I went on a job interview yesterday. It was my first non-tech interview in so many years that I can’t remember. Maybe twenty-five? So, yeah, I felt old. I met a young girl outside and we went in together. We were two of the 18 total that showed up for a job that’s paying just over the poverty level. Most were in suits with fresh haircuts and shined shoes. I wore jeans. I almost wore shorts. Who wears a suit for a just above minimum wage job? Then it hit me that these people were taking this job serious and I wasn’t. I felt bad. I wanted to leave but I didn’t. I took out my reading glasses so I could see the papers that were placed in front of me. I was relieved that the guy to the left of me did the same. The newly graduated college kid on my right that I’d walked in with didn’t need reading glasses. I’d already filled out the application and taken the test to get to that point. We were given our applications to review to ensure that they were filled out appropriately. More than half of the room either hadn’t filled it out or didn’t know how. It was like watching a reality show. I don’t know if I’ll get a call back or not. I’m on the fence of whether I’d accept it or not. I feel like I have an obligation to everyone that knows me to get a food job. I’ve applied to a few tech companies only because I feel like that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve had a couple of companies interested but I usually talk them out of considering me. Hahaha. Makes me laugh now thinking about it. If this job was food related, there would be no question that I’d take it. I wouldn’t mind starting at minimum wage just for the experience but it doesn’t seem to be happening for me. Everywhere I turn to try and get into food, I hit a road block. It’s bizarre actually. I’m being told that it’s not the right thing to do and as I’ve always done, I’m giving the forces the finger. A friend would ask me “how’s that working out for you” to which the answer is always “not so great”.
So, I write because I am falling ever more in love with it. I write little notes to myself incessantly about things to write about. Thoughts, stories, personal, fiction, non-fiction, whatever. And we’re still working on my book. We’re still almost done. About 10 more chapters to edit. The cover art is on my floor. I’ve been photographing it over the weeks trying to get it to fit and look ok on a book.
I got another rejection from a publisher today too. It’s ok though. Funny that I think whatever is going to happen is supposed to happen with the book but I don’t think that way about anything else. I think I tell myself that so I don’t throw the book in the trash. I keep telling myself that if only my friends and family buy the book, if it’s a complete flop, it’s ok because I did it. It was a goal. It is a goal still at this point I suppose.
So, I applied to a couple more (food) jobs today for fun, wrote a query letter to a magazine and have been working on a story for that. I’m kinda bummed now though. I was cruising along with the story which has a requirement of 3k to 10k words and I’m at 1600 and some change and it’s coming to an end. Poop. Maybe I’ll revisit tomorrow or when the editor is editing.
I wrote on my application for the job yesterday that I’m a writer. It was the first time I’d called myself that. I had an eye doctor appointment the other day and the technician asked how long I spent behind the computer. I said at least eight hours a day. She looked back down at my paperwork and said “It says here that you’re unemployed”. I looked at Chris and smiled. Chris said “She’s writing a book” because I didn’t know what to say and was secretly thinking to myself, so what if I just sit and surf the internet all day. I started to smile just thinking it and wondering if she’d said that to other deadbeats. Oh wait, am I deadbeat? I wanted to crack up for some reason. The technician said, “Oh, you’re a writer” to which I got a huge smile on my face. So, I figured I’d give it a shot and put it on my application. The interviewer said, after looking at my application that said I’ve been a writer for the past year, “You’re unemployed so you can start right away?” Bubble burst. I said “Yep”.
But, I came home and am writing. Writing. Writing. It’s what writers do. I’m starting to like this blogging thing. It’s like a diary or therapy session with no one listening. Hahaha.