Looking for work STINKS!

Here's an ongoing blog of my job-hunting woes, hopefully you'll crack the odd smile either in understanding or at the comedy of the situations...

Sizing up the Competition
So, I applied to a retail job for a women's clothing store a while back, thinking it would be an okay for-now job. I went in to the store with my resume (on which of course I omitted some of my education thinking maybe it might help) and asked for the manager. After speaking with her and answering a few questions, she gave me an application to fill out, apparently they don't really look at resumes. Now is this because most applicants can't be bothered to create one or because they want you to write out your information to be sure that you are, in fact, literate?

When I got home I began filling out the application, which essentially asked me to input each part of my resume onto the form (annoying). So, I copied out my resume into this cookie-cutter application, along with answering some standard bull-questions like "Why do you want to work at ___ ?" then hopped back into the car and returned to the store. Does anyone ever tell the truth when asked these questions? Seriously, though. "Well, I don't really want to work here. It just so happens that you are hiring and I am in need of a job. Although I have no particular interest in the clothing your store sells, I am willing to work and do enjoy the feeling of having helped someone." Do you think this would get me a job? Too honest I suppose.

Anyway, as I was walking in, I saw the same manager I had met earlier. I could overhear parts of the conversation she was having with, what looked to me like a 14-year-old, boy with Bieber hair that he kept flipping out of his face, a much-too-fitted pink and purple plaid shirt, spray-on black skinny jeans and high-top sneakers. *Sigh* He, too, was applying for the job. I thought if that's what I was up against, the job should be mine. Yes, I applying to the same jobs as 14-year-olds. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you know what I mean!

It's been a few months, no word from the store. I'm tempted to go back to make sure the boy-child isn't working there.  Although if he is, I probably don't want to know.