I really should make this entry about something pleasant. Something about the space station, or the frantic amount of seismic energy on and around Mount Hood, near Portland. Something about my book, or about where I was five years ago today (and yes, I DO remember; it was someplace very pleasant...). Something halfway fucking NICE about the world.
If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
I'm not FEELING much of anything at all.
I feel empty. I feel useless.
I'm STILL unemployed.
It gets worse and worse every day.
I have applied for so many jobs: a line cook at IHOP, a mail clerk for the City of Olympia, an intern with the Washington State Department of Ecology (writing newsletters articles)... I applied at two temp. agencies. I applied to be a parks worker (which, in Oly, is the same thing as a janitor, only outdoors...), and to work at the newspaper, and to flip burgers at a number of places, and to push lattés at Starbucks... You KNOW it's bad when I'm willing to apply to push coffee at a fucking STARBUCKS...
It gets worse and worse...
IHOP told me to come in for an interview the day before yesterday, so I did. Tha manager was sick, however, and they told me to call him in the morning to reschedule. So I called him in the morning. But he was still sick, so the next-in-line manager took my name and number, promised to call back, and called the manager to ask about rescheduling me. Well, boss-man, the guy who had TOLD me to come in for an interview, who had scheduled me to have an interview WITH HIM, said, "I didn't schedule any interview with her; we're not hiring." Three seconds later, my friend called and asked about the position in the paper, and was told, "yes, come in anytime for an application."
What the fuck... It's a fucking IHOP. What did I do to so greatly offend a fucking IHOP...? All I did was walk in the door one day, fill out an application, briefly say hello to the manager, schedule an appointment, and leave again... What's so fucking wrong with me?
All the downtown businesses want resumés. They want RESUMES, kids, for BURGER-FLIPPING jobs. I mean, I HAVE a resume, but fucking HELL, what is this shit??? Why do I need to give a resumé of my skills and ambitions and interests and history, to somebody who's going to have me standing there asking, "paper or plastic," or "would you like fries with that?"
That mail-clerk position? Thirty people applied for it. THIRTY people, wanting ONE job. As a MAIL clerk... Like Jürgen so sweetly put it, "isn't the mail clerk supposed to be the bottom of the barrel?" Thing is, though, I was a mail clerk for a year, and I loved it, and I was GOOD at it. I was the BEST at it. I STILL remember all the box numbers at the College of Santa Fe... Brian was #383... Mike was #413... Erich was #176... This pretentious rat-bastard of a kid -- the "president of the Student Writer's Society," or some shit like that -- named Joe had #147... I mean, dude, I was GOOD at that job, and FAST at it, and I LIKED everybody I talked to... I'm fucken QUALIFIED to do it again...
Thirty people want this job.
But instead of looking over the resumés they required, the human resources department required all applicants to attend a "customer service and office skills test." So thirty people showed up to take an hour and a half long test, competing for ONE position, that pays slightly over ten dollars an hour. A fucking multiple-guess test, and I only have a one-in-thirty chance of getting the job?
Next, they score up the tests, and they call back those who scored highest for interviews. Then, they pick the one they like best. This is ridiculous. Why the desperate floundering for ONE job?
But I do it anyway, even though I don't stand a chance in a crowd of thirty.
Why aren't they paying me for my time, for my WORK, in trying to GET HIRED? I'm working my ASS off, so that I don't have TIME for anything else, so that I'm exhausted and depressed at the end of the day, so I've taken abuse from fucken EVERYBODY in town, and I'm not getting paid ANYWAY. I haul my bedraggled ass around to everybody, begging for a job, and it hasn't gotten me anything.
This is what happened to me in Binghamton. But at least the temp. agencies in Binghamton didn't FIRE me for having an ATTITUDE (the woman promised me a job, told me all about it, and then, when all my paperwork was processed, told me there was no such job... wouldn't you be a little pissed, too? ...and it's not like I went off on her; I simply said I didn't feel she'd treated me very well... THAT was my "attitude"...)
I'm not qualified to do anything.
I don't have a Washington Driver's License. They won't hire you to mop floors if you don't have a Washington Driver's License.
I don't have a Bachelor's degree. They won't hire you to stock grocery store shelves if you don't have a Bachelor's degree. And hell, I don't even have a two-year degree.
What it boils down to is that I'm not sleeping with anybody in charge of hiring.
Maybe I'm just too ugly to work at IHOP. That must be it. Maybe they didn't like my outfit when I walked in. Maybe I wasn't showing enough cleavage. Maybe I was showing too much. I didn't SAY anything to them. I didn't fucking SPEAK to them. I said, "hello, I'm here to fill out an application for employment, please." And I said, "Thank you then, I'll see you on Tuesday, that will be great. Excellent." Do I have pus running down my forehead? Am I oozing green slop from my eyeballs? Did a giant booger fly out of my nose onto the manager's feet? What the fuck did I do so fucking WRONG?
I'd like to sue absolutely every business in Olympia for discrimination in hiring.
I've got the rest of July to come up with $300, or I get evicted from my apartment. Plus, I have to eat. And I have absolutely no prospects.
I'm so humiliated. People look at me like I'm some sort of bum for not having a job. People think I haven't been trying to get a job. People think I just spend my days slacking off in my apartment, listening to the radio. I'm too fucking DEPRESSED to slack off. If I slack off for a MINUTE, I feel guilty for not pulling my own weight, so to speak. Hell, I don't even sit down and chill out in my own apartment when I'm there; I have to be constantly cleaning something. My place is spotless now, and completely organized. I've written back to all my friends who've sent me letters and emails (and I'm notoriously lousy for replying to emails on time...). If I stop moving, I'll cry. If I cry, I won't stop crying. ...And then I'll never get a job.
Cooked dinner for Jürgen last night; portabella mushroom sandwiches. I even made garlic mayonnaise.
I am completely worthless.
Do you know what it's like to feel like you're not even worth minimum wage? Do you have any idea what it's like to be told, every fucking day of your life, for a month and a half, that your skills aren't enough, and you don't have the qualifications to do robot work? to flip burgers? to be a gahd-damned MAIL CLERK? to be a janitor in a park picking up cigarette butts and whacking away at Scot's Broom? Do you know what it's like to try to be the absolute best human being you can be, wear the best clothes you have, provide sweet smiles and friendly, employable attitudes to everybody, and STILL get rejection after rejection, except from the people who were going to send you to Ohio to do shit work for shit pay, and whose politics you disagreed with?
It feels like you might as well die.
It feels like you're taking up more than your fair share of the world's air.
It feels like you OWE people, like you fucking OWE everybody. You owe people explanations, you owe people money, you owe people comfort because they're trying their best to make sure you don't freak out. You owe people lunch, because they took you out. You owe people some sort of thank-you, because they're letting you practice for your driver's test with their car. You owe people the kindness of sharing a cigarette, or buying them a soda... But the thing is, you don't have ANY MONEY TO SPARE, because you don't have next month's rent. You owe everybody else something, because everybody else is BETTER than you, because everybody else HAS A FUCKING JOB.
That's what it feels like.
...And unless I keep moving, keep doing SOMETHING to make the world a halfway decent place, I'm not pulling my own weight, and I'm just a waste of oxygen. A waste of everybody else's time.
It feels like I'm not worth anything.
I've been through this before, and I just don't know how I can keep going, doing this over, and over, and over again. When is it going to fucking END? Give me three bucks an hour under the table, and I'll mow your lawn for you. I'll babysit your kids, I'll move your furniture, I'll do your dishes, I'll flip your motherfucken burgers... Whatever you want... Just let this end so I don't have to feel so fucking worthless.
~Helena*