Early in the life of this blog, I was trying to focus on being "adultish" -- which included some fashion and lifestyle tips and musings that reflected on acting more mature and professional. But lately, I've been wondering, what does that even mean?
At some point not too long ago, I was introduced to a site called Dress Profesh, which comes with the tagline "challenging notions of what it means to look 'professional.'" It shows people of all different sizes, races, and genders wearing what they work in. It really snaps into focus the fact that being "professional" is an arbitrary and often oppressive guideline.
A post was just going around a few days ago in which a college senior was rejected from a tech job because the guys that interviewed her claimed her outfit was more for "clubbing" than interviewing. There are plenty of people out there who think her tasteful top, skirt, sweater, and tights outfit is "unprofessional" because it's not a suit, ignoring the fact that tech companies are usually pretty casual, and in fact, overdressing too much can make an interviewee look out of touch with the culture of their field.
Regardless, insisting that everyone on the job hunt wear a suit is one of those oppressive things about the notion of professionalism that I take issue with. Suits are expensive. If you're long-unemployed, or you're a college student just starting out, even a find at Marshall's or a thrift store can be out of your budget. Plus, if you don't wear a straight size, or you are a woman with a large chest, it might be impossible to find anything that will even cover your body -- let alone fit well and be without cleavage -- especially when price is a dire concern. Additionally, if you are fat or busty (or both, like I am), there are some who will always classify you as unprofessional. No matter what you wear, being too fat will likely get you called sloppy, and simply having a large chest will get you classed as sexy or inappropriate.
There are racial implications, as well. Black people are often maligned for having natural hairstyles like Afros or dreadlocks -- women are generally expected to relax their hair and wear it straight, or wear a weave, to look "professional," for example. That is, if they even get an interview to begin with, since people with white/European sounding names are more likely to get called than someone with a more "ethnic" (for lack of a better word) names.
The idea of professionalism is outdated and ridiculous. It should be enough to say, perhaps, make sure you are wearing anything required for safety, your naughty bits are covered, you don't smell, and you aren't wearing hate speech symbols. Anything beyond that is unnecessary, and upholds a white supremacist, cisnormative, heteronormative, sexist, sizeist, kyriarchical structure.
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Monday, May 26, 2014
From the Archive: Funemployment is a lie
"From the Archive" is a series of posts that I wrote on past, no-longer-updated blogs that I feel are good enough to need a new home.
This post was originally written in May 2012.
That might seem a little harsh. But I keep hearing the term "funemployment" and to me, it's wrong (it's also short-sighted and privileged; we can get into that in a bit). For me, being unemployed has not been fun.
Since I finished grad school in December 2010, I haven't been able to find a full-time job. It isn't for lack of trying or laziness, contrary to some Republican 1% views. I can't even begin to count how many applications I've sent out in the past year and a half. I've tried for jobs that seem ambitious, jobs that I think I'm overqualified for, jobs that excited me, jobs I'd have to acquiesce to performing every day, jobs withing my field, jobs outside but vaguely related to my field, day jobs like retail and bartending, basically everything you can imagine. I've considered NYC Teaching Fellows and the Peace Corps as back-ups.
I've had some freelance work and part-time gigs, but still nothing lasting or full-time. And then, in March, the job that was my primary source of income (but still part-time) informed me they were low on funds and couldn't pay me. So I was let go, though with the caveat that they'd like me back if they got their act together and I was still searching.
So aside from a once-a-week unpaid knitting column, two short (volunteer) shifts for a punk news blog and the occasional photo slideshow (the only one that pays a little), I've been unemployed for nearly two months. It sucks. I've been sending out my resume everywhere that I can, and I've had two interviews -- one was on the phone, and I didn't make the cut to in-person, the other got as far as a writing test, but I still didn't get it.
I know, there are a few perks. I can sleep late and run errands in the middle of weekdays when the city is less crowded. But that's about it.
Want to hear the downside? I am almost out of money. I'm still living with my parents with no prospect of leaving any time soon. I feel like a worthless human being, who contributes nothing to the world. Basically, it's like I'm in a waiting room, biding my time until my life starts.
So I'm going this week to meet with a staffing agency. It isn't a career move. They only do receptionist and office work, and just temporary assignments. But it's something. It gets me out of the house and making a little money while I work on finding a longer-term position. I hope it works out, because I need it to.
I said we'd get to why the term "funemployment" is privileged and short-sighted, and here it is: anyone who can use the term is very lucky. You've clearly got something keeping you going, whether it's a trust fund or savings from a past job, or a supportive partner, or whatever. Many people who are unemployed are far worse off. I'm not including myself in that because I have parents who let me stay with them for free. But there are millions out there who are unemployed and having no fun whatsoever. They are losing their homes, relying on food stamps to feed their families, and falling way behind on bills. They aren't relishing in sleeping until 11:00 and wearing sweatpants all day. So that's another reason I don't like the term.
This post was originally written in May 2012.
That might seem a little harsh. But I keep hearing the term "funemployment" and to me, it's wrong (it's also short-sighted and privileged; we can get into that in a bit). For me, being unemployed has not been fun.
Since I finished grad school in December 2010, I haven't been able to find a full-time job. It isn't for lack of trying or laziness, contrary to some Republican 1% views. I can't even begin to count how many applications I've sent out in the past year and a half. I've tried for jobs that seem ambitious, jobs that I think I'm overqualified for, jobs that excited me, jobs I'd have to acquiesce to performing every day, jobs withing my field, jobs outside but vaguely related to my field, day jobs like retail and bartending, basically everything you can imagine. I've considered NYC Teaching Fellows and the Peace Corps as back-ups.
I've had some freelance work and part-time gigs, but still nothing lasting or full-time. And then, in March, the job that was my primary source of income (but still part-time) informed me they were low on funds and couldn't pay me. So I was let go, though with the caveat that they'd like me back if they got their act together and I was still searching.
So aside from a once-a-week unpaid knitting column, two short (volunteer) shifts for a punk news blog and the occasional photo slideshow (the only one that pays a little), I've been unemployed for nearly two months. It sucks. I've been sending out my resume everywhere that I can, and I've had two interviews -- one was on the phone, and I didn't make the cut to in-person, the other got as far as a writing test, but I still didn't get it.
I know, there are a few perks. I can sleep late and run errands in the middle of weekdays when the city is less crowded. But that's about it.
Want to hear the downside? I am almost out of money. I'm still living with my parents with no prospect of leaving any time soon. I feel like a worthless human being, who contributes nothing to the world. Basically, it's like I'm in a waiting room, biding my time until my life starts.
So I'm going this week to meet with a staffing agency. It isn't a career move. They only do receptionist and office work, and just temporary assignments. But it's something. It gets me out of the house and making a little money while I work on finding a longer-term position. I hope it works out, because I need it to.
I said we'd get to why the term "funemployment" is privileged and short-sighted, and here it is: anyone who can use the term is very lucky. You've clearly got something keeping you going, whether it's a trust fund or savings from a past job, or a supportive partner, or whatever. Many people who are unemployed are far worse off. I'm not including myself in that because I have parents who let me stay with them for free. But there are millions out there who are unemployed and having no fun whatsoever. They are losing their homes, relying on food stamps to feed their families, and falling way behind on bills. They aren't relishing in sleeping until 11:00 and wearing sweatpants all day. So that's another reason I don't like the term.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Dissertations, Employment, and Other Terrifying Things
"I live in the present and am confident in the future."
I wrote that mantra in a notebook three times this morning, trying to make myself believe it. The only reason I stopped at three is because I didn't want to venture into "all work and no play make Jack a dull boy" territory; really, I need to write and think it a million times in a desperate attempt to internalize the message.
Recently, my therapist suggested I try affirmations to boost my confidence and self-esteem. She said that I could look in books or online for ideas if nothing original came to mind, and indeed, I pulled the one above off of some random website on the first page of results when you Google "affirmations."
I have trouble thinking about the future. Supposedly this is a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, which I never would have associated with myself because I never considered the years of struggling with depression and anxiety as PTSD until my shrink referred to them as such. I think it's common to associate PTSD with people who have survived events like war or assault, but traumas can be anything. Mine comes from having been bullied as a child, which still has an effect on my daily life even though it occurred 20 years ago. It's liberating to have this frame of reference for my issues, like they exist for a reason, and not because I'm broken or defective, which is how I've often felt in the past.
Planning has always been tough for me. The last time I had a concrete answer to "what do you want to be when you grow up?" was when I was about 5, and I think I wanted to be a ballerina-slash-veterinarian, or maybe a mermaid (actually I'd still kind of like to be a mermaid). Most of my college friends had some sort of dream and a plan to go with it. I cycled through four majors, and only landed on the one I finally graduated with -- psychology -- because I couldn't change again without delaying graduation. When I was working on my master's degree, I never had an answer to the question of what I wanted to do when I was out of school. Most of my classmates had something, but even half-formed, cobbled-together plans eluded me, and it always made me feel like I was missing out. I thought maybe it was a lack of passion for the field (journalism), but there are aspects that I love, and I still couldn't envision my future.
Now I'm working on a doctorate, and I do feel passionate about the field (information studies), but there are still questions I can't answer. I don't really have a reply when people ask why I chose my program -- I did so on a whim, as I tend to do when making major life decisions because I simply cannot see beyond what sounds good in the moment. I also am unable to tell you what I plan to do with the degree. Sure, I'd be comfortable in academia, but I could probably be happy in some other area.
When I try to envision myself in 5 or 10 years, I see nothing. It's a big black wall. I just recently, within the past couple of weeks, made a tentative plan for the rest of my coursework. If I can get everything worked out and take classes this summer, I should finish with classes a year from now, and take my comprehensive exam in fall 2015. Being able to say that is enormous progress, because last semester a professor asked when we were each planning to take the comps and I was the only one who hemmed and hawed and didn't have even a vague idea. I also decided on a broad topic for my dissertation so I can take the correct electives. Again, progress.
My whole existence is walls, or at least it feels that way. There's the black wall of my future. There's another, all around me, that prevents me from letting people in, making friendships and relationships really hard. It's time to knock them down. I think there are a few cracks in the black wall in front of me, but the other needs to go as well. I just need to make sure the whole building doesn't crumble as I do it.
I wrote that mantra in a notebook three times this morning, trying to make myself believe it. The only reason I stopped at three is because I didn't want to venture into "all work and no play make Jack a dull boy" territory; really, I need to write and think it a million times in a desperate attempt to internalize the message.
Recently, my therapist suggested I try affirmations to boost my confidence and self-esteem. She said that I could look in books or online for ideas if nothing original came to mind, and indeed, I pulled the one above off of some random website on the first page of results when you Google "affirmations."
I have trouble thinking about the future. Supposedly this is a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, which I never would have associated with myself because I never considered the years of struggling with depression and anxiety as PTSD until my shrink referred to them as such. I think it's common to associate PTSD with people who have survived events like war or assault, but traumas can be anything. Mine comes from having been bullied as a child, which still has an effect on my daily life even though it occurred 20 years ago. It's liberating to have this frame of reference for my issues, like they exist for a reason, and not because I'm broken or defective, which is how I've often felt in the past.
Planning has always been tough for me. The last time I had a concrete answer to "what do you want to be when you grow up?" was when I was about 5, and I think I wanted to be a ballerina-slash-veterinarian, or maybe a mermaid (actually I'd still kind of like to be a mermaid). Most of my college friends had some sort of dream and a plan to go with it. I cycled through four majors, and only landed on the one I finally graduated with -- psychology -- because I couldn't change again without delaying graduation. When I was working on my master's degree, I never had an answer to the question of what I wanted to do when I was out of school. Most of my classmates had something, but even half-formed, cobbled-together plans eluded me, and it always made me feel like I was missing out. I thought maybe it was a lack of passion for the field (journalism), but there are aspects that I love, and I still couldn't envision my future.
Now I'm working on a doctorate, and I do feel passionate about the field (information studies), but there are still questions I can't answer. I don't really have a reply when people ask why I chose my program -- I did so on a whim, as I tend to do when making major life decisions because I simply cannot see beyond what sounds good in the moment. I also am unable to tell you what I plan to do with the degree. Sure, I'd be comfortable in academia, but I could probably be happy in some other area.
When I try to envision myself in 5 or 10 years, I see nothing. It's a big black wall. I just recently, within the past couple of weeks, made a tentative plan for the rest of my coursework. If I can get everything worked out and take classes this summer, I should finish with classes a year from now, and take my comprehensive exam in fall 2015. Being able to say that is enormous progress, because last semester a professor asked when we were each planning to take the comps and I was the only one who hemmed and hawed and didn't have even a vague idea. I also decided on a broad topic for my dissertation so I can take the correct electives. Again, progress.
My whole existence is walls, or at least it feels that way. There's the black wall of my future. There's another, all around me, that prevents me from letting people in, making friendships and relationships really hard. It's time to knock them down. I think there are a few cracks in the black wall in front of me, but the other needs to go as well. I just need to make sure the whole building doesn't crumble as I do it.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Sell Out With Me Oh Yeah
As an angsty teenage punk rocker, I learned that one of the worst things you could do was sell out. It meant you had no soul, that you only cared about money and not your ~*~*art*~*~ or whatever.
I'm not sure exactly how I was defining the phrase, or where the line was that you crossed to become a sell-out, though. Was anyone who made decent money doing something a sell-out, or was it only if you compromised yourself for it? Where did natural changes that come with age and maturity factor in?
I was a teenager, so I didn't really have answers.
What I knew was that selling out was bad. It made you an awful person who only cared about money, etc.
What I know now is that I really, really want to sell out.
Maybe it's age, maybe it's time spent not being able to pay my own rent or have any luxuries, but I no longer feel the need to live in poverty to prove anything. I want to have my own life with rent and food and pets and nice things.
I'm working on a PhD. Hopefully that will lead to a job that pays well. I am not ashamed to have that as my goal. A nice, comfortable life is important, and there's nothing wrong with seeking it.
I'm not sure exactly how I was defining the phrase, or where the line was that you crossed to become a sell-out, though. Was anyone who made decent money doing something a sell-out, or was it only if you compromised yourself for it? Where did natural changes that come with age and maturity factor in?
I was a teenager, so I didn't really have answers.
What I knew was that selling out was bad. It made you an awful person who only cared about money, etc.
What I know now is that I really, really want to sell out.
Maybe it's age, maybe it's time spent not being able to pay my own rent or have any luxuries, but I no longer feel the need to live in poverty to prove anything. I want to have my own life with rent and food and pets and nice things.
I'm working on a PhD. Hopefully that will lead to a job that pays well. I am not ashamed to have that as my goal. A nice, comfortable life is important, and there's nothing wrong with seeking it.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Reflections on Losing My Job
In my last post, I wrote about having lost my job only a few days after it happened. In the nearly three weeks since then, I've been working on sorting out my feelings on the matter, and feel like I've figured a few things out. I'd like to share some tips and reflections I've come up with.
- Don't be ashamed. People lose their jobs for a lot of reasons. Assuming you didn't do something awful like steal or harass people, try not to let the cause of your termination (if you were given one) haunt you. Forgive yourself if you need to, try to learn from it, and move forward.
- Rely on whatever support system you have. I am fortunate, I know, that my parents are nearby and willing to help me financially. I would prefer to be completely independent, but I'm not. And I have rent and bills that I need help with. Instead of wallowing, I am accepting the help while trying to find a way to get back on my feet.
- Apply for unemployment. Government aid is there for a reason. Besides, you were paying into it. There's no shame in taking help. That's why it exists. No, it won't solve all of your problems, but it's there to give you a little cushion so you aren't completely lost. The labor department for your state should have a website with info.
- Take some time to grieve, but don't wallow. Obviously, your financial need may dictate how long you can go before finding more work, but it can be healthy to take a few days and be sad and angry or consider plans for firebombing your former place of employment (note: don't actually do that). But don't let yourself fall into a hole you can't climb out of. Start looking for jobs as soon as you feel sort of human again.
- Keep yourself busy. It's really easy to sleep all day and watch Netflix all evening. And maybe that makes you feel better for a few days. But try and do some productive things as well. Clean your apartment. Read. Work on that novel, or some crafts, or whatever creative outlet you've been meaning to try. Find free events and explore your city. Find things that you enjoy but haven't had time to do, and do them in between sending out job applications.
- Stay up-to-date. Make sure your resume is accurate and you have a good basic cover letter you can tailor to different job applications. On top of that, keep abreast of happenings in your field. Do some research. Also, follow the news every day. If you land an interview you want to be as sharp as possible, and not like someone who just crawled out of a cave and threw on a suit.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Sorting Out Feelings
It's been a few days, and I'm ready to talk about it more publicly: I was fired from Purl Soho on Friday.
I'm still not completely sure why. The manager wouldn't give me a concrete reason, only that it "wasn't a good fit." This has, of course, raised my hackles. I find this pretty suspicious. It seems to me that if it were a legit, concrete reason, I would have been told. So likely it was something superficial (my brain naturally goes to assuming the fat chick didn't fit into their aesthetic, which is all-white, female, and a bit snooty) that they couldn't tell me because of obvious reasons.
I have gone through a whole range of emotions since then. Anger, sadness, vengeance (is that an emotion? Whatever). I'm sure I'm not done yet, either. But I have to move on, because I'm too good to waste myself wallowing over a menial job.
So what's next? I don't know. I am going out of town this weekend, then again later in July, so I don't know that I'll be able to find another job right away. I have a little money saved from work and last year's student loans, so I will be OK until my fall loans come through. I also applied for unemployment, but I don't know if I worked long enough to collect.
Maybe I'll spend the next two months enjoying myself. Reading, exploring my city, and working on some writing and photography projects. Hey, J.K. Rowling was on public assistance when she wrote the first Harry Potter novel, and William Peter Blatty was collecting unemployment when he wrote The Exorcist.
I'm still not completely sure why. The manager wouldn't give me a concrete reason, only that it "wasn't a good fit." This has, of course, raised my hackles. I find this pretty suspicious. It seems to me that if it were a legit, concrete reason, I would have been told. So likely it was something superficial (my brain naturally goes to assuming the fat chick didn't fit into their aesthetic, which is all-white, female, and a bit snooty) that they couldn't tell me because of obvious reasons.
I have gone through a whole range of emotions since then. Anger, sadness, vengeance (is that an emotion? Whatever). I'm sure I'm not done yet, either. But I have to move on, because I'm too good to waste myself wallowing over a menial job.
So what's next? I don't know. I am going out of town this weekend, then again later in July, so I don't know that I'll be able to find another job right away. I have a little money saved from work and last year's student loans, so I will be OK until my fall loans come through. I also applied for unemployment, but I don't know if I worked long enough to collect.
Maybe I'll spend the next two months enjoying myself. Reading, exploring my city, and working on some writing and photography projects. Hey, J.K. Rowling was on public assistance when she wrote the first Harry Potter novel, and William Peter Blatty was collecting unemployment when he wrote The Exorcist.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
When It Rains, It Pours, and Other Cliches About Happiness
I have been pretty busy for the last month or so. I started a new job, a summer class, and I moved to a new place. Whew!
I've decided to withdraw from the class for multiple reasons, financial and otherwise, but aside from that (and I have another post planned on the subject) everything is pretty great for me right now.
Two of my chief sources of unhappiness in recent years have been my inability to find enjoyable employment and the fact that I was still staying with my parents. Both of those things seemed like insurmountable problems, and I often felt I was collapsing under the weight of them.
The tide started to turn in early April, when I replied to a listserv email (I posted about this already) about a room. I finally moved in during the first weekend in May, and have settled nicely. I like my roommates (human and feline alike), it's a great location, and the space is a good one.
In addition to preparing to move, I was also hunting for a different job. While my previous position at the school library was perfectly alright, the distance and commute were making me unhappy. Then, again, fate happened. My mother forwarded a post to me from the Purl Bee, saying that the knitting and fabric shop Purl Soho was hiring. What you had to do to apply was go to the store before opening one Saturday, with a resume and some crafty samples, and talk to the managers. So I did. And they invited me back for a second interview the following week, which was a bit more of a practical test where I had to recommend yarns for a pattern and organize fabrics by color. Well, I must have done all of that right because they hired me!
So now on top of having my own space in a cute apartment in a great neighborhood, I have a part-time job at a really nice store, working with pretty great people and talking about something I love to do. Sure, I come home with aching feet, but I also come home smiling.
I haven't felt good about my life in a long time. It's a feeling I don't always know how to handle, but I like it. Sometimes, I catch myself smiling for no reason, which is something that never used to happen. It's a nice new development.
I've decided to withdraw from the class for multiple reasons, financial and otherwise, but aside from that (and I have another post planned on the subject) everything is pretty great for me right now.
Two of my chief sources of unhappiness in recent years have been my inability to find enjoyable employment and the fact that I was still staying with my parents. Both of those things seemed like insurmountable problems, and I often felt I was collapsing under the weight of them.
The tide started to turn in early April, when I replied to a listserv email (I posted about this already) about a room. I finally moved in during the first weekend in May, and have settled nicely. I like my roommates (human and feline alike), it's a great location, and the space is a good one.
In addition to preparing to move, I was also hunting for a different job. While my previous position at the school library was perfectly alright, the distance and commute were making me unhappy. Then, again, fate happened. My mother forwarded a post to me from the Purl Bee, saying that the knitting and fabric shop Purl Soho was hiring. What you had to do to apply was go to the store before opening one Saturday, with a resume and some crafty samples, and talk to the managers. So I did. And they invited me back for a second interview the following week, which was a bit more of a practical test where I had to recommend yarns for a pattern and organize fabrics by color. Well, I must have done all of that right because they hired me!
So now on top of having my own space in a cute apartment in a great neighborhood, I have a part-time job at a really nice store, working with pretty great people and talking about something I love to do. Sure, I come home with aching feet, but I also come home smiling.
I haven't felt good about my life in a long time. It's a feeling I don't always know how to handle, but I like it. Sometimes, I catch myself smiling for no reason, which is something that never used to happen. It's a nice new development.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Remembering and Forgetting Online
For one of my classes I'm reading a book by Viktor Mayer-Schonberger called Delete: The Virtue of Forgetting in the Digital Age. It covers many different aspects of forgetting and remembering, and how a switch to digital media has altered the way humans do that, but one thing that struck me is the age-old (or digital-age-old) debate about how social networking can affect our professional lives.
Early in the book we are introduced to a woman who was denied a teaching license because she had a picture of herself on her MySpace page wearing a pirate hat and holding a drink. There are plenty of people out there who would say, well, then she shouldn't be posting pictures like that online. Anyone can see them and you deserve what you get and so on. It's the same argument that comes about when you hear of someone being fired for complaining about their job on their own Facebook page.
I hate that argument. A lot. See, if this woman was in the process of obtaining a teaching license, she had to at least be old enough to be through college. Unless she's a Dougie Howser-style genius, she's probably in her mid-twenties. Certainly of legal drinking age. Now, a review of the book mentions that there may have been other factors in her denial for a license than just the photo, however, it shouldn't have been a factor at all. Personal activity, unless illegal or wildly unethical (no, drinking does not count as unethical, nor does profanity or consensual adult sex), ought not to be held against people who are otherwise qualified.
Many of our interactions happen online. I'll be posting tomorrow about internet-based friendships. So, naturally, that's where our conversations about work or our photos from parties will end up. Before, yes, they may have stayed confined to a phone conversation or personal scrapbook, but people were still behaving the same way. Just because these things are easier to find doesn't mean it's alright to use them against people.
The job market is awful right now. It's really bad. I don't have to tell anyone that. Employers are at such an advantage that they can put applicants through intense, rigorous, borderline ridiculous screening processes for pretty low-level positions. As it already is, we have to be nearly perfect to even get our resumes considered for anything other than the circular file. Companies should not be adding to this by scrutinizing what we post as normal daily activities. It places an unprecedented and undue burden of perfection on people. But people aren't perfect. We never have been. We aren't doing anything different than we did in the analog age; we just have a new way of documenting it. Holding things against us that would easily have been ignorable before just creates a standard no one can live up to.
Let people have their privacy. Just because a profile is there doesn't mean it needs to be seen by everyone. We have a right to a personal, non-professional life. Assuming legality and ethics, the two need not inhibit each other.
Early in the book we are introduced to a woman who was denied a teaching license because she had a picture of herself on her MySpace page wearing a pirate hat and holding a drink. There are plenty of people out there who would say, well, then she shouldn't be posting pictures like that online. Anyone can see them and you deserve what you get and so on. It's the same argument that comes about when you hear of someone being fired for complaining about their job on their own Facebook page.
I hate that argument. A lot. See, if this woman was in the process of obtaining a teaching license, she had to at least be old enough to be through college. Unless she's a Dougie Howser-style genius, she's probably in her mid-twenties. Certainly of legal drinking age. Now, a review of the book mentions that there may have been other factors in her denial for a license than just the photo, however, it shouldn't have been a factor at all. Personal activity, unless illegal or wildly unethical (no, drinking does not count as unethical, nor does profanity or consensual adult sex), ought not to be held against people who are otherwise qualified.
Many of our interactions happen online. I'll be posting tomorrow about internet-based friendships. So, naturally, that's where our conversations about work or our photos from parties will end up. Before, yes, they may have stayed confined to a phone conversation or personal scrapbook, but people were still behaving the same way. Just because these things are easier to find doesn't mean it's alright to use them against people.
The job market is awful right now. It's really bad. I don't have to tell anyone that. Employers are at such an advantage that they can put applicants through intense, rigorous, borderline ridiculous screening processes for pretty low-level positions. As it already is, we have to be nearly perfect to even get our resumes considered for anything other than the circular file. Companies should not be adding to this by scrutinizing what we post as normal daily activities. It places an unprecedented and undue burden of perfection on people. But people aren't perfect. We never have been. We aren't doing anything different than we did in the analog age; we just have a new way of documenting it. Holding things against us that would easily have been ignorable before just creates a standard no one can live up to.
Let people have their privacy. Just because a profile is there doesn't mean it needs to be seen by everyone. We have a right to a personal, non-professional life. Assuming legality and ethics, the two need not inhibit each other.
Monday, March 25, 2013
10 Things You Don't Have to Change or Apologize For
There are so many things you have to either change or suppress about yourself to get ahead (or just get by) in this world that it can be overwhelming. But there are many things you should never, ever apologize for, or change for anyone else.
10. Your hobbies.
As long as you aren't hurting anyone, what you do in your free time is your own business.
9. Where you were born.
It's important to learn something from your home town, but you can't change where you come from.
8. Your taste in music.
It has no bearing on who you are as a person or employee.
7. Your accent.
Related to where you were born, it's a part of you, and people need to stop stereotyping based on speech.
6. Your socioeconomic status.
There are so many factors that contribute to that and it's cruel for anyone to hold it against you. Just make sure you stay aware of your privileges.
5. Your health.
Physical or mental. You have to take care of yourself, and do your best to demand your work and friends respect your needs.
4. Your marital or family status.
Whether you tied the knot at 19 or are still single at 45, it's your business alone. Same goes for kids. Whether or not you have or want them is none of anyone else's concern.
3. Your race.
Obviously.
2. Your gender identity or sexual orientation.
Anyone who asks you to hide or change that is a bigot.
1. Your body.
Height, weight, shape, color, and so on. No one should be discriminating against how you look.
10. Your hobbies.
As long as you aren't hurting anyone, what you do in your free time is your own business.
9. Where you were born.
It's important to learn something from your home town, but you can't change where you come from.
8. Your taste in music.
It has no bearing on who you are as a person or employee.
7. Your accent.
Related to where you were born, it's a part of you, and people need to stop stereotyping based on speech.
6. Your socioeconomic status.
There are so many factors that contribute to that and it's cruel for anyone to hold it against you. Just make sure you stay aware of your privileges.
5. Your health.
Physical or mental. You have to take care of yourself, and do your best to demand your work and friends respect your needs.
4. Your marital or family status.
Whether you tied the knot at 19 or are still single at 45, it's your business alone. Same goes for kids. Whether or not you have or want them is none of anyone else's concern.
3. Your race.
Obviously.
2. Your gender identity or sexual orientation.
Anyone who asks you to hide or change that is a bigot.
1. Your body.
Height, weight, shape, color, and so on. No one should be discriminating against how you look.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Working for Free
Just get a job. Quit being lazy. Grow up, already and find some work. You leech.
Believe me, I've heard them all. I've probably thought about half of the negative things you can say about unemployment about myself.
You can barely open a newspaper (er, or open a website that used to be a newspaper) without seeing some article about the delayed adulthood of millenials and generation Y and how we're not buying houses or we're still living at home or whatever else is wrong with us this week.
I know. I should just get out there and get a job so I can move out and be an adult. Right. This is the first time I've ever been told that, and clearly that idea had never occurred to me before. Let me get on that now.
Except nothing is ever that simple. In case you haven't noticed, the job market sucks. Single posts on employment sites get hundreds of responses. It's even nearly impossible to get a job at McDonald's right now. And when you're a creative type, it gets even worse, since the people who show interest in hiring you still don't want to pay you.
Yes, I do a little free work. It's for places that are labors of love, plus I know they're hardly breaking even on server costs and aren't paying anyone. They aren't advertising on the media boards like they're a real job and then - surprise - either calling themselves "internships" or offering something insultingly low per piece.
So in a world where you practically need a doctorate to get retail work, but employers in your field want you to work for nothing, how are you supposed to get out and do all the things that are established markers of adulthood? I don't have answers to that. I'm still just trying to get by, and unfortunately right now that means I'm figuring things out from my parents' spare bedroom.
Believe me, I've heard them all. I've probably thought about half of the negative things you can say about unemployment about myself.
You can barely open a newspaper (er, or open a website that used to be a newspaper) without seeing some article about the delayed adulthood of millenials and generation Y and how we're not buying houses or we're still living at home or whatever else is wrong with us this week.
I know. I should just get out there and get a job so I can move out and be an adult. Right. This is the first time I've ever been told that, and clearly that idea had never occurred to me before. Let me get on that now.
 |
| Via The New Yorker. |
So in a world where you practically need a doctorate to get retail work, but employers in your field want you to work for nothing, how are you supposed to get out and do all the things that are established markers of adulthood? I don't have answers to that. I'm still just trying to get by, and unfortunately right now that means I'm figuring things out from my parents' spare bedroom.
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