For one of the countless jobs for which I have submitted my resume, a brief questionnaire was included in the application process.
I’m at my wits’ end with applying for jobs and if what you are looking for isn’t as straightforward as what I’m offering, then I bid you good day.
So when this particular question-and-answer page asked me to “describe your computer skills,” I stated “remarkable” and clicked send. Poo poo on anyone who doesn’t value the ability to be concise.
This Christmas the husband and I stayed at a hotel near the farm. Hotels typically provide the basic necessities but due to lack of attention or perhaps budget cuts, we received a shampoo and a hand lotion in our bathroom. Conditioner was MIA, which I did not realize until I was in the shower.
This distressed me somewhat, for even with the best tools my hair often behaves completely independent of what I have in mind, and I knew already that I had forgotten a comb. No comb and no conditioner (although I did give the hand lotion a whirl, to no effect) meant that I approached the front desk with a distinct Medusa look.
Having already called down and asked if they provide combs to guests–wanting to make no assumptions about amenities at this point–the clerk was expecting me. Her cheerful inquiry, “Are you here for a comb?” was easy enough to respond to with equal good humor and I asked how she possibly guessed.
Me: Ooo, our new debit cards.
The husband: Great.
Me: Mine doesn’t have the right name on it. In fact, it doesn’t have any name on it.
The husband: What do you mean?
Me: They only put the first two letters of my first name. Those aren’t a name. They aren’t even a nickname. They’re a verb!
The husband: So they are.
Me: Heehee, imagine if my name was Holly.
Fortunately, our debit cards arrived during business hours and I called the credit union to get things straightened out. The excellent customer service to which I am swiftly becoming accustomed struck again, and things are on their way to being remedied.