Destiny: Unemployment

Heather yelled at me during lunch the other day. Apparently her mother googled her and my blog came up in the search. I tried explaining that the only thing I wrote about her is the fact that she emails me approximately 370 times a day, and that if you click on the her link, it just brings you to an article she wrote for USA TODAY a couple weeks ago, but she was still upset.

And then I thought about it for a bit. We just can’t help it. We’re google-able. We leave a footprint everywhere we go. I mean, think about it. We have Facebook and MySpace and blogs, and we write for newspapers and magazines, and it’s just impossible for us to stay untraceable.

And that’s something that freaks moms out. My mom is fiftysomething (we’ll leave it at that, in case she ever stumbles upon this blog), and even though we have had the internet for about 15 years in my house, she still freaks out about social networking sites, and the way I portray myself online. I guess moms have to worry now, considering the fact that 29,000 sexual predators were reported to have been found on MySpace a couple days ago.

But that’s not even what she’s freaking out about. She insists upon telling me over and over again that employers will look at my Facebook to see if I’m a suitable employee. It’s repetitive, and redundant, and repetitive, and redundant.

So I thought I would examine my Facebook profile with a critical eye, looking at it the way my mother or a potential employer would look at it.

Name. Networks. No problem there. Then. What? Wait a minute…. My profile says I’m in a relationship with another girl!

No need to freak out here, Mom, Dad and possible employers. Just because I’m in a relationship with a chick on my profile does not mean I’m a lesbian. The girl I’m listed as in a relationship with happens to be my best friend, and if you look at a lot of girls’ profiles, you’ll see there are tons of females in fake relationships with other females. Of course, I pointed this out to my mother one day, and all she said was “Well, you never know what a possible employer would think.” But I do know this: I refuse to work for homophobes. So if that’s going to be the thing that stops me from getting a job, then I’m better off that way.

Scrolling down I see my address, screen name (which means that at any given time someone can check my away message and see my new favorite “that’s what she said” joke), activities (which will all be listed on my resume anyway), and interests. Can my interests get me in trouble?

Well, two of them look questionable. I have Anderson Cooper listed as an interest. This means that perhaps if CNN is looking to hire me they will probably end up doing a background check. Bad news bears. They’re going to find out about that incident when I followed him home, hid behind his oak tree, camped out across the street, and stared at his wonderfulness through binoculars for 63 days straight. There go my cable news dreams. And sweet lord! It even says I enjoy wearing white shoes after Labor Day. Good bye kick-ass job at Conde Nast. Well, the dream was great while it lasted, but honestly, you can’t expect a girl without a fashion conscience to ever survive in the world of magazine journalism can you? Looks like getting a job is going to be harder than I thought. Thanks, Facebook.

Then there’s my music. This poses only one problem: Potential employers will think I am twelve-years-old and wonder why I am applying for this job. Seriously, who listens to Skye Sweetnam, Aslyn, and The Bangles? Movies, more of the same. Although I still defend The Prince and Me as one of the greatest films of all time.

The next thing employers will see is that my favorite book is 1984… ironic. And that I like pretty typical, main-stream literature for a twentysomething, like The Bell Jar. Plus, all the novels I’ve written have crappy names. Score negative two points for originality, Miss Gordon. Your utter blandness and lack of creativity goes to show that you will never make it far in this world. Unless you’re ambidextrous. Are you ambidextrous? No? That’s a shame.

Quotes: Gandhi’s “Be the change.” Gloria Steinem. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Translation: I’m a pompous D-Bag who obviously thinks she’s better than the rest of the world… I have no come back for this. All I can say is that I hope the Jiminy Cricket quote makes up for it, without bringing us back to the point about me being a twelve-year-old again.

What’s next? Well, there’s my wall, which is laced with sarcastically dirty comments more than 60 percent of the time. People are going to think I’m a walking brothel. Which would be great if I were trying to get written about in a magazine, not trying to do the actual writing.

But that’s it. That’s all the horror my page holds. Unless — oh no! They’re not going to look at my pictures, too, are they? Let’s see. Inappropriate joke about the Washington Monument, standing in line for the Harry Potter book at midnight, drinking, drinking, standing, drinking, sunburn, drinking…

Well, I think we all know what this means. I hope you’re starting to like my blog guys, because it might be the only writing I ever get to do…


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