Learning about job interviews

A few weeks ago I received my actual orders for retirement – all on paper and formalizing that it will actually happen. And, as I’ve mentioned previously in this space, that I joined the Air Force for pizza, I suppose this is as good a time as any to let you in on what that’s all about. Back in April of 1986 I was sitting at home wondering just what it was I was going to do with myself after high school graduation that June. I’d been accepted to a couple colleges but had no discernible cash and a “misspent” high school career carrying three sports, a job, a great circle of friends and a social life. All of that, of course, left me precious little time to notice – or care – of my top half standing (generously) amongst my peers.

 Anyway, I’m sitting at home and the phone rings. It turns out that Eric – you’ve read about Eric here before - well, he had already signed up to join and I guess he gave my number to the recruiter - Kermit (I swear).

Now, Kermit had a good line of patter and it went something like this: “Look, come on down and you can take a test and have some pizza – I’m buying.” Hmm… free food... well, as I had nothing better to do, I went for the pizza. I took his test and before I knew it he was calling me back telling me I qualified for any enlisted job in the Air Force and I scored especially high on the electronics and mechanical sections of the test.

Even at 17, to say I was stunned would be a gross understatement. The U.S. government would, if I requested it, train me to be a mechanic or an electrician. In fact, Kermit made a concerted effort to get me to do just that.

Let me remind you I once actually grabbed two live connections while showing Shadow “not” to do that very thing. So, you can understand how the idea of me working with machinery or electronics is foolhardy at the very best. The idea of me working on jet engines or weapons of varying volatility, was patently absurd.

Still, I had limited options and continuing to work at the grocery store was not high on the list. So, in essence, I signed up for pizza, despite my friend Mike’s insistence I should join the Army with him.

Mike made a seductive pitch – the Army was only 2 years while the Air Force was 4 and there was more college money involved. But I just couldn’t shake the fact he was asking me to join the Army – and to drive a TANK. If there could be conceived anything more foolish than me working with electronics or mechanical apparati, it would be me at the controls of a 60-ton machine designed to reduce other machines to rubble by way of a disturbing amount of ordnance.

So, instead, I would be a journalist and do my 4 years. That was the plan. Not a day longer. And, after being assigned to Arizona and sitting there for a year desperately wanting to not be in Arizona, the Air Force offered me another assignment – two actually – but I’d need to stay in one more year.

Five years. That’s it. Not a day longer.

After four and a bit I was ready to go – the countdown was on. Then I met Shadow, got married and re-enlisted.

Ok, 8 years. That’s it. Not a …. well, let’s not be hasty.

So, here I sit (with the 29th being my 25th anniversary of service) and after pushing all the magic buttons I have paperwork in hand that will let me say, with some certainty, 25 years, 7 months and 3 days. That’s it. Not a day more.

And the real bummer is that the whole “putting in your retirement papers” process, which I had heard about, envied over, and dreamed of for years, was so utterly, hopelessly and unequivocally… boring.

I had figured that if it took stacks of forms to get into the service, it would surely take a ream of paper to get out and I planned to giggle my way through the entire stack. But alas, no. I answered three questions online. I pushed a ‘submit’ button and my request was magically whisked to my commander who had to call me to “confirm a couple things.”

He called and said, “So, I got your retirement request. Are you sure you want to do this?”

To which I replied, “You’re new aren’t you? I don’t think we’ve met.”

And that was it. A few weeks later I had a confirmed retirement date and now I only have 6 months left. The scary part, of course, is that I have only 6 months left.

Now, I have to go out into the “real” world and find a job. I’ve got to write resumes and do interviews and convince people that hiring me would be a good idea.
So I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time on the internet learning about interviews. I’m coming away from that experience feeling pretty darned good and here’s why: there are a lot of really, really stupid people in the world.

From reasonable and legitimate human resources websites I’ve found lists of things that interviewers hear from people who are seeking meaningful employment – people who I will now consider my competition.

The following are some of the responses employers have heard from job candidates:

- When asked about his experience as a branch manager, the applicant said: “I’m sorry, I didn’t read my resume before the interview.”

- May I have a cup of coffee? I think I may still be a little drunk from last night

- There’s the guy who forgot dark socks to wear with his suit and colored in his ankles with a black felt-tip marker.

- The genius who turned in a resume made of colored paper with glitter designs on the borders

- Hobbies: Getting drunk every night down by the water, playing guitar and smoking pot

- Achievements: Nominated for prom queen

- Skills: I can type without looking at the keyboard

- Reason for leaving: I thought the world was coming to an end.

- Experience: Have not yet been abducted by aliens.

- In what local areas do you prefer to work? Smoking.

- Reason for leaving last job: After saying, ‘it would be a blessing to be fired.’

- The person who asked to see the interviewer’s resume to see if they were qualified to judge

- The guy who wore a jogging suit to an interview as a financial vice president

- Asked if the interviewer would like some cocaine before starting

- Interrupted the interview to phone his therapist for advice on answering interview questions

What I have to do now is differentiate myself from the gaggles of coherent and sensible people out there looking for work. I need to position myself so that hiring managers will think of me first. I’ve got to make that impression that shows clearly, I am the person a company needs and I know how to use my skill and experience to get things done.

If you’re reading this and you’re an HR person – call me. I’ll buy you pizza.

White Elephants, Unicorns and Cupcake Snowmen

First, my apologies for anyone who actually reads this and is wondering what I’ve been up to for the last few weeks – I’ve been playing “Skyrim” mostly. If you give this game as a gift, only give it to people you don’t want to see much of.

Tonight we had one of those terrors of the modern age – the office Christmas party. Now, I don’t dislike these parties but I’m not what you’d call a “sparkly” or “bubbly” guy and people always seem to want to be more cheery at Christmas than is probably good for a person. The real problem, however, is that office parties all seem to have one common denominator … the white elephant gift exchange. This is generally bad. Well, it is for me, because I have the luck of a Saudi Arabian dradle maker.

And buying gifts for these things? Good grief, it’s as stressful as going to the doctor for your 40th birthday physical. Despite the fact the purchase limit is always absurdly low, you don’t want to be the guy who gives a glass jar of spaghetti. You want to get something that is one of two things: useful or funny. Funny is better. Useful and funny is kind of like winning at bingo – someone always seems to do it and it never seems to be you. So there’s a lot of time put into this silliness and you have to hope everyone else is as neurotic about it as you are or you’re just going to end up disappointed – again.

This year the stars aligned and 20 people aside from me were tilting toward neuroticism or were drunk while shopping. There was a shake weight (which is pretty funny if you’re not the one getting it), there was a KISS lava light (and really, what 40 year old wouldn’t want one?), there were magic 8 balls and Buddha incense burners and the obligatory bottle of booze. And when it came time for me to open my bag, I was thinking only this, “Smile and make the best of it…”

The box was about the size of a watch box and white, like the boxes those little statues of angels and stuff come in and it was that thought that was giving me palpitations. Porcelain statuary belongs on bedside tables at old folks’ homes – my apartment has enough aesthetic problems.

But as I opened the box I had a glimmer of hope, because it looked like someone had gotten me a can of Spam – which I thought was really funny in a “what-a-wonderfully-random-gift” kind of way. But it was better.



Product of Ireland!



Somewhere in China, at this very moment, there are small children being forced to work on an assembly line and crying the whole time because they are putting leg and head and body segments of a stuffed animal into a corned beef hash can labeled… ‘Unicorn Meat’.

That is, quite frankly, freaking awesome.

According to the can – which I’m willing to bet was designed by a room full of drunk dads of 5 year old girls – there is ‘magic in every bite’ and Unicorn Meat has 100% of the daily allowance of Magic, Hopes & Dreams, Smiles, Happiness, and Sunshine. And 200% of your daily intake of rainbows.

There’s even a helpful graph on the back of the can showing which cuts of the unicorn relate to which ingredients – obviously magic is from the horn and not surprisingly rainbows are from it’s backside.

I have half a mind to re-package it and send it to a co-worker’s daughter who is asking for all things unicorn for Christmas. Still, I think I may keep it, as the can says Unicorn Meat is “an excellent source of sparkles.”

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On a sort-of-related holiday note, last week I entered the world of competitive baking. Ok, I made some cupcakes which were judged along with a dozen other sets of cupcakes. I didn’t win, but our boss publicly stated he liked my display the best so I present it for you below.

Let the record show the triple layer red velvet cupcakes were made from scratch as was the butter cream icing. The hats were made from Oreos and marshmallows (painted black with edible 'paint') and everything on the display is entirely edible. The barricades are Toblerones.

In front center is the Police Snowman with his jar of pepper spray. To his right there is a protestor on his face, with his candy hands tied behind his back with red licorice. Chocolate liquor bottles are also in evidence.
I can't prove the voting was fixed, but I think I should have won.