If My Characters Asked You For A Job*

     Today I find myself looking at my LinkedIn account (like that's anything
new) perusing jobs, potential companies/contacts and not getting far.   Like much of the world, networking requires a “look at me” approach.  Something which is great for extroverted people but that is not easy for the introverts, yep that includes me.  I have adapted quite well over the years.  If you've met me before and I decide you're okay watch out for that second, third, or fourth meeting because I'm going to extrovert personality all over your a***, sorry, the place.  I can be described as anything from sweet to quirky or weird.  I have to admit that the Internet does make things easier, once I remind myself that I am in cyberspace, can relax, and share a little bit more of me without tearing a hole in the fabric of time or space.

     I'm looking at my account, okay, scrutinizing it.  I describe myself as a humorist.  My brain says (I call my brain 'Dude' just so you know).  I like that name.  It's so relaxed, laid back, smart without having to try very hard because hey, we all like to feel smart, right?  Besides, I would hate to call my brain Lance if it felt more like a Steve or a Joe or a Jackson.  Why doesn't my brain have a female name? (Scratches head)  Good question.  Dude says he'll have to get back to you on that one.   Anyway Dude says, “If you want people to see you as a well-written individual with a knack for humor you have to make them laugh.”  I told you Dude was smart right?  Which begs the question, “Can people see you as well-written if you've named your brain “Dude”?   Poor Dude two questions in one morning.

      It's all so complicated isn't it?  I wanted to talk about work, looking for work, transitioning into a new field, reinventing yourself (apparently one doesn't have to be super rich to do this, I can't help but think that being super rich would make the process easier) while still making people laugh.  Just give me a second, that was a long sentence, Dude needs some air.

      I decided that one of the clearest and quickest ways to share who I am (a t-shirt might be quicker...hmm) and still laugh at the challenges of getting, excuse me, (clears throat) finding work would be if I illustrated for you the things that might happen if one of my characters approached a hiring manager, peer, colleague, or even a random person in an effort to find work.

      TP is an interesting character.  He's a faerie.  A real one.  A really tiny man with a little pair of wings.  He flies around and everything.  He has a fondness for pixies.  Quite a reputation.   He's also fairly obnoxious.

      We enter a small dark room to find TP flying around a large gilded cage.  The hiring manager (a human) he has been interviewing with is locked inside.  He's wearing nothing but a loin cloth.  No, I don't think this is appropriate at all but according to TP this is how things get done in “the Fae”.  Don't shoot the messenger.

   “Would you let me out?”  The hiring manager asks.

   “Have you hired me yet?”   TP asks.

   “No.”  The hiring manager responds.

   “TP says 'No' too.”  The faerie says.

   “Okay then...you're hired.”  The hiring manager says.

   “You haven't asked me any questions.   Silly human.”  TP giggles.

   “Okay...”  The hiring manager decides that the situation might feel more manageable if he does what TP wants him to do.   He is a hiring manager after all.   He'll just do his job without the benefit of long pants.  Oh...the goose pimples.

   “So TP, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

   “I'm TP the faerie.  I want to learn how humans work.  Give me a job.”

   “What kind of job are you interested in?  What kind of work would you be good at?”

   “I tell people what to do and someone gives me lots of money.”  TP giggles.  “What else is there?”

   “You're a work smart not hard kind of guy.”

   “I'm a faerie, work doesn't exist for me.”

   “If that's your philosophy it sounds like you have a good attitude.”

TP looks at the hiring manager, studies his clothes, his keys, and various electronic devices that are neatly stacked on the floor just out of said hiring manager's reach.  “Give me your job.”  TP says.

“My job is technical.  It took me a long time to acquire the skill set needed to do this work.”

“TP can do it.  Want to see?”  The faerie asks.

      The hiring manager looks around.  He's in a gilded cage, wearing a loin cloth, and the cage is locked.  It's not like he's going anywhere.  “Sure.”

   “You're fired!  Go home!”  TP says giggling.

   “That was very good but giggling after you've fired someone is insensitive and the fired employee may have grounds to sue for emotional distress.”

   “Go Away!”   TP says and with a flick of the faerie's wrist the hiring manager disappears in a puff of smoke.

   Which is why TP is not allowed outside unsupervised.   Seriously, this did not really happen.   It's totally made up.   I'm not kidding.

    Aunt Purdy comes from a children's book I wrote a couple of years ago.  She is over 35, kind, smart, and gentle in nature.   One of the people central to her family and her community.

   Aunt Purdy enters the hiring manager's office with a plate of freshly baked cookies.  After handing the hiring manager her resume she sits down with her covered plate and waits.

   “I can see that you have many of the skills we are looking for.  You might have to start at a lower level position at least for the first year, would that be all right?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “You're hired.”   The hiring manager says.   Who isn't going to hire Aunt Purdy?  Seriously folks.

  “Cookie?”  Aunt Purdy asks.

  “Yes thank you.”

   Tinkletoes walks into the hiring manager's office stopping at his chair to look him in the eye.  “I'm Tinkletoes,”  he says,   “you're going to hire me.”

   The hiring manager looks at the resume printed on military green paper with camo trim along the page's side while Tinkletoes sits down in a chair on the other side of the manager's desk.  “You don't seem to have many of the skills we are looking for.  You are confident which is good.  I could keep the resume on file for you if you'd like.”

  Tinkletoes reaches into the pocket of his camos and a metal cannister falls out, rolling along the floor to stop at the hiring manager's feet.

  “I told you that you were gonna hire me.”  The self-proclaimed mercenary says, a small metal pin is dangling of off the end of one finger.

  “Threatening me isn't going to work.”

  “Three, two, one...”  Tinkletoes says, scooting his chair as far back from the hiring manager's desk as possible just as putrid dark smoke starts to billow out of the ends of the metal container.

  “Oh my god.  No, not this not now...”  The hiring manager pushes his chair as far from the cannister as he can and hides his head.  All he hears is the sound of the smoke as it slowly escapes the can, the feared explosion never comes.

  When the smoke has been expelled completely from the can Tinkletoes reaches out and picks it up.  

 “The smoke grenade must have fallen out of my pocket. Sorry.”

  “There is a no weapons policy at this company.   I will not be hiring you.”  The hiring manager coughs out handing Tinkletoes back his resume.

  “I'm a great guy to have around.  Kinda smart.   Funny.”

  The hiring manager continues coughing and shakes his head.

  “I make custom lightsabers in my spare time.  I could probably make you one.”

  “I'm a Trekkie . Star Wars is the enemy.”  The hiring manager proclaims.

  “Isn't there room for both?”  Tinkletoes asks grinning.

  “Noooo.”  The hiring manager says.  His “no” ending with a fit of coughing.

  “I'm not even gonna ask about Firefly.”  Tinkletoes mutters.  “I think you should consider me for a job.  I am a veteran.”   He says addressing the hiring manager.

  The manager looks at Tinkletoes and glares.

  “I single handedly saved the world from being taken over by Ninja Zombies.  You don't want to be without me on your team if space aliens attack.   Give me the schematics for this building and I could have a plan for a complete lock down on this place by the end of the week.  A space alien would never live to see the inside.”

  The hiring manager picks up the phone and says, “Hello, Security.”

  “You're busy.  I'll just let myself out.”  Tinkletoes says leaving the room.

   Sitting at my computer now reading over what I have written I know I have illustrated my ability to write humor.  I always feel better with feedback though don't you?   Dude likes it.  He says you should too.  In my peripheral vision I can see something fluttering to my right.   The faerie nods in approval. 

 Something, sorry, someone is breathing on the back of my neck.

  "So what do you think?"  

  "Looks good.  Let's get this out there, the offers are gonna start rollin' in.” Tinkletoes answers.

Within a few minutes I'm done.   Letting out a sigh I rise from the chair satisfied that my mission is complete.

  “I need the computer!”  Dobby's voice can be heard from the living room.

  The faerie plants himself on his own personal “any” key and refuses to budge.  “TP's Turn!”

  “No.  She needs more contacts on the LinkedIn account.   I'm taking command of this workstation.”  

Tinkletoes says sitting down.

  I look at Tinkletoes doubtfully.

  “You need more contacts.”

  “I know but this isn't like acquiring Facebook friends.  I need to make business contacts.”

  “Every contact is a good contact.”  Tinkletoes says.

  “How is a military surplus vendor going to help me find work as a writer?”

  “He gets catalogs?”

  “No tweeting.”

  “Tweeting can be helpful too.”

  “You're making people at the Pentagon nervous.”

  “I'm just sharing my ideas.”   Tinkletoes counters.

  “Some ideas aren't meant to be shared.”

  Did I mention my vivid imagination?  It's with me all the time. 

  

  Thank you for reading.  Have a nice day.

*This post is separate and unrelated to the storyline that is currently running.