Foaming At The Mouth
Help Wanted Male
So I had that phone call on Tues. that turned out to be important. You see, my life of chronic unemployment means that I have to 'schedule' making phone calls to people who might be able to do me some good. By 'schedule', I mean try to time when might be advantageous to actually find them available and in a receptive mood. I may have talked to them before, so they can't have heard from me too recently, and it has to be at an appropriate interval from my last call/email.
Consequently, I lead a pathetic existence; trying to decide which would be a most auspicious day this week to call someone who most certainly doesn't want to hear from me. My calculations amount to: "I called So-and-So on Thurs. the 1st. I sent him a resume and he was non-commital. I'll call him tomorrow, Monday the 10th, just to 'follow up'." This means I try to stay in his face at gentle intervals. Lame and degrading doesn't really describe the full nuance of the process. After all, I not only went to college but had eight years of direct experience to be in a position to make shabby moves like this.
But Tuesday, I made a call which I had no expectation of finding any progress from. I didn't even bother to draw several ounces of 'liquid courage' before I made the call. Shock of shocks, I was told I should drop by for an interview the following morning. Well, I was galvanized to action. Emergency haircut, shoeshine, numerous copies of the resume printed up, the whole shootin' match. I had been through the wringer too many times to believe things would turn out well but I knew that I at least had something to look forward to, something to pretend might mean something. When things are so bad for so long you'll settle for as little.
Yet I got up bright and eary on Weds. It was a 10AM appointment so I got up at 7:30 in order to be there at 9:30, dressed up like the young go-getter that I can still appear to be....and had a dreadful time of it. The guy was unenthusiatic about my prospects for a job I soon decided that I didn't even want. What's the good of taking a job that you're not qualified for and would be unhappy with? O Lord, how long?
I finished the interview on a high note, with polite suggestions to follow up next week. Afterwards, I felt for some reason like I could justify garbaging up on bad food. I went to Finn McCool's for a sandwich and spent the rest of the week drinking heavily. I passed out with a glass of wine and spilled it on the carpet near my couch. Eventually I just poured chlorine bleach onto the stain. It looks bad but not as bad as it did before. I'll go back to watching Pat O'Brien and Robert Ryan kill japs in "Marine Raiders" (1944). When the Red Bull kicks in I'll go to the gym.
Help Wanted Male
So I had that phone call on Tues. that turned out to be important. You see, my life of chronic unemployment means that I have to 'schedule' making phone calls to people who might be able to do me some good. By 'schedule', I mean try to time when might be advantageous to actually find them available and in a receptive mood. I may have talked to them before, so they can't have heard from me too recently, and it has to be at an appropriate interval from my last call/email.
Consequently, I lead a pathetic existence; trying to decide which would be a most auspicious day this week to call someone who most certainly doesn't want to hear from me. My calculations amount to: "I called So-and-So on Thurs. the 1st. I sent him a resume and he was non-commital. I'll call him tomorrow, Monday the 10th, just to 'follow up'." This means I try to stay in his face at gentle intervals. Lame and degrading doesn't really describe the full nuance of the process. After all, I not only went to college but had eight years of direct experience to be in a position to make shabby moves like this.
But Tuesday, I made a call which I had no expectation of finding any progress from. I didn't even bother to draw several ounces of 'liquid courage' before I made the call. Shock of shocks, I was told I should drop by for an interview the following morning. Well, I was galvanized to action. Emergency haircut, shoeshine, numerous copies of the resume printed up, the whole shootin' match. I had been through the wringer too many times to believe things would turn out well but I knew that I at least had something to look forward to, something to pretend might mean something. When things are so bad for so long you'll settle for as little.
Yet I got up bright and eary on Weds. It was a 10AM appointment so I got up at 7:30 in order to be there at 9:30, dressed up like the young go-getter that I can still appear to be....and had a dreadful time of it. The guy was unenthusiatic about my prospects for a job I soon decided that I didn't even want. What's the good of taking a job that you're not qualified for and would be unhappy with? O Lord, how long?
I finished the interview on a high note, with polite suggestions to follow up next week. Afterwards, I felt for some reason like I could justify garbaging up on bad food. I went to Finn McCool's for a sandwich and spent the rest of the week drinking heavily. I passed out with a glass of wine and spilled it on the carpet near my couch. Eventually I just poured chlorine bleach onto the stain. It looks bad but not as bad as it did before. I'll go back to watching Pat O'Brien and Robert Ryan kill japs in "Marine Raiders" (1944). When the Red Bull kicks in I'll go to the gym.