Ya know, I’ve been hit by numerous of bad “happenings” throughout my almost 25 years of living on this planet. When I was younger, I could not deal with the “crap” as well as I do today. I guess you could say that my “shell” has hardened over the years. I have undergone bouts of painful,unpleasant illnesses (Lyme Disease x2, 2 ulcers, anemia, depression, anxiety, broken bones, botched spinal tap, etc.), dealt or dealing with a recovering alcoholic/narcotic addict brother (he was my best friend…lost in the substance), death of my high school/college “sweetheart” that I think about every day, and the shit keeps flying my way.
I keep picking myself up and moving on. I guess that is one reason why I am a runner. We never give up. It may be impossible for me to give up this dream of mine: to be successful and happy. Oh, wait, that’s your dream too? Sarcasm, people.
So, this rage is mostly driven from my latest news: rejection from a job I applied for. I was interviewed, thought it went well, and waited as patiently as I could. Today, while I was composing a follow-up email over the position, I was emailed by that company with the bad news. No job for me. Perfect timing, right?
I’m of course not mad at the company whatsoever. I’m disappointed that I was not what they wanted. Sure, I am quite familiar with rejection. Come on now. I’m in advertising. I’m just upset that I got my hopes up. I really liked the company and the team that interviewed me. My reaction to the email was quite immature (to say the least). I threw f-bombs like it was the only word I could pronounce. I cried and moaned until I thought I would vomit up my afternoon coffee. It wasn’t because I didn’t get a job at that particular company. It was because I was back to the drawing board, back to square one, back to being a “prospective” employee. I am exhausted.
After my tantrum, I called my more than supportive parents. They answered the phone (both of them at once on different phones) to my shouting voice, “F***! F***! F***! I can’t land a f***ing job ever!” And so on… My dad, completely unaware of what was going on, started to freak out as well. This man is more stable than a concrete wall. He never freaks out. But when his youngest and only daughter shouts through a phone 1700 miles from the other end, Fred tends to freak. He thought I was being attacked. I reassured him that I was ok, but a complete failure because I could not get hired. Anywhere.
My mom began to calm me as I shook more rampant than a paint shaker at Home Depot. After the initial f-bombs, my dad proceeded to calm me as well with saying, “there will be something out there for you.” Also, to email the company for suggestions on bettering my resume or interview skills. I had to explain to them the reason why I was so upset over this one interview: lack of money. I have been trying to support myself as long as I can remember, but my parents are the true backbones to my financial stability. I really just want to be able to DRIVE myself around (I don’t own a car) and be able to afford to go out. I don’t go out to dinner or for drinks because I am broke. Flat out broke.
After talking to my parents, I immediately applied to one of the most prestigious ad agencies out there and happen to be located in my backyard. Crispin Porter + Bogusky. My mentality was, “F*** it. I’m used to rejection any way.” I actually took classes there this time last year. I’ve just been too scared to apply there.
Icing on the cake: after applying to CP+B, I logged onto http://www.whitehouse.gov and wrote the president an email of my thoughts on job creation in the States. Of course one of the dozens of interns at the White House would be sweeping through my well thought out letter. I was just attempting to copy/paste what I had submitted to that site and well ya look at that! I’m the idiot that didn’t copy what I wrote before I clicked the “submit” button. Please call me, “dumby” from now on. Wait, “unemployed dumby.”
The letter I submitted was scripted so adequately to my pleas and views on how young minds are being wasted today due to the horrid economy. What do I expect out of my cry for help? Eh, pat on the back. Maybe they will FedEx a box of tissues to me to dry my tears resulting from my inability to land a job.
Pray for me people. I need it.
I’ll add doodles later. For now, I am going to fill myself with bowls of noodles.