What’s All This Then!

This is a follow-up to my last post about when I innocently let slip to my boss that I’ve been sending out my resume.

“There must be cameras and microphones in this office,” my boss told me today as I sat down across from him. Great! There’s nothing like that sort of comforting tidbit when you’re about to have a confidential conversation with your employer. He then told me about his previous day’s conversation with the company’s president. “I was just about to talk to him about you when he asked how you were doing.” My boss then informed me that the president was flying in next week and wanted to have a meeting with me. “Be prepared to handle A LOT of questions,” my supervisor knowingly advised me. He then talked about people who find it easy to complain about other people’s jobs while being clueless about the job itself. Apparently, a few of those busybodies have mentioned to the president that they don’t understand why I am so busy, and why I don’t delegate more. So, according to these people, it’s not that I’m not doing my job, it’s that I’m keeping too much of my fun-filled, adventurous roles to myself.

Later on, I checked my voice mail’s for the first time that day. Thank goodness I did. The company’s president had left a message at 6:30 the previous evening. He was letting me know that he would be in town on Wednesday and wanted to talk to me as soon as he got into the plant. Then he asked for me to call him as soon as I got a chance. Hmmmmm … I’ve gone from begin a unknown cog in the corporate wheel to full center-stage attention. That can’t be a good thing, can it? I began to shake a little.

Ever had those nightmares where you’re terrifyingly stuck in one position and can’t move? The fear of saying something stupid over the phone to my ultimate superior paralyzed me like that for the next several minutes. This was followed by several more paralyzing minutes as I consider what would happen if I didn’t return his call. So I picked up the phone. And put it down. And picked it up again. Had the receiver been heavier, I could have gotten a great workout. Otherwise, these phone curls did nothing as I fought this type of dread usually reserved for trips to the principal’s office and irs audits. Finally, I took a deep breath, dialed his number and exhaled with sweet relief when I got his voicemail. After leaving a quick message of thanks and “looking forward to your visit”, I hightailed it for home. To quote one of the great lines from a Monty Python movie, “Runaway! Runaway! Runaway!”

So the saga continues. I will spend this weekend writing down every single task that I do at work. I’ll rehearse every good reason why I’ve earned a pay raise. And then as a backup, I will practice my best pouty face for that polite rejection that is sure to come.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” my boss had said earlier with a sarcastic smile, “but you got an audience with the Pope. Whether you kiss his ring or not is up to you.” This should prove to be an interesting meeting. I wonder if interviewing for a new job would be easier…

It is amazing how our lives are ruled by pieces of paper — newspapers, lottery tickets, toilet paper (especially when it’s not available). Ok, forget the toilet paper. It’s really about the writings on those other forms of compressed tree pulp that often make or break our dreams. For me, the time has come to update that boastful piece of paper known as a resume.

When written just so, a resume doesn’t really do anything except to show that you can almost walk on water. To the potential employer, your resume is read as their chance of finding that perfect employee who does everything for a salary of nothing. If you’re lucky, that new boss might help you fulfill your dreams as well. But you have a better chance touching your fantasy with that lottery ticket than with your resume in most cases.

As I researched how to “walk on water” in the job market without resorting to ice, I came across an important tip. Remember in the story “Logan’s Run”, where society would reward anyone who reached the age of 30 with a spectacular death? In the today’s market, it seems you are rewarded with a type of employment death upon reaching the 45 year mark. (Although that death is more prolonged than spectacular.) So I’ve begun to rewrite my past by removing dates. It’s like lying through the sin of omission. Kind of like filling out a dating profile by failing to mention the hump on your back or by implying that you look a little like Brad Pitt. A “little like” meaning that you have eyes, nose and a mouth but they’re not necessarily of correct shape or in their proper place. Of course, your date, or prospective employer in this case, won’t know until that fateful face-to-face meeting.

Right now, all I need to do is get front of my new, wonderful, soon-to-be boss and sell how great I am at making him or her rich. Did I mention that sales isn’t in my skill set? No matter. This is an election season. There is plenty of material on television to show me how to B.S. my way into high paying, do-nothing jobs. “If you don’t hire me, the terrorists have won.”

Maybe it would be easier to get the government to bail me out. After all, the economy is depending upon me and my money!