B-A-D S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G, bad spelling
So Dad wants me to sit down with him and help him with his resumé for this job he's applying for down in Alabama. Yeah. Down there. He had a good job opportunity that he could have applied for around here, that he actually had a connection for and could have gotten easily, but he pissed that away in favor of this job at a flooring factory down south.
What kills me even more is looking over the changes he made to his resumé.
*sigh*
You know, I hate to sound conceited about it, but I have to keep reminding myself that not everyone is as smart as I am. But the spelling errors...oh, the spelling errors!
I read Baby-Sitters' Club books, and after I read one of Claudia's notebook entries, I cringe and think, "Wow, is anyone's spelling really this bad? Are the ghostwriters' just exaggerating this?" Then I sit down and read something my dad has written.
I love my dad, but let's just put it this way. It's hard to believe that I'm his child sometimes.
What kills me even more is looking over the changes he made to his resumé.
*sigh*
You know, I hate to sound conceited about it, but I have to keep reminding myself that not everyone is as smart as I am. But the spelling errors...oh, the spelling errors!
I read Baby-Sitters' Club books, and after I read one of Claudia's notebook entries, I cringe and think, "Wow, is anyone's spelling really this bad? Are the ghostwriters' just exaggerating this?" Then I sit down and read something my dad has written.
I love my dad, but let's just put it this way. It's hard to believe that I'm his child sometimes.