On Tuesday, I bought a plunger. Then I unclogged a toilet. It was a rather mundane occurrence.

In truth, that was fine with me. From what I’ve gathered, the best toilet-plunging stories (from the storyteller’s perspective, at least) are the LEAST eventful. It’s rare you’ll hear a tale like this:

“I was plunging the toilet last week and having a hell of a time with it, when what do you know, there’s a knock at the door, and it’s Ed McMahon telling me I’ve won the lottery.”

Much more common, I’d imagine, is the following:

“I was plunging the toilet last week and having a hell of time with it, and just when it’s nearly fixed, what do you know, there’s a massive flood and I’m swimming in regurgitated sewer water and fecal matter.”

So, yeah, I’m all right with the fact that I unclogged the toilet without a major catastrophe occurring. Besides, being the talented writer that I am, I could easily rework the mundane story of my toilet plunging into a gripping narrative if that’s what I desired. The dramatic tale of the lad who ventured into an ancient hardware store to retrieve a coveted plunger from amidst cluttered piles of dusty relics. Or the feminist parable of the young man obtaining his plunger-cum-phallus in order that he might prove his manhood in the ultimate test of masculinity, home bathroom repair. But taking one of these rich angles on my plunger-buying experience would only obscure the point I wish to make (yes, there is a point to all this nonsense): that plunger-buying is exactly the sort of mundane activity that one must do on a regular basis out in the real world.

Not that one must buy plungers regularly, I hope. In fact, I’d be greatly dismayed if my latest purchase fell into disrepair after only a few uses, particularly after I shelled out an extra ninety-nine cents (plus tax!) for the deluxe model with the plastic handle and blue cup. (It matches our bathmat). Yet this genre of task comes up time and time again. Taking out the recycling (after you’ve figured out when recycling day is and where to put it out). Cleaning out the refrigerator. The little things you have to do to keep your small corner of the world tidy and functional when you’ve realized there’s no Environmental Services staff to clean up after you.

The odd thing, though, is that you feel good about these little things at first. Each toilet unclogged, each moldy cup of leftovers thrown away, each empty can sent out for recycling is like a little testament to your independence. You might not feel like an adult yet, but, by golly, the empty tin of Campbell’s you placed carefully into a sturdy plastic or metal container less than twenty gallons in size proves otherwise. Kids don’t have to worry about the minutiae of trash day. You, however, do.

So that’s one plus to moving out into the real world. You might spend your time unclogging toilets. But, for a while, at least, you’ll be unclogging toilets and loving it.

ADDENDUM: How to Unclog a Toilet In Ten Easy Steps, Swattie Emeritus Style

(Because I like to provide “useful” advice occasionally)

1) Flush toilet. Cross your fingers that water will drain smoothly.
2) Flush toilet again. Maybe last time was a fluke.
3) Google “how to plunge a toilet” (don’t forget quotation marks)
4) Click through links that come up. Find simplest set of instructions available for toilet de-clogging.
5) Take break to eat lunch.
6) Attempt to flush toilet, just to triple-check that it didn’t unclog itself while you were eating.
7) Leave apartment. Buy plunger.
8) Return to saved instructions. Choose to ignore any steps that are complicated, hard-to-understand, or require undue expenditure of time or energy. (e.g. surrounding toilet with old towels to sop up potential overflow. If I follow the steps correctly, there shouldn’t be any overflow, right?)
9) Follow remaining steps of instructions. Use stylish new plunger as called for.
10) Voila, toilet good as new! And best of all, you’ve got a full stomach to boot.

Today’s topic for discussion: the job search, quite possibly the most confounding, counterintuitive process known to man. I would recount my personal misfortunes in this field in gory detail, but most of my rejections have been rather blasé. It turns out the real world is not like “The Apprentice” (nor is it like the “The Real World” ironically), where a haranguing boss criticizes your experience, character, and work ethic before dismissing you. Rejection letters are kindly worded, generic, and inoffensive. They don’t make good stories. So instead, I thought I’d collect the wisdom I’ve gained from these mundane experiences into a handy guide I call:

How Common Words of Wisdom Can Lead You Horribly Astray During Job Hunting.

(By the way, you might want to take notes on this, at least on the third tip. There’ll be a test after you graduate)

1) Live Every Day As If It Were Your Last

This one is somewhat obvious.

If today truly were my last day on Earth, I would not spend it churning out cover letters, revising resumes, poring over thesauruses, looking for synonyms for “manage”, “experience”, and “growth”. I would spend it off on a hedonistic joyride, engaging in all sorts of crude, visceral pleasures to celebrate my final moments of life. At the very least, I’d hang out with friends or watch some TV. Definitely wouldn’t apply to any jobs.

A much better job-hunting tip: live every day as if you have many employable years ahead of you, followed by an extended retirement that will require substantial savings.

2) Nice Guys Finish Last

I wish I could tell you that nice guys finish first. Alas, so far I’ve found that “nice guys” get nice initial responses, enjoy interviews with other nice people, receive nicely-worded rejection letters, and finish nicely in the middle of the pack. Nonetheless, that’s more promising than dead last. My courtesy and grace might not have won me every job I applied for, but I still have to believe I’m coming closer than the “Your company is a wreck, your children are ugly, your life is a failure; how could hiring me make anything worse? P.S. I slept with your wife.” guy. Not that there necessarily is a guy who writes that in his cover letters. But from the plethora of blindingly obvious job-hunting tips scattered all over the Internet (“Don’t forget to wear deodorant to your interview.” No, seriously, things like that are everywhere.), I figure there have to be some foolish job seekers out there that these simple things give me an edge on.

3) Always Look On the Bright Side Of Life

There is nothing more potentially dangerous to a job hunt than excessive optimism. (All right, there are probably many things more dangerous, ranging from chronic halitosis to resume-eating termites, but allow me to over-dramatize for a second)

It’s fine to think positively in the abstract. “Someday, somewhere, someone will pay me money”—that’s a great thought to have. I don’t want to be encouraging constant depression here. What’s dangerous is to become so optimistic about any particular prospect that you let everything else fall by the wayside and have to start up your job hunt from scratch when it falls through.

Here’s the solution: every time you e-mail out a job application, pretend that through some freak Internet mishap involving Bill Gates; the Net Neutrality Act; and Yahu, god of telecommunications; it winds up going straight into a black hole. This sounds like a stretch, but believe me, the more job applications you send out, the more reasonable it will sound. More than once I’ve watched an app zip off my computer into limbo, where it’s lingered for weeks on end, sometimes eventually jumping (through a wormhole, perhaps?) into a potential employer’s inbox, other times disappearing entirely. When you assume that this will happen to every application you send out, it motivates you to make Plans B, C, D, and E just in case. If your application does resurface on this side of the event horizon, congratulations! And if not, then at least you won’t be caught with your pants down.

Finally, one piece of positive advice, that I’ve tried to take to heart: keep your chin up while job hunting. It might take a little while, you might get discouraged at times, but eventually you will find a job—and in the end, that’s what truly matters. For as a wise man once said, all’s well that ends well.

Swattie Emeritus.