Last week at the career college, I noticed I was engaging in many last times—activities I will do at work for the last time and never do again. Like discussing chapters from the Business Management textbook with the two Human Resources Management classes. Never have to do that again. (Maybe there is a god!) Printing reviews and finals for all the computer applications classes. One last time, never again. Writing a final for a new class I'd never taught before and never have to teach again. (I found myself thinking as I wrote and formatted the test, Why bother doing a good job? Who will know? Who will care?)
Ah, the slippery slope to slovenly behavior.
Besides, it won't matter what I look like, because in two weeks I intend to retire to my cave and never see anyone in person again. I call it self-employment. If I do it right, I can work in my pajamas for the next fifteen years. I'll have my groceries delivered. I'll put aluminum foil on my windows and an antenna on the roof. I'll sneak out in the dark of night to empty my trash and recycling. I'll contribute to blogs about conspiracy theories.
Speaking of conspiracy theories, (kiddding!) last night I went to a Portland State University alumni/student event at Bridgeport Brewery. It was a presentation by a local recruiter on how to stop sucking at your job search. Her name was Jenny Foss. Job Jenny. She's an attractive, petite woman with an annoying habit of speaking too close to the microphone. She talked for an hour to a packed room about using Linked In to network. Puh, puh... I wanted to rush over and smack her with the mic. Her PowerPoint slides were sparse: black text on a white background, no animation, nothing to keep my attention. I got bored watching her mundane slide show, so I wrote a lot in my journal. I didn't learn anything new, although I came away with copious notes and a few drawings. (One little moment of self-satisfaction: Everything I have told my Professional Development classes over the years aligned very well with Job Jenny's advice.)
Finally she opened up the show to Q&As, and things got more interesting (to me). The second question was from a man who said he was 56 and having a hard time getting a job. I sat up in my chair, trying to get a look at him across the dimly lit room. Did he look old? Do I look as old as he does? Job Jenny said something I didn't want to hear. She said, “You might consider cutting your hair and investing in a new pair of glasses. And dressing younger.” Ahhhhhhhhh!
Hey, Job Jenny gets $1,000 to write a resume, according to one of my tablemates. She must be doing something right.
Well, at least that guy doesn't have to worry about concealing his figure flaws.
I remember reading an article about an older guy's job hunt. He was having no luck, getting interviews but no offers, until finally in desperation he went to an interview wearing red Converse sneakers and a baseball cap. He got the job. Hmmm. Maybe I should try that. Or maybe I should try charging $1,000 for writing resumes. I could live on that.
