JESS DU JOUR: SHOE HORNS -- AND OTHER OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS

I am going to college. This statement, in two months, means that I will have a chance to test the knowledge that I have gleaned in 12 years of schooling. This summer, it means that I need to get my hands on as much extra de niro as possible.

I considered all kinds of money-making options that would supplement my morning internship work -- bake sales, home craft-making, the sale of various body parts -- but none seemed to be as lucrative as I had orginally planned. It seemed obvious, after totaling my summer internship wages, that my only option was to look for a second job.

When one has a college degree, business experience, or some marketable skill, finding a part-time job can still be difficult. When one is recently graduated from high school, is leaving for Indiana in two months, and has very little marketable skill outside of bathing and clothing herself consistently, the search for employment is harder still.

Don't mistake my occupational modesty for incompetency; I believe I would be able to learn several useful occupational tasks, including massive coffee drinking and chronic lethargy. I also consider myself well-rounded enough to engage in all sorts of occupations if needed -- I could sell a pair of size 9 boots, peddle Hoover vacuum cleaners, and telemarket with the best of them. My problem is that, when employers ask me for actual occupational references, I can only smile coyly and hand them a pile of newspaper clippings and public relations brochures. They quickly assess me, the applicant, as someone who could certainly not sell a pair of shoes and someone who would probably make fun of them in her next newspaper column.

Panicking, the employers that I apply to usually collect my clippings and shoo me out of their stores. When I persist, avowing my scholarships and grade point averages to them over my shoulder, they hurl shoe horns at me until I stumble out the front door. I usually amble down the street to my next possible employer, expecting the same rejection.

Actually this was my first real method of job-hunting. I parked my car at one end of Broadway and walked to the other end, applying my way down the business-laden street. Although it was fairly interesting and I had a chance to explore all the little Broadway shops that I had previously assumed were tattoo parlors, my walk-in-and-apply-at-random-stores method was completely fruitless.

It seemed that I was either coincidentally strolling into every shop that was not hiring, or I had somehow run into a long string of store managers that were heavily armed with shoe horns. I could never tell.

I changed my method slightly and glanced at the classified section of the Southeast Missourian. After studying the ads intensely, I found that the only ads that applied to me were ones that read:

"Local dairy farm needs part-time worker to wade through large, dense piles of manure with a shovel. No experience neccessary."

and

"Need money? Have no experience and need flexible hours? Call this number and let Spike put you to work in his meat shop."

My calls, even to the authentic and promising ads, were futile. I even went so far as to apply to the local knife-selling operations and fast food joints. I was coming up with nothing.

As of today, I am still searching. And, as an ultimate backup plan, I plan on moving to Florida and becoming a migrant fruit picker. In fact, the more shoe stores I walk into, I am beginning to like that idea more and more. I may skip college, my internship, and a post-college career to pick tangerines with guys named Gomez. I will live a long and satisified life with my citrus-picking job, and I'll never be rejected by another employer. It will be grand -- I can ride my bike to Florida, hop on a tangerine truck, and show up in the field... no experience neccessary.

Jessica McCuan is an intern at the Southeast Missourian.