Jobs: Us vs. Them vs. an Omelette

As with most jobs that involve wiping down urinals, mine is not ideal. Sure, we do what we have to do. I don’t consider myself above…pretty much any job, and I have the dossier to prove it. But obviously some jobs are more enjoyable than others, right? Well. Let me rephrase. Some jobs (I’m talking mostly entry level) make you want to stab yourself in the face less than others, and with less intensity. The factors are various and boring. Coworkers. Bosses. Hours. The work itself. Whether or not popcorn is provided for employees on a semi-weekly basis.

Anyway, my current job of being a custodian has reached its expiration date for a combination of factors, and I’d like to replace it with something else. My expectations aren’t high, really. The thing is, when you  HAVE a job, getting another job sounds easy. I always go into interviews thinking people will be so impressed with me? But then I look over at the girl with the Bachelor’s in Recreational Management applying for the same job selling insurance and my first thought is, why did she major in Recreational Management, because that sounds like the worst. But then my next thought is, why am I majoring in English Linguistics? And then I have this inner…dialogue (I wasn’t sure if I should say ‘monologue’ or ‘dialogue’, but it’s definitely more like a conversation, but really there’s only me) about how my major is at least interesting, but how there’s not a lot of money, and anyway the end result is that I feel sad about the job market and that (maybe you will understand)I don’t have a lot of so-called “useful” skills. From here, things start to get dicey.

Scenario one: phone call from company, setting up an interview.

Company: Hello, is this Mr. Blah blah?

Me: Well, this is blah blah, but I’m not a mister…

Company: Don’t interrupt. We are granting you the privilege to come meet with us and grovel for a job stapling fruit roll-ups to the faces of people we don’t like.

Me: Oh, yes, it’s so good to hear from you, when can I come in?

Company: Now.

Me: Now?

Company: Now.

Me: Well, I’m sort of busy, isn’t there another…



Lady with glasses: Tell me. What would you do if you saw a person stealing a stick of gum, but it was your mom’s twin sister whom you’ve never met, but have heard of, and you can tell it’s not your mom because of the mole on her left ear? Would you stop her?

Me: Well, if I were in that extremely specific scenario, I would…


Me: But you just asked me a question!

Lady: …

Me: …

Lady: Tell me three realistic solutions to eradicating war.

Me: That’s sort of a lot to ask, but my first solution is, uh…

Lady: Okay, let’s just cut to the chase. What are you willing to offer for this job?

Me: Well, I’m a hard worker, I can eat six doughnuts in under a minute, I have large hands, and I’ve worked in the body-part-stapling industry for over two years!

Lady: Cindy over there said she’d donate BOTH her kidneys if we gave her the job…

Me: She really shouldn’t do that, I’m pretty sure you need at least one…

Lady: …And that guy in the chair, Micheal, said that he would pay us $20.00/hr for the privilege of this position.

Me: I think that is sort of not how jobs work.

Lady: Just to be fair, you should know that you are competing against someone who has a Ph.D in Stapling.

Me: I don’t think that’s a real degree.

Lady: Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize you had a Ph.D in CALLING PEOPLE LIARS.

Me: That’s not what I meant!

Lady: Yeah right. You’re the liar. TO MY FACE! AND YOUR MOM’S TWIN’S GUM-STEALING FACE!

Me: This is getting a little personal and terrifying, but I will continue to pretend you are my best friend in the whole world in an attempt to salvage this interview.

Lady: I think that would be best.

Me: I guess I should go…so…when will I hear back about the job?

Lady: Six years to never.

Me: Thank you so much for your time!

Of course if you have skills that are in high demand, you don’t even need to go through this process. People will find you. To all you skeptics out there, it’s true. I’ve seen things. I know people. The Hubso is one such person. He has mad programming skills AND is a super hard worker, which is sort of a killer combo for employers. Job interviews for the skilled go something like this (IF there’s an interview at all):

Executive-something: So how did you hear about our company?

Interviewee/smart person: I didn’t, you just pulled me in from the street.

Executive-something: That’s right, and now you work for us.

Interviewee: I don’t think that’s true.

Executive-something: Yes-it-is-and-if-I-talk-fast-enough-you-will-agree-with-me.

Interviewee: …I already have a job.

Executive-something: We will match what they are paying you, and I will give you my first-born child.

Interviewee: Listen, I…

Executive-something: He’s very mild mannered and makes excellent omelettes! I WILL THROW IN A PONY FOR FREE.

Interviewee: I guess I’ll think about it.

Executive-something: We will call you every three seconds until you decide. And remember, we love you.

Interviewee: I’m sort of scared of you, but thanks!


In conclusion, life isn’t fair/I should finish college/my degree might not be helpful/who knows. I actually am fortunate to have a job at all, but I do wish I had a mild mannered first-born that made omelettes for me.

Just a P.S., as I sit here, Ian has received emails on two different accounts from a company in Salt Lake trying to hire him. He neither applied nor has any idea how they got his information. And it’s a real company, not those fake ones that email me on Craigslist. Case. In. Point.



“I love sloths. They have the weirdest hands ever.”

So I’m a married woman now, and that means living with a man, and it’s sort of weird. I’ve been adjusting to all sorts of things. Like his creepy toothbrush that looks like it hasn’t been replaced in six years, but it’s actually only about 60 days old. This leaves me wondering, sort of horrified, what he does to the toothbrush–what sort of abuse does he submit it to? And while I could just peek into the bathroom while he brushes, I’m too lazy, so it’s still a mystery.

Additionally, sometimes he does dishes with what he calls the “juice” (soap) and sings songs to himself while looking at videos of baby sloths. He wants to adopt one. As he was looking at sloth sanctuaries I heard him mumbling, “[My sloth] would do anything for me…he would do anything for me!”

I’m not exactly sure what that means. Is he referring to the loyalty he would develop with his sloth companion? Like drag you from a burning building kind of anything? Or is it more like “that sloth is going to do all my chores”? If that is the case, it seems misguided since sloths are notoriously slow…or maybe that is just a hurtful stereotype.

Anyway, the real point I am trying to get at is that marriage = new incidental discoveries. The other night I was setting the alarm on his iphone, and I discovered his list of past alarms. Now I guess on the iphone you can set a bajillion alarms? This is a discovery to me because my pawn shop phone allows only three of them and they work probably about 50% of the time, hence my using the alarm on his phone. Anyway, I discover this list of alarms. I have them transcribed, but I will synthesize the data and present it to you in several parts.

First of all there are a lot of alarms to call or text me. This, I admit, is pretty sweet. The times associated with them are the weird part, though.

The first one, “Do Call Marie”, is at 1:30 am. Sort of a strange time, but sometimes I can’t sleep so he sets alarms to text or call me (cue “awwwwwwww”). Then there is another alarm, for 6:35 am that demandingly says, “Call Marie!” This is fine, I guess. I am pretty sure this is when I was taking him to work/school because his car was broken, and I have a tendency to sleep through my alarms that only sometimes go off. But then at 7:00 am, another alarm is set, in a much more timid voice: “Maybe should call marie” He sounds whipped, chastised. How dare you talk about Marie in such an authoritative voice, a disembodied voice reprimanded him. How dare you wake her from her slumber.

There is also a category of alarms that seem more like items on a to-do list, and nothing to do with the time set. “7:40 am: Call Provo Electric! Get money order” It’s 7:40 in the morning, Ian/hubso. They will not answer your call. The fact that you coupled this with a different, unrelated errand AND the fact that you use money orders is all very suspicious and only lends credence to my point that your alarms are nothing but a bizarre farce. “Figure out game for kids”? At 8:01 am? It’s just so…exact. And also just…what?

The next few alarms worth noting I will just list:

10:00 am “Meetingo woth bosihop” (translation: Meeting with Bishop. I don’t know if the misspellings were on purpose or not, and that sort of upsets me. It’s like I don’t even know him)

11:18 am “Get the heck up! Do your paper work!” (Yes, Ian! Despite your past alarms that would’ve waken you up in the wee hours of the morning, and despite the fact that I know you’ve never slept past 10 am in your life, I am glad for the forceful language in this alarm.)

10:00 pm “going through things” (maybe you thought this was facebook, and you were updating your status about a menial activity…? It seems the only logical explanation)

I’ve been saving the best for last, though.

7:44 am “Get apple out of car”

What the crap. What the crap? So many things need to be discussed about this. First of all, what apple in what car? Was it your car? Was it someone else’s? Why was the apple there? Why was it so significant that the apple be removed? Normally you get in a car and are like, oh there’s an apple. I forgot about that thing. I’ll eat it or throw it away, or chuck it out the window at some innocent pedestrian. One does not make a plan to go get the apple out of the car. And if it was so important that it be removed, why didn’t he just go take it out when he made the alarm? I’m assuming it’s a car he has access to or he wouldn’t have taken upon himself the responsibility of purging the car of the apple’s existence. And what is the significance of 7:44 am? That’s such a specific and unhappy time! I have so many questions I’d like to ask him, but when I did he knew the answer the NONE OF THEM! He didn’t really remember setting the alarm.

So the mystery continues.

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that my hubso is pretty cool.

Also I’d like to shamelessly plug my bff Haley’s blog, because she’s the bomb dot com. That’s not really the name of her blog, but if you click on it, you’ll be sent on your merry way. She’s a sweet piano guru and music crafter/writer, posting videos of songs (both covers and originals) and poetry. She played a cover of Bieber’s “Baby” at my wedding so beautifully that I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE. Man. She’s the best.

I should also mention that as I am writing this, one of his many billion alarms (a good chunk of which I didn’t have time or energy to commentate on, for it would require diving too far into the hubso’s psyche) just went off. Maybe it was for buying a hotdog or something.