Not that I really want a job. It's kind of my hobby.
One of these days somebody is going to offer me a job and I'll say "Oh, heh heh, no thanks, I was just looking" like I always say to the sales people at the mall, who have one of the worst jobs in the world, cleaning up after people like me who try on 27 outfits and don't buy any of them.
Anyway. Here is my fool-proof method for job searching:
Step one: I go to www.indeed.com, where I have stored three searches. (writer, copywriter, editor)
Step two: I pull up recent listings that might meet my stringent criteria, which include a generous salary, absolutely no need for heels or pantyhose at any time, and summers off.
Step three: I find one or more reasons why I am not qualified for any of the recent listings.
Step four: I turn on the television and watch the latest episode of The Colbert Report, hoping all the while that Stephen Colbert will announce a new nationwide search for comedy writers yet knowing that if he did, I would find a reason not to apply.
Surely, one of these days, I will discover my true calling in life. My passion. My what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up.
Here are some jobs that just might fit the bill:
~ Circus Clown: Comfortable shoes. Baggy pants. No need to style my hair.
~ Snow Plow Operator In Dallas: Summers off. Plus Springs, Winters and Falls.
~ Bank Robber: Set your own hours. Unlimited earning potential.
Of course, I could just continue doing what I do, which is writing marketing projects for a couple of wonderful marketing companies that could not care less if I wear heels, pantyhose, or my raggedy sweat pants. Or even a red rubber nose.
Though they do make me work in the summer.
Life is tough.