Yeah, well, I'm trying. I interviewed with a music store last week. The interview was unconventional and the "shift" they are filling is confusing, still I was pretty excited; relatively. The owner of the shop was nodding off during my interview, and they have some kind of "foot in the door" approach to hiring, where one "self initiates" hours. Come to find out that just means, be on call.
In the past I've done restaurant work, and the resume I already had was food service oriented, so I primarily set out in that direction. I need a job immediately. In truth, I need a job 2 months ago, so I don't have time to plan a career change or anything like that. I only ended up in the music store, because I wanted to borrow a pen to write down some information about a dinner joint. But I went ahead and inquired there anyway, and seemed to have good timing. I returned for the verdict today and was told to come back in an hour. Upon my second visit I learned that there are people with, dun dun dun...experience, vying for the "foot in". PPPffffffffff. There goes whatever air was in my balloon.
To be honest, I don't want to work. That is my bottom line. And the only shame I feel around that is in relation to what others think of me; namely my dad. If I had my way I'd be a housewife. I'm fabulous at organizing, decorating, cooking, massage, giving head. But it hasn't insured me a secure position in a loved one's life. Not so long ago a woman would have been looked down on for wanting to work outside the home. Now a woman is looked down on for not wanting to join the ranks of the under paid. I'm not interested in labor trends. I just want to live my life in a way that best suits me, with some consideration for others and the planet.
As I was walking back after getting my disappointing news, a few things happened:
Just outside the music store, a woman was crossing the street with her hand in a man's, both thirty somethings. She wore a floral sundress with a cardigan predictably covering her upper half. Her blonde hair was in some sort of short, intentional style. I saw that she was looking back to a young guy who had asked me for change earlier. I heard her say, "Gidah job!" and couldn't help but let my heart sink with his. As I approached him I simply offered my hand. He accepted and began to cry. He was trying to make out phrases like, "They don't know my position", but it was clear that he didn't have to explain anything to me. I sat beside him using one hand to rub his middle back, not speaking. I have compassion for his struggle, and the woman's overly simplified solution seemed ridiculous. My nose made out the distinct smell of body; the young man slept in the wild last night, three miles out from town. He told me he had just received his ID and was hoping to get a social security card. The change he had requested was to call his mother in Texas. He's been on his own since 15.
Unrelated to that story and once I was nearly home, I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Remember who you wanted to be". From the age of three I wanted to be a famous singer. I would dance around to the music of Men at Work or Billy Ocean, and sing into a microphone, amplified through the stereo (obviously pre-karaoke). I am a talented musician, but my self esteem and personal experiences leave me seeking employment where I will hone my floor mopping skills and negotiate with people having blood sugar fits.
I have so much to say that I can't begin to get it all out. So I write shitty posts about life sucking (see yesterday). When I was 17 I drove a car into a redwood tree. Thus breaking three vertebrae, both ankles, and very nearly losing a foot. Theoretically I have a concept of what "disabled" looks like. In practice it's much more convoluted. I took a temporary disability leave based on anxiety over a year ago. I received a few checks for $60 and have since relied on financial aid. The job I last held left me immobilized after many shifts. I would be in such excruciating pain that all I could do was watch my sweet lover (at the time) clear my folded laundry from the bed and prepare a hot bath for my feet. Still I wasn't making enough to cover my bills.
I guess I can only sum this up by admitting that I'm in a quandary about capitalism and what it's made of society. If people are miserable in their jobs, why are they staying, and why would they wish that on others? If people are happily working, what's it to them if others choose not to? A few nights ago I caught a ride to a support group meeting. Afterwards we went to a Mexican restaurant. I ate gubm'nt macaroni in commodity soup before leaving the house. Once there, I filled up on water and tortilla chips. And though I obviously was able to scrounge up enough to pay the internet man, I'm not in a position to buy dinner out. It saddens me that at the end of the meal, people threw food away. Under any circumstances wasting food seems stupid to me, but especially in the case where you could offer it to someone you know, and possibly even respect. Most people are moved when, on tv, there is a struggling family that is given a 2 story house, with a 4 car garage. But are somehow removed when someone would eat their extraneous rice and beans, or needs 50 cents to call their mother.(?!) Has Georgie done this to us? Because you have to admit it's getting worse. It's getting worse all the time.