The Bullshirt of the "American Dream"

It's a bit of irony in the wake of the #GreatResignation that I spend all of my days lamenting both my lack of job and lack of income. I have always worked. Growing up in my grandparent's restaurant, both figuratively and literally, the importance of a strong work ethic was instilled in me from the time I was big enough to carry a bus tray, old enough to take a drink order, or competent enough to cash someone out at the till. Working has always been a central part of my identity. I have never not worked. 

Don't you think it's some kind of bullshit that a person's entire character is revolved around working, that dreadful thing that we're all conned into believing is part of the American dream; that if you work hard enough, you too can spend fifty years of your life and forty hours a week earning money for someone else's bottom line only to eventually retire with your laurels marginally intact and your relationships reduced to catching up twice a year over coffee?

I'm not convinced Jim Carrey actually said this quote but it applies.

I just hate it. 

It has been exactly thirty-four days since I was let go from a job that I loved, one that excited me to wake up for. Every day since then, my routines have devolved into sitting on the couch from 10 AM - 1 AM job hunting, sending in resumes and cover letters, pouring over the same listings day in and day out wondering if I'm desperate enough to take a gig I know won't be a good fit just to make ends meet. And somewhere after my daily "morning misery" sets in, I spend the rest of the afternoon in a constant rotation of TV, movies, or video games. Rinse and repeat. 

All of my free time lately, of which there has been an overabundance (read: I am bored fucking stiff), has been spent in self-reflection: who am I without a job, why do I feel guilty about not wanting to work, what will I do to pay my bills because unemployment sure as shit doesn't cover the cost of living? Even if I managed to find a job sooner rather than later because unemployment has yet to kick in and my savings are dwindling down faster than I am comfortable with, is that what I want to do? Start in on a new job just because that's what's expected of me?

Earlier this year, I set out to try something new and get my associate broker license. Property Management was a field that I enjoyed working in and seemed to have a knack for but here we are five years later. After getting my foot in the door in this industry, I am no further along than when I started. My time at MNP was rife with frustration and annoyance at the seeming nepotism of my superiors, always passing me over for an opportunity to move into a different position. Inland was a nightmare because my boss was a she-devil who openly admitted she was difficult to work for and it seemed that she took pleasure out of belittling her employees, relishing the opportunity to demoralize and dehumanize them. And Four Star...I don't know. I loved that job. But it didn't love me. 

So where do I stand? My mother has always tried to talk me into pursuing writing as a career. Though I generally agree I have a natural knack for it, I maintain no delusions about being able to do so professionally. Quite frankly, I think it takes a lot of discipline to be a published writer in any capacity and I have always seemed to lack that type of strength, not to mention I have no formal educational background. Even if I am a good writer, what merit could I possibly have over someone who went to college for it? 

My therapist would have a lot to say about this self-fulfilling sort of language. Always is a dangerous word when it comes to self-confidence or lack thereof. 

The truth is that I love to write. When I'm consistent, I am proud of the content I put out and it's an activity that both allows me to process my life and the world around me. Being able to put my own two cents in, though it carries no weight whatsoever in the grand scheme of things, makes me feel accomplished. But to write as a career? I'm not sure that I'm qualified and as far as I understand, there are very few writers that are even able to make a decent living doing so. Is that enough to stop me from trying? 

Thus my conundrum. Do I jump back into the 9-5 with the stalwart promise of a steady income that guarantees I can pay my bills at the minor risk of succumbing to the lie of capitalism, the very thing that I loathe; or do I take a risk and try my hand at the thing that I've always wanted to do, write professionally? Have you ever heard that story of Harper Lee, the one where she took an entire year off from working to write and that's when she wrote "To Kill A Mockingbird"? I've always dreamed of having that sort of life, the one where I get the time off to work hard and am rewarded with a fruitful career as an author. 

The downside of being pragmatic is that even though I would love to write as a career I don't think it's attainable for someone like me. My job history is scattered at best and at worst discredits any legitimacy I might have as a serious ™ author. 

As per usual, I have no answers. I wish I could tell you what was going to happen next and when my struggle will be over but I can't. I think that's what has made this last month especially hard, not knowing when I'll see the light at the end of the tunnel that is unemployment. To be honest, I'm not even sure I want to see the light at the end of that tunnel. Like so many others, I am burned out. Burned out with overworking, the expectation of being "on-call" outside of working hours, going above and beyond in the hopes of being acknowledged or recognized, only to be grimly reminded that a company's bottom line will always be profit. How very Ferengi like. 

Quark would have something to say about my anti-establishment attitude

C'est la vie. Until next time.