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| Thursday, January 27, 2005 08:28 AM |
| You want fries with that? |
| by poppy |
One of the joys of being underemployed and overeducated is job hunting. I almost forgot what a painful process it was, seeing as I've been living off the government for the last year and a half. I'm facing several challenges this time around: I've gotten snotty about salary; my cover letters are starting to sound like form letters (this is the first time I've ever been looking at jobs in one field); there are very few jobs within reasonable distance in the areas I'm interested in (I was lured into this job under false pretenses. I was led to believe many more public librarians would be dying off than actually are. I've become a carrion bird); and I'm getting picky about my working conditions.
I was just on an interview today, and it was only the second time that I have decided within 5 minutes that I would under no circumstances ever take the job. The first time the guy asked me if I was a dyke. This time, I just got the sense that I would not only get no support from my betters, but that I just may come to bodily harm. The would-be boss was very vague in his questioning, to the point of ridiculousness. One question was, what would you do if there was a conflict with a co-worker. What does that mean? The type of conflict really affects the answer; do you mean a personal issue, or something related to job performance, I ask. Yes, he replies. Um, okay. So I carefully pick my way through that minefield, going over three scenarios I thought may arise. He nods his head wisely. So, he aks, what would you do if a co-worker was attacking you? Um, personally or physically (I said this half-joking). Yes. Well, I don't think that is something I should be dealing with. Next question: How would you handle an ongoing conflict with a co-worker? This was followed, too quickly, by, not that this is going to happen. Yeah, right. Another set of three questions involved how I would handle rowdy teenagers. Well, that's easy. I guess my answer was too touchy feely, because the guy looks at me and says, we have a security officer, and he will be with you if you need to approach anyone. What kind of teens are you breeding down here? Apparently the kind I used to work with... when I was behind bullet proof glass.
So much for that. Back to the drawing board. |
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