Oh, my friends, what frustration. I’m STILL frakkin’ unemployed. And it gets worse.
I recently was submitted for a contract job, got through the phone interview, got a face-to-face interview and FUCKING BLEW IT! For the first time ever, I didn’t get a contract job I interviewed for. But, ok, it would have been close. It would have been convenient. And I would have hated it. Oh, I’d have been GOOD at it, but I would have hated it because it involved a whole bunch of reporting what manager-people want to hear whether or not it is reflective of reality. Look managers, put on your big-kid undies and deal with the truth, ok?
Soooo…. I also interviewed for another job which is a job I am thinking I’d really dig and there are actually BENEFITS and they are pretty decent and the job isn’t too hard but there is room for advancement and they promote people and everything. Honestly, though, I’d go and entrench myself and not move for ANYBODY for a while. One teeny, tiny, infinitesimal problem. I need a car for the job and guess what Ms. Cleo doesn’t have right now and can’t get? If you said “a car”, you’d be spot on. And unless I figure out a way to miraculously make myself attractive enough to turn tricks behind the bodega 22 hours a day for the next few weeks, if they offer me that job, I have to turn it down. And so, my first job offer in THREE MONTHS, would go right in the shitter. (And YES, I would need to be more attractive than I am because we have some pretty classy looking working girls out here in the ‘hood).
Yeah, sucks to be me, eh? (Since when did I become Canadian? What’s up with the “eh?”, eh?)
The classified ads have become a nightmare… I slog through the 47 (I counted) ads that I am qualified for but cannot get to, the 23 jobs that I know I could do but they’re convinced you need a degree to do, to the 12 jobs that I am qualified (or overqualified) to do that each require an hour long application (which is why Ms. Cleo is up at 2:30 in the frakkin’ morning) and they want to know if the carpet matches the drapes, have you ever had an anal probe (by aliens or otherwise), and can you suck the chrome off a Harley with or without a flexy straw…? To which I reply, ummm, I installed linoleum, not that I recall since I fondled the Men in Black and you better believe it! The exciting find tonight is that the Federal Reserve is looking for people so there is a faint hope that I could find myself ass deep in shredded monies but it’s a government job so I could go there and get moved to an “office” in the basement where I could grow old(er) and (more) bitter. It’d be an ideal setup, really.
But, the clock is ticking and it’s looking pretty grim because Ms. Cleo is (in all seriousness) going to end up eating Pizza Rolls for Xmas dinner because she had no money to go shopping (and no way to get to the grocery store) and I’ll be washing clothes in the tub again this week because I can’t afford to do laundry and the bill collectors are gonna start sending Guido around pretty quick here and it’s hard to give a decent hummer when you have broken kneecaps (but I suppose it IS conducive to some epic teabagging…)
If any of you have Santa’s ear, tell the jolly ol’ elf that Ms. Cleo needs a hookup with a ride. Hell, I’d rent one of those flyin’ reindeer for the off season if it’s cool with ol Santa!