C:\garbage\takethisjob.exe -shoveit
Those who enjoy looking for work are sadists with something to prove to a parent who didn’t love them enough. This goes for sales people, too. Always hustling. Never happy with what they have. The bottom line is a moving goal post. That addict’s itch that can only be scratched by convincing people to give you their money.
I was never good at sales, which is why I’ve tried my dumb luck in a career that skews more classically creative. Something that, even when I’m humping for the big bucks from the Big Bad Industry, it’s still a small stretch to convince myself that I have remained an honest artist with his soul intact. And that’s precisely why I often find myself on the job market every few years. This career path I’ve chosen exists on rickety planks suspended across a ten thousand-foot drop into an abyss of misery and regret. The value of what I can do is never the prettiest girl at the dance and always the last kid picked for dodgeball. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I suck at what I do. Maybe I’m unlikeable. Maybe I don’t fit into anyone’s culture and am too quick to snicker loud enough for the emperor to hear that he is, in fact, naked. And there’s a huge, deep, very red pimple on his right butt cheek.
Maybe.
But I can’t just give up and go live in an affordable studio apartment or a tent under the 405 in San Diego and be an artist. That’s not how it works. And, anyway, even if it were, I have children. Despite the distressing news so far in 2026, nothing is more depressing and unnerving than a gutter punk parent. And, so, I look for work. I do it as a freelancer. I do it in search of a full-time gig with paid leave and health insurance and company swag and a company laptop that IT can peek into any time they like and let my boss know what personal stuff I’ve been up to on the company dime. The kind of place that considers you family until they run short on money or find a new cousin they’d rather have at their next family outing, which is probably at an escape room.
I set up search filters, I scour the job boards, I draft cover letters and rework and rework and rework and rework my resume so it’s the most precise it can be before being ignored or rejected. Most of the best opportunities have come from my network. And thanks to having so many jobs in so many industries, I know a lot of people. But who wants to work with me?
Bah! This isn’t about that. This is about who we shouldn’t want to work with.
Yeah, so, I set up search filters and scour the job boards. And here’s one job description I saw today:
“About the job Job Description Role Overview The Associate Director, Snacking Innovation will set the vision and drive demand creation for the Kraft Heinz snacking business, shaping and owning the long-term innovation strategy and pipeline. Lead the definition and execution of innovation roadmaps across all platforms and brands – including extensions, expansions, and whitespace disruption – ensuring alignment with enterprise growth priorities and market trends.”
Does your brain feel violated? If it doesn’t, my condolences because your brain has assimilated and is about as human as a box full of wet pencil shavings.
Using the English language in this kind of corporate speak literally—literally—makes me nauseous. But the job pays great. And, though I’m not sure I’d be right for this particular job—the associate director, snacking innovation—there’s no way in hell I can apply for a job at a company that talks about itself like this.
First. What the hell is “The” associate director [COMMA] snacking innovation? One can be, on paper, by title and company division, “associate director, snacking innovation.” But it is broken English to say, “The Associate Director, Snacking Innovation.” (Full disclosure: I take no issue with the capitalization.) The more human and correct way to write this opening sentence of the job description would be to replace the comma with an “of.” That’s all. It’s that simple.
But the larger question is, what kind of bored, unread, over-measured, automaton signed off on this AI-generated dreck? Job-hiring isn’t human resources, it’s resourcing our brain’s data to power the click-clacking of computer keys so the boss can feel good about doling out over-taxed bonuses that hardly represent the bonus time you gave the company.
I’d love to ask, then answer, the frustrated question, “At what point will companies learn that people don’t want corporate speak? They want authenticity, honesty, autonomy, and personal and financial respect.” But I won’t ask it because it’s a stupid question, and the answer is ignorant—childish at best. Because when you’re looking for work, you just want the job. Yeah, you want to feel a spark in your heart for the culture, but money trumps all things when unemployed. Desperate times and all that.
And, again, this is where I fail. Because I could never work for a company with a culture that attracts talent using that kind of shareholders-matter-most gobbledygook.
But, for what it’s worth, here’s my aggressively indirect application for that job. I’m going to rewrite the job description.
The Associate Director of Snacking Innovation will set the vision and come up with new ways to keep people stuffing their faces throughout the day. In this role, you will convince people they should eat more. Just keep eating. And based on whatever food trends are happening at that moment, come up with derivative ideas for chip flavors and stuff like that. Be innovative, but don’t fly to close to the sun. We can’t afford to lose money on real innovation. We’d love to see our stock price go from $23.52 a share to $23.54 this quarter.
I suppose my great hope—just after getting hired somewhere—is that AI will break us and humanity will rise again.
Maybe this is why no one likes me.
