Hunting Out of Season

Deer hunting season was not a concept I was familiar with until my freshman year in college when I walked into Rall Hall room 209 and saw my roommate's desktop background - a photo of a massive animal, gutted and hanging from it's hind legs.

My first reaction was to exit the room immediately and seek refuge in a room down the hall. Having grown up anywhere but the boonies, I could only assume that my roommate was deranged. Although that still may be true, she assured me that she was only displaying that picture because where she's from, deer hunting is a really, really big deal.

And it's true - to some people, deer hunting is just another part of the holiday festivities. Hauling out the ol' .22, donning bright orange vests so no one gets shot, and hanging bleeding animals from garage ceiling rafters are just as important as Christmas tree decorations, apple cider, and the mistletoe.

But the truth is, all of us can relate to this strange and festive custom. Oh, we hunt. We certainly hunt. Just not for deer. We hunt for jobs.

Now picture this: 9.1 percent of the U.S. American labor force, crouched low to the ground, behind nearly every tree, hiding, watching, waiting, and, of course, armed. And these folks don't wear orange vests - no, no-o-o. Friendly fire is fair game, and unlike deer, jobs are always out of season.

Yesterday, I thought my hunting days might come to an end when I received a phone call about a job opportunity at around 12:20 pm.

"Hey, is this Grace?" A quiet, mumbling voice asked. "My name is _______. I'm calling because one of my employees said you might be interested in working here at ___________. Would you be interested in interviewing for the position?"

To be honest, it was my day off. I was in an unshowered, pajama'ed haze, and it took me a moment to process what he said, but I answered sure and asked when would be a good time to meet.

"12:30?"

My eyes bugged out at my laptop screen. "In ten minutes?"

"Well, yeah."

My first instinct was to leap into the shower, throw on a pair of dress pants, and Cruella DeVil it down to...wait, where was it?

"Where is it?"

"Uhh...I don't really know."

I suddenly became very unimpressed with this man. "No, I cannot make it in ten minutes. I will email you my resume, and if you'd like to meet me at three, let me know where." That's right. Don't mess with me when I'm wearing my greasy-hair-headband.

He complied and I felt victorious as I meandered around my room and then down to the kitchen for a bite to eat, not rushing to get ready.

Later, we agreed to meet at three. At two-forty-five, when I was nearly there, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Can we push it back to four?"

I was silent for a moment, gripping my bright red steering wheel to compose myself. He realized I was already en route, and we agreed to still meet at three in the restaurant. Which turned out to be closed.

After more confusion, we finally sat down and began the interviewing process. He seemed like a very nice man with a good vocabulary. But when he couldn't find an application because his briefcase was really a canvas duffle bag full of loose papers and when he explained to me that the position would only be temporary and perhaps only as-needed, I knew in the back of my mind that I would let this deer go.

Even though I'm a fairly new hunter, I've learned a major trick of the trade. So long as you are not financially bound to accept whatever is offered to you first, do not accept a job offer when you know you could perform your potential boss's duties better than him or her.

Unless you plan on taking over the company one day.

And I have no such plans. So Imma get my rifle.

EDIT: My freshman year roommate is not deranged - maybe a little kooky, but not deranged. I'm sure she won't mind me saying so.