GIVE ME YOUR MONIES

I wake up every morning between seven and eight am, stumble bewildered and blind from my bedroom, push my dogs out of my crotch, and fall asleep on the toilet for about 10-15 minutes.  I take as long as possible in the bathroom in the mornings because I know that the minute I open the door again I will be assaulted by a barrage of jumping and yipping spewing forth from the gaping maws of two oppressively affectionate dogs. I throw on the most hideous assortment of mismatch gym clothes and take the hell beasts out to shit. My attire and bed head really help differentiate me from all of the people that are obviously headed to work. My neighbors are pretty nice, and they usually say hi and ask how I'm doing, though this has begun to become less frequent. It's probably because my response has become a snarled "Unemployed, fuck you very much."

After taking my office-mates (I feel like this is healthier than calling my dogs "my babies") out for a morning piss I head back home, feed them, start my coffee pot, and cry in the shower for about half an hour. The nice thing about doing work from home is that the dress code is pretty casual. I emerge from the shower, gulp down a cup of coffee, and while I am still wearing my bath towel I look over the job posting sites of places I want to work to see if they have any new openings.

If they don't, I stay naked for the next several hours and convince myself that I'm dying of a horrible disease that I see featured on an episode of Dr. Oz or a rerun of House.  (warning, NEVER google Morgellons Disease)

 If they do, I become excited. I step away from the computer and get dressed while I contemplate the thoughtful cover letter I am going to compose. I imagine the delight on the face of the HR rep that will eventually open my email.

"AT LAST!" She will exclaim "We've finally found the right person! This girl is obviously the key to our organization's success!"

Having dressed myself, I go into the kitchen and inject coffee directly into my eyeballs.  I am finally ready to write my epic job application.

I do a little internet research on the company I am applying to, the department I'm writing to, the position itself, and I do full background checks on my potential supervisors to determine if there is any readily available blackmail material. I use my basic cover letter template and modify it to show that I understand the challenges that the organization faces and how I am the right solution to their particular problem. I am careful not to say "You have problems. I'm the only person that can save your sorry ass."

It takes me about an hour (maybe a little more) to complete an application, review it, and send it off.  Feeling proud of myself, I take a look at craigslist postings and apply for about ten more positions at places that can't afford to pay me enough to buy shoes (to be fair, I have a REALLY expensive shoe habit). By this point it's about lunch time and I need a sandwich.  While I eat my lunch I think about exactly how much it is costing me... maybe I should have used less cheese.

I then check my email every five minutes for the next 5 hours.  Every time I hit "refresh" and don't see any communication from the amazing job I applied for that morning, I feel more and more sick.  Finally it's 5 o'clock (in California) and I exclaim loudly to my bewildered dogs as I rip off my bloody clothes (did I mention that every time I don't have an email I open a vein?) "QUITTIN' TIIIIME!!!"

I then proceed to get drunk.  I get the kind of drunk that you only get when you are alone.  The kind of drunk that ends with me passed out upsidedown on my papasan chair, naked, with a dog sleeping on my chest.  Sometimes in my drunken stupor I fill out a few more job applications.  I feel like it's my gift to the HR departments of everywhere I don't want to work.  At least they can look at something and go "Wow.  At least my life isn't as bad as this."


Eventually my dog farts in my face and I wake up, stumble into my bedroom, set my alarm, and as I drift off to sleep I have the cruelest thought of all: "Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."