Ooh, no, I hope you aren’t expecting me to write some great social or political or economical commentary, cause I’m really just here to bitch about how much it blows to be unemployed.
Granted, I’m sort of sitting around, crossing my fingers that my second interview with Whole Foods Market will go marvelously, and they’ll be throwing job offers at me, practically begging me to work for them. And soon I will be stocking and pulling and sampling organic produce to boot, and making money!
It doesn’t seem like so long ago that I was a content, unemployed, college drop-out. Smoking like a chimney, and cashing in all of my childhood bonds before they had matured to keep me in green and cigarettes and snack foods, busing it from place to place, doing odd jobs here and there, and living carefree. Now (though you wouldn’t know it from my shocking lack of motivation) not having a job stresses me out.
God I miss being a true stoner. Or maybe the extreme paranoia just means that I actually am?
No matter which way you slice it, I need a job.