Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck Part 10

I would really prefer not going into details, but lets jut say that last night I suffered a self-esteem blow akin to a pat on the head and a reassuring "Oh you poor dear" speech. I applied for a job - a job that I really wanted...that seemed the perfect fit and opportunity to get out of the hell-hole job I have and into something "career" like. When I saw the advert for it online my stomach started fluttering. THIS IS IT, I thought. I carefully crafted a cover letter, gathered some of my best writing samples and gave my resume one last polish before sending it all off in a dizzy email.

The savage job hunt, that strikes yours truly at least once or twice a month was spurned by two things:
1. I was ambushed by a boss of a boss about possibly being interested in another position at the library. I just stood there, mouth open and defensive, "uh...uh..well...uh." To which, the boss responded, "Oh, it's okay, I can understand if you want to 'better yourself.'"
"BETTER" myself? Okay, it's one thing to be stuck in a dead end job with crappy pay, but it's quite entirely another for someone to act like that's just the kind of job you deserve.
2. My college loan payment went up again, unannounced; removing 200 extra dollars from the Medley bank account without warning...leaving said Medleys 50, make that 70 bucks in the hole. There's nothing quite like hating your full time job AND on top of it still having to worry about paying the bills. (And to that end...no pressure...but, I've added the Make a Donation! Button back to my sidebar).

So, it was in that frame of mind that I found, what I thought would be...the perfect job. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that I found this job...available on this day of all days. Could it?

At 9pm I checked my email and found this:

Hi, Tracy,

Thank you for your interest in working at *** *******.

You have some interesting experience. Unfortunately, not much of it
is in *****.

We are looking for someone with significant experience as a ******
******* for a ***** *********. Therefore, I must reject your
application.



Interesting experience? Under normal circumstances I would take that as a compliment, but in this case it was humiliating, horrid and hateful. Goddamn my interesting life. Fuck it. Fuck it in the ass! At 32 "interesting" means "sorry kid, maybe you shouldn't have changed your major three times. But, don't worry...we'll find some talentless little butt-kisser with all the right credentials to do this job."

It would have been better had he not responded at all. At least then I could have pretended that my application just got buried in some pile of Harvard grads.

*Update: In the end I realized that I don't even want that stupid job. I just want some job, any job to:
1. Pay me what I'm worth.
2. Respect me.
3. In some way utilize my talent. (I know, there are so many to choose from)
4. Give me weekends and holidays off.
5. Have decent insurance.
6. Be interesting...just like me.