You must choose, brothers and sisters...
Each day I get to pick: will I be sad today or will I be furious?
How nice it is, sometimes, to have the choice.
How lucky I am, to have options.
Today I am furious.
I am a ball of effing fire. Touch me and die, infidels. Don't make me get my Two-By-Four of Truth and bend this entire city of bean-bakers over my knee and beat some sense into it.
Today's middle finger salute goes out to the potential employer who gave me the phenomenal high hat about their most recent opening. Now truly, if I am being passed over and *ignored completely* for more qualified candidates, that's one thing. Meritocracy? Sure, why not; I'm a winner in that scenario. But if I am being passed over because I've made strong physical choices and present a somewhat "alternative" countenance, I must lodge my objection. I cannot force people to see me as I see myself, but I can say that those who, like me, make these choices in mature adulthood do so knowing that our hard work must ultimately speak for us. We refuse to lie about who we are, because bringing ourselves to work in deceit serves no one. I can guarantee that I work twice as hard as someone who does not have piercings and tattoos because I *choose* to overcome stereotypes everywhere I go. My career so far is a testament to performance speaking louder than looks; after all, the currency of business is, in addition to actual currency, performance.
I surely hope that my experience so far with this potential, highly desirable employer does not indicate that they prefer a certain face for their operations. Without a chance, I won't get the opportunity to change their minds about people like me. And it's a shame when a good learning moment gets wasted.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on my boots.
+ + +
Happy birthday Dad! Today you are 63 and that is impressive! I wish very much that you would quit smoking! You almost did three years ago, so why not try again!
How nice it is, sometimes, to have the choice.
How lucky I am, to have options.
Today I am furious.
I am a ball of effing fire. Touch me and die, infidels. Don't make me get my Two-By-Four of Truth and bend this entire city of bean-bakers over my knee and beat some sense into it.
Today's middle finger salute goes out to the potential employer who gave me the phenomenal high hat about their most recent opening. Now truly, if I am being passed over and *ignored completely* for more qualified candidates, that's one thing. Meritocracy? Sure, why not; I'm a winner in that scenario. But if I am being passed over because I've made strong physical choices and present a somewhat "alternative" countenance, I must lodge my objection. I cannot force people to see me as I see myself, but I can say that those who, like me, make these choices in mature adulthood do so knowing that our hard work must ultimately speak for us. We refuse to lie about who we are, because bringing ourselves to work in deceit serves no one. I can guarantee that I work twice as hard as someone who does not have piercings and tattoos because I *choose* to overcome stereotypes everywhere I go. My career so far is a testament to performance speaking louder than looks; after all, the currency of business is, in addition to actual currency, performance.
I surely hope that my experience so far with this potential, highly desirable employer does not indicate that they prefer a certain face for their operations. Without a chance, I won't get the opportunity to change their minds about people like me. And it's a shame when a good learning moment gets wasted.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on my boots.
+ + +
Happy birthday Dad! Today you are 63 and that is impressive! I wish very much that you would quit smoking! You almost did three years ago, so why not try again!
Labels: haaaate, unemployment
posted by Nora Rocket at 7:29 PM
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