As much as I Love (and please do emphasize the capital "L") being [f]unemployed, sometimes it gets a little rough. And by rough I mean, poor. As in, I'm getting pretty f*cking poor. Which means until my helper horse Sven wins big playing My first stop was Craigslist, which yielded me a lovely job at the sex shop not too long ago. So just imagine my excitement when I saw a company named Bezoom was hiring! Maybe I could finally get that sports bra I've been looking for and maybe even at a discount!
Unfortunately, after Sven placed his pince-nez on his muzzle and began to read the content of the ad to me, I immediately found myself in a fit of rage. Contrary to what American slang has taught me over the years, "Bezoom" in this case does not mean "boobie," but instead it's some sort of crappy video editing company. Or something. I stopped paying attention.
My next stop was JournalismJobs.com, where I learned that The Raw Story is hiring. And since everybody knows I like it raw (that is, my Town Hall meetings and Ol' Dirty Bastard songs), I became immediately interested. Until once again, Sven started reading, this time placing after affixing his monocle over his left eye:
"Popular politics site with five hundred thousand unique visitors is seeking an intrepid political reporter to cover the vagaries of politics in Washington, including the Obama Administration and Congress. We're looking for someone with reporting experience -– political preferred -- who is fast, self-driven, independent and hot for politics and muckraking journalism."
Intrepid? Fast? Hot for politics? Uh. Not to mention I would have to "cover the vagaries of politics in Washington." That sounds like work...next!
MediaBistro has gotten people jobs, right? I turned to that Web site next. Unfortunately, what I found there didn't really fit my criteria, mainly because apparently they now allow job listings for machines. Al Jazeera is looking for a DC-based "Teleprompter." Now, I'm no genius (clearly), but from what I know from my short foray at journalism school (dumbest mistake of my life), a teleprompter is a machine that allows broadcast journalists to have the easiest job in the world. It does not involve a person. Or a Bezoom. Or a terrorist! (Really? I thought that was a good one. Al Jazeera? COME ON!)
Well, I guess there's only one thing for me to do now -- open up a frozen yogurt shop. Or a cupcake shop. Or a pie shop. Or whatever other fad desert DC seems to be into these days.
6 comments:
Maybe the Hoff has a job for you in this box:
http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/gawker/2009/08/The_Hoff.jpg
-anonymous brian
If you're this picky about jobs you might as well just hitch your train to some sugar daddy... or some artificial sweetener daddy.
-Jim 'Looking for a cook' D
Well, these things go in cycles.
One gets to be so poor that one _needs_ a job, and then one gets one.
Sadly, there are those of us who are supported from without, and that's the welfare trap, on a family level.
Clearly, though, you just haven't been looking hard enough for a job at a place named, say, Bazongas or some such thing...
Did you ever check on working as a spokesperson for that company called Nigaz (sp?)? I recall your expressing an interest in it, at one time.
Or you could become a waitress (or better yet, a manager) at Marvin. I know it's not exactly your favorite spot, but you could really class the joint up. Sounds like it could use it. And you could take that horrible waitress down a peg or two in the bargain.
anonymous brian--
As long as it's just a job in the box...
jim 'looking for a cook' d--
Gold-digging isn't really my style, mostly because no amount of money is worth selling your time to an individual I probably can't stand.
ben--
Is it wrong to think that maybe I can swing not ever getting a real job again? Unless, of course, I can become a small-town sheriff. That'd be awesome.
debbi--
I take it all back. If I could be a secretary at Nigaz, I'd take it.
Marissa --
Clearly you need first to move to a small town, then to win elective office, then displace the local sheriff. (Or become his deputy, then take over when he retires.)
Small townspeople -- heck, any people -- tend to like tall, willowy females who are heavily armed.
As for "not ever getting a real job again" -- I may just have actually swung that. But there's a lot of paperwork involved, so who knows if I'll get the unjob-job in the end.
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