In A Pickle

No, not literally. That would never ever happen, because I would eat myself out of the pickle. Take that pickle. I am in a job pickle. But wait Lauren, how can that be when you have been such a success at every job you have had and you graduated law school? Well, let me explain:

I AM OVERQUALIFIED.

Yes, it is true. I am overqualified to work. At least that's what three out of four employers have told me.

Employer #1: You know after looking at your resume, your qualifications exceed the highest position I can offer you...
Me: Ummm...thanks? So, are you going to hire me?
Employer #1: I'm sorry, but you're too much of  a risk.
Me: Your outfit is too much of a risk. (I didn't really say that, but I should have. Who the hell wears jean on jean and is actually serious about it? Exactly.)

Employer #2: Wow, your resume is quite impressive.
Me: Thank you. I really tried to be a well-rounded law student.
Employer #2: Unfortunately, you just seem too qualified for this position...how do I explain it...a flight risk.
Me: Right. Yeah, someone who is unqualified for the job will probably be a better fit. Dildo. (I didn't say any of this either, but my imagination did. Imagination burn.)

Employer #3: I'm sorry but I just think we are looking for someone with less experience. But don't worry, you are a very intelligent and pretty girl and you'll find something.
Me: Are you fucking serious?

I will not write the dialogue from employer #4 because that was an Armenian nightmare. No, I am not racist. But the attorney interviewed 75 people that day and the 15 that were in my group were all Armenian. Do you even know how much my whiter than white self stuck out? Second, I could hear every single interview (I was the last one to go) "Oh, what Armenian organizations are you a part of? You speak Armenian? Perfect!) Really?! Spanish I can understand, BUT ARMENIAN?

This is my life. So, basically, if you know ANYONE who wants to hire an overqualified curmudgeon in Los Angeles, let me know.

Awkward out.