On The Verge

When bemoaning my continued, infinite, everlasting job hunt to a friend, they responded with, “Pssshhh.  Who even HAS a job anymore.”  A decent point–and about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

When you’re in your 20’s you are constantly, perpetually, non-stop on the lookout for a new and better job.  The great fear is that you’ll hit twenty-eight, attend your high school ten year reunion, and have nothing at all to say about yourself.  You are certain that everyone else will be doing wildly important things, while you, on the other hand, will still be working the same type of part time, miminum wage jobs you worked in high school.  An irrational fear?  I once hoped it was.  But nowadays the fear not only seems rational, it seems worse than originally thought.  Not only will you have nothing to say about yourself at the reunion, but neither will anybody else, and you won’t even be able to use the reunion as a place to network for a better job.

Three members of my family are currently without jobs, and so are many of my friends.  All of them are smart, creative, attractive and hard working.  If these are the people who can’t get jobs, it does beg the question, “Pssshhh.  Who even HAS a job anymore?”

I have the answer.  Even as I’m writing this, I received a call for an interview on Monday.  It’s for a collections agency.  I suddenly have visions of job security dancing in my head.  In this horrible economy, one job you can count on is the job of bill collector. 

Given my excitement at this prospect–the prospect of betraying my impoverished brethren–I’d hate to see how I’d handle things in Nazi, Germany. 

Survival is all that there is.

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