Thursday, 7 April 2011

I'm Okay, You're Okay...

Originally posted January 23, 2010...

Hello Friends.

I’m on the job hunt again, which means I’ve spent a good deal of time in the past week on the phone and in person behaving like someone I hardly know.  I use more acting skills in a job interview than I ever do in auditions (this is probably why I get more jobs than parts, by the way).  I become this cocky, overly-nice, jargon-spouting drone who acts like the reason I get up and feed myself every day is to come work at your company.  I’m sure we all do that, to some degree, and auditions are even worse.  But at least it took me years to develop this sickening character, what bothers me lately are the mini-adults; the kids who think and behave like they are one job interview, audition, etc. away from infinite success.  Which brings me to today’s dream.

Dream: To destroy over-confident children.

Goal: Have enough narcissistic tweens heed this message and get their act together.

Plan: Several.  The first is to merely spot these precocious youngsters and confront them directly.  This would be difficult to achieve however.  I can’t find some kid in a mall preening and holding court over a group of friends and yell, “Your methodology is flawed!”  That’s why I can’t go back to most American Apparel stores.

Secondly, I think I would like to be a judge on American Idol.  Not a permanent fixture, just a one-off on the audition rounds.  I don’t watch the series regularly, but having the past few Tuesdays free, I’ve been catching the audition episodes and they are glaring examples of what I’m talking about.  Ninety percent of the people who audition for these shows do so because they honestly believe that they are amazing performers and were born to do this.  You are not, teens.  And when a judge points this out, some people even become defiant.  “I’ma best you EVER gonna see!  You’ll be sorry you didn’t pick me!”  I didn’t mean for that to rhyme, but you get the idea.  If I were a judge, I would have a piece of paper, maybe gold to resemble those godawful golden tickets, but it would read “You are not good.”  Then, instead of arguing with these foolish children, I would merely hold up my sign.  I think I would probably be cruel about it, sometimes, just for kicks.  “Amber, guess what?  I’ve been thinking it over and…(sign) ‘You are not good.’”

Thirdly, and most importantly, I would seek out the parents of these man-children.  Kids don’t get that cocky by themselves.  And there’s nothing wrong with telling your child he or she is a special golden precious gift (I list that on my resume under “qualities”), but to not disuade your untalented children from going out for American Idol, or treating middle aged businessmen like contemporaries, that’s dangerous.

I think part of this could be sour-grapes.  Maybe I’m just pissed I lack the natural ability to be charming and confident around authority figures.  But I have to believe that a natural perception of your talent and ability will serve you better than an inflated sense of self-worth.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to contact Oprah in regards to my upcoming appearance.

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