Please Judge Me

Yesterday, I interviewed for a position as an SEO analyst with a local marketing company. I honestly have no idea how I got here from five years ago. I wanted to make you a timeline to assist with the analysis of this situation, but my Photoshop skillz are horrendous and it was difficult to make a readable timeline that fits in my theme, so behold the abomination:

The point is, I have no idea what I’m doing claiming to be qualified to work as an SEO analyst. These are some things I can do well:

1. Edit other people’s written works (in other words, criticize them without having to generate content).
2. Write non-creatively.
3. Cook.
4. Knit.
5. Eat.
6. Play MarioKart (this is somewhat arguable).

No one will pay me to do any of those things. No one will even interview me to do those things. In the past nine months, these are the things I have interviewed to do:

1. Sell insurance.
2. Fix computers.
3. Operate audio-visual equipment.
4. Online marketing.

List 2: Good god, you suck. List 1: You suck too, because you’re not making me any money. Both of you should be ashamed.

So anyway, now we’re at SEO analyst (that’s Search Engine Optimization for those of you not up with your online marketing lingo). I don’t really want to write more for fear that my prospective employers might find me (as though it’s difficult) and not hire me based on the high levels of snark apparent. So, prospective employers, this is for you:

Please hire me! I have many qualities that you are looking for in an employee. For instance, I am efficient, a hard worker, have excellent communication skills, work well in an office setting, and am REALLY desperate. I can’t emphasize that last one enough: My bar for crappy employment is set at “Staples,” which means that you could force me to make you soufflé for breakfast every morning and then step on it while I watch and you would still be better than my last employer. Seriously, hire me, because I know what desperation tastes like and as long as you don’t fall below the Staples line, I will never leave you. I’m like a battered woman: As long as you don’t beat the crap out of me for not bringing your beer promptly enough, I will love you forever.

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