Sea Turtle Job Applications

My job hunt for a full-time career carries on, and through the painful journey I've come across some very interesting application processes.

Recently, I applied for a position with a unique company. Although the position, place of work and environment were very legitimate, the application process was outrageous (in a good way).

After I filled out the application basics, I was asked to write two essays (common when applying for writing based jobs). However, this was unusual. Feeling adventurous at 11:45 p.m., I wanted to crank these out. Little did I know, I was thrown a curve ball. Essay one instructed, "From the perspective of the turtle, write a 1st person description of a turtle's greatest accomplishment (150 - 300 words)."

Yes.

I read this over a few times and even consulted with friends. I was baffled but intrigued. I decided I could wait on this one.

I scrolled down the page to the second essay...Click the image below and be awakened...


I was even more puzzled as I read yet another turtle question that only could be composed after the first essay was finished. Let me remind you, this job had no animal involvement, required no turtle accolades and had zero additional odd aspects. I was fairly certain some recruiters were totally fucking with me.

I actually waited about one day before I began to tackle the essays. Once finished, I was dying share my results with everyone. Funny enough, I landed an interview but didn't get the job (what a shocker). However, it wasn't because of my turtle essays. In fact, they told me they all "loved" my turtle accomplishment story, which I want to share with you. The following was my response to the first writing prompt:

"From the perspective of the turtle, write a 1st person description of a turtle's greatest accomplishment (150 - 300 words).

Last week, I hauled myself onto a Costa Rica beach shore in the middle of the night. As my body breached the water, the moon danced with each of my weighed steps while my reptilian soul combed the beach for adequate sand to displace my young. I discovered suitable nesting sand all around me; however, my friend Amanda told me the best sand was 100 feet to the right of the old sunstone. I methoically worked my way over to the Amanda-approved sand and began my mental preparation. Once in position, I utilized my hind flippers to dig a hole. I dug with a feverish frenzy in supple but efficient swipes until I was plenty deep. I then filled the hole with roughly 100 of my eggs. Each egg was special to me, but there were too many to conjure up individual names. I called most of them "Jeffrey." Regardless, after filling the nest back up with sand, I smoothed the surface to nature's content. My body was sluggish and gritty from the hour endeavor. I then nonchalantly returned to the sea, leaving my eggs untended, although many of my hatchlings won't live until adulthood."

Boom. Under 200 words. Hot off the press. Warm to the touch. Pretty much the next "Hunger Games." Yet, apparently I didn't enjoy turtles crawling all over me enough to be offered the position (that actually wasn't ever mentioned). Regardless, I did at least, until the impersonal denial of the job, have a decent time with this one.