Escape path

Numbers

Three thousand three hundred and sixty-four applications sent. In a year, that means just a little less than twelve applications a day. Have I been spamming applications…rarely. I have been reading the job boards, doing a deep dive into the company or government agency and customising each. I am stupidly overqualified for several jobs, two Master's, one in science, one MFA and a Bachelor’s that does both.

“Then you must be doing something wrong.”

I love this blame disguised as guidance. Given that I’ve paid for two well-respected headhunting companies to review my applications and skills, and the only thing that either company offered was:

“You should be asking for more money.”

I’m doing something wrong? I’m going to say no, as far as anyone can tell, I am not. I am doing everything right. As a result of all those applications sent out into the void, I have had maybe slightly more than a half-dozen interviews. In every interview, I have floored my interviewers. They tell me how impressive I am. Half of that number called me back for second interviews. They tell me how impressed they are with me. At the inevitable rejection letters sent, they tell me something along the lines of:

“We all enjoyed meeting with you, found you very personable and were impressed with your knowledge and skill. But, we decided to go another way (or with someone else.)”

Once I got a call telling me how much they all loved me and wanted to work with me, but they went with another person. Am I going crazy? What does this mean? You decided to bring in someone incompetent you couldn’t stand?

If these rare moments were like most jobs they’d never respond. Or send oblique rejections stating they are going with someone more qualified (unlikely). Though strangely even some of the automated rejections are complimentary, mentioning my incredible qualifications.

I have a MFA in Writing and all my skill has gone into making applications. I have been told I have written prolifically, but if I compared my writing to what I have created in search of employment… I would own the library of congress. If only I was paid by the word for that, it would seem worth the effort as I would be a multimillionaire. But, alas I have not, so I am still unemployed, or rarely over the last couple of years seasonally employed in jobs that don’t understand why I’m there but are happy to have me, but show no interest in hiring me on permanently.

Three thousand three hundred and sixty four applications sent, in a year. Explain it to me please I ask you to. As far as I can tell no one has sabotaged me, my employers, my references even the people I apply to, all have incredibly good things to say about me.

I actually got hired by one job, a college teacher of a two year old program. They hired me, only to apologise after they lost funding for more teachers.

I wasn’t surprised when this happened. My response was more of a “Ya that tracks.” The job was in a different state. Good thing they told me before I moved.

Porifera

No one thinks to ask sea sponges if they are happy with where they are or if they see better things for themselves. “What is your five-year plan? Do you plan to see more of the ocean floor?” These creatures seem very content eating, holding still, moving fractionally.

From personal experience let me assure you it is a loathsome existence. Not just because of the fact that I can see colours and a future full of distant possibilities but, because of the fact that no matter ones sense of identity and illusions of self-worth. In more and more frequent moments it becomes impossible not to despise yourself.

“How can I work this hard and still be dependent on family, on in-laws?” Friends? Oh come on now you can’t have friends, can’t pursue relationships when you’re a sponge stuck in one spot. What would you have to offer? A chair at the in-laws kitchen table.

The kitchen table that I have been at on and off for three years after my partner separated. Does say something about oneself in one regard; you are so likeable-ly personable that even your in-laws are in no hurry to see you go. They see their actual child maybe once or twice a year but see you every friggin day and haven’t thrown you out. They don’t even really want you to move, just want you to support yourself.

I want to support myself! I have been trying to support myself! Please for the love on high give me the means to leave!

Boulders

At what point do you give up? At what point do you just wander away and disappear? It would be such a waste. Of time, of effort, of ability and potential. But, potential never moving is nothing. No motion, no reward for a mirror world Sisyphus. From the outside the worlds look the same. Hell, from the inside much of the time you can’t tell them apart.

My question is why? I am willing to take virtually any path even continue trudging if it accomplishes something. This stupid boulder push however, accomplishes nothing. Let’s assume the universe is silly-buggers random. I have played the odds enough and done them well enough that I should have succeeded even accidentally at least once. It’s hard not to feel like its all personal when your beating the odds at beating yourself so consistently. Hardworking, likeable, educated and eminently unemployable. But hey soon I’ll be possibly starting a Doctorate program…in education. More experience, more effort to show how well rounded for almost any position I am. I am a bloody Indian rubber bouncing ball. I make a good thud when I bounce. If I where a slinky at least the sound I’d make going down would be more satisfying. But, then I guess I wouldn’t roll with it when I reach the bottom ehh?

“Goddamn let me move without the boulder squashing me at least!”

In fact let me crest the hill and leave the whole business behind. It’s been long enough. Let me go, the sponge bed is stupid…and… it’s a bed of sponges!

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