Abstract: In this blog entry I attempt a new approach to the job search.
Dear (insert job title) Search Committee:
I meet all the requirements for this job. In fact, I have more education than is needed. I have all the software skills, all the experience working students. I meet ALL the requirements. But you never call me, you bastard! I’ve been to three human resources officers, I’ve passed my cover letters and CV’s around three academic departments. I’ve listened to advise from people who have sat on hiring committees from Louisiana to California to Maine. They all say they’d hire me, or at least interview me.
But you don’t. No, 17 different times I’ve rolled the fu*king dice on your institution and come up empty. What did I ever do to you? Or didn’t I ever do to you? I sit around nights now eating cups of yogurt that have past their expiration. I can’t afford new yogurt, all my cards are maxed out. I plop each new spoonful of potentially deadly delight into my mouth staring at Court TV. Imaging ways to kill you…or myself. Am I the wrong sex? If I had tits could I get an interview? That doesn’t make sense, my wife can’t get one either.
Maybe we’re the wrong color? Wrong age? Supposedly that sh*t doesn’t make it to the committees attention… besides I started marking “decline to answer” on that months ago…Maybe we use the wrong type of paper…one professor told me he throws away applicants packets if they use “ivory” instead of white. Did you date a guy who graduated from our same school who used to fart in bed? That’s it… isn’t it. Some flagellant bastard ruins your erection and now I’m unemployed. Fu%ker!
You see the truth is, I don’t want to work for you either. But at this point I don’t have enough money to finance trips to the interviews that I have been getting in other cities so we’re stuck together. If you wanna get rid of me you’re gonna have to hire my as# so I can save up enough money to quit. How’s that! You like that! A friend of mine wrote a cover letter for me in which he claimed my mother was retarded and my father was illiterate. He said “academics love a hard-luck story makes’em feel all liberal”. He swears he wrote the same letter and it brought to an end an 18 month job search.
My mother isn’t retarded, just a bitch who pushed me to get all these useless degrees. I’d like to thank her now. She worked hard in life so her son could go nowhere. Do you want my mother to have to live with that you pigf*ck? I guess you don’t care. I guess you’re perfectly happy to keep advertising jobs, collecting applications from people who meet all the requirements and then “closing the position”. You disgust me, I hope one of your assistants gets lock-jaw and bites your d*ck off during one of your “HR Meetings”
If you have any questions or comments about my application, I’d be happy to address them.
Sincerely,
Sebastian Wolfe, Ph.D.
