I have to apply for a job today. I don't want to. My ego is dying. My ego doesn't think it should have to do anything it doesn't want to do. It's fighting for it's life right now, and it's losing, and it knows it's losing.
This morning, as I ran through Balboa Park, my ego told me I should just go into the job interview and tell the interviewer to write me a check and shut the fuck up. The Tyler Durden in me loved this idea.
"Yeah, that's exactly what you should do. Go fuck them up!"
And he would have been right - if this was a movie. But it's not, and what he had in mind was more of a hold-up than a job interview. No one would agree to write me a check and shut the fuck up unless they were under severe duress - and I need a job, not an arrest warrant.
I've dropped resumes all over the neighborhood looking for bartending gigs, to no avail. I can't afford to hold out for that, anymore. The good thing about bars is you can walk right in and talk to the manager. If there is more than one level of management, then they tell you to apply online. That's where the bullshit starts.
When they tell you to apply online, they might as well tell you to go fuck yourself, because the second you apply online you become a needle in a haystack. Another nameless, faceless statistic lost in the electronic abyss - like you never even existed. I have done hundreds of online job applications in my life - and spent dozens if not hundreds of hours on them. Yet, I have never got a job from an online application. Not once.
So why should I do things that waste my time? Don't we all try to avoid that?
I called my Mom to consult and after talking it over, I decided that ditching my rent and moving into my car would be counterproductive. All I ultimately care about is making art, and living in a car will be an impediment to making art, not an aid. There is nothing romantic about it. It won't make my life any less complicated. The only difference is the simple things will become complicated - which, again, is counterproductive.
Even more importantly, living in my car would be bad for my health because sleeping in a car and other awkward positions fucks up your neck and your back. Plus, I tailored my apartment perfectly to suit my work needs. Every detail about it - the placement of every item - is designed to make my work flow. It's damn near perfect. To lose a space I worked so hard to build would be a great tragedy. So I made the decision - I must find a job to save my home and workspace.
This puts my ego in an irreconcilable position. It cannot coexist with a job I don't want. It tried to kill the idea of getting a job, but the attempt was unsuccessful. The possibility of me getting a job is not only alive and well, it's absolutely necessary. So I am going to do my job applications, even though I don't want to.
It reminds of this weekend when I was taking care of my good friend's pitbull. She needed drops in her ears from the vet - and she hated them. She hated those drops like I hate looking for jobs. She hated them so much that she ran away from me and tried to hide in her crate and stick her head in places where I couldn't reach it. The closer I got to her ears, the harder she fought with me. I love her, and I hated doing that to her almost as much as she hated getting it - but she needed them. She hated the drops, but she needed them.
That's just like me. I hate looking for a job, but I need it.
So I guess it's time for me to take my ear drops.