Once upon a time, I had a full-time job. Then I decided to strike out as a freelancer–a move that failed to take into account how much I hate both “personal branding” and cold-pitching editors. Since it turns out I’m pretty much the worst freelance writer ever, I’m now back on the begging-people-to-employ-me circuit. I spend my days “applying for jobs.” Too many days, this is what that really means:
1. Bookmarking jobs I could apply for.
2. Convincing myself I really could work up enthusiasm to cover celebrities, personal finance or mattress innovations.
3. Changing the Themeleon background on my Twitter account. Again.
4. Swapping out all my social media profile pics.
5. Reading old clips and deciding a wet noodle with brain damage probably could’ve done a better job.
6. Shopping for stripper clothes on Target.com.
7. Agonizing over the relatives merits of excruciatingly similar words on my resume (did I “grow” or “drive” traffic???).
8. Wondering whether it’d be sexy or weird to strip in cowboy boots.
9. Stalking my 5th grade crush on LinkedIn. [He got fat.]
10. Yelling at my cat to get a job. Picturing what kind of job my cat could get. Giggling over the thought of my cat with a suit and briefcase.
11. Reworking my Pinterest bio.
Elizabeth is a writer, editor and AWESOME EMPLOYEE who would totally not drink or think about her cat on the job if you hired her. She would also like to know whether you’ve seen many strippers in cowboy boots.