I love it when hard decisions are made for you. Well, for me, I mean. See, I’ve been having a devil of a time finding employment. The calls – well, they’re just not coming in. Not even one. Even though I’ve applied for a thousand different jobs. Okay, not quite a thousand. Not even a hundred. But a lot. Enough to make me angry enough to want to cut someone in half. Even the one job where I should have definitely been granted a chance to interview for didn’t happen. They didn’t even bother sending me an email to let me know the status. Why? Cuz the economy sucks and apparently mob gangsters still run the community. I wonder if it would help if I told them that, growing up, my next-door neighbors were (are) a part of the Italian mob. Which is absolutely true. It wouldn’t even be a lie. I mean, guilty by association, right? So, if that’s the case, we and the Vegas mafia are closerthanthis. So, call me, rat bastards, and offer me a job, dammit! (Tee-hee! I just called a very dangerous group of people ‘rat bastards’ … which means I’ve got spunk. Who wouldn’t want to hire me now?)
Okay, anyhoo, the point is, the job market is rather bleak. I think I reached the breaking point when I had to enter my weight on a job application. I mean, that has to be illegal, right? It’s not like I was applying to be a show girl or a Pan Am stewardess or anything. Whatev’s.
So, yesterday, I decided that I would at least *look* into applying for state licensure for my old career. You know, the one that I swore I would never go back to? Well, the truth is, there’s a national shortage for people in that ol’ job I long ago abandoned. And I would’t even have to sleep on a
casting hospital couch to get a job. Thank gawd. Couches are horribly uncomfortable.
So, while I was looking into getting the proper license, I read that I would need to re-test before they would give me one. Which makes total sense. I mean, it’s been over 4 years since I did that sort of thing. So I’m beyond rusty on the information. Which is bad since other people’s lives literally depend on me knowing my shit. And, at the moment, I don’t know it. But I was thinking that, once I started reviewing the material from college, all that information that I learned would come back to me. After all, the info is stored somewhere in my little brain, and I did perform the job for nearly 10 years, so I have to remember some of it, right?
So, then I went searching in my garage for my old college books. Which is a job in and of itself cuz there are tons of boxes out there, unpacked and stacked on top of each other. But, eventually, I found what I was looking for – the box that contains the study guide kit I used to pass my boards. The thing is, I had totally forgotten that the guidebooks are supplemented by a 6-pack … of cassette tapes. Yeah, you remember what those are, right? Well, as it turns out, I am so old that when I went to college, cassette tapes were still the primary way to listen to music … or to study for exams. And, without the tapes helping to guide me through the textbooks, as I recall, it would be an uphill battle to re-learn all the material that I need to, well, re-learn.
Here’s the thing ➝ I don’t know about you, but I don’t even own a cassette player anymore. And if I’m being completely honest here, I’m just not married enough to the whole idea that I’d be willing to read the course material sans the cassette tapes. So, I guess it’s decided. I won’t be applying for state licensure. (Thank gawd!)(I really don’t want to do that job anyway.)(And don’t you dare offer to send me one cuz I will send my mob neighbors to your house and order them to do to you what they do best.)
Case closed. (One) crisis averted.
But I still need a job. Gah!