Breakthroughs
I hate applying to jobs. It's the worst feeling. I just assume they’re going to say no to me. Fueling this rampant fear of rejection that has followed me for far too long. I tell all my friends to apply. To take risks. To believe in yourself. Yet I'm the biggest baby when it comes to putting myself out there. I wear black yoga pants on the daily. Enjoy the ego boost of going to Walmart and looking around. I'm basically an insecure Karen in the making. I sabotage myself. I don’t give myself enough sleep. I don't prepare for shit. But the truth is I've been hurt. I interviewed at two Trader Joes, and both times they told me I was for sure hired. The person was laughing with me. I had another interview at a very high end hotel, where I literally played therapist for the CEO, where he told me the ins-and-outs of his long distance relationship. Yet I didn't get the job. I think I'm smart. I think I'm kind. I think I'm hard working. And the saddest story of them all. Yogurtland turned me down. It's frightening because I really do believe in myself, yet I keep getting doors closed in my face. YOGURTLAND!!!!!! Where is the justice in the world?! I give my heart and soul to people. I'm a people's-princess. Yet I keep getting Charles!!! Fuck Charles!
To make matters even worse, I didn't even win my work costume competition. I lost to a $14.99 Amazon Princess Leia costume. I painted my whole face green. I don't know how to change this narrative. Why do I consistently get the bad end of the stick? Why does it feel like every job I have is surrounded by simple minded robots with no soul and no charisma. Like I'm prettier! I'm wittier!
I used to see these somewhat interesting guys date these bland one dimensional Laurens. I would have these amazing conversations with guys. Make them laugh. Wow them with my banter. Yet they would never see me. I was forever the “friend.” And have to see them make feeble conversations with girls named Sara. But I’m older now. I don't hate the women. I hate men. They chose someone that wouldn’t challenge them. They chose to be with someone who fits the mold. It's a weak man who chooses the younger, shorter, barfbag. It's not her fault that the world taught her to be normal. She learned that lesson better than I ever could. She has the grace that can take orders.
But I'm walking away. I'm walking on by. I'm going to apply to places. I'm giving myself a chance. To find someone/some job that respects me. That sees me.
