August 14, 2011 by Heather
I’d like to talk some about my employment situation. I am thisclose to printing HIRE ME PLEASE on a t-shirt and going into every business in town. I am seriously almost to the McDonald’s point, which is where I am so desperate that I will go apply at McDonald’s. I googled their job openings today actually. A whopping $7.36 an hour. Listen, it’s not a pride thing, it’s a man-that-would-really-suck thing.
I have a plan of attack tomorrow. Well, kind of. I am so totally and completely sick of online job applications, I think they are total crap-filled waffle cones with boogers on top. But employers here are so concerned about the environment that most of them only accept online applications. It stinks, because they suck. I’ll spend 30 minutes carefully clicking my way through this ridiculous application with some retarded questionnaire about my work ethic, only to have it probably go into some digital pile of poo where the hiring guy will weed out all of the ones that say someone has been TERMINATED. And there is no getting around that one, folks, because I have indeed been terminated.
The fact that I’ll own up to it on a job application should make me stand out as an honest and upright citizen. But that’s neither here nor there nor anywhere.
Oh, right. My plan of attack. It goes like this… I’ll get up, iron sweet precious handsome Andrew’s work clothes, have my coffee and eggs and toast, go to the 9:15am vinyasa yoga class (I am trying to do at least 2 yoga classes a week, have you seen yoga people’s bodies? totes ridic), come home, shower & get ready, go to the library and print out more copies of my resume, drive to the edge of town and work my way to the other edge until I have handed my resume to everyone I see. I am a woman on a mission.
Is it childish that I don’t want to work downtown because I don’t want to be near the place I got fired from? I am just so embarrassed by it, still. I have been back into the store a couple of times (forced, really), and the people there looked upon me with such… pity. Like, oh, bless her heart, she can’t hold down a job. I ran into a guy last week that I had worked with and he said he was surprised that we were still in town. He said he kind of figured we’d go back to Arkansas with our tails between our legs.
Um, no. Our tails are not between our legs. I tell you what is between our legs, and that is giant bollocks. Huge, giant swinging bollocks that are packed so much gumption that if one of them hit you in the face you’d fall flat on your back.
gump · tion [guhmp-shuhn]
1.initiative; aggressiveness; resourcefulness: With her gumption she’ll make a success of herself.
2.courage; spunk; guts: It takes gumption to live in a far away town with only one income.
3.common sense; shrewdness: I am not entirely sure what shrewdness means.
In other news, why is it so freaking expensive to eat healthy????? It is so crazy how much more it costs to buy things like fresh fruits and vegetables and greek yogurt and lean meats and healthy grains. I do not understand it. I googled it, and there were all these articles about how poor people are fat because the cheapest foods are the ones with the most calories and the least nutrients. What in the world?
Today I saw a pile of dark green fruit labeled “Personal Watermelons.” This made me laugh. Like, oh no, you go get your own watermelon. This is my personal one. Hands off.
Note to self, and to anyone reading this: Do not buy Wet ‘n Wild lipstick in what appears to be (and says that it is) a shade of bright red. It is not bright red, it is actually bright pink claiming to be red. The fact that it was $0.98 should have made that obvious before I bought it. Oh well.
Did I mention that Andrew has taken on a second job? Last weekend he waltzed over to the pizza place next door and came back with a job as a dishwasher two nights a week. His first night was Thursday, and he is there tonight. Thursday he came home with the biggest cheese pizza I’ve ever seen in my life. I had a slice for breakfast on Friday, and it was magnificent. Anyway, I admire a man who can work, and I tell you what… mine can. I’ll admit, I was a little perturbed by the fact that he could just walk into somewhere and get a job and I can’t get anything. Like my dad said though, “It’s a man’s world.” Psh.
Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is when I take me and my big girl panties and go drum up some lady business.
That sounds strangely prostitution-ish.
I am going to fold this mountain of laundry before Andrew gets home. Peace in the Middle East, nigs.