Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Working Man's Dead
I have a job interview today. In three years of this booming Bush economy, I've sent out my resume once or twice a week and I've snagged exactly two interviews.
I've even thought of applying to Blackwater for a free trip to Iraq, but while I can still shoot, I can't run more than a block without fucking up my hip.
I'm old. I don't feel old, I don't write old, and I don't smell like damp brown paper (I don't think), but I certainly can't compete with perky young things, shiny as dimes, clutching their freshly minted communications degrees and interviewing with more bubbly energy than I've exhibited since 1971.
So I'll put on a tie, polish my smile, show off my work and try not to complain about my bowels.
Wish me luck.