So it's been about three months since I've had a job. Three wonderful months jam-packed with enough stress to crack the Hoover Dam. God, I'm depressing. I realized the adage "beggars can't be choosers" some time ago, but I feel as though I can be a "chooser". I deserve to find something that will bring me complete happiness, that will fill me with a feeling of self-worth rivaled only by the overzealous Christian sect who believe in man's "manifest destiny." What a crock. It's a depressing existence being out of work. The mind begins to weave a cocoon of pessimism around all genuine intentions to find employment. Before you know it, you're standing in front of the mirror five times a day giving yourself affirmations like a washed-up movie star, "You are great, you are a good person, you will refrain from persuading yourself to drink a NyQuil vodka cocktail today." Today is a good day. Sure.
Three wonderful months. My luck will change, the winds are changing, change is in the air, I can't change my stripes, it's time for a change. I can't handle any more positive manifestation. I can't change my underwear I'm so depressed.
This morning, in between scratching myself and watching a scintillating installment of "Holy Mass for Shut-Ins" (Father McDougal got a new hair piece, and I'm pretty sure his altar boy lineup is changing today) I go online to peruse the best that the workforce has to offer. All right, let's see here, systems analyst, telemarketer, investment specialist, sales representative, forklift operator, door-to-door canvasser, so far so good. Wait a second, what's this one say? "Toby, click here and you'll find information on a job that will make you both happy and fulfilled. We understand that you've been upset lately and the last three months have been tough, we want to help and you're just the right person for the job. Don't be freaked out, just follow the link to apply." What the hell?