I hate job hunting. I think everyone does. I don’t think that anyone gets up on a Monday morning, with a handful of resumes, and thinks that it’s going to be a great experience, and that they’re going to fall into bed at the end of the day at a decent hour and think, “wow, that went better than any day of my life! I got a job serving bagels for eleven hours a week, and now I feel like a deity!”
I think that it’s the depression. You’re/I’m already slightly weakened, and the idea of getting a cup of coffee from down the road seems like an insurmountable struggle. Therefore, putting your best self forward and selling confidence seems like a bullshit idea that you’ll tragically rehash with every step toward your desired place of employment.
I’m never more aware of every flaw I have, than when I hand a resume to someone. I can feel every cell of my body just being a giant failure.
Here is a thought process: “I look like shit, I am shit, my resume sucks, why the fuck did I choose Helvetica? My job experience is an embarrassment, I didn’t open strongly enough, I’m talking too low, I’m not making eye contact, I’m fucking all of this up, I’m sorry I came in here, I am sweating too much, I’m looking frail, I can feel weakness gripping every action, why did I say part time? How much do I even want this job? Why am I even doing this?
Fuck it. Fuck this. I’m done.”
And since I know this thought process is coming, I usually do rehearse it in the morning while I’m laying in bed, before I’ve even begun to start the day.
It’s Monday, it’s 8:30 am, and I’m trying to convince myself to get out of bed and get and early start. The bank account is dwindling, and the only way to get out of that hole is bullshit employment. I can’t make a living as a writer (yet) so I have to do something else.
Here is my thought process at this particular moment:
“8:30, this is too early. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. I have to get out of bed though, it’s Monday, and managers will be in. You need to shower, shave, put on a nice shirt, and get out there. You need to get out of bed and get out there. Seize the day. Don’t think about how you’d rather have all your teeth pulled out than do this. Don’t think about it going wrong. Think positive. Think that it will go well. Think that by the time you get home today everything will have gone right. It can happen. Stop doubting yourself. Yeah. But be a realist. A realist realizes how shitty this situation is. Wait. Stop. You’re going to die poor and alone. Well, that was fast. Fuck it. Hit snooze.”
I did manage to get up at around 10:30. I got all ready to go out, and hit the streets, all with the constant monologue of the usual miserable shit and occasional flashes of sunlight and hope.
But instead of job-hunting, I mailed some books out, and got a coffee. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So now I’m at home writing this.
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