I love screwing around with the options on the Vistaprint site. This probably makes me a very sad example of humanity, or a self-obsessed twat, but whatever. I’ll take my fun wherever I can find it.
Related: This is not my first rodeo
That’s how old I am today. Go me.
I’m not worth anything, really. This is not a self-esteem issue; I happen to think I’m awesome, and funny and so on, but I have no value to society. As we do not yet live in a world where creative comedy genius is rewarded ipso facto, I should find a job. I did actually try. Not very hard to be honest, but whatever; I made the attempt.
For ten years, from 1997 to 2007, I owned and ran a jewellery shop in Ireland. I liked it and I was good at it. In fact, I was so good at it that I’ve lived the last five years in the U.S. with no income whatsoever on the basis of my business. So, I thought that would be a good idea to explore that avenue. I got an interview with a lady who assured me in every way except by handing me a signed statement that I had the advertised job of working in her jewellery store. This did not come to pass, which I found disheartening.
Then there was a whole thing with a casino. I crashed and burned with unnecessary drama, but I got some great blog posts, which are accessible by clicking the job tag. But that’s pretty much it.
I have friends. I’m older than most of them. I know people who do amazing things with their lives. Some of them are music teachers and some of them are graphic design artists and some of them are parents (which is probably the most worthwhile thing anyone can do - no, seriously) and some of them are educating themselves towards specific goals. Some people are just better than others. And I’m not one of them. I’m just a guy typing stuff into the interwebz for his own amusement, and if it occasionally tickles other people, well that’s a bonus.
I’m not depressed. I’m not sad about any of this. I don’t need cheering up, or encouragement, or validation from anyone. If I need anything, it’s a job. I need someone to pay me to do something. Ideally, it would involve writing, as setting my own deadlines has proven a weak incentive. I have three books half-written. Some of you have read some of the things I write, so I’m not making it up. But I find it hard to finish anything. I get an idea and run with it as far as it will go. And then I get another idea. And so on.
The only writing I ever finished to my satisfaction was a series of television scripts. It’s a dumbass office comedy, and again, some of you have seen some of them. But I finished an entire series worth of scripts. I thought it might be fun to try and get the thing made, even if it was just for crappy-quality YouTubes. All I need is a working camera, two office-style sets, and five people. I’d be happy with that. So I roped some friends into getting that done. And that didn’t work out. So I found another group of friends who said they were interested. And that didn’t happen. So I found another group of friends who said they would be interested. And that didn’t happen either. Here I am, living in Los Angeles, and I can’t find five people, two office-like sets and someone with a camera. So I became disheartened.
I could teach. I’d be a great teacher. I could teach English or history or geography. My degree is in Classical History and Geography, which covers a lot. But to teach you need teaching credentials and to amass college credits and I can’t afford to spend that kind of money, and as I am not a citizen I (quite correctly!) can’t apply for federal aid.
Keep in mind that I am 37 years old. That’s an age that most of you can’t even picture in your minds. I know, because when I was 21, or 24, or 19, I couldn’t picture it in my mind either.
I’m not disheartened any more. Here’s what I want to do. I want to get a job. But to be honest, that’s secondary. What I really want to do is get my books finished and my scripts filmed, even if I have to fucking green-screen myself and upload it to my own vimeo. I don’t care how I have to do it, but that’s project alpha. And it will happen. Because I want my worth to society to be expressed as a function of my creative output, not that I worked in a job. That’s just how I want it to be.
Normally I don’t care. I don’t feel shame when someones asks me what I do and I don’t have an answer. That sort of thing doesn’t bother me at all, although maybe it should. However, I have a father. He is 79 years old and he is the most awesome person in the world. If you want to taste the awesome, check the shit my dad says tag. He says when he was 37, he couldn’t picture himself being 79. But he did something with his life; he is a contributing member of society and he is universally loved and respected in the community. And every so often he asks me what I’m doing. He says he doesn’t want to hassle me, but the ladies at the bridge club keep asking him how I am and he doesn’t know what to tell them. I don’t know what to tell him about what to tell them. I’m not doing anything.
Check in with me this time next year. I think I’ll have something to tell my father.
Vladimir Nabokov, complaining about the American college students of 1957 in Pnin.
The American college students of 2012 seem even more willing to cling to this quaint idea, perhaps due to the adverse economic climate. Maybe they’re just not being taught correctly. I wouldn’t know.
The continuing adventures of Barry the unemployed person.
I’m not sad about being unemployed anymore. Maybe it’s just the way things are supposed to be.
Today, I gave myself a mission. I would register with a Temp. Agency. I can type with speed and accuracy and people love me, so it should be easy enough. I typed “temp agency” into Google with my town and resolved to visit the first three hits.
1. Active Temporary Service
1565 W Holt Ave, #6, Pomona, CA
You might remember this place from the last time we tried to find a job. We went back there and before we even sat down, the lady said “We have no jobs”. Just like that. So we left.
2. J M Staffing
554 E Foothill Blvd # 117, San Dimas, CA
After some difficulty locating the office, we walked in and ask about the procedure for registering ourselves with their agency. The lady openly laughed in our faces. When she had composed herself she told us to submit our resumes, and arrangements would be made. She gave us her card which, unlike their hit on Google, indicated they specialised in medical and legal employers.
Perhaps our rather pedestrian appearance, as we slapped the trail dust from our tired clothes, led her to believe that we made unlikely medical personnel. Christina felt that the open mockery of the unemployed people was unnecessary. I said that as the lady was both female and African-American, she probably doesn’t get many opportunities to look down on people, and we should just let her have her fun.
3. Some Staffing Agency
[Around the corner from above], San Dimas, CA
A closer look at the promising exterior revealed a gutted office. They had either moved or shut down.
I had assumed this “fine a temp agency” thing would be simple. Just find a temp agency! Wow them with your mad filing/typing skills or whatever, and then spend the rest of the year being that hilarious guy on the second floor. But no. At least I have an answer for anyone who suggests the apparent ease with which I should be able to find a job.
