By Jerry Zezima
The Stamford Advocate
Whenever I attempt to do something I can’t do — sing, dance, perform surgery — somebody tells me not to quit my day job. The only people who want me to quit are my bosses, who don’t realize that the reason I have my day job is that I am spectacularly unqualified to do anything else.
Still, you never know when you will no longer be gainfully (or, in my case, ungainfully) employed. So, because I have had a fair career, I recently went to a career fair. It was held, perhaps not coincidentally, at the company where I work on Long Island, New York.
The first thing I found out, after stopping at a table sponsored by my company, is that I couldn’t get a job with my company. That’s because they were looking for someone to provide technical support.
“Technically speaking, my 3-year-old granddaughter is more advanced than I am,” I admitted, “which means she would have to support me.”
“Can you do anything else?” asked Craig Brusseler, talent manager for operations.
“Aside from telling bad jokes, I have no talent,” I said. “And hospital patients wouldn’t trust me to do operations.”
But Chrissy Huber, a sales recruiter, thought I had promise.
“You have a good personality,” she noted, “so you could go door to door to convince people who have switched to another cable company to come back to us.”
“What if somebody thought I was a scam artist and called the cops?” I wondered. “I don’t want to go back to prison.”
Chrissy raised her eyebrows, extended her hand and said, “Good luck with your job search.”
I had bad luck at the next table, which was sponsored by BMW.
“We are looking for technicians,” said recruiter Stefan Schedel.
“I’d have an easier time transcribing the Dead Sea Scrolls than telling you what’s going on under the hood of a car,” I confessed.
“I’m afraid you’re not the kind of person we’re looking for,” said Renai Ellison, another recruiter.
“Could I at least get a free car out of the deal?” I asked.
I didn’t. But I did get a free tote bag. I dropped in the Cablevision Frisbee and the pen I got from my company.
Next I stopped at the Liberty Mutual table, where Maureen Baranello and Robert Moore were looking for someone to sell insurance.
“It involves outside referrals,” Maureen said.
“I don’t like working outside,” I replied. “What if it rains?”
“Buy a raincoat and an umbrella,” Robert suggested.
I told the two recruiters about the time I got into a car accident that was caused by a guy whose GPS told him to go the wrong way down a one-way street.
“Your company covered the damage,” I said.
“You can tell that story to potential customers,” said Maureen.
“Does the job include crunching numbers?” I inquired.
“Yes,” Robert said. “Lots of them.”
“I’ll have to disqualify myself,” I said. “One of the reasons I went into journalism is because I can’t do math. I’d bankrupt your company in a week.”
I’d do the same to Bethpage Federal Credit Union, whose recruiter, Amanda Shatel, said I couldn’t refinance my mortgage so I wouldn’t have any more payments.
“I helped bail out the banks,” I pointed out. “Would yours do the same for me?”
“Sorry,” said Amanda, who gave me a free letter opener so I could open my mortgage statements.
I visited other tables — including those sponsored by Riverhead Building Supply, where I got a paint stick and a rubber hammer; The Arbors, which runs assisted living communities, where I got another pen; and David Lerner Associates, an investment broker, where I got a handshake — but nothing panned out.
“Did you go to the career fair?” one of my bosses asked when I returned to my desk.
“Yes,” I said.
“How’d it go?” he wondered.
“Bad news,” I said. “I’m not quitting my day job.”
Copyright 2016 by Jerry Zezima