Unemployment Diaries

Part Two: Deceit, Plasma, and Kanye West

What I failed to mention in my previous post about interviewing was that listening to "Stronger" by Kanye West before heading into a job interview is a spectacular idea. This way, "th-that-that-that that don't kill, can only make me stronger" will be thumping in your head the whole time you're in the hot seat. It works on two levels: 1.) you're not listening to what Captain Mc-Hiring Pants is saying, and 2.) it's a good anthem for easing yourself back into the sucktitude of the working world.

Speaking of sucktitude, I had an interview today. As it turns out, I could very well be a full time nit-picker (a figurative one, thankfully) as a Quality Specialist. Watch out world, I Specialize in Quality! Get the hell out of my way or I will push you back down into that reprehensible gutter from whence you came!

And, what's best about the job is that I get to work with plasma. Again.

It's times like these that I wish I worked in advertising. How fun would it be to come up with fresh, new slogans for marketing plasma to John Q. Consumer?

Plasma: It's blood without the stains! Now, with even fewer red blood cells!

Plasma: It's the part of your blood that's not Communist!

Plasma: Even crackheads can donate!

Scene opens at a school circa 1952 with awkward, "square" boy crying. Popular and more attractive 50's style girl approaches.
"Gee, what's the matter, Jimmy?"
"Nothing Paula. I just got this big zit today and I feel ugly."
"Well Jimmy, teacher says everyone looks the same on the inside. Maybe you should go donate plasma!"
"Great idea, Paula!"
They high five.
End scene.

Because I have experience with "human juice", as we so lovingly called it, I'm extra-qualified. And I don't mean I worked with little, nancy bits of plasma. I mean I worked with enough plasma in which to drown a horse. We tested for "bad" proteins that were present in the blood. Antibodies that, if present in high enough numbers, generally meant you could expect a heart attack or stroke or septic shock in the near future. We made it into a game called, "You're Going to Die Soon." I'm just kidding, that would be horrible. Incredibly funny and entertaining, but horrible.

Though it seems like a glamorous and romantic job, in reality plasma is a wretched, vile liquid. It's bright yellow and reminiscent of cold egg drop soup. It smells like a perfectly balanced combination of wet dog and raw hamburger meat. (I can't take full credit for that description, it was the general consensus--after much ado--of my former lab rat employee pals that that's what it smelled like.)

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to making its acquaintance again. It's been far too long, my old friend. This, of course, is assuming that I even get the job. If I do though, be sure to check out my next post which will be entitled, "Employment Diaries, Part One. My Life as a Corporate Whore: The Homogenization of America (and next, the World!). Who Wants a Jamba Juice?"