at work

-A co-worker passed me at the cash register, and I asked her with an uninviting tone, "what do you want?" The rest of the day, she threw comments my way in passing: "World peace," "Jim, from The Office," "A job where I don't have to dress like this," "a nicer apartment." From my one thoughtless comment, I learned a lot about this girl.

-I met a girl named Owen and a boy named Jason Everett. Random.

-I was told by two managers that they would hire me in a second ("Half a second, even!") if they could. Flattering but, ultimately, not helpful.

job interview, take two

This was my good luck card from Nora. I got it before setting out for my interview this morning. I think it helped. I'll find out tonight.

peter on water

Things were working fine until I looked down at the waves.

job offer

I was offered a job yesterday. And I don't want it. The responsible thing would be to accept it, which I did, not because I'm responsible, but because I was blind-sided by the offer. I was walking through the Co-op to pick up my check, when the front manager asked me if I'd be interested in 35 hours a week running the outlet. Strictly speaking, I'd still be a temp, but I'd have guaranteed hours. I believe I stammered when I said I would be interested (notice I did not say "am") and he told me to come in for training next week and walked off. I never got to think about it.

If I had thought about it, I would have been annoyed at how cheap the Co-op is. They fired the outlet employee, because she was getting benefits and higher pay than a temp. I would work nearly full-time at eight dollars an hour. Sure, that's all I've been getting there up until now, but as a temp there is a certain trade-off. No responsibility, lower pay. Now they want me to run their satellite store for the same low pay. It's an insult. I would rather earn more per hour and work fewer hours. It's not how much money I bring home, but how much my time is valued. And right now, it's being valued less than before I received my damned degree. At 35 hours a week, I'll earn enough to pay bills and debt every month, but I'll also have no time to apply for a better job or to have hobbies or friends. 35 hours at the Co-op is five days a week, Tuesday through Saturday. Add the hour plus on the bus each way, and I will become effectively cloistered in that small, cheap life.

Boring too. There is nothing to do there, and I am tired of how blank my life is. The slowest, emptiest days are those when I work at the Co-op. Yes, I receive money, but no, I do not earn it. I am much more productive staying home. Even on the days when all I accomplish in the afternoon is a mini-marathon of Gilmore Girls. At least I spend every morning applying for jobs. I've applied for more than eighty, I'm quite certain. And this, this, is the best I can get.

I came home and cried.

my high point

no go

I did not get the job. But I am going shoe shopping to drown my sorrows.

job interview

I had a job interview today. The first in this round of job hunting. I hope that it went well. I'd feel better about it if a button on my blouse, which has shown no tendency for this in the past, hadn't popped open mid-interview. I will find out tonight for better or for worse. The next time you hear from me, I will either be horribly and irrevocably crushed, or I will be planning how to spend my first paycheck.