I would rather shotgun a liter of whole milk and pledge the sorority in Scream Queens than apply for another job right now.
If that sounds oddly specific to you, it’s because even one sip of whole milk makes me apt to hurl, and while I was in a sorority, I am not looking to die just yet, especially by way of chainsaw (I had a dream once.)
If you have spent as many years of your life job-searching as I have, you are all-too-aware that the process starts to wear on you. There are simply too many excruciating outcomes possible.
When you slave over a cover letter, and never hear back:
This is perhaps the most common grievance. You know what I’m talking about; you research the company with the ferocity of Elle Woods when she’s trying to prove herself to Warner, you spend a solid three hours composing a CV with all of the right buzzwords and an eloquence that Queen Elizabeth would admire, and…nothing. Nothing at all.
When you have an interview and never hear back:
This happens more than one might expect. What did I do to deserve this? I donated blood once. I guess I could do it more often, because I have extra-helpful blood and everything, but needles make me squirm. Shouldn’t I get any karmic points for the once?
When you have an interview, and then there is a two-week silent treatment even though they promised they would call you by Friday:
Are we in a junior high relationship? That is literally the only explanation for this serial silence; it cannot take that long to make a decision. Find a flower and start plucking off petals, because I haven’t felt this much suspense since Lindsay Lohan announced her plans to write a book.
When you’re pretty sure your applications are being automatically deleted by a robot:
Not like, a squishy lovably robot like Big Hero 6 either. A metal, emotionless, garbage robot.
When you have a second interview, and then get a perfunctory rejection e-mail:
I thought we had… a connection? What about that joke I made that you chuckled at? What about when you said I seemed like a viable candidate and that you thought I would fit in well with the workplace culture? WHAT ABOUT THAT, PAM?
When the interviewer asks what your weaknesses are:
In the words of Kelly Kapoor, “I don’t have any, asshole!” is the only proper response to this question. This question is a trap.
When every entry-level job asks for six years of experience:
This is pretty much every job, for some reason. Either the position doesn’t even require a high school education, or it wants you to have three years of editorial experience, a PhD, and six internships prior to applying. Oh, and at age 22.
Good luck, ladies. It’s a jungle out there.