Thursday, August 1, 2013

Werking Gal

In the course of approximately two and a half years, I have been employed by seven different companies (one of which I am still a not really kind of slave for, depending on whether you count pinning as a job). Yet after bouncing about in the bliss that is practically unemployment, I have just realised that wait I need moneys and cents to pay baristas, bus drivers and book shop owners. Not having a reliable source of income is quickly becoming very inconvenient. Add in the fact that I am a student, and you have yourself the painful embodiment of a stereotype (#unilyf). What is life.

A word to all of the prospective employers I have emailed, called and flashed my very best Pan Am smile at. For you, I have suffered. I have painfully sought the hell out of I have spent immense amounts of time attempting to advertise myself adequately, without wandering off past the dreaded border of excellent employee material and into the land of absolute wankerdom. I have called your phone numbers with prepared questions in my head, even though I would rather eat my own freshly boiled hair. And yet here I am still, jobless and edging ever so closer to penniless. What exactly is it that you want from me?

I think I can confidently say that I am a competent member of the human race. I have never engaged in taboo activities that society frowns upon (incest, cannibalism, wearing crocs or fleece) and I only have a few conditions I swear. I want some hours that don't clash with my hectic science degree time eating timetable. And I want at least the minimum salary for my age. TWO REQUIREMENTS. Why is this hard? I want to make this work, (pun not intended) but you are clearly too busy never replying to me. What is with that? Why is that I won't ever even receive a memo noting "you didn't make the fit sorrynotsorry"? It's not hard to not be a terrible human being and just allow me the courtesy of knowing that you weren't feeling the font on my resume.

I genuinely wish that I didn't value dem dollas as much as I do. That's what leads to this misery. I would probably be a lot happier if I casted off all material cravings, dropped out of uni, forgot about my caffeine habit and galavanted towards the nearest street corner with some shoe polish and a sign saying 'GUD TYM 4 $$$'. But then I probably wouldn't have internet or deodorant or a regular intake of gum and what kind of existence is that. (not one I can easily leap balls deep into)

So here's to my unemployment. May it end soon. Then I can start complaining about my job, rather than my lacking of one, because I would sincerely prefer that. Or I could do a Frida and find me a wealthy bachelor while chanting maniacally MONEY MONEY MONEY. Then I probably would only complain about my not owing a holiday home in Southern France.

UPDATE: I have a job interview tomorrow. Piss on your dog and wish me luck.

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