Thursday, May 22, 2003 - 12:10 am

Still unemployed. Still pissed about it. And to make matters worse, I found the following message in my e-mail in-box the other day:

Hi i found u and i think your work i great i need an anime angel tattoo cuz thats what i want and i cant find any good picks maybe u could draw me something simple with shor blue hair
Thanx
-Mike


What do I look like, a free art service? And I may be mistaken, but it doesn't sound to me as if this kid has yet reached legal tattooing age. (Doesn't sound as if he's even reached the third grade.) *Sigh*.

I mean, I appreciate the lower-case praise, Mike, and I'm flattered that you would like to request my services as an artist, but how's about a little compensation? Need the green, Mike-O. Show me da money. Then we'll talk. (And I'll be sure to use lower-case letters if that will make it easier on you.)

...

Oh, and the guy I made the suit of armor for shot me an e-mail, so everything's fine on that front.

I still need a job, though...

Tuesday, May 20, 2003 - 6:44 pm

I was searching through the weekly work notices posted online at the Minnesota Workforce Center, when I noticed that the company I had interviewed for last week had placed an ad there for a position. The very same exact position I had been interviewing for. The day AFTER I had interviewed for it. Hm. I guess I can only assume that my dramatic "please hire me" presentation wasn't very well received. Or else they just wanted to fish around town and see if they could find someone better. Someone more qualified for the job. Someone less inclined to find themselves lost in hellishly-designed suburban industrial parks on their way to important social events like job interviews.

Someone...not like me.

Of course, what this all probably means is that I'll now once again find my quest for gainful employment at a familiar little place known as "Square One". Also known as "My Own Personal Hell."

Damn.

I don't wanna cold call anymore. I don't want to send out any more resumes or cover letters or attend any more career seminars or make any more embarrassing and angst-filled attempts to convince the government that I'm not a leech to society and that they should continue to extend my unemployment benefits for another two weeks. I just want a fucking job. Now.

Oh, and I want the guy I made this suit of armor for to get back in touch with me so I know when (or even if) I'm going to be paid for my work. You know who you are. C'mon. Shoot me an e-mail. Soon.

Please.