134. Job Hunting

Sometimes I wonder if we as human beings ever grow to evolve out of our primal instincts.

This is not a rant on the barbaric nature of our species, it’s just not that kind of post, and I’m just not that kind of person. I believe in the innate goodness and humanity that is in all of us, and I have faith in each individual’s unique talents, potential, and intelligence. Unfortunately, the bell-shaped curve dictates that with great intelligence bestowed upon the human race, great stupidity must also emerge.

But I digress. I’m here today to discuss a strange phenomenon; something that, when you think about it, is basically a prehistoric practice that we have brought into the modern life. Yes, I am talking about job hunting.

Have you ever just stopped to think about that term? “Job hunting”? I mean, you select jobs by looking at the classifieds, or by signing up with an agency – pretty much the same things you do while looking at a menu in a restaurant, or signing up for a newsletter. But you don’t hear people saying, “Hang on, I’ll need a little more time with my dinner hunting”; or “Can you help me out with this form? I’m news hunting”.

The weirdness doesn’t stop there. It’s something that closely resembles a rite of passage – into manhood or something like that – where the young man must prove his maturity by going out into the wild and hunt his solo game. Then when he comes back into the village, boar in his back, the whole village celebrates with him, pats on the back and all. So it is with this deal about job hunting – you’re not considered a proper adult until you have went and found yourself a job, and when you do, everyone celebrates with you, pats on the back and all.

If you fail in your quest? Dishonor. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your family – you’re not allowed to be considered a matured person if you don’t find yourself a job. And get this: you must be the one who finds yourself the job. It cannot be handed to you; it cannot be something you inherit; it cannot be anything that came by easily. You have to hunt for it, dammit! If you didn’t put in the effort to get it, you’re pretty much in the same spot as the guy who failed to hunt himself a job – dishonor on you, dishonor on your family.

See, times and circumstances change, but it is apparent that we never change. The boar becomes a job. The spear and the kill becomes a pen and a job interview. The jungle is now concrete instead of wood, and ceremonial face paint is now a college diploma. The prehistoric man? That’s you. Even if you’re a woman.

(that’s equality right there, ladies – true equality comes when there are no differences between us)

Luckily for the job, at least it doesn’t all end with something or someone dying. Unless you’re auditioning for a job as an assassin; but then you won’t need a college diploma. Is there a college diploma for assassination?

Wait, what am I talking about again?

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