Networking.

Networking. Ohhhh, how I fucking hate networking. The name itself implies a mechanical quality about it, as if the people around me are just little cogs in a matrix meant to do my bidding, and the job market rewards such a mindset.

as with writing a cover letter, it’s amazing how one can simultaneously come off as an incompetent beggar and entitled little snotball. “Hey, I’m obviously incompetent; that’s how it has come to pass that I am unemployed. Which is why you should totally give me a job.” Image

at least, that’s how I feel about it.

Probably the scarier a networking contact is, the more helpful he/she can be. But therein lies the problem. My former boss is “kind of a big deal” in my field; that’s how he got to be the boss. But that means he’s probably, I don’t know, drinking Scotch and smoking cigars with the President of Vietnam right now. Or something. What the hell kind of business do I have asking him to find me something? In the scenario that plays out in my head, he’s there in a smoke-filled room, and a butler brings out an iPhone. He reads “Hi, remember me? I did a really shitty presentation for you back in January. Unsurprisingly, I am still unemployed and would like you to help me…” He chortles and shows the Vietnamese President, who holds his nose to stop the Glenmorangie from spraying out his nose in an undignified manner. They erupt into laughter characteristic of successful middle-aged men.

OK, I guess that scenario was a bit ridiculous, but that was the point. If I can make my fears a bit absurd, my brain starts to realize that, hey, maybe the reality won’t quite be so bad.

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