Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

No, no, I wasn’t tangoing with a Mexican, or should I be politically correct and say Latino. Believe me, I’d give in to one if he looked as hot as Mexican actor Demián Bichir on Weeds, the HBO show.

But I did mean rosé, the wine, writing my cover letter. The vino gave me that extra boost of confidence I needed to spout off my qualifications for a VP of marketing job that I would be ideal for.

I just got a little zingier in my language from being a little looser from the wine. That’s what you do in marketing, right? Trumpet your oomph.

I call applying for a position like that an “Oh, What the F—” job. I have other job-application categories. They are “I’m Not Perfect, But He’s My Brother,” “Hail Mary,” and “How Could You Not,” as in how could you not call me in for an interview, because, in this case, I hit all of your job requirement points.

In the “Oh…” category, I find jobs that would land me a six-figure salary, which I’ve made before just so you know I’m not dreaming, and stick a big fancy title on my business card.

Then I run across the “I’m Not Perfect Job…,” which means I’ve got some but not all the required qualifications. For these jobs, I write a cover letter that elevates my talents in a way that diffuses my deficiencies. I don’t know why I continue to apply for jobs like these since I don’t typically get a response.

When I do, I’ve had to defend my qualifications, and I don’t like doing that because I don’t believe that’s what a job interview is supposed to be about. It’s a courting thing, and when you defend something you’re not courting it.

As for “Hail Mary” jobs, I don’t think they need any explanation. These are jobs that are so not right for me, but a detail in the job description stood out enough to captivate me into applying. I don’t spend a lot of time on these. I have, however, recently received an email response to one of them, but I didn’t pass the telephone-screening interview.

As Ann, I need a job category that’s “Just Right” a la Goldilocks and the Three Bears but with a modern twist. The three bears live in a condo somewhere on Central Park South, or in Santa Monica near my newly married girlfriend. Inside their condo, I’d just say, “Oh, what the f—.” Doesn’t matter whether it leads to a job or not; we’d all have a good time in the big bed, as long as little Red Riding Hood’s brother doesn’t show up.