Another Interview
And, another interview. This one is tomorrow. I've been psyching myself up for it, getting into the corporate mood, researching my next kill, and outlining my related achievements -- not really. I'll be off the cuff, as usual, and try to be friendly and capable. Place seems stable, I guess. Interviews have done almost nothing but waste my time and energy.
Before I sent in another job application at my last contract, I bitched them out -- that was my cover-letter. I complained about their hiring practices, and they told me to come in the next Tuesday. Talk about strange methods. But, I'm getting pissed -- most jobs@some.com are usually a black hole, where no communication can escape. There's no response to most of those email addresses, and no phone numbers.
Recruiters also piss me off. Here's some fucktard behind a desk, with a phone, calling up unemployed geeks, trying to get them all excited about their particular agency. I'll bet that for every nerd, there's a nerd wrangler wishing s/he could place him.
There's the usual high-turnover sweatshop/proving-ground, for which I am unsuited -- they wouldn't touch me with a 10-foot pole, for fear I might tell them how fucked up their environment is. Maybe that's the issue, my speaking my mind. Odd thing, tho, when I don't I still find myself right here behind my ViewSonic, a score from another failed dotcom.
But, I got my suit ready, and have a shirt that I will iron tomorrow morning beforehand. I'll grab my usual trinkets, print out the directions, the email, my resume. I'll happily hop in my Subaru, throw on the shades, and motor off to what I hope will be my next cubicle.
Before I sent in another job application at my last contract, I bitched them out -- that was my cover-letter. I complained about their hiring practices, and they told me to come in the next Tuesday. Talk about strange methods. But, I'm getting pissed -- most jobs@some.com are usually a black hole, where no communication can escape. There's no response to most of those email addresses, and no phone numbers.
Recruiters also piss me off. Here's some fucktard behind a desk, with a phone, calling up unemployed geeks, trying to get them all excited about their particular agency. I'll bet that for every nerd, there's a nerd wrangler wishing s/he could place him.
There's the usual high-turnover sweatshop/proving-ground, for which I am unsuited -- they wouldn't touch me with a 10-foot pole, for fear I might tell them how fucked up their environment is. Maybe that's the issue, my speaking my mind. Odd thing, tho, when I don't I still find myself right here behind my ViewSonic, a score from another failed dotcom.
But, I got my suit ready, and have a shirt that I will iron tomorrow morning beforehand. I'll grab my usual trinkets, print out the directions, the email, my resume. I'll happily hop in my Subaru, throw on the shades, and motor off to what I hope will be my next cubicle.