Step 1. Ask your dad. Ask your mom, your friends, any acquaintances in charge of a company.

Step 2. Plan your birth for the 20th century, sooner if possible. The experience is invaluable.

Step 3. Give up. The jobs are dead. Your laziness killed them all.

Still here? Fine, Step 4. Plan your application. Camp outside store windows and mark DEFCONs in your notes app as the signs change. “24/7 Breakfast” => “Now Hiring” => “Help Wanted.” => “Help Needed!”

Step 5. A resume. Craft and prune, seek workshops and familial advice and strangers on the street. Ask about this and about that, about your numerical worth stretched out like the threads of fate in lists and timelines.

Step 6. First impressions. You know what to wear; think back to high school dress codes, so elegant in their simplicity. What you wear is wrong, and everything else is right. Push confidently through the doors, walk to the counter, and hand them your life as practiced. You’re prepared for a yes or a no. You get “ma’am, you have to apply online.”

Step 7. Insist that you have your resume with you, fumble for your script, and accept the futility. “Please just use the portal. The portal is my supervisor.” This looks good to the board.

Step 8. Use the portal. Just scan the code to open porta.ly which should let you log in with GhostRecruit.com. Please create an account. GhostRecruit should cross-reference the listing on SimplyRejected.biz and send you straight to the application portal on PeasantSort.metagooglesoft.

Step 9. Please create an account. We need to keep your information on file so we can reach out with future listings. The account will be your supervisor.

Step 10. Please upload your resume. 137 mandatory field(s) could not be filled from resume.pdf, please continue to manual form. Don’t worry about your resume; it’s dead. Your laziness killed it forever. Are you human? Select all images of buses.

Step 11. Some simple questions. When were you born? When did you graduate high school? When did you earn your fourth doctorate? Do you have a car? A physical address? A body unmarked by time?

Do you ever contemplate the futility of perpetuating corporate profit margins? Are you human? Select all images of Palestinian journalists.

Do you ever feel sad? Do you ever need a break? Have you ever been sick? Caught a cough or the flu or cancer? Caught self-confidence or Union? If you were in a label-free paypig situationship with a hiring manager, would you feel the need to mention anything to HR? The questions are standard and professional. The questions look good to the board.

Step 12. Please upload medical history. 1 mandatory field(s) could not be filled from does_anyone_even_read_file_names.pdf: “HIV testing results,” please continue to manual form.

Step 13. The company ghosted you. View 7,364 new listings! Your resume may be a good fit for: “United States I.C.E Agent ($60-80k)! Apply now?” Scroll. Scroll. Select all images of working mothers. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll until you’ve wiped a blurry mess of desperation and resignation across your retinas. Find another listing.

Step 14. Start over. Perhaps you hear back this time, perhaps you don’t.

Step 15. Say you do. Interview time. Remember your high school dress code, but don’t let it shake you. Be Goldilocks, not too feminine, not too threatening; not too bright, not forgettable; not dead, but certainly not alive. Shake the interviewer’s hand, and make eye contact. Stare into their eyes like they’re the only thing in the world. Feel their squeeze and reciprocate, weaker but not too weak.

When they offer you a drink, don’t accept. Especially nothing but water. This isn’t your barista. Glance down to the floor, and sleepwalk through the interview. “We have a resume here… uhm… ‘fuck_you_corporate_pigs.pdf’? Should we keep you on file?” Get an email: “Your resume may be a good fit for: Palantir Data Scientist ($125-180k)! Apply now?”

Step 16. The email. “Dear applicant,”
    We regret to inform you…”
        “…that we are moving forward with another candidate.”
        “…that we have decided you are overqualified for this position.”
        “…that you are at risk of advancing a career.”
    “We have decided that…”
        “your living situation disqualifies you.”
            “…that you are too old.”
                “…too queer.”
                “…too dark.”
                    “…fugly.”
“Your resume may be a good fit for: Ghost Hunter ($11.27/hr)! Apply now?”

Step 17. The listing was never real. Start over. Create an account. Perhaps you hear back this time, perhaps you don’t.

Step 18. Say you don’t. Wonder if it was all worth it. They said they would keep your information on file. They sold it, but maybe you can beg. Try to convince them you have more they can sell: your life, your body, your labor; a bargain both faustian and simoniacal.

Step 19. At least the listing was never real. Remember they aren’t ghosting you, they are ghosts. Dead. Your laziness killed them. Wonder if they’re even worth chasing at all. Wonder if you are worth it. If anything is. This looks good to the board.

Step 20. Accept. The listing was never real. The ghosts are your supervisor. At least there’s always the military booth.