So, jobs here seem to be few and far between for someone of my particular skills. I could probably get a retail job, but I am not wanting to do more customer service. Since this is such a college town, most employers can pay college kids less to do the kinds of things that I am qualified for. I'm going to have to get more computer skills. Horrible.
In despair, I went to a temp agency, where I had to do typing and computer tests, which pretty much stunk. I did ok, though, and the ladies at the agency were both really sweet. So, my first mini job starts tomorrow, filling in at the actual temp agency for the director who is going on vacation. Temping AT a temp agency? Huh? I guess I'd better do a good job, so maybe they'll bump me up on the list to hire out. So, the gig is only for three days, but at least it will get me meeting a few people. I can also get free computer training through the agency, which I suppose is "good".
But being without a job, even for such a short period, makes me feel just worthless. So worthless, in fact, that yesterday I accepted a job at what was advertised as a full time position at a Victorian costume shoppe. Turns out it was seasonal help with pre-bagged, primarily CHILDREN'S Halloween costumes, in an annex to the larger store, which if once a "Victorian shoppe", has disintegrated into a cheesy pre-fab extravaganza of clown suits, feather boas, and afro wigs. Manned by college students, and run by a woman who looked like a washed up two-bit showgirl (not that that's a bad thing) who told me they created the annex because they couldn't take the sound of the children screaming, this place had it all. I told her I'd give it a try.
Later, I decided I must have been mad. Visions of me in a closet, tossing bumblebee suits to snooty Santa Barbara wives with screaming brats in designer babycarriages, frantically looking for the PINK butterfly wings in small, the mini-Sponge Bob Squarepants plastic suit in 4T, the princess wands, the devil tails, the tiny horrors ontop of shiny horrors, the plastic avalance of rubber noses in the crowded stockroom culminating in my complete and utter hatred of what is still my favorite holiday. I couldn't do it. I called the lady and told her I had found full time employment elsewhere. LIE #1.
Today, I was looking forward to an interview for a receptioist position at a small local art production shop. I was intrigued to find out just what sort of art would be produced there. Metal sculpture? Pottery? Watercolor seascapes? Who could say? I fantasized about finding the perfect home, greeting visitors and enlightening them about the finer points of the craft, learning to express myself in a new medium, maybe.
And, when I got there, I really tried. I did my best to express enthuasism for what turned out to be a small business making ocarinas. You know- ocarinas. Right. That's what I said. They are little clay pipes, recently popularized by some legend of Zelda videogame or something. So, the owner, who was quite nice, explained that in addition to practically running the business for a receptionist's wage, I would also have the opportunity to learn the process of making the pipes. And then, maybe I could learn to play the pipes, so that I could demonstrate them for customers. Ok, sure I'm interested. LIE #2.
In desperation, I actually thought a bit more about it, but did some research online about this guy, and verified that he is, in fact, a big old hippie. He may have short hair and commute from LA, but he's a hippie. People wear these little pipes on cords around their necks and play them at things like Burning Man. Some of the pipes have kokopellis emblazoned on them, ok? I had enough of fucking kokopellis hawking them to tourists in the form of keychains and jewelry in NM for 5 years, right? Riiiiiiiight. Now, I'm not saying there is anything wrong with ocarinas- they would probably be pretty cool- if you were an Ancient Mayan, perhaps.
So, I wonder what LIE #3 will be.
I sure hope it's a doozy.