Tag Archives: Generation X

FML (no, ‘From Manufactured Lard’ is not what it stands for)

[Edited to fix a few errors of grammar, lack of proofing, and occasional bit of ‘not paying attention owing to being in a bit of a rant,’ but nothing of any substance]

Earlier today I went to a ‘testing session’ for a job I really wanted to get a shot at doing. They have pensions, benefits aplenty, and job security coming out of their proverbial ass. It even has worthwhile stuff I could do, and thus would feel like I’m really making a difference in people’s lives. This would make me very happy.

Okay, they also pay pretty well, provide free counselling, a lounge area and Nintendo Wii, an employee discount program and computer purchase program, free parking and bicycle lock up, an on-​site fitness facility and change rooms/​showers… but anyway…

Basically, I need to find a place to work as I’ve just been laid-​off from my current ‘day job.’ Because of that job I was able to move out on my own. Because of that job I was able to select this apartment within walking distance. Because of that job I was able to feel like I was settling down in a neighbourhood close to everything including my long-​standing GP. Because of that job I was able to actually start stretching out and enjoying my independence.

But now, after barely over a year…

Fuck.

The search for work has been kicked into life again at high gear, as after the 13th of this month there is no income other than the government’s Employment Insurance system which will not cover my rent entirely, never mind the desire to eat food upon occasion. Thus, by the end of September or earlier I may either have all of my belongings in storage and be living in a rented room somewhere; or simply be laying in a gutter slowly wasting away.

My health continues to eerily echo that of Warren Ellis’ except I don’t smoke and haven’t actually gone into an Acute Stroke Unit (yet). My cholesterol is far higher than it ought to be for someone who eats as healthily as I do, exercises regularly by simply walking everywhere (it’s cheaper), and so on. Yet, the man whose work I enjoy reading, who has similar struggles to mine, and I recently said if he ever disappears, I’ll need someone new to keep me going (then shortly after he nearly died… one can’t help but feel responsible in a way) continues to keep going, so I do also.

But.

Meanwhile…

Did I mention I’ve been laid-​off? Did I also mention I was at a testing… oh right; let’s get back to that.

I blew through the initial test in record time. Piece of cake.

Then the “keyboarding test” (this is what they call ‘typing’ now), during which I was supposed to get at least 44 words per minute as required, and I nailed 35 words per minute.

So, would I like to try again? Yes!!! Mother of God, YES!

So I delivered the same results on both tests. Again. Exactly.

Well… okay, you’re done for today. Thanks for coming!”

I’d been there for just 30 minutes. For the first set of about six batches of tests.

Were I permitted to continue on for the rest of the tests, I would have aced them all. Seriously.

So I returned to my current job. Which I’ll be finishing one week from the day I’m writing this.

…fuck.

There is no way to explain how much panic fills my soul at this moment. I have nothing to fall back on. Nothing. Zero. Except for the State, but… HA!

This state of affairs merely points out ho much I have not accomplished and how little I have to offer the word, other than piffle such as the occasional podcast recommendations. This is not something from which one can make money to support oneself.

Much of my nearly-​fifty years here falls into that category. Much of it has been my own devising, as well.

So much of my life has come to nought.

I have tried so many things that didn’t work out at all:

  • photographer
  • store owner
  • actor
  • arts journalist
  • director
  • TV /​radio presenter
  • publisher
  • husband
  • face in the crowd /​nameless citizen

Some things which could have worked out either were declared ‘not good enough for me,’ owing to not being sufficiently exciting or something; or I simply bit off more than I could chew and barrelled ahead anyway.

Meanwhile I chose to ignore all my options to become trained in something — anything — safer as a back-​up.

Now it’s too late: I’m almost 50, unemployed, estranged from my wife, trying to support myself, and there’s no time left.

No wonder I hate myself. Who wouldn’t?

Yes, it’s incredible I keep going, despite the struggles that life throws at me. Yes, isn’t this continued struggle admirable? Am I not incredible for my fortitude? Am I not such an amazing —

Fuck off.

Certainly I appreciate the support and encouragement, but, as someone pointed out the other day, aphorisms don’t pay my bills. I’m getting tired of not having enough money to pay bills like a grown-​up is supposed to.

Certainly, I have made bad choices as outlined above regarding my job skills and life’s path.

Certainly, I have done bad things to people over the years and my karma needs to be redressed.

But.

So. Very. Tired.

So. Very. Tired.

Seriously, this is getting to be too much effort. Honestly, if anyone needed a sign or some sort of Massive Injection of Luck /​Help at this point, it would be me.

Anyone able to do that: the usual address, please.

Mood: frustrated
Music: The Out-​Islanders’ Polynesian Fantasy, (1961); Capitol [ST-​1595]
Book: Marvel Comics (The Untold Story) by Sean Howe; Harper Collins, October 2013 [ISBN 9780-​06231469-​7]