Credit-wrecking broke. Now I have to get a real job. I got hooked up with a recruiting agency. They represent “cool” companies. You sound “cool” if you work there. Squinting into spreadsheets just like the Fonz. Silicon Valley related shit, which means they pay you a fuckload of money to answer a phone. 65 grand a year plus OT, which is a king’s ransom to me. I’d be wearing suits made of gold and smoking fine cigars. For me fast living is buying two pints in a bar at four bucks a pop instead of pounding a pint of hobo brandy outside and then drinking water. Fast living is getting the brakes fixed on the car, instead of hoping you don’t have to stop fast. Fast living is not waiting until you’re getting five collection calls a day from Verizon, five collection calls a day from Time Warner. A text from Progressive saying “We’re sorry you decided not to stay with us.” You’re meant to say “WAIT! I NEVER MEANT TO LEAVE YOU, HERE’S MONEY!” This is Verizon Wireless with important information regarding a change to your account. Market researched words. Words that made the most lab monkeys press the button. Important information regarding a change to your account: give us money.
Fast living. Medical, dental and vision benefits I will never use. Only time I need a doctor is for an STD test and porn won’t take one from your primary care physician anyway. Pay with your life so you can say “I work at (X COMPANY YOU HAVE HEARD OF).” Wow, the women will say. Let’s fuck. Of course, this has never happened. I work hustling cold calls in the desert now and I still get laid. More than when I worked for a “cool “ production company, a “cool” talent agency, hobnobbed with movie stars. I was so miserable they would ask “what do you do” and I couldn’t answer.
It should pay you enough to live to be a stockboy. It should pay you enough to live to deliver the paper. It should pay you enough to live to work 30 hours a week but it doesn’t. Productivity is high. But inflation is low, they say. The cost of living is better than ever. They don’t count fuel, housing, healthcare and education. TV’s are cheaper than they were in 1952, therefore inflation is low. TV’s are cheaper because they’re made offshore by child slaves. Pork butt used to cost 69 cents a pound, now it’s buck 99 and they still torture the pigs. But inflation is low. A house where I live costs half a million dollars. I know, I know. Learn to fix toilets. Move to Detroit. A house only costs ten grand if it’s near black people.
I’m afraid I will actually get one of these jobs. Work a twelve hour day. Not get home in time to let the cat in. He’ll get eaten by a coyote. I’m afraid I’ll have to give a fuck about CoolCorp’s product development, CoolCorp’s social media strategy. That I will have to be enthusiastic about peddling bullshit and synergy and etc. Don’t wear a suit to the interview, they told me. They’re afraid I’m too square because I shaved and combed my hair back. Motherfucker I smoked black tar with a hobo off a Philly cheese steak wrapper, who the fuck you calling square. But the new money people, the new gray people– they don’t want to look like gray people. The marketing is my passion people, the weekend parasurfers with new Audis and eyeglasses that cost a month’s rent. They want to be cool guys. They want to look like the hipsters in ads. Good God don’t let me end up there.
But then again: that fucking check. 65 grand a year plus OT and from what I’m told the OT is generous. After all you’re sleeping under your fucking desk. They provide a special cot designed in Sweden.