she-ra

I remembered the story about the man after my father's biscuit (see the second entry) because, of course, I hate my job and would like to find another one.

More specifically though, I've been thinking about the possible similarities between a man hunt and a job hunt because, of course, I hate my job and would like to find another one.

And by "man hunt" I don't mean that the kind of hunt that ends with someone dead or in prison ... unless you consider marriage a prison.

As I said before , I have been doing this tech writing crap for a long time and I've hated pretty much the entire time. Fourteen years. That's a long time to do something you hate.

But I was in an awful relationship for 12 years. And after I left that awful relationship, I dated a series of clones of my ex for a couple of years before I finally snapped out of it.

See, there's one similarity already. Fourteen years.

(Hmmm. I broke two mirrors in one fell swoop once)

I can't think of any other similarities.

And yet I have done a spectacular job of hunting down a man. My man is fabulous. Nigh on perfection. So I'd like to think I might apply the same principles of man hunting to job hunting and find a paid job as spectacular as my sweetheart.

Except ... I didn't really hunt him.

I didn't dress like a slut and pretend to be interested in football.

That wouldn't have worked anyways. I also didn't dress like a hipster and pretend to be interested in the Hold Steady.

I didn't laugh at all his jokes.

Well, I did actually. Loudly and often.

But I'd get so freaked out by the possibility that he or anyone else would notice how hard I was laughing that I'd practically pinch myself trying to stop.

I didn't talk to him more than anyone else. If anything I'd keep a careful eye on how long we talked at parties and run away if it started to feel too intimate.

But one day we happened to be alone at the same place at the same time and that was the beginning of the beginning.

Can I try this with a job?

Just try to be happy with who I am?

Laugh alot?

Purposefully keep my distance because I don't want it to know how much I like it ... until one day our paths cross and we're drawn to each other irresistably and permanently?

headhunter

As a small child obsessed with Gilligan's Island, the Three Stooges, and Johnny Weismuller's Tarzan films, I once intercepted a phone call for my father that made my skin crawl.

The man identified himself as a headhunter.

I immediately envisioned my father's shriveled noggin swinging on a piece of twine from the roof of the caller's straw hut.

Horrified, I asked, "What do you want from him?"

His response pierced my heart like the icy blade of a spear:

"He called me, sweetheart."

"Why?" I whimpered.

"I guess he's not happy with his job."

Why on earth would a person with two small, relatively well-behaved, and pretty cute children voluntarily hand his head over to a complete stranger just because he didn't' like his job?!?

Perhaps because the man never once evinced other signs of savagery familiar to a seven year old anthropologist, like grunting "unga bunga" or pounding a bongo drum, or perhaps because some part of me refused to accept that my father was suicidal, I delivered the message to him.

I also did my best to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Later I asked, with the bravest face I could muster, "How come you called a headhunter, Poppie?"

"Well, little bubbie, I'm thinking about finding a new job."

"But why a headhunter?"

"That's just another name for a guy who helps people find jobs. Or helps companies find people."

"Oh."