The perfect job for me


I spent some time a month ago or so updating a ton of information on and around the internet.

Nothing special. Nothing amazing or thrilling. Nothing that you need to know in order to reach out and connect with me.

Basic stuff.

But I did learn a lesson from the process. A few, in fact.

Have you ever gone on some sort of quest while surfing the web? Say shopping. You visit some search engines or specific sites, check out a pair of shoes or a television or some food item or whatever. Then every ad in every corner on every page you visit from that search on asks you if you want to buy some sneakers, a model with 4K and smart connectivity, or a multipack of cornbread.

It’s obvious someone is watching you. Someone is collecting information. Someone is funneling details and reflecting it back your way.

A few of the places I visited involved my professional endeavors. Think resume and you’d be close enough for the concept. Within hours, the e-mails began arriving.

A new job posting was available near me. A review of my qualifications suggested that this job would be a good match for me. And so on.

Only… no… not even close.

More than five jobs with in-my-area designations were, literally, sixteen-hundred or more miles away from my front door. (Local? Really? Who is making that daily commute?)

Despite zero qualifications or any possible matching skills, jobs like being a veterinarian—yes, doctor-level, certified DVM, veterinarian—were getting the this would be perfect for you promotion in bold font, occasional italics, and often different colors.

I love animals. (Have you seen the latest episodes of Secrets of The Zoo? Good stuff.) Love them. But I am not interested in moving two thousand miles to take on a job I am not qualified to hold even if it does mean playing with sea otters every day. (Actually… let’s put that one aside. Playing with a sea otter every day? I might be in for that one.)

Somehow though… algorithms and fancy behind-the-scenes computer stuff involved… the offers are coming, and they are way off. (And for now, we’ll leave out the idea that I never asked to be e-mailed any of this information.)

I know for a fact that I have never inquired about or indicated in any way that I am involved in HVAC efforts. Not on any level. Not with any qualifications. One of the e-mail notifications that arrived yesterday was a notice telling me about a company accepting bids on a local HVAC project. (Fingers crossed on that one, but I think I may have priced myself too high for consideration. Still, if they don’t find out I’m not carrying insurance for HVAC work, I suppose there’s a shot.)

In some ways, I don’t mind. A few years ago, I was doing some research for a project I was working on. I was building some information that I hoped to use during a celebrity interview and also have available when I wrote out a profile for the piece. Suddenly, all those ads around the web were offering me tickets to see this particular performer live in concert. That made me chuckle for a few days until they cycled themselves out of whatever rotation was in play.

But when they are way, way off… wow. Just, wow. (My words – “Oh, you went to a job search site, therefor you must be looking for a job, and since you say you can write I bet you’d love to be a long-distance truck driver.” (Truck driving actually sounds kind of interesting, but: (1) I don’t have any specialized CDL permits, and, (2) I’m not sure how I presented writing and communications and whatever else I have and the result was heavy-vehicle commercial driving opportunities.))

I guess in some ways, I should be grateful though. Because what this does confirm is every inspirational poster that you could visualize. According to computer programming and the world wide web, if you can dream it, you’re qualified to apply for it. (And in most cases, they’ll even come looking for you.)


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