Adventure, Unemployment

Adventures in Unemployment

I lost my job about 3 months ago. I know I have brought it up a few times in my posts, and I am dealing with a strange sense of “employment withdrawl.” I still have horrible nightmares about “that place.”

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WAKE UP ALREADY!

I hated my job. I was always hoping to get laid off, but had no idea that the unemployment system would suck so much. I also had no idea that I’d actually ever be laid off. Still, I think I’d rather suffer on unemployment’s $405 a week than work for a sociopathic asshole, who, after three years, never bothered to even learn how to pronounce my last name correctly.

images-12No matter what though, unemployment sucks, even if it sucks less than a shitty job. The process of unemployment is confusing, as I am sure it is set up to be. After signing up online and claiming my benefits, I had no idea if I had even signed up correctly. I did not receive any sort of confirmation email and had no idea how to check the website to see if I was indeed going to receive the benefits. Finally, after 2 weeks of stress and poverty, I received my first payment, yay!

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MAKE IT RAIN!

Unemployment is sobering, and not in the sense that I now have limited funds to feed my beer belly. It’s depressing and awful and just makes you feel like a huge piece of shit. I literally have to force myself out of bed each day, force myself to take a shower and force myself to eat something (Ok, that last one is a straight up lie, but made the flow of my statement/plight extremely desperate).

Why do I even exist? A job does not define me, but it gives me the funds that can ease my endless boredom. Finding a job, especially nowadays, is just awful. I’m not a stupid woman. I have several degrees from leading institutions of higher learning and am quite the talent on the harmonica and kazoo (and am all around pretty awesome, just ask my mom). Too bad those instruments suck and are not special at all and are not even worthy enough to put on my resume under “interests.”

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HARMONICA TRAMP STAMP!

So, I was lucky enough to get a one day freelance project with a lovely woman who I do various layout projects for. Of course I was an Honest Betsy and claimed it on my weekly unemployment “check-in” questionnaire. These jerks took out $100 from my benefits that week and then froze my future benefits and needed me to fill out a billion years of confusing paperwork wanting to know why I was only ready, willing, and able to work for 4 days, instead of 5. A big fucking headache… that is what being honest gets you. I think of all the people who are working off the books, collecting unemployment, and beating the system… I totally understand why.

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EVEN THIS BABY KNOWS WHAT’S UP.

In the past three months I have applied for 54 jobs and have had five interviews; four of which were in person and one that was over the telephone. Half of the interviews ended well with a “we will definitely be in touch,” leading me to believe my sorrows would end soon, and yet they were just amplified with false hope. Nobody gets back to you. They don’t actually give a fuck. They have a job, so why should they care or bother to sympathize with your plight? I have been applying for bullshit jobs that I can do, but don’t actually want to do. I can’t even get one of those. And even if I did, then I’m back where I started: HELL!

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I want to remove the hair on my head in large clumps! GHHAAAAHH!!!!

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GHHAAAAHH!!!!

Now, to add to the drama (because I just love drama so much)… A very good friend of mine, I’ll call him Uncle Paulo, saw that I needed a break from the prison that is my studio apartment and purchased a ticket for me to visit my bestie in LA. What’s that, unemployment? Not gonna let me leave the state without having an interview set up in LA? I didn’t want to commit any sort of insurance fraud, so I had to cancel my the trip, and oh, guess what? Unemployment needed me to prove it. That’s fine, except they won’t let you email the proof… you have to FAX it! Who the fuck has a fax machine? Like, oh yeah, let me just blow the dust off my fax machine and shoot this right over to you. I’ll be sure to use the broken telephone outlet in my Pre-War apartment after I google “fax machine” and do a little research. You are kidding me, right? Then no one calls to confirm that the fax was actually received (as requested on my cover page (thank you, research)). What a messed up system. You’d think people would have email addresses, but NOOOOO… it’s gotta be as complicated as possible. I am truly a prisoner in my own home. Thank you unemployment, I love you.

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TRUTH.

This is clearly an angry rant about a number of things I am pissed off about. The first thing being my old, shitty boss and getting laid off in the first place and then being replaced by 3 slave labor interns. What a cheap prick (I am obviously still angry and think he should rot in a ditch somewhere where his morals and “his “word” have long been resting. You’re a Jerk).

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Number two is the unemployment system in general, which was created to confuse and depress people who are actually ready, willing, and able to work (damn, we just need a break and are actually scared to be honest. Who are you, my Dad? (sorry Dad, just a figure of speech (my Dad is awesome, by the way))).

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Number three is my deep hatred of fax machines. I mean come on already. This is not 1988, it’s 2013. I could literally think about something and the information is transmitted instantly via telepathy and government probing and thought police activity. Get with the program. You could actually be more helpful to the people you are “helping” if you would just register with gmail and get a fucking email account for all of your employees. Does that make sense? Oh no? Neither does your website.

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DEATH TO FAX MACHINES!

I’m also pretty pissed about American Airlines in general and prospective employers and the shit they say and ultimately do not actually do. Seriously, if you say you will call me, call me, even if it’s not good news. You can even send an email. It’s easier! Or maybe you could even fax me the bad news. I had to recently purchase a fax machine, so it’s really convenient for me to communicate that way. Whatever way you want to send me the info, just do it. Don’t let me sit here avoiding interviews or applications because I am waiting for you and you have just simply stood me up! Are we in High School or something? Also, don’t tell me that “the job is yours if you want it” and I say yes and then you never call me again. Not cool.

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THAT PHONE SHOULD BE A CAT.

And Dear America, make jobs appear. Stop giving them to machines and other countries. Shop locally. Support Americans and America. Duh. I certainly do not want to have to rely on this government to give me financial support and I am sure you are not looking for a handout, either. But when the time comes, you might need it and be secretly grateful for it, like I am (thank you unemployment for thinking of me during these hard times). I am proud, yes, but I am not scared to share my story and I hope that this is the hardest time of my life, because it certainly can’t get any worse than this. But whenever I say that it does get worse. Fuck.

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