Posts Tagged ‘Application Process’

You know, it’s no wonder why people in America are constantly in a phase of “what can I get for nothing?”.  Oh yeah, I’m fired up right about now, so this is going to be a far more comical rant than when I stood up for the troops where the mainstream media swept it under the rug.  Hey Corporate America, bend over, it’s my turn to wield the asswhipping stick– but unlike you, I have an identity.  I have a face.  I am not afraid to pose with said asswhipping stick, and stand by my decisions.

Oh yeah, here we go.

So it’s no mystery among my friends that I’m looking to find new employment while I recover from wrist surgery.  Going back to the job that I worked at for 8 freaking months with torn cartilage is not exactly something that looks savory to me.  I’m not going to badmouth my current company, Hell no.  Aside from that prolonged amount of torture– the pay rate was right, I’ve had benefits, and my bills are covered.  It’s more than most people have, so I can’t really argue.  So for that, thanks, but I’m really trying to find an amiable method of parting ways so I don’t have to deal with another situation where I get my ass kicked by a refrigerator.  I have a degree, and this kind of punishment just wasn’t on my bucket list to begin with.  Thanks though, you’ve been great.  Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but still– you get the point, right?

I may be being facetious here....

It’s the employer/employee equivalent of the “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup, minus the defenestrated objects.

No, this entry isn’t about my current job.  Today’s about the shrouded anonymity of hiring managers for larger corporations.  Any corporation that hires through a cattle-drive process like Taleo, yeah, I’m talking about them.  Strap in, and get your boss out of the room, because this is going to be on the level of a Sheen Rant.  Ready?  Good.

Part of every company’s “mission statement” involves people in some way/shape/form.  There’s always some stupid way that each faceless corporate entity attempts to seem like that they actually give a flying rat’s ass about the cogs in their greed-mongering machine.  This facade, however, doesn’t apply to applicants.  The applicant is, in fact, the embodiment of pigeon shit– and shit gets treated better.

First off, they start with a PETA-banned cattle drive process– which makes anonymous the initial screening process.  Back when business had a pair, they had a freaking HR department– so you at least knew who to address for your freaking cover letter.   Now, you have a shitty interface that may or may not work with Chrome, Firefox, Internet Explorer–  and you may have to switch in mid-application once you realize your error (or depending on the moon phase).  You have no idea whether or not you have a sentient being checking out your “job fit analysis,” an OCR program reading your resume, or a freaking intern throwing darts.  The best part is, you get email replies– sent from addresses that they say specifically will never be checked.  That’s right, you can’t even ask a question.  Feeling like a number yet?  Don’t kid yourself, numbers are more important.

Let’s say you get past the Taleo portal (or whatever equivalent is being used), you’re going to get a call from a random location in the country– from a faceless operator for a phone interview.  If you’re lucky, you’ll get one who has a semi-sentient command of the English language.   These cheery, faceless phone-jockeys are the ones in charge of giving you the hook– if you’re unlucky enough to pass whatever criteria that they may or may not have.  Whomever you speak with (I’m still not convinced that it’s not an alternate voice for HAL 9000) will instill a false sense of urgency and hope by giving you two or three different appointment times available– and nothing else will do if you want the interview.


You’re not even worthy of his level of condescension.

Still with me?  Most of the masses don’t get past Step One.  If you get to phase three, well, hold on to your taints, because the impersonal nature of this affront to civilized society just got personal.  You get to face an insulated hiring manager– who will forever be inaccessible to you except for this one opportunity.  These are career bureaucrats not unlike the talking heads that run for political office.  Their sole purpose is to conduct antiseptic interviews, and are trained not to give any sort of cues as to how you’re doing.  In fact, most won’t even have a business card handy to give you– to prove they even exist.  There will be no record of them on the company directory, half of the time.  In fact– if you are stupid enough to apply to the same company and make it to Tier Three twice, the first manager can screw you– even if you nail the second interview.  Oh yes, this insulated caste of employees can and do toy with the fate of the applicants– because they can.  All it takes is slander from one person, and you’re ranked even lower than a first-time applicant.   God help you if you end up with an after-interview glitch with the original automated system, but I digress (or do I?).

Now, let’s just say a hiring manager says that you’ll get a response in 3-4 days time, and you get the customary “sorry, we picked someone else” email from the same unchecked email address about three hours after the interview.  Guess what?  You can do nothing about the blatantly suspicious situation.  You don’t even have the ability to ask why, and if you’re a white male like I am–  you can’t even pull the race card to try and trump their douchebaggery.  Hell, with the way they hide behind mission statements (and other smoke-n-mirrors bullshit)– not even the ultimate field-leveler would matter.  You know what you can do?  Nothing.

Milton had it right...

That’s right, this guy had the solution….

Then again, welcome to the abomination that has become the American Dream– where it’s an employer’s market, and that means inhuman treatment is an acceptable and condoned business practice to applicants and employees (after all, there’s a 10% unemployment pool from which to snap up your replacement).  Welcome, my son.  Welcome… to the machine.