image stolen from burrard-lucas.com
AAAAHHH money money money money money. Relax. You have enough to pay the credit card bill. OKCupid coaching will pay enough to register the car. Unemployment will come through. You can bill work for leads. Everything will be fine. Except it won’t because you have no god damn money. You have no god damn money. Your credit is destroyed and there is no way you will get a job, ever. Ever. You worked beneath your talents for eight years and this is what it got you. Nothing. You saved nothing, learned nothing. You were miserable for nothing. Now you are miserable for less than nothing.
Let me say this again: there are no jobs out there. Back in Spring when I didn’t want to work, I still dutifully applied. I applied for jobs for which I am fully qualified, overqualified. I took care on my resume and cover letter. I have hired people; I know to keep it short. Nothing. I had one interview, a group interview. A Beverly Hills residential Realtor™, a white man the color of an Irish Setter, made 20 of us complete 2 hours worth of tasks that simulated being his assistant. Other than that it was finance scams. One interview– no, one group bake-off– for over a hundred resumes. And I’m good.
I got a check via UPS for $2885 from the woman who hired me to be her secretary. Don’t worry, I didn’t bite. It was cut from a scientific equipment company in San Jose, labeled from a woman who runs a mortuary school in Ohio, return address of a cookie factory in the Bronx. My instructions were to convert most of it into prepaid Green Dot® Moneypak® cards and relay the PIN numbers to my new boss, a traveling photographer. These are all real people. I found them all, called them all. Told them they were being used in a Nigerian 419 scam. Reported it to the FBI who told me to report it to the Postal Inspector who told me to hang up and put it in their web site which told me: thanks and now nothing happens. I called UPS. They told me the account number belongs to the “Shamrock Company,” which oddly does not exist. How can no one have ever founded the “Shamrock Company.” Seems like a home run in South Boston.
The remaining balance should be used to buy Greendot MoneyPak Card worth of $2150 at Walmart store, Walgreen or Rite aide. I needed it to plan for my next Photo exhibition and Organize our next teachings on Photography coming up in Las Vegas, Nevada. This will be coming up next Thursday but I need to book the event because there are limited space available, which means I have only few days to be used in Phillipines. So i will need you to get the GREENDOT MoneyPak cards and have the pins sent to me as soon as you get it from the store. I will need it to complete the booking from here, kindly understand that you will be buying three cards worth $1000, $1000 and $150 if you are purchasing at Walmart store but other stores have a maximum value of $500 which means you will buy four of that and $150.
I did not deposit the check and use the “float” time before it bounced to pay my credit card bill and register my car. I did not attempt to cash it at a 24 hour check cashing place. But I thought about it.
I also attempted to extort my scammer out of ten grand. I told him his kid in the Bronx would get popped off UPS store security footage. That I knew the president of Nigeria (Goodluck Jonathan, thanks Wikipedia) and that I would have his family hacked up in Lagos. I accused him of fucking zebras. I addressed him as “Okonkwo” and made inflammatory remarks about his region’s literacy and HIV rates. I was drunk.
Still, the next day I received further urgent instructions about the money.
I knew it had to be a scam at the second email. Just the English alone. I knew but I didn’t believe in my gut. Because I had hope. Because I needed it so bad. They made me fill out an “interview!” Perfect bullshit HR boilerplate, and I answered each question professionally like the idiotic jerkoff I am. I kept trying because what if.
### What made you decide to apply for this job?
### Tell me about yourself and your last/current job/class?
### If I call your previous employer or references what are they likely to tell me in regards to your dependability/attendance?
### Tell me about a time when you demonstrated your trustworthiness or integrity in school or at work?
### Tell me about a time when you had to go above and beyond the call of duty to get a job done?
### Give me an example of a time when you had set a goal for yourself and tell me how you went about accomplishing it?
### Give me an example of a time when you were able to successfully communicate with another person even when that individual may not have personally liked you (or vice versa)?
### Describe a difficult workplace situation that you faced, and that you think you handled well. Then, tell me about a workplace situation that you don’t think you handled very well and what you could do differently?
### How many sick days have you taken from work in the past year?
So when I got the email asking for the money cards it still hurt. When I held the check it hurt, just looking at the number. It still hurts. I had hope. I was fucking stupid. It fucking hurts and I’m scared. I’m almost forty years old and I will have to borrow money from my mother. Jesus Christ, I’m too old to even suck dick.
Where are you, Okonkwo. Why did you do this to me. You didn’t take my money but you took my heart. And to the rest of you Craigslist employers too. Why can’t one of you be real and why can’t one of you real ones call me the fuck back. Dirty AIDS-ridden zebrafuckers.
delicioustacos 
Fuck you, you pussy. You are healthy, in your 30s, college educated, and a white male. You should have no problem getting a job.
Problem is that you don’t want to do real work or any manual labor. You think you are above that kind of work, and it’s for Mexicans. So instead you bitch and moan here like a faggot.
You deserve what you are getting. You didn’t appreciate the gold mine of an opportunity in your old job in Hollywood. People would have killed for your old job, and all you did was fuck it up.
Dumbshit.
Read this in Eastwood’s voice from Gran Torino.
I told you the same damn thing but you didn’t listen. You can find a job, just not one that fits the image you want to have of yourself. Which includes living in LA. Lose those hangups and the 99% of you that’s still there is alive and well and gainfully employed — and includes everything about you that isn’t an annoying asshole. However much that is, ha ha.
Or keep doubling down on failure until you finally commit suicide. Because, what, the impossible (for you (and me, thank fuck)) dream of becoming the kind of successful LA scum that you loathe is WORTH living a wretched life and dying young for? No. But isn’t that what you’re doing?
I threw boxes overnight at the post office when nobody was hiring software developers. Fuck you. You don’t have the brains to learn C++ and you think work’s not an option? You’re not a snowflake, blah blah.
That was the best comment ever written on this website. Everyone here whining about their job situation is a total pussy. The world isn’t here to serve you. No one is entitled to anything except what you earn and what are able to make out of nothing.
If you are smart, hard-working, and able, you would have made it by now.
If you aren’t, you are probably reading this website.
There are no jobs because you live in a socialist shithole. There’s a flood of people currently moving to Texas. Tons of jobs. Incredibly low housing costs. Have you even looked at Dallas or Austin? Nobody here is actually from Texas. (And this is the easy option. If you had any balls, you’d move to Cambodia, Mexico, Chile–I’m looking into these place myself as the US steadily marches into despotism.)
Try answering some Craigslist in Austin and Dallas and see what kind of response you get.
I would pay you to fallate me. NO HOMO. Put a thing on fiverr. It takes a village and stuff.
You’re not too old to suck dick, DT.
Whats your field? Take a shitty job until you get a good one, UPS, Fed Ex, restaurant, etc…
I can’t tell if you are extremely depressed or if this is a joke. Is geographic escape an option? Have any friends to crash with in Alaska? Are you charming enough to screw your way around the world?
What you are doing now doesn’t sound like it is working. Being unemployed can be really stressful but as soon as you get another job (and, unfortunately, you will), you will kick yourself for wasting all that unemployed time jerking off in front of the xbox when you could have done something besides be miserable without being paid for it.
Fuck these people here trying to tell you how to get a job. Your assessment of work is correct: it fucking sucks and is an abomination and an affront to mankind. You are also correct that soon nobody will have a job anyway, or no more than ten percent of us. Your instincts are correct. Why waste even a second looking for a job of any type.
I think you’re just making this too hard for yourself. You’ve spent months agonizing over this novel while ignoring the real problem, which is: You need some fucking money coming in, as soon as possible.
Happily you have lots of time on your hands. I say, follow James Altucher’s lead. Look at how he’s been successful in building a following and churning out a couple books on his own that have been profitable. You could do the same.
Why not spend a week or two writing a short book, something in the style of your blog posts here. Get it up on Amazon in Kindle format, pimp it out here and see how well it sells. You might be surprised. Either way, the risk is pretty small. Take a page from Bukowski, write thirty pages about ten of your best lays, price it at $3 and see what happens. (Better: Write about the ten pickup attempts you blew in the most spectacular fashion.) You have an audience that loves to read this kind of thing.
How about you compile a bunch of epilogues to your posts here. The one where you’re being trolled by a pictureless woman on OkCupid; virtually all the posts about girls you’ve dated—I would love to know how these things played out. Thirty pages, $3, put it on Amazon and see what happens.
Write a parody of a seduction manual. Weave in a few stories about girls you dated. You could make something like that hilarious.
My point is, instead of slaving away at your grand masterpiece you could be putting out writing now that sells. You have a loyal fanbase, you have a good platform here to promote your work. As much as I enjoyed reading this post, how about you stop wringing your hands over the situation and start actually selling the thing everyone loves to see from you.
Dude… it sounds like it’s time to fucking straight up LIE on your resume. You really have nothing to lose. Look for jobs you know you can do, but just don’t have the paper to back it. The internet has the answer to almost any question. I’m sure you could research some cushy job and bullshit your way in.
You seriously should get into editing or post-production….take some classes, use your charisma to buddy up with someone in the field, and go from there. My ex is a freelance editor and he says there’s so much work that he turs own jobsll the time. He makes $3500 a week for doing shitty MTV and Discovery Channel shows. You already know how to schmooze Hollywood style, I think this would be a good fit for you.
*turns down jobs all the time. Glitchy iPad…
I’ll give you 500 if you start writing a book.
You’re getting a lot of advice here, and yet I don’t remember you asking for any in the post.
I never ask for advice from anyone. I am always the giver of advice, which suits my inflated self-perception. Oh yes, I could solve anyone’s problems, no doubt.
Until I’m at the bottom of a deep hole. Then I start wriggling like a worm. Cringing. Crying for attention. Then the advice will come as by a force of nature. If you find yourself rolling on the ground in abject misery then certainly those stepping over you are always happy to throw off a few homilies.
But the advice given is always off in some way. Not quite meeting the situation. Not really helpful, so much as sanctimonious. Pretty soon I’m spitting upwards from my prone position at my advisers. “Thanks for nothing”, “Yes easy for you to say, have you ever actually cold-called for a job?”, “Move to where ? Why the fuck don’t you ?”.
Because what I really wanted was help, not advice. Something concrete.
And unfortunately I have no help to give you.
But I do have a little bit of advice.
When a man who blogs very frequently about the number of roots he gets (forgive my lapsing into slang, but I am Australian, and no other word quite fits the situation) falls down there will be a large number of people who enjoy his discomfiture. On the thread above me are a number of whited sepulchres of this type.
Ignore their barbs.
Remember that the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long – and you have burned so very, very brightly, You are the Prodigal Son, quite a prize! You have done questionable things and also extraordinary things, so revel in your time.
He didn’t ask for you to drone on about yourself either but there it is.
Blade Runner was a fag movie, you fag.
Which makes you a fag for recognising the quote.
I didn’t see any gay sex in the movie, you must have been watching the “Director’s Fag Cut”, you fag.
Leave LA, for God´s sake! It´s a pit of despair. Perhaps you can find a job back East or in the Midwest. Any kind of job. Then start working on tv/movie scripts on the side. And by all means put together all the junk you post here and make it available through Amazon, It will sell, believe me. Ask Roosh and Matt Forney for advice.
Haha…telling a great writer to take a construction job? Fucking fools. The only guys over 30 on a construction site are running the gig from the cab of a pickup truck. Real talk. He’d put a bullet in his head in a month, it’s not the kind of work anyone with brain cells wants to do. This guy writes too well to be humpin bags of concrete and stacks of shingles. DT….keep on writing. I wish I had time to work on my own blog here, but I put 70+ in a week myself, just to stay afloat.
You are not stupid.
I want to fuck your little pussy, Emily. You are so cute.
Me, too. I also want to stick my tongue, lips, fingers, dick, and whatever cylindrical objects I can find in my kitchen in your little pussy, Emily. You sound fucking insecure and DTF. Winning combination.
write your stupid book already so people can read things you’ve written without having to endure trollin ass commenters.
Your writings are one of the few reasons I don’t caress the trigger of my exit plan
Your writing is great when you’re not bitching about your pathetic financial situation. In fact, your chronic underemployment and unemployment may just be the catalyst for your writing ability. Food for thought anyway.
And then there’s you chasing pussy (and catching it) and getting fucked up every night for years on end. That’s been your real job, not whatever bullshit employment you’ve managed to scrape up over the years.
I’m quite mindful that the job situation is probably as shitty as it has ever been in this country but I’m also aware of your half assed approach to the whole making money thing too. You’re capable of more dignity than this drivel.
And at your age you aren’t likely to change your ways so why don’t you quit fucking around and embrace your alcoholic pursuit of pussy and write that great stuff again.
No,its actually still really good.
I like to think your limitations exceed a ceiling plastered in pussy and financial ruin: your words your mighty erection, your jizm worth its weight in gold. The roof stands no chance. You are right. You are overqualified.
Your capacity to write is hilarious, thoughtful, and vulnerable. I will buy the shit out of your book. Just find a way to coast through the misery in the meantime.
Slime Line. Alaska.
10k in 3 months NET, bc they pay room and board. then 4 months unemployment. go live in the 80% of the world that costs no more than $500/month to live well. you’ll save money. have all day to dick around and write.
you were born with a US passport. fucking gift most of the world would do anything for.