I’m pretty sure that it’s nowhere near as dull for you to read this as it is for me to live it, so I’m going to give yet another update on the as-yet barren search for work. So, you have to suffer through this shit one more time:
Number of jobs applied for: 121
Number of interviews so far: Still only 1
And I’m running out of ideas about what to do about it.
Tom Stoppard once said that: “Every exit is an entry to somewhere.” Well, I exited my last job on June 17. Since then, I don’t think I’ve entered anything at all, other than a bizarre existence that entails an endless round of begging, phoning, e-mailing, pleading, and losing little fragments of my sanity that slip away and rest on my pillow when I get up every morning. I’m just sitting in a Cosmic Waiting Room hoping someone calls my name soon.
This is how Sisyphus must have felt.