If you ever read my bio , you’ll see that I moved around a lot as a kid. As a result, I don’t have any sort of accent. I do, however, now have this annoying habit of pretending to speak with a thick southern accent. I have cultivated it to such an art form that now, I kind of just speak like that. I don’t mean like a Jo-Juh Peach. I mean, like what we affectionately refer to in these parts as a Redneck. (I say this with a due amount of respect as I am really only two generations away from legitimate white trash; only one generation away from close and personal contacts with Colonel Sanders, my friends.) Beer helps this skill, naturally. But really, on any given day, I break into this alter ego without even realizing it. A coworker suggests I call a particular candidate and my response? “A’ight, now…Ah’s fixin’ to.” Yes, it is that bad.

In my younger days, when I was a wee lass in my twenties and I still cared what people really thought of me (‘cause you know, I am so past that now), I spent a chunk of time in the late 90’s on my Quest for the Perfect Job. I spent 3 months here. 3 months there. And all job interviews had one thing in common…I inevitably turned into this pathetic “please love me” type of candidate. I’d study that job description the night before. I’d memorize some key phrases. And then I’d magically morph into the most specialist perfect potential employee y’all ever did see. Looking for a task-oriented go-getter? That’d be me. Need a laid back kind of order-taker? I am so there. Data entry? I love it. I dream of it. Strategy? Let me tell you how I have rocked some serious strategy. I could be all people to all companies.

Then one day, it dawned on me. After a string of crappy jobs, perhaps, just maybe, I should consider what I want. Maybe instead of dressing the part and using my three dollar words, I might consider for a moment what would make me happy and whether or not that particular organization could satisfy my needs.

So, next time aorund, I did my research. I showed up. And I was my true self. I didn’t pretend to be interested in mindless work. I made it clear that I wanted a voice. Of course, I shared with them my competitive nature, but I also went so far as to admit that I was borderline OCD and wasn’t down with putting up with posturing. And you know what? I got the job. I kept it for four years and left only because I had a baby to raise.

Dude, it totally worked. I vowed to never again be that doormat employee who was miserable and had the job equivalent of the boyfriend who slept on a futon mattress on the floor and big wooden spools as tables in his living room. No sir. This time around, I was dating a real job–one who took me to a decent restaurant and showed me off and told me I was “purdy.” Cause you know what? I was. That other job may have picked up a bucket-o-chicken every now and then, but he ain’t never took me to no fancy place. And he sure ain’t never made me feel like a real lady. And why? Because I allowed it.

Well, y’all, my mama didn’t raise no fools.

In your quest for the perfect job, you will undoubtedly interview a lot of frogs before you find your real Prince. Do your research and know who they are looking for. Arrive prepared to illustrate clearly the accomplishments you’ve achieved that make you a suitable candidate for this position. But be sure to take time to ask enough questions to ensure that this is really what YOU want. Don’t go pretendin, y’all, ‘cause all you end up with is an empty bucket-o-chicken and a tummy ache.

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