Crossroads – Epilogue

The crossroads turned out to be a busy intersection with no crosswalks or pedestrian lights.

You know, sometimes all the motivational talk that’s thrown at you, and your own will to persevere against all odds, and that fighting spirit that makes teachers and coaches proud, aren’t enough.

In my new town there is a single company that employs hundreds of technicians and engineers. Let’s call it Schnitzel Engineering Labs.

Schnitzel is doing well, and they’ve been staffing up on techs and engineers and programmers over the last year. Most times there are four or five positiobs advertised.

I applied for no less than six different positions over the months. The only response I got was six form letter rejection emails. The last one I tried, I thought to myself I’m either a persevering fighter or a fool.

That job was for an operator position. For that application I got a “phone interview”, which was nothing more than an uninterested and unskilled recruiter re-asking me the essay questions from my application.

One week later I got the familiar form-letter rejection email. I even emailed my interviewer and asked for feedback. I got no answer.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it didn’t break it right away.

Over the next few months I started asking myself why I was so eager to jump back in to an environment that DOES NOT mean me well.

At the same time, I came to realize that I’m not exactly a prize. My work history is a dingy with big holes in it, my contribution to my employers’ bottom lines have been marginal at best, and I don’t even have a “skill set”. I know lots of little things that don’t fit together.

I can program in ColdFusion or Python, but that can’t be expressed on a resume because my experience has either been too short of a time or too long ago.

I could prove my ability by having a public repository of self-created software, which would take me forever to build.

For years I’ve blamed my resume for my difficulty finding work. It was only the messenger.

At some point I asked myself, “what the hell am I doing? What SHOULD I be doing?” The answers came to me.

I should be doing something with my hands (NOT typing).

I should create things.

I should be my own boss.

None of those things pay. That sucks.

What good is a spouse who isn’t a tag-team partner when things get rough?

What could be worse than an aspiring artist living in your house, eating your food? A couch potato, maybe, except they don’t spend your money on tools.

I was kicked off the wagon, and now I’ve stopped running after it. I’m not even walking toward it. I can’t even see it any more, I can only just make out in the distance the cloud of dust kicked up by the wheels.

Hey, look at this stick of sagebrush. I bet I can make a spoon out of it.

End of Blog



About blippoids

Enough about me.
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