A job...Not!
The Sales Manager was extremely interested in hiring me. Facts are: 5 1/2 day work week. All commission. Hours 9 am until 8 pm. Will be paid $300 a week that will then be deducted from my sales commission. Need to also wear their shirts. Of course you have to buy them. No thanks.
Brought my resume and filled out an application at the Developmental Center. It is a large (300 +acres?) running farm (and more) where the State used to house most of it's retarded. In the country's effort to deinstitutionalize, the farm now houses many of the eldering that have always lived there and many dual diagnosed that cannot successfully live anywhere else.
"Hey! Remember me?" asked a round happy faced guy. Obviously a client.
"No, I don't," I smiled.
"I'm Binky!"
"Oh. Yeah," I greeted him. "How have you been?"
"I'm okay," he responded positively and then proceeded to rub his fingers together in the universal symbol of money. "You got any?" he asked.
"No. I'm broke and I hate it," I told him. With that, he departed looking for another potential donor.
Ah! All in a day's work. Except I'm not hired yet.
The State has great benefits but it would pay close to $30,000 less than my last job. I am good at working with the MH/MR population. The job I am applying for is vocational coaching in their large green house. I would like it. Unlike the usual State jobs, it is M-F 7-3:30. Too cool. My bud since high school runs the dairy barn there. He's been there close to thirty years. Can you imagine that? I have the experience but that has not helped in all of my other job applications.
Well, I'm beyond the desperate stage now. Not sure where my mind is at present. What an interesting thing, this being human. Ever longing for equanimity and homeostatsis while Zen concludes that it is always there except we fail to realize it. Like the fish swimming in water looking for it. Fucked up shit, eh?
Brought my resume and filled out an application at the Developmental Center. It is a large (300 +acres?) running farm (and more) where the State used to house most of it's retarded. In the country's effort to deinstitutionalize, the farm now houses many of the eldering that have always lived there and many dual diagnosed that cannot successfully live anywhere else.
"Hey! Remember me?" asked a round happy faced guy. Obviously a client.
"No, I don't," I smiled.
"I'm Binky!"
"Oh. Yeah," I greeted him. "How have you been?"
"I'm okay," he responded positively and then proceeded to rub his fingers together in the universal symbol of money. "You got any?" he asked.
"No. I'm broke and I hate it," I told him. With that, he departed looking for another potential donor.
Ah! All in a day's work. Except I'm not hired yet.
The State has great benefits but it would pay close to $30,000 less than my last job. I am good at working with the MH/MR population. The job I am applying for is vocational coaching in their large green house. I would like it. Unlike the usual State jobs, it is M-F 7-3:30. Too cool. My bud since high school runs the dairy barn there. He's been there close to thirty years. Can you imagine that? I have the experience but that has not helped in all of my other job applications.
Well, I'm beyond the desperate stage now. Not sure where my mind is at present. What an interesting thing, this being human. Ever longing for equanimity and homeostatsis while Zen concludes that it is always there except we fail to realize it. Like the fish swimming in water looking for it. Fucked up shit, eh?
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