I've Been Lookin' Real Hard, and I'm Trying To Find A Job...

So I'm in the midst of the first real, hardcore job hunt I've had to conduct in over a decade. The first thing I did was to hit up a bunch of temp services looking for office jobs because I can type fast and I look good in a tie. Besides which, I'd spent the last 9 years doing one of those sorts of gigs, so I figured somebody must be willing to hire me based on those qualifications. In today's economy, though, it seems that the minimum employability requirements are just a touch more stringent than that. A couple of weeks go by and my phone hasn't started ringing yet. I'm starting to worry a little bit about my prospects. I mean, I've heard it's rough out there, but is it really that rough? Wow. So in the interests of expanding my search, the other day I went down the street to put in an application at a placement agency that specializes in day laborers. Hey, I'm a guy, I like doing work, and even though I spent those 9 years sitting at a desk typing, I kept up with the gym and I figure I can still handle myself doing the kind of job where your ability to lift boxes is more relevant than your ability to write a macro. I think of Peter Gibbons, the hero of the movie "Office Space," who by the end of the film is wearing a hard hat and shoveling through the smoldering ashes of his former place of employment where he was once a cubicle-dwelling software engineer. "This isn't so bad," he says. "Here I am working outside, getting exercise, making bucks... What's not to love?"

I could do that, I'm thinking. So I showed up at the Day Labor Placement Agency and sat down to wait for my turn to interview. They only take the first five applicants each day, so I made sure to get there early so I could be first in line when the time came to apply. Cool, I was in. I sat in the waiting area looking at the somewhat ratty surroundings, the OSHA posters on the wall, the greasy-looking coffee maker. This wasn't going to be a cushy office gig with free lunch once a month, but what the hell, a man's gotta work, right? This'll be good for me.

When it gets to be my turn to talk to the guy behind the desk, he looks over my two forms of ID, nods and grunts, and says that I have to take a test to see if I qualify. Instantly my confidence starts to swell. Hell, I've been acing standardized tests since I was in the first grade. "Whaddaya got?", I'm thinking.

He hands me the test booklet and a little electronic box where I punch in my answers to each of the questions. Everything's still cool as I start to click through the first few general questions about age, gender, blah blah blah.

Then it starts to get weird. Question #4 reads: "Other than any prescription medications your doctor may have given you, what drugs are you taking right now?"

1) Marijuana (Grass, weed)
2) Cocaine
3) Methamphetamine
4) None of the above

Um... None of the above, I click. I sort of chuckle a little bit.

Next question: "How often do you steal from your employers?"

1) All the time
2) Maybe once a month
3) Almost never
4) Never.

Um... I don't. Really. I mean, maybe a pen, but does that really count? I don't think so. What kind of a questionnaire is this?

Next question: "How often do you get into fights or physical confrontations with your co-workers?"

1) A lot
2) About once a month
3) Almost never
4) Never

Holy crap, I haven't been in a fistfight since I took on Todd Coverdale in the 5th grade. Really? Fistfights? Never.

Next question: "Did you read the paper this morning?"
OK, we're back on more normal ground. Yes.
"Do you have a car?"
Yes.
"Do you have a computer?"
Yes.
"Oh, well look at you, mister fancy. Can I borrow twenty bucks? I promise I'll get you back next week."
NO!

Okay, next question: "Seriously - what kind of drugs are you on right now?"

1) Marijuana
2) Uppers
3) Downers
4) None of the above.

NONE OF THE ABOVE, DAMMIT! I TOLD YOU I DON'T DO DRUGS!

Okay, fine: Next question: "The last time you stole something from your employers, was it worth:

1) Less than $25
2) More than $25

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE! I don't steal, I don't do drugs! Jeez!!!

Next question: "Suppose I said you were a punk-ass little bitch. You think you could take me?"

1) Yes
2) No
3) Why don't we go outside and find out right now?

What the hell have I wandered into? I'm thinking. But I'm still a good employee, and I can certainly move boxes and push a dolly, for crying out loud. Anyway, I finished filling out the rest of the questionnaire and I handed it to the guy behind the desk. He nods and grunts again, and he punches a couple buttons on the electronic box. "Yeah, um... says here you don't qualify. But we'll keep your information on file and you can apply again in a year. Thanks for coming in. Good luck."

Whoof. Back to looking for office jobs. Either that, or I've gotta go find a crack dealer to beat up. Either way, wish me luck.