Thoughts I Think Whilst Unemploy-ed

I have come to the realization that I am crazy as a bag full of cats.

I think it's best that I accept this.

I don't know how much of the ebb and flow is due to me not working..and how much is due to me just realizing I'm nuts.

Anyways, chile.  I decided to do a little blog therapy to help clear my mind of whimsy.  I've been so sad lately that I find it's time to find that humor in the midst of sadness.  It's a gift that I've found to get me through tough times in my life.  Laugh to keep from crying.

Or laugh while I'm crying and do that odd sniveling laughy thingy.

*You know what's funny about the whole "you're overqualified" thing?  Telling a mofo who CHOSE to apply for the job that "you're too damn good for this job, and we fear that you're going to break camp as soon as someone offers to pay you more".  Shiiiiid yeah!  You really think I'm going to be like "nah, dun..I don't want $5k more per year or nothing of the sort.  I must be loyal to the people who'll throw me under the bus at short notice".

*When I apply for a job, interview for a job, never hear anything, then see the post back up, I get mad.  I think about how much gas money I spent and how I wore these non-denim ass pants and this non-decorated ass blouse and refused to give in to the desire to pick out the fro just for you to con me.  Stuff like that makes me wish I had farted.

*Craigslist be on that magnanimous bull with the job posts.  You'll go through the posts, read them to make sure you aren't being all solicit-ed and such and decide to send an email.  Then, them rascally bastards will email you and be like "HI!  Thank you for applying to be my personal assistant!"  I'm like "for one, I didn't apply to be your personal assistant.  Two, your tone sounds mighty janky.  Three, you can't spell".

*Speaking of spelling, I've proofread and corrected like thirteen paper applications.  I prolly need to quit.  But how in de hell are you going to hold me up to a stand yo ass can't even handle.  Like the whole "there, their, they're" thing.  I mean, you obviously NEED me, son.

*Tell Liberty National and all them insurance joints to stop stalking fokes.

*I'm now at desperation level.  I now look at jobs and think things such as "can I really sell marijuana legally?" and "can I carry a plate full of moo goo gai pan while skating?"

*When I walk in places now, I ask things like "how much for a two piece?" and "are yall hiring?"

*Everytime I go to a State or County Gubment joint, I ask if they're hiring.  They be like "no ma'am" and I'm like "you a lie from the pit of hell.  Ain't nobody in this sumbitch".  Then that was the day I fell down the steps outside of said institution.

*I actually have a pair of Interview Pants.  They have a title.  Interview Pants.  I bought them from Macy's so you know it's real.

*I considered going to places and leaving my resume up on the board.  Just my luck, I get a call from some dude nicknamed "Sly" or "Pimpin' Ken" asking if I'd join his stable.  Then I'd have to be offended before asking "do you offer a 401k?"

*There some hoes in this house.  They have jobs.  Therefore, hoes stay winning.

* is the best place to comb for jobs.  I live there.  Hell, are they hiring?

*Peep this sheet, yo.  So I called about a receptionist gig I saw because they were like, "call for more information".  I called with my best Proper Human Being Voice and asked for the tea.  Jones named like, fifty-leven job duties then said "it pays $9 an hour" and I was like "so it's like, a quarter per duty per hour".  She got quiet, I got mad, so on and so forth.

*I have certain songs I play outside in Le Yukon while preparing for a job interview.  I may need new songs because they ain't helped me get a job worth a damn.  Something told me to download some more Meatloaf.

*I knew the job market was going to be rough to maneuver through, and I came out prepared.  However, what I did NOT prepare for was the undeniably high level of bad weave.  How'n de hell are you going to grade my appearance when you're wearing Grade A Muskrat on your head?  Nah, scratch that, she wearing lace front Ibex on her head.

*Are high heels supposed to squeak?

*I'm so over the questions where fokes be like "name a situation in which you were dealing with a very irate customer and what did you do to solve the problem".  OH, and the ones that are like damn essay questions!  RRRRAAAARGH I'm so sick of them!!!!!!!!!

*When I'm told to bring a copy of my resume, the first thoughts methinks is that you don't know me worth a damn and don't plan on reading it.  Mah fact, I know you don't know because people get paid good money to help us cultivate our resumes to make them grab your attention...which is cool for le consultant-poo but I still has no gig.

*One particular rejection that made me so mad was when I came to the interview on short notice back in April.  She asked me if I'd come in at 3.  It was 1:15 at the time.  I get there and SHE gone and the person I was supposed to see was gone.  Since I did all that balling, they let me interview with the General Manager.  He loved me to death, but said that Nikki made the hiring decisions.  They ask me to go take a drug test, so I did the next morning.  I went to take said drug test that morning only to find out that they didn't fax the info over.  I called the joint and was like "yo, dun" but I said it in my Good Human Voice with my Good Human Terms.  She asks me to come back and interview with the hiring manager.  I did.  I went to take le test de piss.  This all happened the second week of April.  I called two weeks later to follow up and the heffer said she'd call me back.  It's mid-May.  I'm going to drive up to that joint like Lil' Walter did when Jones was going around saying he was Lil' Walter.

*Hell, I'll play harmonica for the right amount of loot.

*I've tweaked my resume, flipped my resume, printed my resume, deleted my resume, chopped and screwed my resume.  If I change one more damn line, I'm going to look like the best damn secretary human who ever drove a forklift..who prolly has more going on for herself than the mofo interviewing me.  So I'm supposed to cut some stuff out.  Then when Cuz wants to pay me lebben dollars an hour, I'm not supposed to cuss.

*Optimism is great to have.  A job is even better to have.

I stepped out on faith February 28th, 2014, and I believe I've done the right thing for my health and my future.  I am afraid right now, mostly frustrated.  Everyone is telling me my breakthrough is coming soon.  Turns out, it was Pizza Hut.

SO...if anyone is hiring, put a word in for the kid.  I has a fie resume.  I even have Interview Pants.

Real.  Interview.  Pants.

What else is left for me to have?  If I have to have more cowbell then dammit, I'll meet you at Amro in the mornting after my daily Chick-Fil-A sweet tea/lemonade mix.

But before my daily Doctor Who.



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