Then they ask you a series of questions about your experiences at your job. Well, many readers do say my articles are like death to them...
Then you put in your education.
You can also specify some things you'd like out of your Internet-delivered job. Now this is some Web 6.0 shit right here!
Oh my God! A match! Bless the Lord, my days of eating Ramen noodles and beating off to guro tentacle rape porn on 4chan are over! My only question, is that a regular 9.2 or an IGN 9.2? There's a huge difference.
They even offer a pie chart to help you understand your score. Imagine if I actually had the education USC was looking for. That would surely send my job match to 11!
As my job matches came rolling in I fell into the fetal position, started rocking back and forth, and muttered to myself, "It's all gonna be okay now... it's gonna be okay..."
Is this really the future of job hunting? We do enough sitting on our asses. Going out and trying to find a job is the last bit of exercise we Americans actually get.
Hard times call for desperate measures. The economy is so bad that I've resorted to working at a non-profit organization and competing for food scraps at the group's monthly benefit dinners with the other receptionists.
But I'd never use a web site's matching algorithm to dictate where my career is headed. I already know where it's headed, the dumpster. Besides, how long until Jobfox is spammed by the same MLM scams and phony jobs that plague CareerBuilder and similar sites?
Maybe I'm wrong here. Maybe eHarmony-type job matching sites are the wave of the future. Then crap, I need to go back to school so I can get some better matches. If a 9.2 is the job of my dreams, imagine how much more dreamy a 9.3 job would be. One day, I'll catch that elusive 10.
I mean, how the hell am I going to know where I want to work if a web site doesn't tell me?
A thousand years ago, dudes were dying from splinters, but now the wizard potion that cleans our light wounds costs less than a Dr. Pepper in 1994. I love this medicinal 7up.
U2 and Apple have conspired to place a U2 album into your music in the year 2014. You own a U2 album. And you can't get rid of it.
Ron Paul spins in his chair, trying to grab his decorative antique musket but Freddy gets it first.
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