Hey everyone. Remy here. I’m in a really frustrated mood right now, and I feel the need to unload an enormous ranty blog all over this page!
We all know jobs are hard to come by in this day and age. Right now the job market sucks more than a flushing toilet And if you don’t know that then you’ve either won the lottery, managed to remain in the industry you started in, got extremely lucky, or you live off the government and don’t really care.
This brings me to my first point: I need a job. I need a job like a drowning person needs air because right now, I’m drowning in feelings of social and financial inadequacy. I feel … well to be honest I feel friggin disabled. I feel like a dog might feel after being neutered. Sure he’s still loved, sure he can still play and run and pee anywhere he wants …. But there’s something missing. He’s half a dog. And right now I feel like half a man … the bottom half. Every time the parents or the in-laws call , it’s the same old tired tale. “I’m still looking.” “I’ve got an interview.” “I just got rejected again.” Those are the three variants of “that” conversation.
“What, do you have a piano tied to your back cheeks or something? Get up and pound that pavement boy! When I was your age I was out there every day going door to door like a pretentious salesman spouting my resume at anyone who would take it. Finding a job IS a full time job! So forget yourself and work! Work! Work!”
Yeah yeah, I’ve heard variations on that old speech more times than I care to think about. Guess what? I AM trying! I am trying, and I’m sick of trying at the same time. No, I don’t apply to every single job that comes along in the hopes some compassionate soul will throw me a freekin bone – I already feel desperate enough! But I DO apply for jobs. Many many jobs! I do call and ask for information. I do research. I do put my all into a cover letter and a resume. And both are even pretty good! I have two professional reference letters, and three professional references all of whom would speak highly of me if ever contacted. I might not have the paperwork, but I do have a fair bit of transferable experience. And I am eager and willing to learn. Heck, I don’t even mind working collaboratively on a team! But is that enough? Noooooo! It seems nearly every effort is met either with silence or with “We’ve reviewed your resume, and you are not exactly what we’re looking for at this time. Soooo sorry, but do feel free to keep trying so we can send you the same form letter a few more times.” Although recently I have gotten a few emails and one interview which basically told me that “we really thought you were great, but we have someone who is just that much better. SO sorry, you were number 2, but we needed number 1”.
You want number Two? I’ll give you a friggin number two. And you can take that number two, and you can go suck it. You can suck it until it’s all gone!
I’d be a bloody great worker. The thing about having a disability is I KNOW how hard it is for people like me to get a job. People see someone blind and they wonder, and they scoff. Even if outwardly they are supportive, there’s usually uncertainty. So that’s why I would work all the harder. I know the trust that’s been given to me when I’m hired, and I know I have a lot to prove. And in the last few “jobs” I’ve received, I’ve done my best to make sure I do. And to the best of my knowledge, I have.
This brings me to my second point. People who can’t seem to figure out how to do the jobs they’ve been hired for, and people who piss and moan about how tragically terrible their jobs are. To them I curse a pox on all their household, and for them to be turned to living stone. That’s the kind of petrification where your body is fully transformed, but you remain completely aware of your surroundings, and the passage of time.
If you can’t at least attempt to do a job correctly, quit. Quit and leave the job for someone else who needs it. Now, everyone makes mistakes. We’re not perfect. But I swear, some people simply ARE mistakes. It’s like their spirits are trapped in the wrong body or something because they just can’t figure out the simplest of tasks, or they simply don’t care. I’m not talking about Fred Furball over there at the sales counter who fumbles with words, or with the cash register. I’m talking about those stupid bum darts who probably spent half their lives peeing on the toilet seat until someone told them to lift the lid before they start. These are people who consistently provide inaccurate information, or who have a work ethic and personality at constant odds with the very job they’ve been hired for. Case in point, a counselor without empathy or compassion. Or a doctor without a burning desire to see people healed. Basically, I’m talking about people who when you see them, you just can’t help wondering “how did someone like you end up working here?”
Now, those people who feel the need to constantly ejaculate verbal diarrhea about how terrible their jobs, their bosses and their work lives are …. Ooooh, please let me mentally punch them right in their gaping, flapping mouths! I realize we all have bad days. I myself have been known to complain at times about the stupidity of the work place. I’m talking to YOU, NCO! But the truth is, I was always thankful for my job. If you feel the need to complain about the bad day you’ve had at work every once in a while, great! We need amusing stories about the silliness that goes on at work. But when it’s time to go to work and all you can do is moan and groan like a hippo giving birth? That’s when I have a problem. If you hate your job THAT much, quit! Free the space up for someone who will at least appreciate it. I’m so incredibly sick of this. I swear it makes up a decent portion of the Facebook statuses and bus conversations I come across. You need to nut up and shut up, sit back and thank the good Lord, Allah, Buddha,
We’re supposed to be moving soon. It’s been in the works off and on for a few years. It’s frustrating because it’s all up to me. Wherever I can find work, we’ll move. I feel under the weight of constant pressure. I know I’m being over-dramatic, but every time someone asks us when we’re moving, it’s like having a gentle punch in the testicles. You feel a tightening in your bowels, and a slight bout of nausea. It’s not enough to make you sick, but it’s enough to make you more than a little uncomfortable. Just once I want to be the barer of good news during such a conversation. But right now, I’m just feeling drained. After the constant prayers, government sponsored employment programs for people with disabilities and my own initiative, I just wish I could catch a break. Am I asking for too much? Am I not trying hard enough? I honestly just don’t know anymore. All I know for sure is after so many hard-working attempts have led only to rejection, It gets harder to give it your all.
