"Forget it, Homer. It's Chiro-town."

This is a true story of an interview I went on in June, which, in retrospect, was awful to the point of hilarity.

I found an ad on Craigslist-- and so many trainwreck stories start that way-- for an assistant position in a chiropractor's office. No experience needed? I am so there. I sent them my resume, they replied with an invitation to come into the office for an interview. I had something going on that day; sweating bullets, I responded with a very polite and professional email apologizing, saying I have a previous obligation, could I reschedule? The response I got was the same email as before, with the interview date changed to a week later.

(At this point, what I should have done was deleted it and forgotten the whole thing; as you might have figured out by now, for a smart girl I can be phenomenally stupid sometimes.)

I drove out to the office (about half an hour from my apartment). There was a small group of people in professional dress standing by the door-- oh fantastic, a group interview. As I parked my car (this was in a busy supermarket mall), I noticed a few other professionally dressed people getting out of their cars and heading in the same direction I was. Okay, a big group interview. As we stood outside the office waiting for the door to open, even more people came and stood with us. I've never been good at determining the number of people in a group, but there were at least 50 applicants.

Now, I know that chiropractic is controversial. My dad had shoulder surgery, and a combination of chiropractic and physical therapy helped him to regain movement and heal. I think that seeing a chiropractor can be a legitimate route to take in certain medical situations.

This guy was the very soul of quackery.

As I stood on line, waiting to get an application and pen, I picked up a homemade book in his waiting room. It decried the evils of surgery, complete with graphic photos of, well, surgery. It's gross! People die on the operating table sometimes! (Your friendly neighborhood chiropractor doesn't get a slice of the pie!) I'll have to remember to get my spine aligned if my gosh-darn appendix ever becomes inflamed.

There wasn't anywhere in the waiting room to sit, so I ventured deeper into the office. It was an open room filled with obviously home-made exercise machines, wooden monstrosities with pullies and slings. Other people were sitting awkwardly on them, working on their own applications. A patient was still using one of the machines, doing his stretches and exercises in the midst of dozens of people storming the office and perching all around him. I crouched in the children's section-- yes, he practiced on children too-- and filled out my application. I grabbed a binder to lean on. In it were photos of the chiropractor aligning a newborn baby still in the hospital. You know, get 'em while the bones are still soft.

While I crouched in the play area in the midst of the teeming mass of hopefuls, a local radio station had been playing. This cut out, and a song started playing.

A song with amateurish production values.
A song with an irritating melody that still gets stuck in my head sometimes.
A song about chiropractic.

Then the song ended, and the silence that followed... oh wait no, it was being looped.

So finally, after hearing the Song what seemed like a dozen times more, the chiropractor comes out. He was wearing a polo shirt that looked like the one my gym teacher wore when I was in elementary school (in the early 90s). It was embroidered with the slogan that had been repeated ad nauseum in the chorus of the Song. Because of this little detail, I like to think that he wrote and recorded it himself, because that makes the story even more deliciously ridiculous. I'll never know for certain.

He introduced himself and set about explaining the job, which was less assisting in the office and more standing around in local shopping centers offering free consultations to the general public. Now, I'll tolerate some things that I'm not entirely comfortable doing in the name of a steady paycheck, but this involved (a) being That Girl at a mall kiosk, (b) working for a quack, and (c) potentially hurting children. Plus, from a purely pragmatic view, between the previous week and this session, he was interviewing over 100 people for what couldn't have been more than 4 openings, and I had never even stepped foot in a chiropractor's office before.

I waited until he was done with his spiel and started asking people to give their names and sell themselves. I got up and left-- with about 10% of the other applicants.

$50 OBO

The call center job didn't pan out. By that, I mean that the only way it could have been worse would be if I had to pay them for the privilege of doing the job. I have made the risky decision that it would be better to really throw myself into applying for more jobs than filling my time with an occupation that left me feeling listless and miserable, and having less time to look for something better. I have two interviews lined up for the end of the week, both for retail sales (aka The Devil I Know).

I was filling out an application at a restaurant today. The manager asked if I had any experience with the restaurant industry. When I told her no, she responded, "Well, you'll really have to sell your personality then." What a distasteful phrase, "sell your personality." And I do realize marketing one's skills and achievements is a necessary part of finding a job, I just wish it was less reminiscent of prostitution.

I find the process of selling myself to be bewildering. Extracting a passable cover letter from the neurotic, second-guessing labyrinth that is my mind was incredibly difficult, and it is specifically for jobs in the non-profit field. I am at a loss when it comes to, say, applying for a receptionist job. I believe it's something I could do, but what do I say? "I'm very good at answering the phone, and my handwriting is legible, so you would have no problem reading the messages I would take." I'm being facetious, of course, but when I try to come up with something write to Employer X to separate myself from the pack, I consistently come up short.

Almost Always

It's been three years since I've applied for a retail position, and somehow in that short amount of time the process has become more draining. A lot of corporations are going paperless, which gives me the eco-friendly warm fuzzies, but with the applications that I can complete from the comfort of my own laptop come the ridiculous personality tests.

I had to take one of these once before. When I was in high school, I applied for a position at a CD store (ask your parents) where my best friend worked, and the interview included one of these tests, which was administered over the phone by an automated voice kerjigger. I had to answer the questions as quickly as possible, so it was all knee-jerk reaction. Of course now, I can sit on my couch and spend the entire night second-guessing myself, stretching out a process that is supposed to take half an hour ad infinitum. On a related note: isn't the concept of taking half an hour to apply for a job, per job, pretty ridiculous? Is that just me?

The general format is multiple choice, with the choices ranging from "Never" to "Always," or "Strongly Disagree" to "Strongly Agree," with varying degrees in between (usually). The questions come in the form of statements, such as "You finish your work no matter what."*

Some of them, such as the one previously mentioned, make a lot of sense in the context of a retail sales job. It's pretty obvious that they want someone who is hard-working, courteous, and honest. However, there are some questions where I just can't discern what they're trying to figure out about me. “You would rather not get involved in other people's problems.” Okay, they're probably weeding out applicants who like to gossip at work and stir up drama. “Agree.” But wait a second... maybe they count looking for the graphic novels section as a problem. Maybe they're trying to see if I'm the kind of employee who would see a confused-looking customer and be proactive about helping them. Well, I'm not a callous jerk... “Disagree.” But there's nothing less professional than two sales associates standing around bitching about their personal lives to each other and ignoring you. “Agree.” But maybe... and so on. I'm lost, and it's cold in here.

Another frustrating aspect of these tests is the unspoken but highly implied quest for perfection. The questions dance the line between being so open-ended as to be interpreted in several different ways and leaving no room for middle ground. “You love to be with people.” Well shit, it depends on the people, doesn't it? But four radio buttons don't leave much room to fully explain my impressions and experiences dealing with people. So, potential employer, I always love to be with people. Whether at a SoHo gallery opening or Hell's Angels gangbang, I am the consummate social butterfly.

So my impression is that not only are they looking for someone who doesn't steal or lie, but also is never late, never complains or argues, always works at full capacity, and never shows any emotion beyond cheerful professionalism. Apparently to be qualified for a sales associate position, one has to be the Nietzschean ubermensch. Well, except that the ubermensch doesn't obey the outmoded social ethics that would require him to greet every customer with a friendly smile.

* I'm lifting these examples from an online application that I just filled out.