Job Search

    Job hunting online is proving to be considerably more entertaining that I remembered it being.

    While, sadly, the keywords "prophet of doom" yield no results; "man of leisure" kicks out a Java Technical Lead-Core Frameworks job in Chicago.

    There are nine postings that you get through the keyword "ninja" – one with the seemingly euphemistic title of Security Response Engineer. That's what the industry is calling relentless killing machines these days.
    Speaking of euphemistic titles, "pimp daddy" gets several Human Resource Administrator gigs and one hit for, my favorite new term for a pimp, a Usability Specialist.

    Interestingly, a search for "your new God" produces several hits for employment with the US Navy. One of which, oddly, is based out of desert-bound Las Vegas. Seems as if our new God can be found on a gunboat patrolling the waters of the Bellagio.

    The job title I currently have – at least, the job title I tell people I currently have – produces nearly twenty pages of hits. Who knew that many companies were searching for a new "Dark Prince of Love"? I'm troubled, however, by how many of these postings specify that applicants "must love dogs." Just what sort of Dark Prince of Love do they take me for? I'm out of work soon, but I ain't desperate. Yet.

    Despite corporate mottos and consumer partisanship to the contrary, a majority of the "evil genius" gigs I could find were at Apple and Google.

    On a somewhat disturbing note, "serial killer" gets you a registered nurse gig.

    A direct marketing firm in Boston is apparently looking for a "giant robot" to fill an assistant marketing manager's position. They're paying up to $80K if you’re the right giant robot for the job.

    Surprisingly, not a single employer is looking for a "big jerk." This completely torpedoes a personal theory of mine about how corporate American recruit talent at the top.

Bad Penny

    Bad Penny, my new boss – at least, I think she's new, though, to be fair, since I wasn't informed when she took on the task of being my fearless leader, she may very well have been my boss for years before I was made aware of the fact – was finally in the office yesterday.
    At least, that's what I'm told. I didn't see her.
    I'm beginning to think she was made up in some surreal gambit to get me to resign. Perhaps Toto has some crony waiting in the wings to snag my gig.
    They're welcome to it.

Skull

    Across the street from where I take my smoke breaks, some ambitious graffiti artist executed a piece nearly a story tall: a skull talking into a cell phone. Its boney hand holds the flip-top model to where, if it had flesh, its left ear would be. Despite having black sockets where its eyes would be, it still somehow captures that not really looking at anything gaze cell phone users get. I'm not sure if it is supposed to be some protest against cell phones, a warning about EMFs (a threat now completely dismissed by researchers in the fields of communication tech and corporate posterior encasing), or just some image some guy thought was cool. Skulls are, after all, in. Rare is the day when I don't end up on the elevator with some woman with a skull silk-screened on to her SoHo-grade blouse. A symptom of post-you-know-when cultural anxieties? A sign of the broad support pirates have in our Eastern cities? Who knows?

Disappointment

    Bad news for fans of Steven Seagal and/or circumcision. I got a response from the Steven Seagal Fan Club – believe it or not, there is such an institution. This was all the nameless Seagal apparatchiks behind the organization would say:

Regrettably Mr. Seagal is unavailable to answer his fan mail; however your email is greatly appreciated. Please visit Mr. Seagal’s official website, www.stevenseagal.com. Thank you for your support, enjoy the music.

    I know I promised to post the full email and response together if anybody ever actually responded. But this is such a lame response that I think we'll skip it. That Kool and the Gang with you? Good. I knew it would be. That's why you're such a solid gone cat. Thanks for understanding.