Something I have become increasingly aware of during my search for employment is how much “titles” really matter. I am drawn to exotic sounding positions such as “Creative Consultant.” What the hell is that? I don’t know but I’m definitely going to find out and would most definitely be happy with that title on my business card. I just can’t bear the idea of telling people I’m an “Administrative Assistant” or “Receptionist” or “Office Assistant” or “Front Desk Representative.” I didn’t got to college for four, ahem, five years to have some boring, average, unimpressive job title. I mean I was “Director of Operations” in Barcelona, Spain all last year! How can I go from that to “JR. Clerical Representative.” Who is in charge of creating these blase status defining names anyways?
Example: I am a “blogger.”
No Way Jose… I’m not some ordinary fool on the computer whose dear diary entries waste internet space.
I am a “Pro-Bono Word Artist.”
When I used to collect old paintings, weavings and other decoratives from thrift stores, alleys and garage sales, I thought the “work” that I was doing deserved a fresh title.
Leah Josephson, “Odd Art Enthusiast.”
The point is, do I really want to work for a company who stifles my creative growth by applying a lousy, uninspired identity? Well, at this point, yes because I need a job. But as soon as this recession is over, I will regain my principles and answer, NO.
As I skim the Craigslist postings one more time I am desperately searching for that perfect job title to jump out at me. Nope, not “Kennel Attendant.”
Leah Josephson, “Hopelessly Unimpressed.”
p.s. the singing bee people e-mailed me to inform me I have been chosen for the final round, they’ll be presenting my folder to the producers… oh dear.