Now What?

Today marks the first day since I was laid off that I am not “earning” any money – yep, my unemployment has run out. The good news is that I no longer have to be concerned about being audited by the State - they could at any time request evidence that you are actively looking for work and you have to apply for a certain number of jobs per week - so I no longer have to apply for crap jobs just for the sake of getting my numbers up. The bad news is, well, I have no income coming in. But I am far from being homeless or going hungry, because I do have some cash reserves I can fall back on. I’ll close out my savings account and cash in my 401(k), and that should give me another three months. But once again, when (if?) I finally get another job I am back to square one as far as a retirement fund is concerned. It was always iffy anyway, my chances of being able to retire, but this bout of unemployment has made it official – I will be working up until the day I die.

 

“Welcome to Walmart. How can I help you today?”

Catching Flies and Squeaky Wheels

A Facebook friend suggested I change my profile picture because prospective employers sometimes check out Facebook, and apparently my current pic - evidence of Sammy's biting issues - is not suitable. So I had a session with a renowned photographer. I have narrowed it down to two. One with the most votes will become my new profile pic, although I have a feeling the second one will appeal to only those familiar with 1980s British television.

 

 

 

 

The “Nothing to Report” Report

Really, nothing much has happened since my last post. Well, I had a couple interviews; halfway through one I was told it was a part-time position so that was a big fucking waste of time (I wore pantyhose too). The second was more promising but it did not work out (ironic thing about that one was that the start date would have been September 15 – exactly eight months to the day since I was laid off).

Then the Robin Williams’ stuff did not help my mood at all – that desk-standing scene from Dead Poets’ Society reduces me to tears at the best of times but taking into consideration my current state of mind and add my sadness over the death of such a good and talented man, watching that scene every five minutes on TV reduced me to even more of a blubbering mess than I already was.

Then I discovered someone whom I thought was a friend would rather make money than spend time with me (and this was additional money, not their regular wages - I would never ask anyone to choose their job over spending time with me). This one was especially hurtful because just a few days later a Facebook post revealed that this person does not always put money above friendship. I guess it depends on the friends. So I will never again put them in a position where they have to choose money over friendship – because now I know where I stand on their friendship scale, I can obliterate them from mine.

All I can say is thank the Universe for Sammy and alcohol.