Welcome to Unemployment! I will be your tour guide... Please remember to up your prozac dosage before proceeding.
Warning: People will treat you like a child again by not letting you handle sharp objects, drink too much NyQuil, ask you how many of those pills you are taking, and so on...
Narrative:
Your world has been flipped upside down. They stripped you of your security blanket, but everything is cool, because you have a plan.
Plan:
Day 1- Wake up at 6 AM. Workout for 45 minutes. Down a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and a protein shake. Get dressed (business casual), show up early to drop kids off at school and network with other working parents. Go submit 20 resumes to various companies.
Day 2 through 30- Repeat Day 1, Congratulations you've scored another seat in corporate hell.
Listen up!
What really happens:
Day 1- Alarm goes off at 6AM, WTF? You hit the snooze button 20 times. Each time you promised to be the last. Finally wake up at 8AM, hurry, hurry. Get the kids to school late. The word has spread of your job loss, because your awesome and you utilized everything from Facebook to LinkedIn to put the word out: "I need a freaking job, so that I can be normal again". The remaining parents, still mingling, always mingling, avoiding eye contact at all costs (cursing under your breath). They realize you clearly don't have your act together. You go have breakfast. Start hunting for jobs on your laptop and realize that there's a website for oldschool Nintendo games. "I've got to check this out, this is the type of stuff that will give me the cutting edge of computer savviness." 10:54AM no prospects, go turn in 2 resumes and return home for a much earned nap.
Day 2- You realize that you jumped the gun. You decide to take the day to collect your thoughts and ponder life. You watch TV for several hours. 2PM-sudden urge to be productive. You start deep cleaning the entire house. It's time to vacuum.
"Did you hear that," you ask your wife.
"No," she's lying and you know it.
"There it is again."
"I didn't hear anything dear," still lying, always lying.
"It seems like this vacuum has lost its suction power," you're talking to no one now. No one cares.
Panic enters your wife's face, and she goes to find her "How to Motivate Your Unemployed Spouse" pamphlet from the local non-profit.
You tear apart 3 different junk drawers until you find your stop watch, and run to the garage with watch and vacuum in hands. Start timer... disassemble vacuum. 8mins 37secs, your desk job made you sloppy. You are dumbfounded by the size of the tiny motor. "Now that just won't do. No wonder this vacuum sucks." You tweet your new joke, then hit up Google. 2 hours later you've narrowed down a propane powered, indoor safe weed-whacker engine. There will need to be a slight modification to the vacuum in order to fit this new engine. No problem...
You go to the checkout page. You don't have an account at this site. The thought of finding your credit card and entering 16 digits, is mortifying. You're exhausted. Take a nap on the couch, you earned it.
Day 3- 7:30AM, still on the couch. Kids are poking you with Barbie legs and snapping your eyelids.
Child #2- "You look sick Daddy, is that why you aren't at work?"
Child #1- "You're face is real hairy, is that why you slept on the couch?"
The cycle of none sense repeats. Always repeating...
Day 10- You've submitted 6 resumes total. 2PM you return from a walk.
(Unknown ambush waiting for you. Always unknown).
Enter House and feel creepy aura.
Enter extended family and in-laws, chameleon style. They take center stage. Why do they all have folding chairs? You must be dreaming.
You're trapped- Guerilla Intervention. This is not a dream soldier, nor is it a drill. Sloppy again. Always sloppy.
They tell you how worried they are. Oh how your dreams of running your own business, becoming a writer, and finally beating Super Mario Brothers 3 have the appearance of zero productivity ! Worried faces everywhere. Fake and phony everywhere. Everywhere phake and fony. Dizzy now.
Always dizzy.
You piece it together. The kids have been sharing stories with you all week, about famous business men and celebrities who worked at McDonalds and Burger King when times are tough. Always asking your opinion. Asking always. Don't blame the kids though, at this age their loyalty is compromised with out them even knowing it.
Phake and Fony.
Your wife hands you a gift. Open gift. Open. It's a portfolio bound in phake leather (times are tough). Open portfolio. Open. Inside you find a stack of job applications for fast food and retail chains. Feeling dizzier. Always dizzy. Dizzy...
Enter idea... Enter bad idea... Enter last resort, bad idea... Always with the entering. Always...
Self-preservation now:
Fight or Flight? Right you are...
Without saying a thing you walk out the door. Exit. Enter car. You drive to the local grocery store. It's real busy, Perfect! Enter store, yelling expletives. Always yelling. You knock over the promotional items. You hate low prices, you hate hight prices. "Where are the medium, not some premium, not so crappy prices?" You carry on a heated debate with Peanut Butter. Economy size makes you frown. You had an idea for sandwiches once, what was it? Where's the Lucky Charms? You start shouting some more "I'm a leprechaun, I'm a leprechaun!" "Where are me Lucky Charms!" Tony the Tiger is laughing at you "Tricks are for kids," says Tony. Your mad at all cereal, it has nothing to do with race. You claim that your grandfather built the store with his bare hands. His store, his hands. Your store now. His legend.
Enter Police
Enter Straight Jacket
Enter Padded Room
Enter Sedatives
Enter devious smile. Evil laughing in your head. Always evil...
You showed them all!
Nobody puts baby in the corner... Patrick Swayze visits you. You rehearse scenes from Roadhouse. You play chess. Jason Bourne vs. Patrick Swayze. Bourne 50; Swayze 3.
Cinnamon Bears and Diet Pepsi at your side.
Life is great...
Life is Always Great...
Warning: People will treat you like a child again by not letting you handle sharp objects, drink too much NyQuil, ask you how many of those pills you are taking, and so on...
Narrative:
Your world has been flipped upside down. They stripped you of your security blanket, but everything is cool, because you have a plan.
Plan:
Day 1- Wake up at 6 AM. Workout for 45 minutes. Down a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and a protein shake. Get dressed (business casual), show up early to drop kids off at school and network with other working parents. Go submit 20 resumes to various companies.
Day 2 through 30- Repeat Day 1, Congratulations you've scored another seat in corporate hell.
Listen up!
What really happens:
Day 1- Alarm goes off at 6AM, WTF? You hit the snooze button 20 times. Each time you promised to be the last. Finally wake up at 8AM, hurry, hurry. Get the kids to school late. The word has spread of your job loss, because your awesome and you utilized everything from Facebook to LinkedIn to put the word out: "I need a freaking job, so that I can be normal again". The remaining parents, still mingling, always mingling, avoiding eye contact at all costs (cursing under your breath). They realize you clearly don't have your act together. You go have breakfast. Start hunting for jobs on your laptop and realize that there's a website for oldschool Nintendo games. "I've got to check this out, this is the type of stuff that will give me the cutting edge of computer savviness." 10:54AM no prospects, go turn in 2 resumes and return home for a much earned nap.
Day 2- You realize that you jumped the gun. You decide to take the day to collect your thoughts and ponder life. You watch TV for several hours. 2PM-sudden urge to be productive. You start deep cleaning the entire house. It's time to vacuum.
"Did you hear that," you ask your wife.
"No," she's lying and you know it.
"There it is again."
"I didn't hear anything dear," still lying, always lying.
"It seems like this vacuum has lost its suction power," you're talking to no one now. No one cares.
Panic enters your wife's face, and she goes to find her "How to Motivate Your Unemployed Spouse" pamphlet from the local non-profit.
You tear apart 3 different junk drawers until you find your stop watch, and run to the garage with watch and vacuum in hands. Start timer... disassemble vacuum. 8mins 37secs, your desk job made you sloppy. You are dumbfounded by the size of the tiny motor. "Now that just won't do. No wonder this vacuum sucks." You tweet your new joke, then hit up Google. 2 hours later you've narrowed down a propane powered, indoor safe weed-whacker engine. There will need to be a slight modification to the vacuum in order to fit this new engine. No problem...
You go to the checkout page. You don't have an account at this site. The thought of finding your credit card and entering 16 digits, is mortifying. You're exhausted. Take a nap on the couch, you earned it.
Day 3- 7:30AM, still on the couch. Kids are poking you with Barbie legs and snapping your eyelids.
Child #2- "You look sick Daddy, is that why you aren't at work?"
Child #1- "You're face is real hairy, is that why you slept on the couch?"
The cycle of none sense repeats. Always repeating...
Day 10- You've submitted 6 resumes total. 2PM you return from a walk.
(Unknown ambush waiting for you. Always unknown).
Enter House and feel creepy aura.
Enter extended family and in-laws, chameleon style. They take center stage. Why do they all have folding chairs? You must be dreaming.
You're trapped- Guerilla Intervention. This is not a dream soldier, nor is it a drill. Sloppy again. Always sloppy.
They tell you how worried they are. Oh how your dreams of running your own business, becoming a writer, and finally beating Super Mario Brothers 3 have the appearance of zero productivity ! Worried faces everywhere. Fake and phony everywhere. Everywhere phake and fony. Dizzy now.
Always dizzy.
You piece it together. The kids have been sharing stories with you all week, about famous business men and celebrities who worked at McDonalds and Burger King when times are tough. Always asking your opinion. Asking always. Don't blame the kids though, at this age their loyalty is compromised with out them even knowing it.
Phake and Fony.
Your wife hands you a gift. Open gift. Open. It's a portfolio bound in phake leather (times are tough). Open portfolio. Open. Inside you find a stack of job applications for fast food and retail chains. Feeling dizzier. Always dizzy. Dizzy...
Enter idea... Enter bad idea... Enter last resort, bad idea... Always with the entering. Always...
Self-preservation now:
Fight or Flight? Right you are...
Without saying a thing you walk out the door. Exit. Enter car. You drive to the local grocery store. It's real busy, Perfect! Enter store, yelling expletives. Always yelling. You knock over the promotional items. You hate low prices, you hate hight prices. "Where are the medium, not some premium, not so crappy prices?" You carry on a heated debate with Peanut Butter. Economy size makes you frown. You had an idea for sandwiches once, what was it? Where's the Lucky Charms? You start shouting some more "I'm a leprechaun, I'm a leprechaun!" "Where are me Lucky Charms!" Tony the Tiger is laughing at you "Tricks are for kids," says Tony. Your mad at all cereal, it has nothing to do with race. You claim that your grandfather built the store with his bare hands. His store, his hands. Your store now. His legend.
Enter Police
Enter Straight Jacket
Enter Padded Room
Enter Sedatives
Enter devious smile. Evil laughing in your head. Always evil...
You showed them all!
Nobody puts baby in the corner... Patrick Swayze visits you. You rehearse scenes from Roadhouse. You play chess. Jason Bourne vs. Patrick Swayze. Bourne 50; Swayze 3.
Cinnamon Bears and Diet Pepsi at your side.
Life is great...
Life is Always Great...
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