Still waiting to hear from the driving job. Me, and only me, would think a company would call back on a Saturday. I am slightly impatient; waiting has never been my strong suit. I have a 48-hour threshold for almost everything - the 48-hour rule - and then I'm done. I don't remember names or places or conversations after that. And that has led to some embarrassing moments, Let me tell you. Like that one time...lets just say that names are really "important" to some people.
One name I won't forget now is Gaye Delorme. I got to meet him on Friday. I, of course, did not know who he was and just assumed he was an unemployed schmo like myself, sitting around day-drinking. I told him stories. Lots of stories. There's a good chance that I might be a character in the next Cheech and Chong. So, I'm going to say this now before the next show or movie - it's lies, all lies...
It's funny when you start telling stories about your life and realize that, well, it has been an interesting existence to-date. I only sometimes wish I could have done things "normally", but then there would never be any stories to tell. I'd bore the crap out of myself if I was "normal". I guess I just wish that I could step into the shoes of the cookie cutter for a day and talk about the perfect hemi or perfect house I just bought with my perfect husband. You get to hear the cookie cutter stories in the changeroom at the gym in the mornings because they don't actually have jobs to go to, either. Is this what guys really want?
Ah, who am I kidding, I'd never be able to be perfect. That perfect house would be pretty lonely when your perfect husband is off bonking a waitress. And I'd just take that perfect hemi and collect bottles with it. I'd be the envy of all my hobo friends, though. Some things aren't worth giving up, even for a day.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Day 65: David Suzuki Is Not Who He Says He Is
Employment counsellor my ass. It's like they are counselling you to stay unemployed. Makes sense, if there weren't any unemployed people, then they wouldn't have jobs, would they, opposed to shouldn't have jobs. My "employment" counsellor today looked like David Suzuki, but that's about where the similarities ended. Mean little bastard. I thought he was on cocaine at first, so I was a little afraid. It's never a fun day dealing with cokeheads. Hey, imagine David Suzuki on speed. Wouldn't that freak you out a little bit more about the environment? I should write him a letter and tell him.
Okay, I'll agree that my resume is long winded. Fixed. Done. No biggie. Right? Like resume writing is an innate skill, like I should have known this since I was three? I'm always open to resume critiquing, so screw you Mr. Coke-uki, I'm not in dire circumstances yet. Not until I'm PMSing again next month. Second, I was told to come up with an idea of what I wanted to do before coming into the UI office again for employment counselling. Done. I followed every employment lead I could think of last week and managed to score a second interview for a driving job that paid $6g/yr more than what I was making as an "all-important" flight dispatcher. Mr. Coke-uki kept asking me why driving, and what made me think I could do a job like that? Omigod, like driving equipment around and fixing it for 3+ years doesn't make me qualified? What do I have to do to get some respect around here, strap a penis on? Can you even read, Mr. Coke-uki? Because it's all on my resume...oh, that's right, you like your sentences with three words or less. I'll get right on that. Don't want to keep you from your precious 3-hour lunch break, I know your busy trying to figure out what to put on your pizza.
Lastly, apparently I am "wasting" my degree, and that I am better qualified than most of the employment counsellors he works with. F***ing great, get me a job then and stop telling me I'm an underachiever when I'm just trying to get a little more than $300/wk to live on, even if it's just for a year. "Oh no, we've all done our time," making $12/hr, and that I should get in now before it's too late, and start work at the federal EI office or something. Been there, done that. And let me tell you, there is nothing in this world that will make me work a federal EI call center in North York, get laid off every year, get my hours cut, and grow my ass the size of a house, dodge bullets in North York on my way home or in my living room, and talk to angry, angry people all day long. Nor am I going to work in a halfway house or a youth home for $12/hr. Because it's not just about the money. When your a pyscho-male (yes, I'm sure that's the politically correct, scientific term for them), all women start to remind you of the mother that you hate. That just has ice-pick to the neck, acid in the face, or gunshot to the spine written all over it. No thank-you. If I'm going to risk my life like that, I'm going to Afghanistan, work the Tim Horton's for $80g a year, and get free coffee while I burn alive.
Rant Rant Rant. Anyway, I'm just going to do my own thing. Mr. Cok-uki got one thing right, I'm a better employment counsellor than that entire office put together, so I think I can counsel myself. I want to work. I want to make money. I want to save money so one day, I can really do what I want to do, and that's not living to work like most poor schmucks in this world. I'm working to live. And for shoes. Maybe a motorcycle. Who knows. Anything can happen.
Okay, I'll agree that my resume is long winded. Fixed. Done. No biggie. Right? Like resume writing is an innate skill, like I should have known this since I was three? I'm always open to resume critiquing, so screw you Mr. Coke-uki, I'm not in dire circumstances yet. Not until I'm PMSing again next month. Second, I was told to come up with an idea of what I wanted to do before coming into the UI office again for employment counselling. Done. I followed every employment lead I could think of last week and managed to score a second interview for a driving job that paid $6g/yr more than what I was making as an "all-important" flight dispatcher. Mr. Coke-uki kept asking me why driving, and what made me think I could do a job like that? Omigod, like driving equipment around and fixing it for 3+ years doesn't make me qualified? What do I have to do to get some respect around here, strap a penis on? Can you even read, Mr. Coke-uki? Because it's all on my resume...oh, that's right, you like your sentences with three words or less. I'll get right on that. Don't want to keep you from your precious 3-hour lunch break, I know your busy trying to figure out what to put on your pizza.
Lastly, apparently I am "wasting" my degree, and that I am better qualified than most of the employment counsellors he works with. F***ing great, get me a job then and stop telling me I'm an underachiever when I'm just trying to get a little more than $300/wk to live on, even if it's just for a year. "Oh no, we've all done our time," making $12/hr, and that I should get in now before it's too late, and start work at the federal EI office or something. Been there, done that. And let me tell you, there is nothing in this world that will make me work a federal EI call center in North York, get laid off every year, get my hours cut, and grow my ass the size of a house, dodge bullets in North York on my way home or in my living room, and talk to angry, angry people all day long. Nor am I going to work in a halfway house or a youth home for $12/hr. Because it's not just about the money. When your a pyscho-male (yes, I'm sure that's the politically correct, scientific term for them), all women start to remind you of the mother that you hate. That just has ice-pick to the neck, acid in the face, or gunshot to the spine written all over it. No thank-you. If I'm going to risk my life like that, I'm going to Afghanistan, work the Tim Horton's for $80g a year, and get free coffee while I burn alive.
Rant Rant Rant. Anyway, I'm just going to do my own thing. Mr. Cok-uki got one thing right, I'm a better employment counsellor than that entire office put together, so I think I can counsel myself. I want to work. I want to make money. I want to save money so one day, I can really do what I want to do, and that's not living to work like most poor schmucks in this world. I'm working to live. And for shoes. Maybe a motorcycle. Who knows. Anything can happen.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Day 64: The Waiting Room
I've come to the conclusion that we all have to do some time in a hypothetical waiting room. For some people, I think that time spent could be their entire life. I'm always afraid of this happening to me, makes me panic and sweat, waiting around for nothing. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm extremely impatient and I often think that I can predict the future, "We are going to be together forever, and beeeeeeeeeeee sooooooooo happpppppppyyyyyyy." (shortly thereafter, the dude returns to Turkey to find his "true love", then comes back to Canada, tries to pick me up in a nightclub as his wife is at home with their 5 children, and then shortly afterwards dies in a taxi explosion. Just saying...this has happened on occasion...)
I've also realized that my predictions based on the opposite of my predictions are also wrong, like I think everything is going to work out, and because I think everything is going to work out, I think I know it's not going to work out. Then I stop caring and just go through the motions like it's not going to work out, and I really end up sabotaging my happiness in the end. I do this with guys, I do this with jobs, I do this with Twinkies and Ding Dongs. I try and predict. All the time. And not kidding you, Twinkies and Ding Dongs don't stick around and last forever, you've got to take a bite sometime or eventually they'll grow this blue mould and it's just too late then, that stuff will make you poo hourly for an entire week.
I nearly did that today, putting off and putting off going in to this company to see the manager about a job. I'm like, this job is going to be boring, it's not going to pay me enough, and I'll quit in a month and be worse off then when I started. When you're on unemployment, you get a little gun-shy because you do have some sort of income trickling through (and I mean TRICKLING). Anyway, I rolled out of bed, procrastinating, didn't put socks or underwear on as I hadn't done laundry in 2 weeks (what's the point?), put on a pair of pants that I really should have worn with a belt (the hobo wear is getting a little loose), and gunned up the highway as fast as my 8-year-old fuel filter would allow me to (40km/hr in an 80km/hr zone, maybe I don't need to change it after all). I got to the door, and still would have turned around and bolted if it weren't for the dude walking in behind me. Which happened to be the manager. We ended up talking for an hour and a half, I have a second interview, the wage is $6g/month higher than my last job that nearly caused me a brain hemorrhage, + bonuses, and they are going to help me get my class 1 driver's license. I nearly kissed the guy. Actually, maybe I did...who remembers these things, anyway?!
So, you're probably piecing together what's going on. And you've definitely come to the right conclusion. Yes sir/ma'am. I am going to be an Albertan truck driver. I'm practicing the lingo now. But don't judge me. I just need a no-brainer job for a while, outdoors, breeze blowing through my hair and cryogenically freezing my eyelids shut, the chance to fill my pockets with cash for once instead of Laffy Taffy, and being able to go home at the end of the day knowing I don't have to figure out how to answer a Blackberry (what freakshow designed that stupid phone?). Because ultimately, my career is me. I just need some decent waiting room real estate for a bit. And a motorcycle. Everyone needs a motorcycle.
I've also realized that my predictions based on the opposite of my predictions are also wrong, like I think everything is going to work out, and because I think everything is going to work out, I think I know it's not going to work out. Then I stop caring and just go through the motions like it's not going to work out, and I really end up sabotaging my happiness in the end. I do this with guys, I do this with jobs, I do this with Twinkies and Ding Dongs. I try and predict. All the time. And not kidding you, Twinkies and Ding Dongs don't stick around and last forever, you've got to take a bite sometime or eventually they'll grow this blue mould and it's just too late then, that stuff will make you poo hourly for an entire week.
I nearly did that today, putting off and putting off going in to this company to see the manager about a job. I'm like, this job is going to be boring, it's not going to pay me enough, and I'll quit in a month and be worse off then when I started. When you're on unemployment, you get a little gun-shy because you do have some sort of income trickling through (and I mean TRICKLING). Anyway, I rolled out of bed, procrastinating, didn't put socks or underwear on as I hadn't done laundry in 2 weeks (what's the point?), put on a pair of pants that I really should have worn with a belt (the hobo wear is getting a little loose), and gunned up the highway as fast as my 8-year-old fuel filter would allow me to (40km/hr in an 80km/hr zone, maybe I don't need to change it after all). I got to the door, and still would have turned around and bolted if it weren't for the dude walking in behind me. Which happened to be the manager. We ended up talking for an hour and a half, I have a second interview, the wage is $6g/month higher than my last job that nearly caused me a brain hemorrhage, + bonuses, and they are going to help me get my class 1 driver's license. I nearly kissed the guy. Actually, maybe I did...who remembers these things, anyway?!
So, you're probably piecing together what's going on. And you've definitely come to the right conclusion. Yes sir/ma'am. I am going to be an Albertan truck driver. I'm practicing the lingo now. But don't judge me. I just need a no-brainer job for a while, outdoors, breeze blowing through my hair and cryogenically freezing my eyelids shut, the chance to fill my pockets with cash for once instead of Laffy Taffy, and being able to go home at the end of the day knowing I don't have to figure out how to answer a Blackberry (what freakshow designed that stupid phone?). Because ultimately, my career is me. I just need some decent waiting room real estate for a bit. And a motorcycle. Everyone needs a motorcycle.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Day 63: Therapy
My recent spin-out is definitely PMS. I feel my ovaries being dragged by a pitch fork through my fallopian tubes right now. Soon my entire innards will be wrenched out through my uterus. Then I'll feel better. Nothing like a good bloodletting to feel like new again. I guess it's like the morning after drinking from a broken beer bottle for you boys out there. You know what I mean. Glad I didn't get angry at anyone this time and leave fiery bags of poo on doorsteps. By the way, nobody suspects the carry-on. Or the matching luggage with pretty floral designs and florescent pink baggage tags. Just make sure someone else's address is on the tags. You'll only make that mistake once.
The great thing about venting to family and friends about your pathetic life when you're PMSing is not that they make you feel any better about your perceived dire circumstances, it's that they can always top your story with something a little more sad or gruesome. My Easter weekend was actually spent at my friend J's place, watching him cook (boring), because that's all he does, and that's why I typically avoid his place. Not that I don't like his cooking, he's a brilliant cook; But after 2 hours of prep time to smell a little less homeless for the evening, it's disappointing to ultimately end up smelling like a meatball. Which, by the way, lasts the entire evening and into the morning. The smell, not the meatball. Sunday night was crazy pasta (I didn't recognize it, it wasn't Mac & Cheese, it's therefore crazy). Monday night was thankfully cookies after convincing him that I wasn't hungry for anything without sugar or chocolate. I couldn't see pasta or meatballs tasting good with either one of those ingredients. However, I could be wrong.
Anyway, therapeutic it was. I'm fired. Still fired. Jobless. Rootless. Directionless. Thoughtless. And obviously ignorant to the fact that the world does not revolve around me (ha, what a revelation). It is now apparent to me that I'm not the only person with difficulties. I get angry and call someone's mother ugly and get fired, I get unemployment checks (eventually, 3 months later, when the credit card companies have cut me off). J gets angry and tells someone constructively how to remove their head from their ass (please and thank-you are almost always added to the beginning and end of the instructions, it's smooth, almost as good as a marriage proposal), he gets fired, he gets deported. My father died 3 years ago. His father died a year ago. My mom lives a lifetime away in Ontario. His mother lives 2 lifetimes away in Kenya. And so on. I won't elaborate on the gruesome stories as I do remember crying when he mentioned someone's eye popping out. No details, sorry, too painful to talk about...
Anyways, just when you think your life is bleak, stop and think, there's always someone with a bleaker story. I don't want to say pathetic. J is far from that, he's a machine. Well oiled, at that. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm convinced he'll be a big shot someday, and never compromising what makes him, well, him.
Me, I am a weak human being, I admit it. Emotionally unstable. But very, very entertaining. I lick things, alot. I think I mentioned that before. I like to dance to Madonna. I say whatever comes into my head and apologize later for it. Sometimes. I think in abstract, although I don't know how to paint or draw or smoke opium. That's why I write. That's why you don't always understand what I write. Just crawl into a child's mind sometime (metaphorically speaking again, OF COURSE), one with A.D.D. and O.C.D., and a bedwetting problem, and that's me. I'm rambling now...
So, I guess it's time to stop crying in my beer. I've got my limbs, my life, opportunities I just don't know about yet, and hair. Some people don't have hair. I do. I also have good shoes. They don't always go so well with my hobo wardrobe, but one day, one day I'll have pants again...
The great thing about venting to family and friends about your pathetic life when you're PMSing is not that they make you feel any better about your perceived dire circumstances, it's that they can always top your story with something a little more sad or gruesome. My Easter weekend was actually spent at my friend J's place, watching him cook (boring), because that's all he does, and that's why I typically avoid his place. Not that I don't like his cooking, he's a brilliant cook; But after 2 hours of prep time to smell a little less homeless for the evening, it's disappointing to ultimately end up smelling like a meatball. Which, by the way, lasts the entire evening and into the morning. The smell, not the meatball. Sunday night was crazy pasta (I didn't recognize it, it wasn't Mac & Cheese, it's therefore crazy). Monday night was thankfully cookies after convincing him that I wasn't hungry for anything without sugar or chocolate. I couldn't see pasta or meatballs tasting good with either one of those ingredients. However, I could be wrong.
Anyway, therapeutic it was. I'm fired. Still fired. Jobless. Rootless. Directionless. Thoughtless. And obviously ignorant to the fact that the world does not revolve around me (ha, what a revelation). It is now apparent to me that I'm not the only person with difficulties. I get angry and call someone's mother ugly and get fired, I get unemployment checks (eventually, 3 months later, when the credit card companies have cut me off). J gets angry and tells someone constructively how to remove their head from their ass (please and thank-you are almost always added to the beginning and end of the instructions, it's smooth, almost as good as a marriage proposal), he gets fired, he gets deported. My father died 3 years ago. His father died a year ago. My mom lives a lifetime away in Ontario. His mother lives 2 lifetimes away in Kenya. And so on. I won't elaborate on the gruesome stories as I do remember crying when he mentioned someone's eye popping out. No details, sorry, too painful to talk about...
Anyways, just when you think your life is bleak, stop and think, there's always someone with a bleaker story. I don't want to say pathetic. J is far from that, he's a machine. Well oiled, at that. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm convinced he'll be a big shot someday, and never compromising what makes him, well, him.
Me, I am a weak human being, I admit it. Emotionally unstable. But very, very entertaining. I lick things, alot. I think I mentioned that before. I like to dance to Madonna. I say whatever comes into my head and apologize later for it. Sometimes. I think in abstract, although I don't know how to paint or draw or smoke opium. That's why I write. That's why you don't always understand what I write. Just crawl into a child's mind sometime (metaphorically speaking again, OF COURSE), one with A.D.D. and O.C.D., and a bedwetting problem, and that's me. I'm rambling now...
So, I guess it's time to stop crying in my beer. I've got my limbs, my life, opportunities I just don't know about yet, and hair. Some people don't have hair. I do. I also have good shoes. They don't always go so well with my hobo wardrobe, but one day, one day I'll have pants again...
Day 62: What a Drag
I'm not sure if it's PMS or if I'm just plain psychotic, but this unemployment status is really dragging me down. I feel like just grabbing someone in a uniform and stealing their life. And to be honest with you, I wouldn't want to give them my life in return. Holy depression!!! I want drugs for this. My concoction of alcohol and other various products is not working.
I've just applied for every job from Iqaluit to the east coast today. With my luck I'll get the job in Iqaluit. I guess I just need to work, that's a strange need, I always thought retirement would have been my dream. There is something about being around people that we need, isn't there? I was devastated Sunday/Monday,nobody seemed to have time for me, soft plans and last minute cancellations seemed to be the only thing I had to hang on to. It seemed kind of sacrilegious partying when everyone else is out visiting family, going to church, and working overtime. But, what else can I do? Is going home to Ontario the best thing to do? What am I holding onto out here? I kind of want to steal someone's family too, I really do need 2 of them. I want to have an Alberta family and an Ontario family. I think the best way is to just walk into someone's house, sit down at the dinner table, and start talking about my day. It worked well enough when I lived in Taiwan. I always got fed there, and always had first dibs on the fishheads and chicken claws.
Lets see what this week brings. I had a list to stay on track, and then I lost the list. In fact, I don't think I've ever made a list and not lost it almost instantly. I hate grocery stores because of it. People hate me in grocery stores because of it. I think I'm meant to just fall through life with no idea what to do or what is happening. It's confusing sometimes, and a little scary at the moment. I don't even remember if I have toilet paper. That's a 2am disaster just waiting to happen. Hopefully I have better stories tomorrow.
I've just applied for every job from Iqaluit to the east coast today. With my luck I'll get the job in Iqaluit. I guess I just need to work, that's a strange need, I always thought retirement would have been my dream. There is something about being around people that we need, isn't there? I was devastated Sunday/Monday,nobody seemed to have time for me, soft plans and last minute cancellations seemed to be the only thing I had to hang on to. It seemed kind of sacrilegious partying when everyone else is out visiting family, going to church, and working overtime. But, what else can I do? Is going home to Ontario the best thing to do? What am I holding onto out here? I kind of want to steal someone's family too, I really do need 2 of them. I want to have an Alberta family and an Ontario family. I think the best way is to just walk into someone's house, sit down at the dinner table, and start talking about my day. It worked well enough when I lived in Taiwan. I always got fed there, and always had first dibs on the fishheads and chicken claws.
Lets see what this week brings. I had a list to stay on track, and then I lost the list. In fact, I don't think I've ever made a list and not lost it almost instantly. I hate grocery stores because of it. People hate me in grocery stores because of it. I think I'm meant to just fall through life with no idea what to do or what is happening. It's confusing sometimes, and a little scary at the moment. I don't even remember if I have toilet paper. That's a 2am disaster just waiting to happen. Hopefully I have better stories tomorrow.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Day 61: I Want to be Something Special, Too
I don't even know what to write anymore. Nothing like a holiday weekend without the family. Kind of brings you down to zero. Although apparently my brother was steaming drunk by noon on Easter Sunday and passed out before dinner was even served. The only thing I really missed was some drunken belligerence and my sister-in-law yelling. I get to see that everytime I go back to Ontario to visit, so basically Easter Sunday was like any other day for them.
Me, well I threw up some chocolate (I thought I could eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I don't have what it takes anymore), felt sorry for myself, got a little tipsy at my friend's house and fought with my roommate, and then ate a pretty decent pasta dinner (that means it wasn't made by me, thanks J). I somehow made it home around midnight. I also vaguely remember stepping on some very tiny bunnies trying to get to my bed (thanks D).
Continuuing on with the jobhunting this week. Even going to (bleh) try NavCanada and write those tests again for air traffic control. This time I'll do it sober. I just wish I could do something worthwhile. Feeling kind of worthless lately. I want to be something special, too!!! (no comments, please). I feel like I'm swimming in the middle of the ocean right now. Like one of my friends told me, North America is a big empty shell. Big "opportunities", but nothing inside. Even when you do end up getting your dream job, you discover that A. it either doesn't pay the rent as much as you would have wanted it to, or B. it really wasn't what you thought it was. Like NavCanada, a giant Foxtrot Uniforming Charlie Kilo India November Golf fish bowl.
I suppose it all comes down to the people. A job is just a job unless you've managed to fit into that club or surround yourself with friends and family. I've yet to do that anywhere. I've unfortunately always marched to the beat of my own drum, so I've all to often left my family and rarely made many friends wherever I've gone. I don't like getting attached either, it makes decisions such as leaving difficult. But it's inevitable that you'll become attached to something after a year. However, is that the final decision here? Should I be going back to Ontario to my family? Or take what little I have here and make a go at it? Fitting in is the hardest thing for me to do and fitting in to Alberta has been even harder. Most people just stare at me like a science project gone wrong. Which is a normal reaction, I understand, I'm used to that, but love me or hate me, the train wreck does eventually end.
Well, this week is a new week, see what it brings. I can honestly say I've got meetings and classes this week. A full schedule, really.
Me, well I threw up some chocolate (I thought I could eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I don't have what it takes anymore), felt sorry for myself, got a little tipsy at my friend's house and fought with my roommate, and then ate a pretty decent pasta dinner (that means it wasn't made by me, thanks J). I somehow made it home around midnight. I also vaguely remember stepping on some very tiny bunnies trying to get to my bed (thanks D).
Continuuing on with the jobhunting this week. Even going to (bleh) try NavCanada and write those tests again for air traffic control. This time I'll do it sober. I just wish I could do something worthwhile. Feeling kind of worthless lately. I want to be something special, too!!! (no comments, please). I feel like I'm swimming in the middle of the ocean right now. Like one of my friends told me, North America is a big empty shell. Big "opportunities", but nothing inside. Even when you do end up getting your dream job, you discover that A. it either doesn't pay the rent as much as you would have wanted it to, or B. it really wasn't what you thought it was. Like NavCanada, a giant Foxtrot Uniforming Charlie Kilo India November Golf fish bowl.
I suppose it all comes down to the people. A job is just a job unless you've managed to fit into that club or surround yourself with friends and family. I've yet to do that anywhere. I've unfortunately always marched to the beat of my own drum, so I've all to often left my family and rarely made many friends wherever I've gone. I don't like getting attached either, it makes decisions such as leaving difficult. But it's inevitable that you'll become attached to something after a year. However, is that the final decision here? Should I be going back to Ontario to my family? Or take what little I have here and make a go at it? Fitting in is the hardest thing for me to do and fitting in to Alberta has been even harder. Most people just stare at me like a science project gone wrong. Which is a normal reaction, I understand, I'm used to that, but love me or hate me, the train wreck does eventually end.
Well, this week is a new week, see what it brings. I can honestly say I've got meetings and classes this week. A full schedule, really.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Day 60: Blue Skies
Yes. In the unemployment world, 24 hours can be 72 hours, too. Kind of missed the past couple of days writing. It was the blue skies this time. When winter turns to summer in Edmonton, nothing else seems to matter except for those blue skies. And whose bottles you take in the back alley. The hobos get pretty pissed off if they see you scoop their payload. I'll remember that for the next time.
I can honestly say that last week was an entire disaster. No jobs, no prospects, no nothing. I've reduced myself to striving for a class 3 driver's license in the hopes of making enough money to pay for rent. I shouldn't sound so snobby about it, it really is a decent job. You're outdoors and on your own most of the time, no office politics to deal with for 12 hours. Just a few rednecks with some sexist comments, nothing that they won't take back 30 seconds after saying it when I'm finished with them (I aim for the throat). The rednecks are the easy ones to deal with, easy to distract, easy to please; basic guys with no secret agenda.
The office staff with pictures of their children on their desk are not so easy to deal with. Somehow, you have to make them feel like their "number one", even if they are total idiots. That's kind of hard for me, I usually say whatever comes into my head, "Wow, that's an ugly baby picture. But I guess all babies are ugly." or "You should really get that goiter removed from your face and put on some makeup, not everyone can pull the au natural look off." or "Really dude? You think that there is actually a female out there that will come within a 10 foot radius of you unless they had to, like me?" or "1980 called, they want their sweater back.", "I vaguely remember GPS being installed inside that cockpit yet you still can't find your head from your ass. Amazing.", "I'm not hungover, I'm drunk.", "I drink because your voice pierces my brain and your face looks like a fishhead."
I've still been applying to jobs equally to Vancouver, Toronto, and Edmonton with a few thrown in there for Calgary. But it looks like I'm here to stay in Edmonton. The blue skies get me every time I think about leaving. And to be honest with you, I'd rather be driving a truck for $20/hour in Alberta than making a "career move" for $15/hour in the big cities. "Career" just means someone has power over you, anyway. Time to do things for myself, my new career is just being me.
I can honestly say that last week was an entire disaster. No jobs, no prospects, no nothing. I've reduced myself to striving for a class 3 driver's license in the hopes of making enough money to pay for rent. I shouldn't sound so snobby about it, it really is a decent job. You're outdoors and on your own most of the time, no office politics to deal with for 12 hours. Just a few rednecks with some sexist comments, nothing that they won't take back 30 seconds after saying it when I'm finished with them (I aim for the throat). The rednecks are the easy ones to deal with, easy to distract, easy to please; basic guys with no secret agenda.
The office staff with pictures of their children on their desk are not so easy to deal with. Somehow, you have to make them feel like their "number one", even if they are total idiots. That's kind of hard for me, I usually say whatever comes into my head, "Wow, that's an ugly baby picture. But I guess all babies are ugly." or "You should really get that goiter removed from your face and put on some makeup, not everyone can pull the au natural look off." or "Really dude? You think that there is actually a female out there that will come within a 10 foot radius of you unless they had to, like me?" or "1980 called, they want their sweater back.", "I vaguely remember GPS being installed inside that cockpit yet you still can't find your head from your ass. Amazing.", "I'm not hungover, I'm drunk.", "I drink because your voice pierces my brain and your face looks like a fishhead."
I've still been applying to jobs equally to Vancouver, Toronto, and Edmonton with a few thrown in there for Calgary. But it looks like I'm here to stay in Edmonton. The blue skies get me every time I think about leaving. And to be honest with you, I'd rather be driving a truck for $20/hour in Alberta than making a "career move" for $15/hour in the big cities. "Career" just means someone has power over you, anyway. Time to do things for myself, my new career is just being me.
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