Mrs. Nitmos doesn’t post here. She rarely comments here also though she’s welcome to do both. She does read everything written here including your comments sympathizing with her for tolerating me. I’m not sure what you are all talking about, of course, because I think she’s quite lucky. It’s not just anyone I ask to pop my back pimples. Sometimes love manifests itself in a volcano shaped skin explosion. At least, that’s how I see it. Ask yourself, have I asked any of you to pop my back pimples (there are many…enough for all) and now you understand the special place she holds.
Mrs. Nitmos works in the human resources field. She finds jobs for people. You’d think it would be rewarding work especially in this tough economy but then you would be forgetting about human nature. Some folks don’t really want a job. And some folks think way too highly of themselves.
We always think of foul Uncle Eddie from Christmas Vacation who has been out of work for something like 8 years and his family is reduced to living out of an RV because “he’s holding out for a management position.”
One client checked the “Spreadsheet” box under the computer skills category. When Mrs. Nitmos inquired about his experience in that area, he replied that he spent a few years working at a hotel making up beds. Spreading sheets. I’m surprised he didn’t check the “Excel” box because, you know, he’s like a real go-getter.
Several different folks have innocently explained that they left their last position because they “choked their boss” or “ punched the foremen in the face” or “was arrested for suspicion of rape and couldn’t make it to work.”
Have you ever had to sit in a room by yourself with a suspected rapist? Mrs. Nitmos has. Awk-ward.
Another potential client sent her a resume that listed her previous receptionist position as “Director of First Impressions.” Er, sorry, that’s even too bullshitty for me. And I Excel at bullshit.
I suggested to Mrs. Nitmos that, on her own resume, she gloss herself as Director of Office Smiles. Or Director of Safety Management (changed smoke detector batteries). Or Executive Attachment Specialist (she has the keys to the paper clip and staples supply closet). You know, something to spruce that baby right up.
I don’t know how I could title myself. I’ve always wanted to be an Executive of something though. Everyone is an executive of something - and it’s usually bullshit – so how ‘bout Executive of Office Awesomeness. I work in an office. I’m awesome. Seems like a good fit.
Or maybe the Run Conquistador. Everyone in my office knows I’m a runner. If you heard the podcast, you know that I wear my race medals around as buttons on my shirt. And who wouldn’t want to be a Conquistador? You get to wear metal pointed helmets and maraud Central and South American villages while avoiding small pox and measles.
At the very least, any of these titles would be better than “Office Asshole.”
I’m tired of hearing that.
8-10 miles planned for this weekend. Some of you are surprised that the sidewalks in my area are plowed. I should note that I live smack dab in the middle of the school zone. The high school, junior high and elementary schools triangulate my position. So the county plows the walks for the kids to get to school safely. Or maybe they do that for me to run safely. I’m not sure which. Sometimes I think the sun rises just for me also.