I want you, A.V. Club. I want you bad.

Like Tina Fey says, I want to go to there.

Dear The A.V. Club,

When I saw your string of tweets on none other than Twitter, I knew that I’d find some gems. There’re always gems. It’s your job.
Ne’r did I expect this little spot of sunshine, though.

Hey, wanna work for @The_AV_Club? We have an entry-level copyeditor opening in Chicago. [link]

What is that, you say? Jobs for the masses? Count me in. I was in it like 90s me in those spectacular parachute pants. Hammer, my parents blame you for that phase. Please, contact them about Photoshopping some family pictures.

You see, I lost my job three weeks back, a job I had taken just to pay the bills after moving with my wife from Wyoming to Chicago. Six months in, I’m on my rear, out the door, and up the creek (not with my wife, just the crappy job).
This is, of course, an opportunity to get back to what I love, back on the career path I had started. Here I write in amongst the boxes of our new apartment hoping that you’ll look at the link included in my cover letter.
Maybe you’ll even remember my name. It’s not a difficult name to remember: Daniel Craig. Just so you know, that was my name way before the James Bond actor was ever famous.

De-jobbed: Rejection

Rejection hurts, and it takes more than one shower to remove.

As far as I can tell in my limited time spent looking for a new job, there are three kinds of rejection.

Keep in mind, these are job-related rejections. There are an infinite number of ways you can be rejected in life, and I can only assume that there again as many in death.