Today, freedom lovers everywhere are honoring the life of Martin Luther King Jr., courageous civil rights leader and American dreamer. But at Northwestern, one MLK commemoration occurred a week and a half early: the Martin Luther King Jr. Public Interest Job & Internship Fair, or what I like to call the “Zoinks, I’m Graduating So Here’s My Resume” Frenzy.
In terms of polite panic, the scene rivaled Parkes Hall during the days of Scantron registration. Staring down an Enron-socked economy, hermetically sealed job market and post-Sept. 11 conscience, 500 students flocked to this event. I could practically hear them humming, “Consultants are out, civil servants are in, so gimme a job and then we’ll all win.”
But can we all win? While I studied abroad in Europe, I observed students who only traveled the Let’s Go-beaten path, migrating in herds, competing amongst themselves and leaving more obscure options by the wayside. I don’t want a mac ‘n’ cheese lifestyle, and I don’t want to end up with a diploma and without a job. So maybe it’s time to “think outside the bun” as recommended by Taco Bell, omniscient creator of chalupas. Maybe it’s time for me to find my own job, and to do it my way.
Many people consider Monster.com to be the key Internet job bank, but I wouldn’t underestimate Reuters.com. While the latter’s leads are ludicrous, its lesson is writ large: The workforce is weird and more importantly, quite wide.
Reuters reports that Swaziland is on a worldwide hunt for a hangman, and I’m not talking about the game best suited for restaurant napkins. I’m talking about a dude to do away with death row, to mow Swaziland’s infamous “Green Mile.” This African state has been advertising for a gallows guy since 1998, but has not located a “suitable candidate.”
I can’t help but wonder what qualifications distinguish a candidate as suitable. Tortured animals as a kid? Likes wearing black masks and studded collars? Grunts, reeks and sports a thicket of nostril hair? Such speculation is irrelevant, though, as this employment opportunity is clearly not for me. I hate wearing masks.
Nah, if I were to convert my 5-foot-2-inches of menace into state-sponsored muscle, I’d look no further than Punxsutawney, Pa., where there are jobs a’plenty for civic security guards. You see, this rural community about 90 miles northwest of Pittsburgh is home to a special fella by the name of Punxsutawney Phil.
Phil is a groundhog who can predict the weather. Every Feb. 2, this furry meteorologist looks for his shadow, the sighting of which will mean six more weeks of winter.
Reuters affirms that despite the terrorist threat, Groundhog Day revelry will proceed according to schedule this year. Bill Cooper, the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club’s top banana, explained, “There was only one year we did not have the event and that was in 1942 because we did not want to give our World War II enemies any favorable weather forecasts.”
In other words, were it not for the crafty keepers of the hog, we might all be speaking German.
Regardless of the townsmen’s stalwart stance, organizers are still taking every precaution. The expected 30,000 attendees are prohibited from driving their own cars to Phil’s hideaway, and instead will be chauffeured by a fleet of school buses. Additionally, a squad of state police, National Guardsmen and bomb-sniffing dogs will be deployed near Gobbler’s Knob, checking knapsacks and scrutinizing suspicious behavior – whatever constitutes “suspicious” in a mob of rodent-worshipping winter wanderers.
Observed Cooper, “I guess having a groundhog who eats strawberry yogurt may not sound very normal, but it does put a smile on a weary nervous town and nation these days.”
Indeed. And if this guy can get a job, then I’ve got nothing to worry about.
That’s the American dream.
