...must be laughing his/her/its ass off at me. It's the only thing I can figure.
All y'all know I've been job-hunting for quite a while. Years, actually. The hunt has continued since I've pulled up stakes (or, to be accurate, had the stakes pulled up for me) and relocated. I've looked here, there, and a whole bunch of other places. Not everywhere; I have ruled out a return to California unless offered a genuinely obscene income should I do so.
So this last week, I was offered a job, indirectly through the good offices of a couple friends who happen to be former colleagues. They both recommended me to a P.R. person in a nearby large city; I talked with him, sent along a resume, and felt somewhat encouraged by my reception.
Ah, yes. The job: it was a freelance writing gig, which took me all of two days to complete. It was also in the same subject area where I toiled for 24 long years.
My closest friends probably got damn tired of hearing my oft-repeated rant since April third: "No more freelance writing! No, no, no! Never! And certainly no more writing about ----*!" They could probably reproduce the tremulous indignation and determination in my voice with devastating accuracy.
I took the job. Naturally. It was money**.
Money is not a pressing issue for me at the moment. Yes, I owe more than the Gross National Product of five South American nations, have a long list of pretty essential items for which I need a substantial sum of spondulix, and would like to lay aside a few coins for my doddering old age. But right now I'm ahead of the immediate game. Until, that is, the excreta next hits the rotating ventilation device....
I am comfortable in my present location. I may be here a while, and that won't be a bad thing. In fact, it'll be a good thing.
Except for one major issue: I want a job. And I have my doubts that what I'd most like to do will permit me to stay in this place.
But it is nice to be able to relax. I'd forgotten how that feels.
However: I do hope the Universe got its quota of chuckles from offering me a very temporary return to my old ways and will lay out something steadier and more remunerative for me next time around. Once was kind of fun in a twisted way; a second time may not be.
* What I used to write about....
** Not what I would call a whole hell of a lot of money. Not as much as I would charge if I was in a position to turn down work.
1 hour ago