now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over

I awoke only to find my lungs empty
and through the night, so it seems I'm not breathing.
and now my dreams are not what they were meant to be 

I'm listening to really good acoustic guitar and thinking about that summer I couldn't find a job. After going everywhere from Babies-R-Us to Carvel to random office jobs that didn't want to hire a 16 year old, I settled on something with red flags written all over it. Out of desperation, I accepted a position in an "entry level sales" job.

This 'lucky break' was for some AT&T affiliated company. It touted "management training" to draw suckers like me without job experience, and was one of the closest examples of exploitative labor I've experienced (short of migrant farming or shipping myself off to work in a Nike factory for pennies a day. Maybe dimes, since I'm an American.)

This was back in the pre-car and pre-license days, when I'd walk a mile to the park just so I could go running. So, I had to find my own way there--and it was completely out of the way.* It was the first time I had to take public transportation and find my way around a city I lived in my whole life. The complete lack of efficiency of the PB transportation system still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. There's nothing like waiting outside for an hour just so your bus ride can take another two hours to get a measly 7 miles uptown.

The bus experience was only the beginning. I had my first day, where things seemed legitimate enough (I think I knew better, though). And then I lasted another two weeks before I called it quits. I spent those two weeks walking door-to-door in the middle of summer (95 degrees at least)--in dress clothes and nice shoes, for that matter. It was tiring, de-moralizing, and I wasn't good at it.

Even though I ran away from this as fast as I could, probably screaming and flailing violently, I'm proud of myself for trying it. I was completely intimidated by it (and the idea of 'selling things') and I was even more terrified to talk to people. And it showed.  In a weird way, sometimes feel like I'm still that same scared little person-- trying to feel professional and legitimate and force myself into different boxes and letting my fear get the best of me.

I'm thinking about this now because I wonder if I could do that sort of thing again. If I've changed enough to not let my intimidation get the best of me, to keep going even if that stupid voice in my head telling me I'm not good enough won't shut its big mouth.





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 *Normally, I would just walk places out of the intense delusional need to exercise (or just move) and probably slight-masochistic tendency to push my tolerance for the heat.