What's Your Theme Song? (A.k.a.: The "Eye of the Tiger" Fight)
So, my husband, who initially was skipping from room to room at the excitement of being released from his job in November, is beginning to grow despondent. While he really only began his search in earnest last month, he's garnered little interest thus far.
Earlier in my career, when I worked as a bond broker, enormous men with hair plugs and $5,000 watches would clap us rookies on the back and attempt to lift our spirits as we disturbed people during the dinner hour with our cold calls.
"It's a numbers game; just keep smilin' and dialin'," they'd say on their way to their mistress-and-martini-filled evenings. "Throw enough shit against a wall, some of it's gonna stick!" they advised before waddling off to their Jaguars.
Taking their words of wisdom to heart, I have turned my attention to helping my man send out as many resumes as humanly possible. (In other words, he needs to get out of the house before I put the money we have left toward retaining a divorce attorney.)
Within minutes of beginning my early Saturday morning search, I've exhausted my usual job boards. Turning to a new one, I found something he's absolutely qualified for.
I upload his resume, confirm that he is not a veteran, nor will he require sponsorship for a work visa before I see the next question: "If you had a theme song when you walked into a room, what would it be?"
Yeesh, this is gonna be a hard sell. What employers expect these days is cringe-worthy. Plus, this is a complete "Ally McBeal" rip-off. Clearly these people are banking on the fact that most applicants were teething at the time Calista Flockhart and her band of quirky colleagues took the world by storm. (How many people type in the obvious "Take This Job and Shove It" is what I'd love to know. Can we get an analytics team on that one?)
"Ok, if you walked into a room, what would be your theme song?" I ask my husband as he stares out the window.
"I don't know," he says.
"Think of something." I repeat the question, "If you walked into a room, what song can you hear playing?"
Silence.
"C'mon, I'm not asking you to perform heart surgery, just pick a theme song. I was going to go with 'Walking on Sunshine' for you but now I'm not so sure."
"Wait, wait...this is for me?" he asks incredulous. "I thought this was for you."
"No, I told you, I'm done with Manhattan."
"Well, I can't just come up with something that quickly," he explains.
Now I'll cut him some slack, he'd only been up for an hour and had consumed just one cup of coffee, but still, I could feel my spirits sink. If the man can't come up with a theme song, how the heck is he going to "help develop mobile products by conceptualizing editorial and service-based products and pulling together web, print, consumer marketing and IT resources within the company to bring these products to market?"
Looking at my expectant face he says, "Ok, fine, what about 'Man in Black' by Johnny Cash?"
"Are you kidding?" I ask him.
"No. I'll Google the lyrics. Hold on," he says, fumbling with his iPhone, before reading:
Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.
I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.
I cut him off before I need a sedative.
"That would be great if you were championing people on welfare or consoling inmates on death row," I say, "but I don't think anything about Johnny Cash says 'Personal Finance and Retirement Editor!' I know you regard your former career as your own personal 'Shawshank' but work with me here."
Silence.
"Fine," I say. "We'll go with 'Eye of the Tiger.' That's the theme song of a winner."
More silence.
"Ok, you don't like it? You have 30 seconds to come up with something or I'm changing it to read: 'Anything by Cher.'"
"Yeah, Liz, I bet people really want to meet that guy."
"Listen, I'm two steps away from the submit button and you'd be a good fit for this position."
"Fine, do whatever you want," he says.
"'Eye of the Tiger' it is," I tell him. "And, listen, if you get an interview you can thank me ... and Survivor."
Earlier in my career, when I worked as a bond broker, enormous men with hair plugs and $5,000 watches would clap us rookies on the back and attempt to lift our spirits as we disturbed people during the dinner hour with our cold calls.
"It's a numbers game; just keep smilin' and dialin'," they'd say on their way to their mistress-and-martini-filled evenings. "Throw enough shit against a wall, some of it's gonna stick!" they advised before waddling off to their Jaguars.
Taking their words of wisdom to heart, I have turned my attention to helping my man send out as many resumes as humanly possible. (In other words, he needs to get out of the house before I put the money we have left toward retaining a divorce attorney.)
Within minutes of beginning my early Saturday morning search, I've exhausted my usual job boards. Turning to a new one, I found something he's absolutely qualified for.
I upload his resume, confirm that he is not a veteran, nor will he require sponsorship for a work visa before I see the next question: "If you had a theme song when you walked into a room, what would it be?"
Yeesh, this is gonna be a hard sell. What employers expect these days is cringe-worthy. Plus, this is a complete "Ally McBeal" rip-off. Clearly these people are banking on the fact that most applicants were teething at the time Calista Flockhart and her band of quirky colleagues took the world by storm. (How many people type in the obvious "Take This Job and Shove It" is what I'd love to know. Can we get an analytics team on that one?)
"Ok, if you walked into a room, what would be your theme song?" I ask my husband as he stares out the window.
"I don't know," he says.
"Think of something." I repeat the question, "If you walked into a room, what song can you hear playing?"
Silence.
"C'mon, I'm not asking you to perform heart surgery, just pick a theme song. I was going to go with 'Walking on Sunshine' for you but now I'm not so sure."
"Wait, wait...this is for me?" he asks incredulous. "I thought this was for you."
"No, I told you, I'm done with Manhattan."
"Well, I can't just come up with something that quickly," he explains.
Now I'll cut him some slack, he'd only been up for an hour and had consumed just one cup of coffee, but still, I could feel my spirits sink. If the man can't come up with a theme song, how the heck is he going to "help develop mobile products by conceptualizing editorial and service-based products and pulling together web, print, consumer marketing and IT resources within the company to bring these products to market?"
Looking at my expectant face he says, "Ok, fine, what about 'Man in Black' by Johnny Cash?"
"Are you kidding?" I ask him.
"No. I'll Google the lyrics. Hold on," he says, fumbling with his iPhone, before reading:
Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.
I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.
I cut him off before I need a sedative.
"That would be great if you were championing people on welfare or consoling inmates on death row," I say, "but I don't think anything about Johnny Cash says 'Personal Finance and Retirement Editor!' I know you regard your former career as your own personal 'Shawshank' but work with me here."
Silence.
"Fine," I say. "We'll go with 'Eye of the Tiger.' That's the theme song of a winner."
More silence.
"Ok, you don't like it? You have 30 seconds to come up with something or I'm changing it to read: 'Anything by Cher.'"
"Yeah, Liz, I bet people really want to meet that guy."
"Listen, I'm two steps away from the submit button and you'd be a good fit for this position."
"Fine, do whatever you want," he says.
"'Eye of the Tiger' it is," I tell him. "And, listen, if you get an interview you can thank me ... and Survivor."
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