The days of joblessness are taking their toll. Leaping out of bed and into my workaday clothes gave way about three weeks ago to the struggle to get out of my jammies and off the couch. I have a tendency to have long, soulful conversations with my dogs, and though I adamantly refuse to watch soaps, I'm learning some really weird things on PBS and the History channel. Things that will not insert themselves easily into conversation with humans, should I ever have one of those again. (Did you know each volcano has its own unique voice?)
Those chirrupy little grooming tips in the Living Section of the paper are getting on my nerves ("I freshen up my look by…"). Freshen up my look? Heck, I consider my look fresh enough if I'm upright and most of my hairs are going in the same direction! My interview suit is pressed and ready for an extended tap-dance session, should one be required. If the miracle of a second interview manifests sitself, I'm even ready to overcome my aversion to those temples of vanity known as clothing stores, and come up with a second tap-dancing suit.
Despite my local newspaper's promises of great careers in newspaper delivery, advertising sales, and house cleaning, I'm beginning to think the TV "Chicken Littles" might be right about the sky falling. My recruiter called with an opportunity on the day my cell phone ring tone went silent as a a result of my inept attempts to engage my new Bluetooth headset. Unfortunately, the employer had put the job "on hold" by the time I called back, five hours later. It seems they put out a call for resumes, but the recruiter must submit an electronic Permssion to Represent form dated and time-stamped from the employee for the specific job. Split-second timing is crucial. The employers are getting so many resumes so quickly that they "close" the position the same day. Stoopit Blue Tooth!
My mood is fluctuating between the excitement of the hunt and the urge to stay under my covers in a fetal position. Young Geezer fixed my phone--I now get a ring or a beep when someone calls, so I don't have to pick it up every five minutes and say, "Hello? Is someone there?"
One thing for sure--if I decide to take the fetal position approach, that phone is going under the covers with me!