My spring intern has left, my summer intern won't start for about six weeks, and I find myself without a minion in the next office. By coincidence, I was out on Saturday evening and met a nice young man who is between work contracts. I offered him an office to camp out in while he job hunts in exchange for some help. We exchanged information and I heard from him earlier this week.
Great, right?
No.
I asked him to send me his resume so I can share it with the higher ups in the office and get the official go ahead. The resume is bad. Typos, grammar, spacing, different font styles and sizes. I noted several to him, told him to clean it up, have someone else edit it for him, then send it back to me. He apologized that he sent me the wrong version. Ok, cool, I understand how mortifying that can be. This morning I received a new version of the resume. Except that it's the same. The old typos have been changed to new typos (softwares is now software's). Bullets have periods, or no periods, or multiple periods. I don't care what one uses, just be consistent!
Anyhoo, this isn't going to work. Crap. I was hopeful. I gave him a second chance. The Jill of 10 years ago never would have done such a thing. I'm getting soft in my old age. The mother hen in me really wants to bring him in, take him under my wing, and nurture him along. The ruthless bitch in me wants to send him a copy of his resume with red pen circling everything wrong. The professional in me will send him an email tactfully stating that there were some objections to his resume and thanks but no thanks.
Gah.
I need a minion. Not because I have minion work that needs to be done (well, kinda, but I think those people are called "maids"), but just because I think it'd be cool to have a minion. And remind me to blog about the intern at Target this week, you and your minion holding executive mind will enjoy it.
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