From Hair to Eternity

I am a mammal. I know that this is exciting news but I just felt that it was necessary to share. Now, I have had suspicions that I was mammalian for quite some time. But after analyzing the empirical evidence, I have eliminated all the other options. So, I guess you can now say that I am Team Mammal. First, let’s look at the alternatives. I can’t be a fish. While I do enjoy a nice dip in the pool, seawater dries out my hair  and that coupled with the fact that I have all of the aquatic grace of a ball of mud pretty much rules out me being a fish. I would consider reptiles but snakes creep me out so you can forget that. I would contemplate the fact that I may be an insect but the frequency that I have bruises on my body kinds of negates belonging to any group known for its hard exoskeleton. Since I can neither adhere to walls nor jump more than 2 inches off the ground, then amphibians are clearly not where I belong. As far as birds go, I think that in light of what I like to refer to The Orlando Karaoke Incident of 1995, I lack the melodious quality assigned to all birds. Yep I am a mammal and better yet, I am a male one.

The one distinction that mammals have, in addition to being the principal characters in most Disney movies, is that the male and female of each species have certain territorial and socially sex specific roles. Other lower animals don’t have some regimented gender roles because frankly the males of those species have less complex requirements put upon them. For example, if you are a salmon, your role is simple.  Leave the ocean, check. Swim upstream and over rapids, check. Do your reproductive duty, check. Go back down downstream and become Grizzly chow, check. There is no, take out the garbage, mow the lawn, hold my purse while I try this dress on and/or snuggle included in any of those requirements. However, we higher mammals have to do more than just continue the species; we have to interact with members of the opposite sex at times when reproduction is not on the agenda. Because this interaction frequently exposes both males and females to the absolute insanity inherent in the opposite gender, both sexes have developed special territories where we may seek shelter from this insanity. Historically men have had the better selection in terms of man caves. Prehistoric men had actual caves. The medieval men had the knighthood and public executions.  The colonial age gave men pirate ships and the clergy. Early twentieth century American men had social clubs and jobs not involving cooking and cleaning.

Eventually the wheels of social justice began to turn and women began to find special places where they too could be with those of the fairest sex and share the joys of sisterhood, without having to wear an apron. I think this progress is great, but then……..men began to realize that the number of women’s- only places began to dwarf the number of guys’ places. Just look around. You have book clubs, women’s clubs, yoga studios, every store in the mall other than Sharper Image and GameStop. There is also some mysterious establishment with frosted windows named Curves. I am not sure what kind of place that is but based on the fact that the women come out sweating I am pretty sure it’s some kind of lingerie tickle fight arena. Even television, once that bastion of all things male, has gone girly. In order for me to arrive at that holy grail of manly TV., the N.F.L. network, I have to pass 6 shopping channels, Oprah’s channel, the Hallmark channel and at least 4 different incarnations of the Lifetime network. Because of this intrusion into the spaces formerly dominated by those with the “y” chromosome, we men have been forced to retreat to those special places that women have no interest in going, the principle of these being the barber shop.

The barber shop as a kid was a scary place. A barber shop as an adult is ever scarier. Every barber shop had these menacing leather-bound(at least I hope that’s leather) chairs and if you happen to be a small child they would get  out the “booster”. This is basically a leather wrapped piece of plywood that would rest on the arms of the barber chair so the barber could make sure to nick up all of your head and not just parts of it. The best part of it is that the thing had neither seat belt nor handles for you to balance with. It was basically walking the plank with the added fun of scissors near your major arteries. I had a friend who went to a cool barbershop as a boy; at least he thinks it was cool because the kids got to sit on a saddle while they got haircuts. A saddle? Great, they found the one kind of the seat in the civilized world with zero flat surfaces. “Hey Johnny, what happened to your ear?” “I fell off the saddle at the cool barbershop.” “Nice going Van Gogh.”

For those of you have never had the sheer pleasure (sorry I have to include at least one bad haircut pun) to spend time in a barbershop, let me tell you what you are missing. The place is never neat nor tidy. There are a collection of hunting magazines that no one has ever heard of in the waiting room. Well, it’s not really a waiting room. It is actually a collection of rickety chairs about 2 feet from the barbers. I would say it is within shouting distance but that measure of length has little meaning in a barbershop because the denizens of these fine establishments are generally shouting everything they say. The only problem with the proximity from those waiting to those getting bad haircuts, and they are always bad haircuts, is that inevitably one of those waiting will engage the barber about to cut my hair in some topic of conversation that the barber feels passionate about and everybody knows that there is nothing more fun than an enraged man with an endless supply of cutting tools. Usually, by the end of the conversation my neck looks like the cutting board at a Japanese Steakhouse. As scary as what goes on in front of the barber chairs is, what goes on behind them is even worse. Of course the requisite picture of the barber from his days in the army is there, and nothing says high fashion hair styling like a guy in a crew cut. There is the industrial sized bottle of Vitalis. I am not sure what Vitalis is but have a sneaking suspicion that it contains the same chemicals as paint thinner without paint thinner’s more pleasant smell. I swear that when the barber splashed that substance on my neck, I saw smoke. Next to the Vitalis was the giant candy jar….of combs. This container held mor combs that any human being could possibly need in a strange blue liquid. When asked what that viscous liquid was, the head barber told be alcohol. I may have been in a child and still believed in many unreal things. At the time I still believed in Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny and the American political system, but even I couldn’t buy that the alcohol was blue. I knew that alcohol came in two shades, vodka clear and Canadian brown. Then to add to my chagrin, the barber would pull a comb from that bacterial frappe and attempt to use it on my head at which time I would dodge every move like I was Neo from the Matrix. Sorry Floyd( it is required that every real barber have at least one guy named Floyd on the premises at all times) but you’re not putting anything near my head that came from a vat of liquid that looks vaguely similar to the product my mother uses to remove rust stains from our toilet. Everywhere you look there is weirdness. Then I would spot the thing that set me over the edge, the combination straight razor and long leather strap. Nothing settles a six-year-old like being 10 inches away from one of the props from the SAW movies.

After all the stress, you finally emerge back into the coed world. You have a new hair cut and the world is so excited. Well, not the whole world but at least the bullies at your bus stop because all your extra hair was making it itchy when they held you in a headlock. You swear that it’s just not worth it. You aren’t going to go to the barbershop any more, you are going to the hair salon because you mistakenly think that will make it better. By the way, you are wrong. As long as I was under my mother’s dominion, I was forced to visit the same barbershop but when the barbers’ tremors finally got so bad that a quick trim may have endangered my mom’s chances at grandchildren, she agreed to let me go get my haircut at the salon. Well, it wasn’t really a salon, it was a StuperCuts.(name changed to avoid any more litigation). I know that it isn’t exactly a Paul Mitchell salon but for a young man who considered any meal not delivered via a drive through window as gourmet, it was quite a cultural change. It was like the Promised Land…with hair on the floor. The difference between the male dominated barbershop and the female domain of the salon were like night and day.

  • Men get their hair cut, women get their hair done
  • Men visit barber shops, women visit beauty salons
  • Beauty salons have actual waiting rooms with magazines from the current decade.
  • Beauty salons are staffed by people who went to school in order to do hair, barber shops are staffed by people who work there  because they dropped out of school.
  • Beauty salons play satellite radio featuring the latest hits, barber shops play A.M. radio featuring shows about gardening.
  • At a beauty shop, they will actually wash your hair for you before your styling. At a barbershop, it’s a challenge just getting the barber to wash his hands after he uses the restroom.

As happens when ever you cross that territorial line between the world of men and women, the novelty of an experience different from the one we are used to make everything seem wonderful…..for a while. But slowly, the reality is that you have simply exchanged one type of psychosis for another. Soon the glow of joy of being at the salon was replaced by the cold wind of reality. The pre-styling hair washing seems to be the entrance level exam for the position of Water-Boarder at Guantanamo Bay. Gee thanks for making my scalp bleed, I really appreciate that. Another problem with the salon is the obsession with making appointments. Now I do understand that some of the coloring and styling activities may take longer than the typical five-minute buzz cut at the barber shop but do you need to schedule what time I should show up down to the millisecond. I am trying to get a few inches chopped off the fro not trying to land a spaceship on an asteroid. I can barely show up at work at the time that I am supposed to, and I am getting paid to do that. So if you expect me to show up at the hair cut place in the strip mall at a certain then I will give you the same advice that I gave my wife on our wedding day, ”Prepare for disappointment.”

Even arriving at salon, there are other issues. First of all, all the salons I have ever been to (that would be three) have an extremely loud door alarm to alert everyone in the zip code that the door has been opened. Nothing breeds hair styling success like startling the people with the razor-sharp instruments. I understand the reason for the alarm on the door. It is to give the employees an auditory prompt fo them to throw down their cigarettes and come back in the salon, because they smoke….they all smoke. Maybe it is the constant inhalation of hairspray or maybe it is the occupational stress one would feel from having to pretend not to notice when the client in the chair passes gas. Whatever the reason, the employees usually have more tobacco than the state of North Carolina. The last time that I got my hair cut, the lady that did it smelled like the lovechild of The Marlboro Man and Joe Camel.  Aside from the cigarette stained fingers cutting my hair, there is another problem I have with the salon employees. It is not the physical contact that takes place when you are cutting my hair, I understand the barriers that having short arms places on your ability to respect my personal space when styling my ‘do, it is the verbal contact that I mind. Let me put this delicately,  “ STOP TALKING TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!” We are not family. We are not friends. Heck, we are not even casual acquaintances. If I could cut my hair, I would. But I can’t and that is why I come here. So, let’s please stop pretending that we need to catch each other up on what’s been going on in since the never when I was here before. I don’t want to talk about the  weather. I don’t want to talk about my job. I don’t want to participate in your conversation about when your boyfriend’s”band” is going to hit it big. I don’t want to join in you and your co-workers’ version of an amateur  The Maury Show. You are a professional and I expect you to behave as one. You are under no pressure to be neither social nor chatty. In fact I want the same interaction with you that I would expect from a prostitute:

  • Don’t tell me your name.
  • Don’t look me in the eye.
  • Perform your duty well and you will be tipped well.
  • Perform it poorly and I will claim that I am a cop and then run away.

That’s’ it. It’s just hair. It really shouldn’t get complex. Of course there is another alternative………maybe I will just wear a hat.

 

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Once more…with feeling

They are good that are away.”- Scottish proverb

A habit is defined as an action  that is repeated until it becomes routine. We all have habits good or bad. These actions are intentional or reflexive but they become simply the way we get things done. Life is full of the habits that we have developed and whether we call them schedules or patterns or customs, or as my therapists refers to them as “manifestations of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder“, they are with us always. For two months I had developed a habit of writing in this blog on an almost daily basis. It had become a habit. As my schedule became fuller due to the return of the kids to school I found myself writing less and less often. This also tended to be at the same time that I had seriously decreased the frequency in my drinking alcohol. Now, I am not sure if my writing enabled my drinking or my drinking enabled my writing. Due to this, I have decided to return to doing both. Furthermore since my current lack of health insurance means that I have no way of entering a recovery program to cure either of this unhealthy habits, I foresee myself staying of this path of dual destruction for quite a while.

I used to motivate myself to write on a daily basis by the belief that I was actually entertaining the masses. After a bit of time had passed I revisited some of my old writings and realized that frankly they just weren’t that entertaining. This caused me to reflect on why I actually wrote at all. The ugly truth is that I write because I enjoy it and i have to stop lying to myself about having any other altruistic reason for doing so. So, if by chance you happen to suppress your gag reflex long enough get at least a bit of enjoyment from this pile o’ crap, then that is a fortunate bonus for me. At least you can have a moment of gratitude that I don’t live next door to you.

Well enough with the self-serving explanation of why I have been away, let’s get back to the insignificant minutia with which I am endlessly obsessed.

Speaking  of habits, I spent the entire summer playing a sort of poor man’s Mrs. Doubtfire except without the copious amount of body hair and without the awkward sexual confusing undertones. As the summer closed and the school year began, I came to realize several things. First of all, my children’s favorite fruit is bacon. Secondly, I came to learn that both babysitters and bus drivers are critically overpaid. I also learned that daytime drinking isn’t as much fun when you have to traverse the hostile environment that is the unbridled chaos that is a Middle school student pick-up area.
However, I continued to thoroughly enjoy the cooking of dinners and pretending to do laundry. I believe that at some point I am going to just burn all of the dressers in my home and replace them with plastic hampers as it seems that is the only way our family is able to store their clothes, besides that will mean far less dusting. I was cruising through my new relaxed schedule when I started to learn that apparently in our modern age money is actually necessary to buy those little luxuries in life. you know, those extravagant things like …food and shelter. I swear I sure do regret spoiling  my kids by raising them to expect things like food to eat and actually sleeping inside. I sure won’t that mistake again.
Therefore, I was forced to face the ugly truth, I had to go (gasp) back to work. Sorry Maury Povitch, you are going to have to wade in the shallow end of the gene pool all by yourself. (Sniff) “You are not the father“(sniff). I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I gots to go get paid.Luckily, I was able to find a position doing what I do best, namely sitting on my tuckus and running my mouth. It’s nice to have a calling in life.
Speaking of habits, when you have worked at one place for a substantial amount of time you grow accustomed to the specific culture that the company has and when you go someplace new it takes some adjustment to get used to that new culture. I came from the blue-collar world dominated by males and into  the white-collar world where the majority of workers are young women. At my new job, the people in charge manage their business whereas at my old job the people in charge tended to manage to do stupid things that just ticked me off.
The other major cultural difference is the basis difference that occurs between men and women. At my old job, Monday morning became a live version of sports radio, without the ads for drugs promising “Enhancement”(creepy). The guys would gather around and dissect the football games of the previous weekend and congratulate themselves on their vast knowledge of sports.At my new job there is stories of how great dinner with the boyfriends were and how great their new outfit makes them feel. Unfortunately, this feminizing influence also affects some of the men that work here. Yesterday while exiting the restroom I passed a man wearing a University of Arkansas polo. I, being a football fan, struck up a conversation about what he thought of the Razorbacks’ quest for a new coach. He responded that the shirt was just a gift and was indignant that I would misconstrue his garment choice as an indication of his interest in collegiate sports. Well, excuse the bleep out of me. I have a crazy aunt  that used to send me maidenform bras every Christmas but that doesn’t mean I am going to wear them to work. And if I do decide to wear them on “really casual Fridays” you can bet your sweet butt that I will expect you to make certain judgement about me based on what I am wearing.
Speaking of fashion, there are some certain other cultural differences between my current job and the ones in the past. The predominance of young women has the most profound effect in what one wears to work. My old workplace insisted on us wearing uniforms in Satan‘s favorite color, drab green. At my new job casual days meant the wearing of a pair of comfortable jeans and a polo shirt. At this new job, it seems to mean one comes to work in a micro-mini skirt and a pair of “F-me” high heels. I don’t mind so much as everyone likes looking at people dressed well but the problem is that the air conditioning in the building is really cold and my knees are starting to chafe.
So although it may take some adjustment on my part, I look forward to this job becoming the old job that I complain about when I get a new job. I would love to keep on this writing kick but I have to go now.
Its Florida/Georgia Weekend………
 And there is another habit of mine that I am about to indulge.

And they call me odd

 

C-3PO: Sir, the possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately 3,720 to 1.

Han Solo: Never tell me the odds.

Batting averages, success rates, chances of rain, amount of Ivory soap that is pure……the world is just chock full of percentages. And unlike grammar,spelling, and dividing fractions, understanding percentages is one of the actual useful skills still being taught in today’s public schools. It’s a simple concept that even the most feeble of minds can comprehend and in fact, the most difficult thing about percentages in our modern world is finding the percentage sign on the computer keyboard. By the way, it’s on the 5. So, sorry Han Solo, but I am about to drop some serious odds knowledge on ya.

  • Chance of successfully navigating asteroid field: 2.68%
  • Chance that, prior to them finding out they were siblings, that Luke and Leia “hooked up”: 40%
  • According to Time magazine, percentage of Americans who would like Bruce Springsteen to compose a new National Anthem: 22%
  • Based on my experience at football games, percentage of people who think the actual national anthem is currently either Lee Greenwood‘s “Proud to be an American” or “Sweet Home Alabama” : 73%
  • According to famous quote by Thomas Edison, percentage of success that is inspiration: 10%. Percentage of success that is perspiration: 90%
  • Percentage of people in front of me in line at Wal-mart  wearing deodorant: 13%
  • Percentage of people in Alaska that walk to work: 11%
  • Percentage of Alaskans eaten by bears while walking to work: 10.75%
  • Percentage of greeting cards purchased by women: 93%
  • Percentage of greeting cards that were actually mailed: 18%
  • Success rates of flu shots: 70%
  • Success rates of tequila shots: 116%
  • In the U.S.A., percentage of people who work while eating lunch: 32%
  • In the U.S.A, percentage of people referred to as “ass-kissers” or “brown-noses” by their co-workers: 32%
  • Odds of me finding, a previously forgotten, bag of high quality coffee beans in my pantry: 19%
  • Odds of me being out of half-and-half on that same day: 97%
  • Percentage of serial killers that like powdered creamers: 98.58%
  • Amount of watermelon that is actually water: 92%
  • Amount of watermelon that is actually seeds: 75%
  • According to the federal government, percentage of Americans that eat fast food on a daily basis: 25%
  • Chances of actually getting what you order when you go through the drive thru: 9.6%
  • Percent of girls in Bangladesh that are married by age 18: 73%
  • Percent of people who just turned the word,”Bangledesh” into a sex joke: 58%
  • According to surveys, amount of American married men who have cheated on their wives: 70%
  • Percentage of married women that ,after being cheated on, do some revenge cheating of their own: 85%
  • Percentage of unfaithful men who can say “@#$*” about their wives cheating: 0%
  • Odds of breaking your toe after hitting it on edge of chair: 8%
  • Odds that you will hit that same toe on every piece of furniture in the house: 95%
  • According to Time magazine, percentage of American 4 year olds that are obese: 20%
  • Percentage of Americans who  watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo that are responsible for the decay of civilization: 100%
  • Percentage of  people in Kentucky that are teenagers the first time they get married: 50%
  • Percentage of those people in Kentucky whose first marriage does not involve their cousin: 12%
  • Chances that I give a rat’s ass about anything having to do with Kentucky: 0%
  • Percentage of Americans that know the sun is a star: 55%
  • Percentage of Americans that think Kim Kardasian is even though she serves no actual purpose and has become little more than a wart on the rather large backside of American pop culture: 24%
  • Odds of me finishing this post without getting distracted or sidetracked: 3%
  • Percent of U.S. male college students that think life is a “meaningless existential hell”: 27%
  • Percent of U.S. male college students that are a complete buzz kill to be around: 27%
  • Percentage of readers of this blog that probably are convinced that I need professional help: 85%
  • Percentage of readers that are correct: 85%

 

Stupid is our business, and business is good.

The Aztecs were a powerful civilization. In all of Mesoamerica, no group of people was able to compete with the Aztecs in terms of technological development. They ruled Mexico for centuries without interruption. The Pax Azteca met with a disastrous end in 1521 when Hernando Cortes came a calling.Like a colonizing ice cream truck, he came in a fancy uniform and offering wonderful treats. But, the next thing you knew the Aztecs were left to explain their horrible ordeal to an detective from SVU . Prior to their obliteration by Hernando “Mr. Softee” Cortes, the Aztecs had created a complex system of religious practices. The most important of these was the selection, by a high priest, of a lovely young maiden or man who would be sacrificed to the gods. I would tell you the name of these gods but spell check prohibits me from putting that many consonants together in anyone word, but I digress. It is amazing that after all these centuries,  this practice has continued to be practiced. I am not talking about the selection process the high priest used, but rather the actual sacrifice. We have given it a truly horrible name. We call it,” looking for a job.” And having your heart ripped out while tied to the top of a pyramid deep in the Mexican jungle was, no doubt, less painful than the agony job seekers are put through today.

“So tell me about your prior work experience.”

So break out your best “funeral suit” and put on some socks ya hippie cause we are going job hunting for todays’ “the things I have learned”:

I hate looking for employment. It is an invasive and degrading process. It’s like being a prostitute. You walk around, answer a lot of stupid questions, have to bargain for money and in the end you know you are going to get screwed.

The first step in procuring employment is perusing the want ads.If you are thinking your best move is to sit down and read the employment section of your local newspaper, I have a bit of advice for you.It is no longer 1937 and that was the last year that newspapers were actually relevant. So unless you have a birdcage to line or need to wrap up some Precious Moments figurines, don’t waste your money on the local fishwrap. The only legitimate job listings are for the jobs at the newspaper.Its called a personal computer, look into it.

Now that you have dragged your ass out of the Roosevelt era, you are ready to start your search. A good first site to visit is Monster.com. However, if you are not actually interested in selling Avon… or plasma you better keep cruising. There is Careerbuilder, which if you give them your email address you will refer to as Spam-a-lot. “Hey lighten up on the junk email”. I am looking for work, not trying to find the pharmaceutical recipe to turn me into Dirk Diggler. Personally I like the job board at Indeed. Because after reading it  you will say,” There are indeed a lot of jobs out there far crappier than mine”.

A bit of warning about the online job ads. There is more direct honesty contained in the “Casual Encounters” section of Craigslist than there are in most job listings. However, let me be your Rosetta Stone as you translate the hieroglyphics of the job ads.

Hiring Executive Position= We ran out of megalomaniacs, so we are looking for more.

Hiring Financial Executive=The CEO didn’t make parole

Hiring Midlevel Manager= You are going to work more hours than God

Hiring Entry Level Position =You will get paid so little, you won’t notice the complete lack of benefits.

One more warning about ads. If the ad reads,” Sicilian family run “Insurance”, Waste Management and Casino Operations business seeks LOYAL team player due to recent…er…termination”, you might not want to send that resume in .

Ok, you have found the position you want to apply for, it is time to start working on that résumé. The most important thing about your résumé is honesty. Avoid it all costs. Go ahead write down the truth, give yourself one example of the soul sucking abyss your career has been up to this point. Would you hire someone who was too lazy to embellish their own resume? That’s whats killing America, people have lost the drive to pretend they are someone who they are not. And let’s face it, do you want to create, in your boss, the expectation of honesty from you as an employee? If you start off by being honest, you are going to really hate yourself when you have to come up with that fake “sick voice” and say its “food poisoning” when you wake up one Monday too hung over to go to the office. I am disappointed enough at myself, I don’t need it from the guy that signs my paycheck. Plus the company has already lied to you about how great the job is. If you don’t lie back to them you are not holding up your end of the relationship. Its like two magicians on a date. If she pulls a rabbit out of her hat, you damn sure better pluck a canary from your coat pocket.

“So, you used to work at the White House?””

So go ahead and embellish away, don’t think of it as a résumé. Think of it as the Great American Short Story. So refer to your time spent in jail busting rocks as your tenure in the employment of the government  working in the mineral industry. He’s not Guido your drug dealing cellmate. He is Mr. Antonelli, your professional reference who works in the pharmaceutical sciences.The great thing is that your are already improving the economy before you have even been hired. Due to the fact that you never know which phone call may be a call back from the 200 resumes you sent out, you end up having to deal with the telephoning bill collectors that you have been avoiding since the mid-1990s.

So you have managed to land an interview, now what? It is time to prepare. First “google” the company and find out how many states currently have active criminal/civil cases pending against your potential employer. Present this information to the interviewer and explain to them that they are not gaining a new employee. They are losing a potential witness for the prosecution.Also, you would be amazed how much your bargaining power increases thanks to a picture of the CEO, a goat and a little Adobe Photoshop.

Interview time is here. Dress for success.Don’t wear a suit. If you need a job, why would you dress like you on your way to your own private jet. You are broke, look the part. I suggest you send the message of desperation by the clothes you wear and nothing says,”I am pathetic” like ripped overalls or some homemade jorts made by cutting the legs of your mom’s jeans. The homelier you make yourself, the closer you are to being welcomed to the company.

You are now ready to head to the interview. Remember that most companies live by the motto,”Those who can, do. Those who can’t, manage. Those who can’t manage, work in the Human Resources department.” Therefore, you can anticipate certain questions that the mouth breathers in H.R. are too lazy not use. Here are some answers that I use to really stand out.

Q:  Why do you want to work here?

A: Because I am all out of paperclips and copy paper at my house.

Q: Tell me what you know about our company?

A: Based on the people who run your H.R., it’s pretty clear that this place will hire damn near anybody

.Q: Tell me about yourself.

A: I am a nearsighted claustrophobic hermaphrodite with mad learning disabilities…and I am rocking one leg!

At this point in the interview, talk will center on your ability to pass the company’s background checks. If they ask about your arrest record, respond with “NO, the pigs ain’t caught me yet.” or say,”No, I don’t have a criminal record…under THIS NAME.” When they explain that the drug test will go back 30 days, it is a good idea to say out loud,” Let’s see, Jimmy’s party was on the 4th and today is the 15th, so that’s 1,2,3,4,5,….”Probably a good idea to mention your “glaucoma” that you got that medicinal marijuana in your pocket for.Remember that a job interview is like professional bull riding. It doesn’t matter the style you do it with. It’s all about lasting as long as you can.

So you head home and wait for the call to tell you if you have the job. And you wait, and you wait. And you start to forget while you even bothered to look for a job in the first place. That’s when you remember the best part about being unemployed: As soon as you wake up, you are already on the job.

“This isn’t the job you are looking for”