The seek.com.au experience. Something everyone has access to, much like a vinyl copy of 'Frampton Comes Alive'

Dude....duuude. My mind hath been raped. My experience...questioned. Repeatedly. My self-worth - well, let's just say the aforementioned raped mind has taken a Mario & Luigi style trip to a warp world down a green pipe.

Three weeks ago I was fired for being too efficient. Too smart, essentially. Asshole former boss decided to wait until 5pm on a Friday to tell me "things aren't going to work out" at the company. I iz not just trying to make myself feel like less of a burden to society with my "too efficient" talk either. He actually used his hands to indicate where I'm above (somewhere round nipple height) and where 'management' is (somewhere over his thin-haired scalp). Apparently I was somewhere in between his nipples and the top of his head in relation to work capabilities. Now, I'm not a genuis, but I believe that puts me somewhere near his festy, yellow-toothed mouth, or his beady, dead little eyes. I do not wish to ever be near those places, just as much as I never had any desire to progress at his pokey, micromanaged, North Korea styled company. Ah our most benevolent leader. He asked me to stay for an extra week to "tie up loose ends". I replied that seeing as the pay period ended that day, I'd be taking my leave from this hellhole immediately. Cue much spluttering, then watching over me like the vulture he is, whilst I cleaned out my desk and cleared my computer. Apparently, a former employee had set up her own business in the same vein as his, by stealing all his contacts and then resigning. I suppose it would make one a little paranoid.

But I digest. After the initial high of "I HAS SOME MONEY AND TIME OFF. WOO HOO!!" Things have started to take a turn for the Grey Gardens crazy. Crack fox, bat shit insane. Insert more animal/mood similies here. I may start putting my two cats in tutus, just for my own amusement. I already sing to them. Jynx gets Gabriella Cilmi's 'Woman on Mission', and Jack gets 'Yoda Face' (in the tune of Gaga's 'Poker Face') as well as 1998 Australian dancefloor hit, 'Jackie' (you know it...JACKIE WHEN YOU'RE TOUCHING MY SOUL IN THE CANDLELIIIGHT...JACK JACK JAAACKIEEEEE! SAY U SAY U SAY U FEEL THE SAAAAME!). Jynxy is quite a lovely tempered cat, and will abide by singing and dancing in his direction with the air of faint amusement and confusion. Jack, being the ginger nutbag, much like myself, runs for the hills or tries to swipe your face, claws extended. But he sure is soft und fluffy!

YOU SEE? You see what I'm like?? I dedicated a whole paragraph to the fucking cats unintentionally. Anyway what was my point? Oh yeh, seek.com.au. A place all recruiters swarm to, and where all private advertisers have to tell them "BACK! BACK" - stay away, you leeches. I have experience in many, many strange fields (events and pharmaceutical data anyone?) and I have had quite a few callbacks. Recruiters, of course, call you first. I have spent about 9 hours with three recruiters. Testing my skills, asking me where I'll be in five years - and just how do you deal with stress or a difficult co-worker? TELL ME, I'M JUDGING YOUR EVERY 'UM'. 9 hours people. I have received no employment. This is despite getting a "I dont understand how" - quote receptionist - 101% accuracy for typing some generic document. Effectively, MSN messenger and ICQ (oh! the coloured screens of yore dial-up connection!) has taught me to type like one fast motherfucker. Got above 70% for all Microsoft Office applications - but apparently they're after an able-bodied Steven Hawking for a mid-range admin position.

Another thing assholes - don't call me on a blocked number. If people are avoiding you that badly, you're either really terrible at your job, or....no that's it really. People don't wish to converse with you. Individuals are your commodity and you aren't even professional enough to call them back on a recognised number with a polite rejection. That would take too much time and what's the word....ah yes, effort; and you clearly have white alligator patterned leather shoes to polish, hair to spike like a London club manager from 1995, and clients to ignore for a game of AUSTAG.

So from now on, I'm going only for private advertisers. The ones that scream-capitalise the 'NO AGENCIES PLEASE' at the bottom of their ads. The people who hate recruiters even more than I do. Since streamlining my job-seeking plan (streamlining. There's a word recruiters like. As well as 'autonomous' and 'culture fit'. Fuck you. Seriously. Go wank a goat), things are flowing much more swimmingly. God forbid I ever have to do a recruiter's office again - I'm just gonna race in there, tip all the complimentary Kool Mints into my handbag, piss on all the outdated computers and steal every trace of make up, hair gel and men's moisturiser from the staff bathrooms.

And the young and slutty receptionist will be too stunned to call security - the recruiter will approach the desk and ask who that disturbed tall, redheaded woman was. The receptionist will shrug and say "I don't remember her name, but she only got 80% in Word anyway. Have you got any more Kool Mints?"