I have been looking at job postings for as long as I can remember. I thought that by now, at the age of 37, I would be set in my career, famous and in no need of job postings. I have been wrong about many things in my unfulfilling lifetime- but never have I been more wrong about anything than other than this. I look at various job postings every day, not because I am entertaining myself with all the various ways that human beings have to martyr themselves to make a living. No, I am looking at job listings because I have to. I am always either jobless and in need of a job or desperately wanting to quit the job I have and in search of a new job. For me jobs are like a seesaw- I can never stay put.
I knew from an early age that the only real job I ever wanted to have was that of a great Writer. This was how I would make my living in life and all the time I spent looking through help wanted sections in news papers as a teenager was only a temporary imposition. The pain of having to fill out applications and submit myself to banal and interrogative interviews was only a temporary step along the path of literary greatness. Besides, I was young- and youth unto itself was reason enough for my need to find work in job postings. I knew that as I grew older and more established, job postings would be as irrelivent to my life as the job that I worked one summer making pizzas at Domino’s.
For the past two months I have been checking various job postings every day. I have sent out hundreds of resumes and gone to several demeaning interviews. I have even submitted myself to the marginalizing ethics of job hunting by shaving my beard and cutting my long Nazarethian hair. All to find the perfect position that will hold me over until I publish my first novel which is yet to be written. I have applied to all kinds of positions in a fit of desperation. I am like a man who is watching a furious river of water speed forth in the distance right towards him. My bank account is almost in a negative balance, my rent was due two days ago and the gas tank in my car is as empty as my savings accounts. Once again, I am finding myself on the floor by mid-afternoon begging the fates for more glory.
Today I applied for positions as a Special Education Teacher, A Swing Shift Bartender, a Wine Merchant, a Waiter, a Tutor, an Assistant Editor for a Jewish magazine and a High School Art Instructor. None of these jobs are what I want to be doing for a living (I want to be a Writer!), but I know of no other way for me to make money other than to sell my sperm or knock up elderly widows. Very few resumes that I send out are answered in kind, but I hold no grudges about being discarded- written off. I simply apply to the next tolerable position that I find and hope that, somehow, the fates will bring me the money.
The fact that I still spend my days searching through job postings scrambles my mind. I don’t know whether I should be depressed, apathetic or suicidal. If you would of told me when I was eighteen that I would still be searching help wanted sections in newspapers for a job when I was 37 I would of either made sure that I went to medical school or started smoking crack. What kept me straight and hopeful all through out my teenage years was the deep belief in a hidden greatness that lingered inside of me, which would someday bring me fame and fortune. This reality is yet to manifest in my life and may never, but I still have the deep lingering belief in my own greatness and the hope that one day it will get me, at least, a decent job- so that I will never have to look at another damn job posting.