After almost 17 years in the same job I now have to look for a new job. Obama care. I went from 40 hours a week to 29. I was in that (willfully) oblivious world where I was happy at my job, happy with the people I work with and then realized that if I don’t get another job or find one that pays more than this one I am going to be that crazy lady shuffling down the sidewalk in filthy pink bunny slippers screaming at the sky and the piece of McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper flying by on a gust of wind. I’m trying to fill out a resume and so far have this: “Worked a long time at one place. Tolerated a lot of bitches. Made a few great friends. Realized my capacity for taking shit from others is shallow.” There’s one job I’m putting in an application for even though it has one mega panic attack inducing requirement: knowledge of basic math. All I can think if some old guy with a paunch wearing a tie from 1978 yelling at me to add and multiply fractions in under 10 minutes.
So I feel like this little kid who has obviously had enough and is telling the world he’s had enough.
The Chronicles 
OMG. Girl, I’m so sorry. That paunchy rude fucker is a real guy…yep. And he’s lurking. BEHIND you in the unemployment line. So, relax. It’s going to be the ESL accent-impossible-to-overcome one that barely speaks English who’ll be your new boss somewhere. The one who expects the math miracle from you but can’t figure it out for herself. Yup. Good luck. Seriously. I do know. I am a civil servant who’s been out of work for 2 1/2 yrs now. Smart as a whip but obviously I am too dumb to figure out how to get back in.
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Amen! You’re not too dumb to figure how to get back in. Without sounding like a granola psychic (hippy earth mother shit) things have a way of turning out okay. I’m starting to believe that heading into my late 30s. Shit just sucks sometimes and sometimes there’s a reason for the suckage. I get to read your cool ass blogs. There’s a positive!
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you’re too kind…
you do know, of course, that if I were to kill the little mouse, my blog would die too? Where else can you invent a way to tell your stories, as in a mouse? He gets all the love, too. He’s golden and not one little guard hair shall be harmed…believe me!
😛
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