anyway, so that you can refuse to respond or provide any feedback whatsoever. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, which is still experiencing stress pains. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. There is a special circle somewhere in the afterlife waiting, where you will spend eternity filling out forms which reject your data and ask for ever more inane and intrusive information.



[ex: a position which hints strongly that 'successful candidates' should have a *Master's* and *years* of increasingly specialized experience, has a field for HIGH SCHOOL GPA, a field which *cannot* be bypassed or filled with a dash or anything other than a GPA, and which I bald-facedly lie to insert a number I assume is roughly correct. Others demand explicit contact info for every job, not allowing you to pass to the next field, even if the company is no longer in existence, and the job was 20 years ago. I have no idea what the telephone number *was* there, any more, and I seriously doubt that whoever has it now wants to hear from some HR person two states away asking for information on a person and business they've never heard of.]



"pieces takes a deep breath*

I've held three positions where I made or had serious input into hiring decisions. I know how to write a resume, how to interview well, and to show up looking professional. I also know that much of what is being demanded on these data-mining digital forms is unnecessary and intrusive. In this process I have doubled the number of computers extracting private information about me to hold and savor forever. I'm not happy about it. I am furious with a business culture which demands near-proctological exams -- by computer -- of potential candidates, yet refuses to provide any feedback whatsoever (e.g.: not even a "thank you, no" email). I am frustrated with 95% of postings including some version of the phrase "Do Not Contact Us!" in the verbiage, because it kinda screws the pooch on those 'did you follow up?" requirements from the government. I am depressed that as a "Creative" (more useless and irresponsible than a Philosophy major, to most MBAs -smile-) with management experience, and as a woman in her late 40s, I am now simultaneously under-*and*-over-qualified, and officially INVISIBLE and OBSOLETE.



"pieces takes another deep breath*

okaaaaaay. rant over, I think. Stress chest pains subsiding. A quick check verifies that there is no swearing and no identification of the guilty. A fresh post of herbal tea is ready, I think... Thanks for reading, anyone who has made it this far, and I will think up some really good pirate comedy to post to make up for this! Oi swares it!

-pieces 

[anthrobabe]

No doubt at all that you are one of us!
Near proctological exams ----- I agree- it is rediculous and worse to have to do this.

When people (usually men-- or that thing Trump) talk about women having crashed the glass ceiling-- I wish for a shard of it to stab them in the eye with........ I'm closing in on that magic age where women are supposed to do one of two things

sit in a chair and coo over grandchildren                            (not)       
or get botox and look like(act like) Cher or Joan Rivers
but under no circumstances attempt to be a productive member of society--- Oh you are an 'old' woman.......

Kill 'em all and take no prisoners!


Pass the tea...... sigh.......

[Sibling Chatty]

Every day, I thank God that I am out of the job market. It's a lousy way to get out, but...at least I don't have to spend hours explaining that most jobs in the floral industry mean that 10 years later, there IS no 'contact' because flower shops in big cities come and go like mayflies.

And, that my 'contact' at the medical school is their HR Department, because the guy I hired as my supervisor 29 years ago committed suicide the year I quit. (Coincidence? I think not...I had the books balanced from over $9 million off to within $7,000 off, then HE and his employee he hired in aver me couldn't trace the last $7,000.  for them.)

OR that my boss at the rose import business was me; the owners were growers in Mexico that I men once. Or that my boss at the tropicals import place is in prison for another 12 years for running a Ponzi scheme...

In the 'creative' fields especially, the turnover is astounding. I have several friends who list me as their employer for huge chunks of time, give my cell phone number, and I cheerfully tell any lies I need to back them up. It's called "working the system".

Po9...if you need me, I have an opening for former employees. Just tell me where I was when, and what you did for the place I was HR manager for... I verify dates and position, and that you'd be eligible for re-hire, cite confidentiality and will give a salary "range".

Phone is my personal cell, I explain that when the company folded, I retained the info for the sake of former employees that had to deal with HR departments that chose to do that asinine "everything since your paper route" kind of forensic detailed check that means NOT a damn thing...I generally let them think that I'm terribly amused that they're so "thorough" after blahblah years, which is SUCH a rookie mistake. I'll check the files when I get home, call them back, and let them know their silly-ass aged information.

I have nationwide free LD, and rollover minutes enough to verify employment for 200 of your closest friends...for life.

[Aggie]

To avoid these issues, I recommend taking one's former boss to one's new place of employment so that a reference is close at hand at all times (OK, so it was the other way around...  ).

  Seriously, forms with mandatory fields for info that may or may not be applicable/available make me 

[Griffin NoName]

Pieces, feel free to rant every few minutes if that reduces the likelihood of a nasty explosion.

I too am relieved I am not at present having to deal with the assinine dementia-inducing process of application forms for employment. Or the glass celing. Or any other of these "constructs".

I do, however, still encounter the stupidity of carrying out a life at all in the style described dictated by "modern" methods. Just getting my prescription filled often leaves me exhausted, never mind the more complex things, due to insanity of requirements.

Antro, I am afraid the time comes when despite a whole lifetime in which the opposite would be predicted, one suddenly finds a definite tendency to:

sit in a chair and coo over grandchildren                           

Perhaps we need a website giving support for women reduced to this

[pieces o nine]

I logged in today primarily to see if I could delete my posting, so as not to have anyone recoiling from the suddenly demented newcomer. 

Thank you all for your kind remarks -- they do make me feel better. I know I cannot possibly be the minority of one that I sometimes feel of late, but I isolate when overstressed (also so not helpful in an age when I am assumed to be out glad-handing in a madcap 'networking' spree every waking moment).

When I look back on my career, it is mined and festooned with horror story cliches despite all my efforts to avoid them. It boggles my mind that with all my education, experience, talent, savvy, adaptability and innate sense of fair play: I. don't. count. for. anything. and cannot possibly be of any  use in a 'forward-looking, bleeding-edge, fast-paced, state-of-the-art, dynamic'  business. meh. Not sure how I am supposed to live according to the arbitrary and schizophrenic social rules outside of gainful employment, but such an attitude indicates an...attitude...

At least my mom has stopped telling me that groveling prayer and/or marriage is the answer. 

Thanks, all.
-pieces

[Aggie]

If you weren't at least a little demented, you wouldn't be here. 

We have a Snark and Rant section for a reason. Toadfish may be humble, but hey - three rows of teeth are good for snarling and biting, too.

[The Meromorph]

Pieces,
I venture nobody here thought your rant was demented. My thought was, "Oh Yeah, she nailed that one (as usual)."   
I suspect anyone who's ever filled out a single job application agreed...

[Sibling Chatty]

To avoid these issues, I recommend taking one's former boss to one's new place of employment so that a reference is close at hand at all times

::Chatty goes to find a shovel and wonders if she should take the whole box, or will just the little one with the ashes do??::

Pieces,

Rant on. You nailed it. It's insane. HR departments are being paranoid for the sake of looking good if Homeland Security comes to call. It's gross insanity of the most asinine kind. But then, consider WHY we've got Homeland Security to deal with. The Neocons WANT everybody to be scared. This sort of garbage is part of the fallout.

[pieces o nine]

I don't think it's all Homeland Hysteria.

I had a boss during the boom years of the 80s who began my first eval-as-a-manager by announcing, "Good artists don't make good employees, and good employees don't make good artists." He had already decided that I could never be a 'good' employee, no matter what I did, based on impressions of...whom? when? where? why? If he had been able to ask the kinds of questions these forms do, and keep the info in an easily accessible database, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

He was followed by a woman who randomly picked staff -- no one was exempt -- and 'tested' them by sabotaging their files or even their macs on a lunch break or vacation. This was to 'test' how long it took them to realize there was a problem and come crawling to her for help. Luckily, I knew enough about the OS then to quickly determine what she did and fix it myself. Just before going home I handed in the assignment, casually remarking that the mac had been acting up after lunch. Added that I immediately realized it was [clumsy sabotage du jour] and restored the preferences, so she wouldn't need to call a technician. She liked me. Not.  She would also have loved  to digitally interrogate people.

Boss in the 90s did everything in his power to eliminate creative services from the company's repertoire (e.g.: the one perk of my job) who reacted to fulsome praise of my work by a major client by telling me, "My kid could do that." Nota bene,  his kids were in early elementary school. He was the reincarnation of Torquemada when grilling employees. Not only did they need to answer questions, they needed to phrase the answer in his preconceived wording to be released.

Last boss was one of the good ones. Loved her staff. Handed out praise, opportunity, encouragement, and credit liberally. We loved her and gave that elusive 110% in return. Naturally, she had to go and be replaced by -- I kid you not -- an accountant. Enough said.

The Department of Homeland Hysteria Department and requiring lifetime-documentation that I have not snuck illegally across the border from my ancestral homeland in CymruSlovakia is a convenient excuse, but not the origin of this plague.

*** NEWS FLASH *** NEWS FLASH *** NEWS FLASH *** NEWS FLASH ***

Interview tomorrow afternoon. Gives me time to angst over my portfolio today and light candles to whoever is inclined to hear and grant intercessory prayer....

[Sibling Chatty]

Will light my zebra candles in covenant with you for whomever.

Da Zebra candles have Da Power, ya know...

[Aggie]

I'll lend you my Good Sweet Interview Charm.  I don't need it in the next little while.... 

[Darlica]

Good luck and tonnes of vibes!

[Scriblerus the Philosophe]

'Luck, love!

I've only had this issue once--A lady I used to volunteer for has left the museum, and I have _no_ idea how to get a hold of her. But I may just drop that particular thing.

And amen, I say to you, amen.

[pieces o nine]

Thanks, all. I pulled out all the stops: touched up my roots (!); washed the car; reworked my portfolio based on what info I could glean from their website; double-checked the MapQuest instructions and cast my peepers over "aerial image" to get a feel for what the building might look like; donned the full corporate interview drag...

I had *no* nervousness preparing for interview, driving there, or during the completely unstructured appointment itself. I took that as a very good sign, as I normally have a pretty good case of nerves going by the time the receptionist bot smiles and intones, "Mr./Ms X will see you now..."

I have little memory of what I said as my 'other personality' --[just kidding]-- the one that takes over in appalling situations, was fielding the *few* questions they coughed up, and filling in the slow spots with questions of her own...

However when I returned home again, I felt deeply nauseous. I still do. I really hate this...