I'm typing this at the desk in my bedroom, looking out my arch window and keeping tabs on the porcupine that has (as of this morning when it discovered by way of a barking dog that it was not welcome in the yard) taken up residence high in a maple tree. I wonder when it's going to come down, or if the fire department still does animal rescues (or maybe it only counts if it's your pet that is stuck?).
Staring out the window provides the most pleasant view at the moment, thanks to a desk that is absolutely cluttered in papers—papers that are my excuse for not updating this dear blog in what might be two weeks. However, in my last post I did mention that I was making decisions. The mess and, more specifically, the lack of time, is the result of those decisions. On my desk are resumes in various stages of completion, a college application, a referral I've got to get to my pastor, the brochures that came with my passport, appointment cards and note pages filled with phone numbers and "to-do's".
It's all very exciting, a constant reminder that life is changing and, though slightly (okay, very) scary, it is for the better.
However, it is also a constant reminder of my inadequacy. For aside from a rather exemplary GPA that was attained by ignoring the whole world including family&friends, and the good word of a previous employer that I'm "a fast learner," I've got little to recommend me. (Side note: even if I had a lot to recommend me, and did get a decent paying job, I'm still not going anywhere on my own financially. Thus, inadequate in more ways than one.)
Granted, my resume is actually a whole page long. I was happily surprised about that. But when it comes to entering my "skills" on any job app (which also happens to be the section I deleted from the resume template Andrew gave me), I draw a blank.
'Cause I don't got no skills.
I mean, sure I can knit a scarf, bake a mean apple pie, and bleach a sink like nobody's business; but I can't run a cash register, navigate Microsoft Excel, or operate heavy machinery. I speak one language fluently in a grammatically correct manner unless I'm trying to enunciate a point, I am physically capable of standing on my own two feet except for when I get knocked into a catatonic state with a flu-ish cold like the past couple days, and I know how to use a smile that's worth $6,000 (braces + wisdom teeth extraction). However I have no experience waiting tables, scooping ice cream professionally, or running a commercial dishwasher (heck—I don't even own a regular dishwasher!).
I have a hunter's permit, but am not current in my CPR training.
Sometimes, I cannot even get a baby to stop crying. (You can tell I'm desperate if I've taken up babysitting. I went to college and I'm still babysitting?)
Someone older and wiser than me once informed me that after a certain point, all a girl really needs to get by in our country's perverted culture is a pretty face.
Well, I can't even attempt to work that to my advantage, because though I do go directly to the corporation first to try and obtain an application or interview, they always hand me a business card with a URL and standard "click here to apply" instructions.
The world of cyber applications is frustrating. Because an online form only shows current skills, not future potential.
And like I said before, I really don't have any skills.
So stay tuned. We'll see if this girl gets hired (i.e., gets her wings) or not.
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