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.)