Looking for work, from my recliner

My last real job laid me off at the end of January, 2022. 22 months later I'm still in my recliner, looking for work.

Mostly, that's because I packed and moved to Seattle, and since getting here I've only been halfheartedly job-hunting. Also, three places have hired me, but I quickly quit all three.

My savings paid the rent, so I could afford to be picky, but now there's barely enough savings to keep my bank account open, so I'm seriously looking for work.

Still haven't left the recliner, though. I'm not literally pounding the pavement.

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After 40 years of office jobs, I'd rather do almost anything else, so I'm running an "I'll do anything" ad. In San Francisco in the 1990s, doing odd jobs for strangers worked out well because there weren't hoards of other people doing that. Now, of course, it's simply gig work on Craigslist, where my ad is one of dozens.

In a week, only one very talky man has replied to my listing. I called back, and he very vaguely explained what he wanted me to do, which seemed slightly sketchy — he's a homebuilder, he said, and wants help spamming up business for his company, and editing his book for novice builders and prospects, full of paid promotions that he literally called 'kickback'.

What I just said in a sentence, though, took him half an hour to say, with a hundred meandering side stories, while I listened without being paid to listen.

He said he'd had 13 employees, but laid them all off a few months ago when business slowed. He said it like this was a shrewd business decision, and I thought about clicking him off straight away, but he said I'd be working remote from home.

Right now, I'd work for Bernie Madoff, and offer a discount if it's work from home.

So me and Mr Sketchy arranged a second conversation for the next morning, when he said he'd show me the basics of the work, online, sharing screens. 

Next morning I texted him at the exact moment he'd asked, and he replied by 'liking' my text, whatever that means. Then he was supposed to call me, but instead there came cellular silence for fifteen minutes, at which time I texted back, 'Peace out'.

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Meanwhile, here's an update on that help-the-homeless program at Metro Transit, a job I actually want. I'm amazed to report that two people at Metro replied to my email, and it wasn't just a form letter 'thanks for the inquiry' — it was six sentences from one person, twelve from the other.

Unfortunately, it only adds up to, "We'll be posting the position in a few weeks, so please apply." And I will, but Metro moves slowly and bureaucratically, so it'll be months before they officially turn me down.

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For a quicker income, I've applied at McDonald's.

Why not? I worked at McD in the 1970s and '80s, and didn't hate it any worse than I hate office jobs. The work of flipping burgers probably hasn't changed much, and unlike the teenagers who work there, I won't show up high or hungover, and won't be trying to hook up with the pretty girl working the register.

McDonald's is a minimum wage job, and the minimum wage in Washington is $15.74. I'd have to cut the caviar, but I could live on that, and there's a McD just outside city limits, a quick bus ride from home. Seattle has its own minimum wage, however — $18.69 p/hour — and there's an in-city McD that's almost as close, so that's where I applied. 

The economics of McDonald's: inside city limits, they're required by law to pay everyone three dollars an hour more than in the suburbs, but a Big Mac costs the same at either location.

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I've also submitted my résumé on-line, to two temp services — a local agency, and an international corporation that has an office in Seattle.

At the local outfit, their online form asked only for my name and email address, with an uplink to attach my resume, and an open-text box to write a few paragraphs about myself. The whole process took about five minutes.

At the massive agency, the application was more complex, and took about ten minutes, but their software surprised me by already knowing who I am. They'd somehow snatched my my name, phone, email, and real world address off my laptop when I connected to the website, so instead of me typing it, they asked only, "Is this contact information correct?"

That's creepy as Edgar Allen Poe, but yeah, the contact info was correct.

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At both agencies, I asked for office work, because that's what I do, what I've always done. Accurate typing, data entry, and filing is my life story. I'm good at it, seriously, and sadly.

If I gave a damn what anyone thought it would be embarrassing to say this, but in my entire life, there are only three things I've been good at:

① I was a pretty good husband, until my wife died.

② Once in a while, I've written something people don't fall asleep reading.

And ③ I'm very, very good at mindless, meaningless office work, which is probably my next job, and needs to happen quickly.

12/10/2023   

 itsdougholland.com
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