If an algorithm were sitting across the table from me, I'd smack the snot out of it.
The job-search engines swarm my email like a cloud of gnats outside The Hermitage where I live.
I now receive dozens of emails a day about jobs surrounding me and at first the prospects excited me.
But then I realize I've made some mistakes. I clicked on some of the blind job offerings.
I clicked one job purportedly from IU Health that matched my job skills. Now I get several ads a day for nursing positions. Growing up the children of The Great Depressions, my only knowledge of health comes from parents whose singular solution was "you just need a good BM."
I get a dozen jobs for over-the-road trucker. No one wants me directing any horse power of any kind. But I suppose that job is better than over-the-creek-through-the-woods-into-Grandmother's-house trucker. I'd be good at that.
In reality, virtually no one is hiring and those who are have the cream of the crop from which to choose. I'm not the cream. Perhaps the frothy head on a beer. But not the cream.
There are many openings at Indiana University for a custodian, which I could do. But my dream of getting the job and then solving a huge math problem on a chalkboard and being recruited to a huge corporate job, is just that. A dream. Or perhaps a movie.
Peace and beer unto you my brothers and sisters.