Disturbed, Jobless, and Possibly a Witness

Pardon me while I vent.. feel free to scroll past this entry to much more introspective and entertaining content below.

In an effort to prove to the world (but mostly my parents) that I am seriously looking for full-time employment, I decided to visit one of Birmingham's... er.. finest recruitment firms today. What could it hurt, right? Given, the job that will satisfy my twisted mind will probably not fall under such neat and tidy titles as "Administrative Assistant" or "Payroll Specialist," but I have the experience and I figured I'd give it a shot.

When I spoke with my recruiter (and I use that term loosely) last week, it was obvious that spent much of the 60s-90s with a Virginia Slim permanently attached to her lips and she must have had some hearing issues because she talked suuuuper loud. She was a little off-center, but so am I. This could work, right? Right!?!

Wrong.

As I waited in the lobby for her to call my name, I could hear her raspy voice from the office area. I assumed that her office must be right next to the lobby because I could hear her so clearly. Nah. Once she finished her phone calls she led me to the very last cubicle in the very back corner of the building, closest to the president's office. I'm guessing they put her there for a reason. Kinda like the kid that talks too much in elementary school.

While we spent very little time discussing what I'd like to do, what area I would like to work in, or if I would rather have kept my @#%$! in the bed on this cold, rainy day than drive up the road and listen to this nut talk nonsense about..sorry. Let's continue.

Here's a little peek into the tail end of our discussion..

Me: Well, after I graduated from Auburn I worked with children with severe autism and mental retardation and while it was tough, I really liked--

Recruiter: Hon' let me tell ya. I worked for the state vocational system for 3 dadgum years and I had to let that job go. My boss told me I had a bad attitude and I told him he may just be right.

Me: Yeah, well, you definitely have to have a certain mindset to work with people with disabilities, but--

Recruiter: Well I had to go into some BAAAAD places, I mean BA-A-A-A-A-D. I told my boss I was gonna have to get a gun if he wanted me to go back to one house and he told me no. Can you believe it? He said I wasn't allowed to have a weapon.

****At this point, I'm looking around to see if anybody is paying attention. There is no one nearby and luckily the ice machine is making enough noise to drown out some of our conversation. I am also, at this point --very obviously-- packing my stuff up and considering jingling my keys in case she didn't pick up on my cues.****

Recruiter (continues): So you know what I did? I got me a baseball bat. A bat ain't a weapon...

Me: Well, it kinnnnnda is--

Recruiter:.. but it became a weapon. Especially after I swung it. I believe the folks in the neighborhood were testing me to see if I was all big and bad like I was actin'.. carryin' around a baseball bat. But I swung it. Sure did.

Me (standing up and talking loudly for no apparent reason): Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do- but thank you for your time! I can't wait to hear from you! Thanks again! Have a good one!

Recruiter: Okay then, hon. I'll see what I can do and I'll be in touch.

I think I'd have better luck asking my 2 year old niece's Bumblebee classroom to help me find a job on Sesame Street.

Ugh.. the job saga continues...