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Opinion AberRant
 Job Hunt
I am still looking for a job, so every Sunday I go through the classifieds in The Oregonian. I am told that such a strategy is one of the ways to find a job—correction, to get hired for a job, which is actually the end goal. Well, early and wealthy retirement is the real end goal, unless your personal goal is 60 or 70 virgins in heaven, but you know what I mean.
In the local paper, jobs are listed two ways. First, there is a long catalogue of jobs, “Employment, General,” where job announcements are arranged in alphabetical order. Then, there are sections for job categories, such as “Computer, High Technology,” which makes it easy for the job seeker to skip pages at a time. God, I love knowing exactly what my qualifications are not! “Finance and Insurance,” I ignore you! I do this just as particularly as you would ignore me, were I so foolish as to apply for a job in one of your fields. I turn my nose up at “Health Care, Social Services,” for I know that although these are worthy professions, they are only available to MDs and related highly-paid professionals, as well as to RNs, MSWs, and other such poorly-paid-but-highly-skilled professionals. I always pause, hopefully, at “Hospitality, Food, Entertainment,” because of that childhood fantasy of becoming the next Lily Tomlin. In practice, however, I end up skipping this section because the only entertainers wanted must be uninhibited, young, firm, female, and limber. I am only two of these. The one you might not have guessed is “uninhibited,” or, come to think of it, “female,” and yes, I would like you to shut up now.
I always begin my search in “Employment, General.” It goes something like this. Activism—first, may I say, “Only in Oregon,” followed by “crap pay.” Airline—I’m past all flight-attendant delusions, thanks. Apartment Manager—HA HA HA HA. Appliance, Assembly, Automotive—no, no, and no. Bartending, Biotech, Brickmason—not qualified, don’t want to be. Buyer—hmmm, I’d be good at that. I’m good at buying things. But check the job description, because there are often hidden messages in the details: “…material analysis and forecasts…emphasis on cost effective solutions meeting deadlines...” See what I mean? It was a trick! Thank God I caught on, and by the way, thanks for raining on that parade. Moving on: Cabinet Maker, Carpenter, Carpet Layer, Cashier, Child Care, Construction, Corrections, Customer Service—jeez, each of these is a dream come true. I simply can’t decide; will check back if nothing else materializes. Next!
Delivery, Driver—these are actually two that I like. When I moved to Salt Lake, back when you were undergoing fetal development and so was I, sort of, my first job was as a secretary in the parts department of an automobile dealership. After only a day or two on the job and not many more in the town, I was given a special job. The shuttle driver for the service department was absent, and they needed a driver to take four customers to their destinations. When I was given this assignment, I protested to the service manager that I didn’t know my way around town. He assured me that the customers could tell me how to get wherever I needed to go, so off I went, driving the Volkswagen Intermountain shuttle van. It might have been an odd day, but my passengers requested drop-offs at these locations: the airport, the University of Utah, West Valley and Snowbird. I told them that I didn’t know my way around, so they decided among themselves the best order for our route and guided me along. Salt Lake was even bigger and more bewildering than I had realized. It took a hell of a long time to get to the airport. The University was confusing and so was West Valley. I was glad the customers could give me directions. The guy who wanted to go to Snowbird was in no hurry, so he volunteered to be last. It was an incredibly beautiful autumn day. The sun was shining through the brilliantly colored leaves and the canyon air was brisk and life affirming. And of course, on the way down the canyon and all the way back to the dealership, I was able to play the incredibly cool music that one can only find on groovy radio stations in a big, scary city like Salt Lake. We had nothing like this in Idaho Falls, and it was a wonderful time. I was eighteen years old and thin, living on my own in a hip new town long before the days of drug testing. This was an excellent job, truly a brilliant gig, and one that I could happily do for years. When I got back to the VW dealership late that afternoon, the service manager was in such a rage he was close to eating his own head. I’d been gone too long; I shouldn’t have gone to such remote places, blah blah blah. But I knew that I had warned him of my limitations. I had done exactly what he instructed, and it had been a damn fine day.
Wow, I’m always so surprised when I have rich, clear memories like that. Most of them are fuzzy and fleeting, if not absent altogether. I apologize for the digression. I will report further on my job hunt, but at a future time. Right now, I’ve just landed in a hip new town, and according to the classifieds, someone needs an experienced shuttle driver.
Laurie Mecham used to Be Somebody back in Salt Lake City, Utah.
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