I’m thoroughly convinced that if my experiences seeking full-time employment were a reality TV series it would be a mish-mash of “Millionaire Matchmaker,” “Swamp People” and my personal favorite, “Chopped.”
I’ve been to the “Chopped” kitchen so many times while looking for work that the Food Network is calling me for mystery basket ingredients. Kale, mung fruit, circus peanuts and whatever Andrew Zimmern can’t stomach would be in my first-round entrée basket.
And Ted, wipe that smirk off your face.
For starters, every job you go after is a little like “Millionaire Matchmaker,” which is a real guilty pleasure. You apply. Your profile catches the eye of some human resources manager, and the next thing you know you’re at a mixer where meet your millionaire (aka the person or person who holds your fate in their hands).
All of this, fortunately, is done without the help of the ever-caustic Patti Stanger who hosts the Bravo series. I just know she’d tell me to dye my hair, dress more provocatively and perhaps have some sort of augmentation done.
Sorry Patti, millionaire or not, I’m not changing a thing — unless of course it comes with a 401K, health insurance and casual Fridays, then we’ll talk.
On the other end of thespectrum, job hunting reminds me a lot of “Swamp People,” the History Channel’s homage to life on the bayou complete with gators and mudbugs.
Much like the swamp people, every day you get in your little boat looking for alligators, and the results are always the same. You find a big old gator, rassle with him some, and then your buddy Junior puts a hole in him and you cruise on home feeling like Ishmael.
Except in my version of this Cajun nightmare, there is no Junior, no gun, and the gator does his death roll, gets away leaving me wet, exhausted and empty-handed. Sound familiar to any of you folks out there who have been through two or three rounds of interviews only to be told “sorry, you just aren’t quite the right fit?”
But the reality show that gives me the most hope for my future is “Duck Dynasty,” the show where a bunch of rednecks strike it big making duck calls. Sort of like “the next thing you know old Jed’s a millionaire.”
What job-seeker hasn’t dreamed of making a big score producing a relatively obscure item, growing their hair and beard out ZZ-Top style, and then buying every man-toy you can get your hands on. And every day is “Camo Casual Friday.”
So in life as well as in reality TV there are “Hoarders” and “Mudcats,” “Sons of Guns” and “Moonshiners,” but contestants it’s time to look at the items in your final mystery basket. In it you find hope, pride, experience and perseverance … you’ve got 30 minutes to make a dessert.
I must caution you competitors, don’t hog the ice cream machine, or you will be chopped!
I’ve been to the “Chopped” kitchen so many times while looking for work that the Food Network is calling me for mystery basket ingredients. Kale, mung fruit, circus peanuts and whatever Andrew Zimmern can’t stomach would be in my first-round entrée basket.
And Ted, wipe that smirk off your face.
For starters, every job you go after is a little like “Millionaire Matchmaker,” which is a real guilty pleasure. You apply. Your profile catches the eye of some human resources manager, and the next thing you know you’re at a mixer where meet your millionaire (aka the person or person who holds your fate in their hands).
All of this, fortunately, is done without the help of the ever-caustic Patti Stanger who hosts the Bravo series. I just know she’d tell me to dye my hair, dress more provocatively and perhaps have some sort of augmentation done.
Sorry Patti, millionaire or not, I’m not changing a thing — unless of course it comes with a 401K, health insurance and casual Fridays, then we’ll talk.
On the other end of thespectrum, job hunting reminds me a lot of “Swamp People,” the History Channel’s homage to life on the bayou complete with gators and mudbugs.
Much like the swamp people, every day you get in your little boat looking for alligators, and the results are always the same. You find a big old gator, rassle with him some, and then your buddy Junior puts a hole in him and you cruise on home feeling like Ishmael.
Except in my version of this Cajun nightmare, there is no Junior, no gun, and the gator does his death roll, gets away leaving me wet, exhausted and empty-handed. Sound familiar to any of you folks out there who have been through two or three rounds of interviews only to be told “sorry, you just aren’t quite the right fit?”
But the reality show that gives me the most hope for my future is “Duck Dynasty,” the show where a bunch of rednecks strike it big making duck calls. Sort of like “the next thing you know old Jed’s a millionaire.”
What job-seeker hasn’t dreamed of making a big score producing a relatively obscure item, growing their hair and beard out ZZ-Top style, and then buying every man-toy you can get your hands on. And every day is “Camo Casual Friday.”
So in life as well as in reality TV there are “Hoarders” and “Mudcats,” “Sons of Guns” and “Moonshiners,” but contestants it’s time to look at the items in your final mystery basket. In it you find hope, pride, experience and perseverance … you’ve got 30 minutes to make a dessert.
I must caution you competitors, don’t hog the ice cream machine, or you will be chopped!