I’m currently in the midst of a major search, a sometimes seemingly impossible quest. I’m looking to invest my time and energy in a job, one that will supplement my art career, ideally in arts administration/management, or with a worthwhile organization where I won’t feel like I’m selling my soul to the devil each time I punch in. I’m wondering, “Where will I ‘fit in’?”
One of the prevalent interview questions is, “Why do you want to work at this job/company?” (I suppose they would get a lot of people simply applying, without first seriously considering if they could spend such a significant chunk of their life at a particular company.) I carefully consider each job opening and whether I’m qualified and if I might fit in. When the answer is yes, I apply. I don’t waste anyone’s time, including mine.
I have extensive experience, creativity, and resourcefulness from years working with various start-up companies and artist collaboratives–specializing in making something great out of next to nothing! I wouldn’t squander this talent on something meaningless.
Each line, word, punctuation on my resume has been carefully considered. My resume is crafted so it can be perused quickly, with organized bullet points and a minimum of superfluous text, so the reader can get a solid idea of who I am and what I’m capable of. (So it’s rewarding when a prospective employer actually reads it.)
It looks like I’m properly prepared for my job search; I’ve done everything the career search experts suggest. So, it’s one more day off to the world of internet job searching, networking, and brainstorming about alternate job options that my talents and skills may match. “Searching for a job is a job in itself,” they say, and for good reason. And in between these efforts I’m painting and happily preparing for my next exhibit.