you're too short and your personality sucks

Those of us in Oz who are jaded by the warped, jargonistic English of formulaic job ads (self-starter, hit the ground running, able to value add and meet key deliverables etc etc shudder cringe vomit) will notice that Philippine job ads are different. Those advertising casual, non-professional positions are, at least. I find them a mix of refreshing and disconcerting, requesting, as they do, characteristics that Oz job ads simply don’t allow, on the basis of equal opportunity etc.

I just stumbled over this on the Cultural Center of the Philippines website:

The Venue Management Division is in need of PART-TIME USHERS AND USHERETTES with the following qualifications:

• 5'3 (females) and 5'8 (males) in height;
• 18-28 years old;
• college student or working professional
• well-versed in written and spoken Filipino and English languages;
• with pleasing personality; and willing to stay up late nights, weekends and holidays.

Questions must be asked! Do females and males need to be exactly 5’3” and 5’8”, respectively? Or is that the minimum (or maximum?) height? Who defines a “pleasing personality”? If 5’8” is a minimum and not an absolute requirement, I reckon I’d have a shot.

On the same web page:

The Technical Services division of the Theater Operations department is in need of RELIEVERS for Stage Personnel with the following qualifications:

• Must be 20-24 years old
• At least a graduate of Electrical, Mechanical and Electronics Technology Courses
• Willing to work overtime under pressure With good moral character
• Excellent Health Condition
• EXPERIENCE IN THEATER WORK IS AN ADVANTAGE!

That could be me too – I’m certain I have good moral character. But I don’t know if I have to have that as a general trait, or only when working overtime under pressure. Given the capitals, experience in theatre work must be a hell of an advantage.

I’ve seen several ads that also specify the applicant must be Catholic and single. I think single simply means unmarried, not strictly boyfriendless or girlfriendless (so that's OK, then).

To finish, I’ll segue seamlessly into a quote from a job ad somebody just emailed me. I’m not going to apply – the time isn’t right and, even if it was, it didn’t really appeal. Most of all, I don’t think I could stomach working for an organisation whose “strategic vision” is this:

[Organization X] recognises that to increase its organisational sustainability it must constantly maintain a strategic focus in advancing its mission. It must not become inward focused and consumed with the minutia of the short term.

Honestly, what the fuck does that mean?

are you being service united?

So, after the great phone debacle it does indeed appear that I need a new phone. I handed my phone into the System at work, via secretary. From her, it will be sucked into a world about which I have no clue to be “repaired”. (Ha. D gave it to a mobile phone repair guy over the weekend and apparently the insides are already rusted out.)

I asked one of the secretaries if I could get an old spare work mobile while the System chewed on mine. She made a call then came back to my office to say that a “service unit” would be sent over by the end of the day. I was about to ask what in hell a service unit was, when I realised she meant “phone”.

I weep for humanity.

Nokia phones are CRAP

OK. Nokia mobile phones are NOT – I repeat, are NOT – able to withstand 30 minutes submerged in chlorinated water. I established that today, during my lunchtime swim.

“Off we go for our lunchtime swim tra la la la, so healthy and fit la di da, pop my phone in my boardshorts pocket, just remember to take it out before I jump in the pool, ha ha ha as if I’d forget that, wanker.”

I’m sure work (it was a work phone) will realise it was a valid scientific test.

“Um, my phone stopped working, can I have another please thankyou?”

“Is there any reason it stopped working?”

“Ah. It did get a wee bit wet.”

“How did it get wet? How wet did it get?”

“OK OK I fucking went swimming with it for half an hour, what is this the inquisition, it should be able to handle it, give me a new one. Please.”

“No.”

“OK.”

absurdities

While swimming at lunch today, it occurred to me that I must be getting better at handling work because I'm as swamped as I've ever been (trying to finish the next issue of the magazine and pulling together the research section of the annual report, which is a headfuck of a job) but I feel nowhere near as stressed as I did at this time last year, when I had the same amount of work (I do feel a bit stressed, but not nauseatingly so). So that's good. But I also realised that some of the stress I do feel is because I don't feel so stressed. How fucked is that? I actually seem to be balancing things a bit better (not as well as I should, but hey...) and my man-child idiot homunculus is telling me that because I'm not ill with stress, I must not be doing enough work. How do people/societies get their internal priorities so screwed up?

Anyway -- new project is not to feel stressed about not feeling stressed. Baby steps, people...