CH. 52 «Jobhunt»

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01-19-2310

I spend most of my time sitting in front of a computer. After countless months of hiding out in the net to stave off the daily needs of a more active, or remotely physical lifestyle, I feel its well past due that I made sure I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life as a cyber refugee. Hunger, boredom and unfulfillment can’t be ignored any longer. Free moments I once had to play a video game or check my inboxes again are now spent trolling employment classifieds and job finders.

Peakslist is an extremely acclaimed tool for such needs; one of the more popular, if not the most widely used, classified services today. It offers localized listings for all the major metropolitan areas across the united territories and has recently extended its services to cities and communities all over the solar system. At peakslist you can locate a place to live, sell your rover, find a job, find love, or just find someone to sleep with. The latter has been the most infamous utilization of the site as of late, but that’s a rant for another transmission.

Today I’m striking out. I bemoan my lack of success with peakslist in the face of so many who swear by it or claim they owe their life to it. So far, in endless weeks of ineffective job hunting, I’ve found a buyer for a PDA which I ended up having second thoughts about needing, a haircut from a trainee stylist in a fancy salon that I didn’t have to pay for, and an old sofa, free of charge to the first person who could bring a large enough vehicle to pick it up. Nothing close to what I was even looking for.

At first I only applied to jobs I wanted, hoping what I considered to be my multiple qualifications would win me the position. I’ve recently realized I have few many employers would consider tangible. But any of those involving coding in languages I fully understand or graphic design gigs that don’t call for the requisite degree (not currently in my possession) are things of fantasy. It was painful to let go my hopes of working at home from this porti, but only those with practical knowledge of the fields gained from schooling, or years of self-training, are deserving of those dream jobs. Lowering my standards, I began responding to every post I was remotely qualified for, even if I couldn’t see myself ever liking the occupation.

I’ve submitted my resume in hopes of becoming a radio program host, a theatre set designer, a DJ for parties and weddings, a receptionist for a tattoo shop, and a speech and language tutor. I’ve applied to be someone’s personal assistant, net publicist, secretary and intern. I sent in applications to work for a publishing company, as a page in a library and as a legal clerk. I even tried to contact employers about positions in delivery, pool service, data entry, and many other laborious tasks. All to no apparent avail.

No, the only occupation I can still claim to have is that of Image Taker’s Assistant for Zenith Bros. Imaging, and even that’s just an unpaid internship. I was never truly been interested in image taking, not enough to study the subject or pursue a career of any type in it. I never took it as a course in high school, nor ever spent time inhaling noxious developing chemicals in a dark room. Qwerty and I were trying to get jobs at a Martian ski resort and realized the easiest way to work the coolest job at the photo station would require us to beef up my resume with something about taking pictures. Helping out around the studio we took initial steps on the path to becoming a profesional image takers.

It means I’m beefing up my arms to hold a reflector all day. Haven’t gotten to do much with a real image capturer yet…I’m sure all the lessons about theory and composition will come in handy…what? When I want to post an imagegram for myself? I do perform more important tasks than supporting lighting instruments and spinning a fan. Like the weekly courier mission I make for them to south Olympus County. Previously delegated to Gerund, the UMC undergrad found it too hard to fit it into his schedule anymore, and bequeathed the duty to me, though I still share with him the petty cash afforded to me for gas and food. Its the closest thing to an income I maintain. My delivery of discs and proofs to the children’s talent agency can be a lengthy assignment, but far from an arduous one.

All the same, if I wanted to be a delivery boy I could probably do a little better for myself. I’ll continue to scour the list for something a little more lucrative. With my standards set as low as they are now, I should be able to find some simple and demeaning occupation in no time, right? Soon enough I’ll be able to put away three, maybe even four figures each month, but until then I have to keep searching. It’s the most productive thing I could be doing with all the time I spend online. It better start to pay off soon, though.

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PREV: CH. 51 «Are You Patched In?»

PREV: CH. 51 «Are You Patched In?»

NEXT: CH. 53 «Second Job»

NEXT: CH. 53 «Second Job»

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