Shortly before taking the single sentence leap into unemployment, I was still pretending to drink the Kool-Aid and help my asshole boss “build the business.” This involved replenishing our dwindling supply of employees because everyone we hired had unreasonable expectations like being treated with dignity and respect.
We originally used a recruiter—she charged $1k a hire and was really good at digging up desperate new Denverites who were willing to surrender their soul in order to survive the increased cost of living. That’s where he found me and that’s how we hired our next three employees. Who all quit.
Despite my loathing, I decided I could save him the $1K and post a job description myself:
“Startup environment” = We just moved out of his house and he’s going to ask you to do things like assemble Ikea furniture in our new office.
“Get in on the ground floor” = You will literally be ground into the floor.
“Opportunity for advancement” = As in you will advance yourself right out of here within at least 6 weeks unless you have deep-seated issues like me and like staying in bad situations long past the point of denial.
“Work smarter, not harder” = Do you mind if your boss calls at 9PM on a Wednesday because he can’t find the almond milk in his fridge?
We had dozens of applicants so I did what everyone does when faced with a stack of resumes: I stalked them on the interwebnets:
Sorority girl limp arm pose in your profile picture? ELIMINATED
Comment that includes “u r” or “your the best?” ELIMINATED
You’re an R+F consultant who posts about it 19 times a day? ELIMINATED
But then I recognized a name and this is why you guys should never doubt my love for you– because I see you and I know you and I will never forget even if you only commented one time a few months ago.
I did some checking, and it was true: One of you (the fantastically smart and sexy readers of this blog) applied to work at my old job.
There are so many reasons why this could not be allowed to happen:
- I’m an embedded journalist reporting from the front lines, I can’t have my cover blown.
- I actually pretend to be a professional human between the hours of 8AM and 5PM and this would be disorienting for everyone involved.
- I’VE BEEN EXTENSIVELY DOCUMENTING HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE MY BOSS IS FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS.
Then again there are so many reasons why this would be amazing:
- You could snap a photo of me flipping him off behind his back.
- You’d help me with the tough decisions, like which is a better headline: Our Boss is a Dick or Our Boss is a Bag of Dicks?
- YOU COULD HAVE HELPED ME FIGURE OUT HOW TO TAKE A SCREENSHOT WHEN HE LEFT HIS EMAIL OPEN BECAUSE OMG THERE WAS SO MUCH GOOD STUFF IN THERE.
In the end, my higher self won and I threw their (your) resume in the shred bin. I felt a little bad knowing there was someone out there who went to the trouble of writing a cover letter only to have it cast aside due to their impeccable taste in online reading material.
Then again, it was also an incredible act of selfless compassion. Can you imagine showing up for a job interview and being greeted by Aussa Lorens in a pantsuit? That just sounds horrifying. I would never do that to you.
Want to keep in touch? Find me on Facebook.