After six months of searching, it felt as if I’d remain unemployed forever.
The interviews are further and further apart. The opportunities are scare. Companies don’t hire in the summer then a hiring freeze goes into affect until just before the holidays, everyone takes a mental holiday from Thanksgiving until Christmas. The new budget isn’t discussed until after the first of the year. Basically, no one ever gets a job. At least that’s how it felt as an unemployed writer.
The online classified scans grow more desperate. “Well, I’m a writer but I could pour concrete. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about concrete but how hard can it be HEYYOO… “hard can it be” I’m already making puns about concrete. If I can’t lay cement, wonder if there are joke writer openings at Crestwood Construction?”
With zero opportunities on the horizon, and no real reason to look presentable each morning, certain grooming rituals fall by the weigh side. Activities like shaving, showering and wearing clean clothes. In other words, I didn’t shave, shower or do laundry since the day I cashed my last paycheck. This look blends in nicely with the rest of the coffee shop clientele, hanging out at 2pm on a Tuesday because they’re also unemployed.
Until that phone call.
“You want to see me for an interview today?” I repeated back to the strange voice temporarily residing inside my cell phone. “As in this day? This day we’re living right now? No, I don’t have anything planned. Well, the coffee shop is offering a new nutty roast that’s….no, I’ve got nothing, I’ll be in for an interview in an hour.”
My appearance was something similar to the guy spent wedged between two boulders in 127 Hours. With little time to spare, I needed acceptable interview clothes, a scrubbing to wash the horrific funk off my body and an instrument to tame the raccoon nesting on my cheeks.
I felt kind of like this dude.
The Philips Norelco Click & Style did everything I needed (except prepare me for those stupid interview questions like “what cereal are you?” and “why did you burn down your last place of employment?”. The Philips Norelco Click & Style trimmed unruly hairs, erased fur spreading below the beardline, wacked folicles growing from the cracks in my ears and cleaned up the scruff.
The Philips Norelco Click & Style was versatile — the attachments clicked on and off with ease and transforming the tool from trimmer to electric razor and back took seconds. The adjustable trimmer length took just a flick of a thumb so there weren’t a hundred useless length attachments hanging around under in the cabinet under the sink.
After just a couple minutes, a presentable man with his act together reappeared in the bathroom mirror.
“I’d trust me” to work for your company Mr. Human Resources Lady but would you trust me is the better question? Don’t answer that. I’ll answer the cereal question instead. I’m like a bowl of Cookie Crisp because I might start off sweet, but after a while, I’ll just feel weird against the roof of your mouth.
Fill in the blank with your own euphemism for a chance to win a Philips Norelco Click & Style “I’d _____ Me”.