Because ... Money.

I am job hunting.

Unfortunately it appears my hunting gear is not high enough quality. I need to get a bigger net to capture them in. Which seems unfair (gasp, life is never unfair). I have great qualifications.

I will show up on time (ish), I will not smell and I will not be drunk.

Is that not a good enough reason to hire me?
What does it matter what my life goals are?
What does it matter where I have worked before?
Why do you care where I am going to be in five years?
Or ten?

Really.

No one knows. I feel like being punished for having vague goals is not acceptable. Would I like to have a white picket fence and 2.5 children?

Not really.

Does it change anything about me that I want a library attached to a fantastic bar?

Nope.

What life choices I make have no bearing on my work ethic. I inherited my work ethic from parents who are workaholics; from siblings who are perfectionists. I used to think I had no work ethic, or that it wasn't very good. Kind of like a day old salad, edible but weirdly wilted. I maintained that belief until I got out my childhood bubble. The first job I held as an adult showed me how very wrong I was. I am not a workaholic, I am not a perfectionist, I do believe in doing things in a timely manner and correctly. I am being paid to provide a service and it behooves me to get it done to the best of my ability in the shortest amount of time as possible. It is not my right to work. I am not entitled to employment. If I am doing an unsatisfactory job then I should be fired.

This is not a commonly held view point.

If more interviews and applications asked questions along those lines I would already have a job. Instead I get questions about my life plans, of which I have none, and when I can't answer or when they see through the bullshit answers I am done. They move on to the next applicant who still believes, naively, that life will actually allow a master plan. Those poor dears. Life happens and plans fall apart. It's much easier to adapt plans if they aren't hammered down in concrete and dreams.

This is how I feel after getting the "We decided to go with a more qualified candidate, but please apply to similar positions when they are posted on our site" email.

I am a wizard.

I have reached a new level of stupid

I am not a fan of bad customer service. And by bad customer service I mean these new automated answering systems that make you talk back to them. Because when you say snarky, very sarcastic things under your breath the automated lady voice thinks you're talking to her. To be fair, I was talking to her. I just didn't realize she'd respond with -

"I didn't understand what you said. To repeat this message say 'repeat' or press one."

It took about five minutes into the call for me to be offered a press a number option. Why? None of the options on the "speak to me now" menu were what I needed. I needed the "I am unbelievably stupid, please help" option. This is a great option. It should be an option on the website of every business. It means I have screwed up in a new and slightly surprising way. I need to talk to a real person to get this figured out.

The worst part was when I called back. After hanging up in a rage induced fit of pique. The evil lady, instead of saying her usual spiel, asked if I was calling about a package with this tracking number. I should have just said no, instead I said yes and got the whole "this package was not deliverable and is being returned to the original sender."

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Repeatedly.

I feel an explanation of events is now in order. I have recently(ish) moved in with a friend. I have also recently(ish) gotten a new pair glasses. The glasses arrived about a week after I had moved. Instead of driving the ten hours it takes to get home I asked my mother to mail them to me. In a moment of unbelievable stupidity I gave her the wrong mailing address. The address I gave her doesn't exist outside of Google Maps. Yeah. I fail hard.

My mother, being the reason behind half my DNA, put the wrong address on the shipping label. My parents had also recently(ish) moved. To make a long, dramatic story kind of short. It got lost in the mailing system for a few days but eventually got taken back to the post office in Wyoming, where my mom picked it up. A few days and addresses later I got my new glasses. They are pretty nice.

The only reason we got it worked out is because I called a random post office and they gave me the number for the people I needed to call. Talking to an actual person is so much easier.

I'm the baby, you gotta love me

My lovely siblings have been taking great care of me since I haven't really been able to walk the last few days. Well, I can walk but it's super painful and if I walk a lot I start to leave a blood trail. It's just not a good idea.

For the most part the food has been edible. There was an incident with easy mac and cheese that didn't go over so well. It had sat in the microwave for too long and lost all the water. I was mostly passed out on the couch when my brother mixed it up. He asked if it needed water and I said no. I'd forgotten that water evaporates. Everything ended okay because my mother made me Gold Fish mac and cheese. It was cute and delicious.

Fishies (Photo)

Thankfully my older sister made me a salad so I have eaten something healthy in the last few days. Pretty sure it's the only healthy thing I've eaten.

I did get some interesting, but yummy french toast for  breakfast. My brother made it. I was not entirely sure it was going to end well. I kept hearing questionable noises coming from the kitchen. The most disturbing was when he asked if it was supposed to look like that. Since I was lounging (in a rather foul temper) on the couch and couldn't actually see the kitchen I had no way of answering. It's been really odd to have him cook for me since if it's just the two of us at home I do the cooking.

It looked a lot like this, but flatter (Photo)

The best thing was when I asked my brother to get me a cup of coffee. I have a French press. He took the lid off and freaked out when he saw the coffee grounds. He didn't realize the plunger thing needed to be pressed down. In his defense he avoids all coffee and necessary equipment for making coffee. I got to talk him through the actions for a French press. Mostly that you have to push the plunger down slowly. He also took the lid of the creamer instead of popping the top up. Just unscrewed the whole thing.

This is real hard to use.

But mostly I've just eaten a lot a macaroni and cheese. It's my go to comfort food when I feel bad or am stressed.