I actually got a response from a job application. it was an automated rejection. somehow that is better than getting no response at all.

As much as I don’t want to, I decided to also look back into jobs in my previous industry. I feel sick about it, but this is my “hail mary” play before I basically call it a life. Came across a company from said industry that was hiring for the exact position I held previously and actually enjoyed. To add to that, a person I have a longstanding work history with is in executive leadership there. I got their number from someone, because I somehow didn’t have their number in my own phone anymore. I wanted to see if I could somehow mention them in my cover letter, because white collar jobs don’t exactly have a reference section on the application; this isn’t a gas station or fast-food restaurant, which I have applied to and been turned down for. I had to explain to my mom that “career” jobs don’t have paper applications with a reference section on them. There was no way to say that without sounding like a dick, but it doesn’t matter; there’s a finite number of times we’ll talk going forward anyway and I have a much better idea of that number than she does, but I’m usually wrong, so who knows.

Anyway, I texted said person over the weekend and re-introduced myself, since I assumed that they also didn’t have my number, but I have zero doubt that they know exactly who I am, since they were the person who hired me at my first job in that industry and we worked closely over 8 years at said company, and even were at another company for a brief period before they left. I made it a point to mention that they took a chance on me before when they hired me into that role without prior experience in the industry, the first person at the time for that company, and I’d like to think that their belief in me was well-placed. I say that because I was promoted up through the ranks pretty quickly there and well, I’m desperate. I know it was probably unprofessional to try and pull at heart strings in that situation, but I’m grasping at straw. I’m an emotional person. I said that if they were not comfortable with me using their name in the cover letter (the company can see that we are 1st connections on that facebook for work website anyway, which is how I found the job posting, so they can connect the dots anyway) that I would still be applying because I believe I’m the ideal candidate, but I just won’t directly mention them unless asked. I get it if they don’t want me to mention their name, even though I’ve only made this person look smart for hiring me in the past, because some people are just very protective of their personal brand. The worst thing that could happen is that they just ghost me and never respond to my well-written and thoughtful text to them. Guess what happened? Yep. Silence.

I went ahead and applied for the position anyway and wrote my cover letter without directly mentioning them but did note my experience working with senior and executive level leadership, including one who currently works at said company. Fuck it. Don’t like me saying that? Respond to my fucking text message. The person I got the phone number from, who was my previous boss at the last company I was at (and also worked with me at the company before that one), said, “let me know if there’s anything I can do, man.” I reminded them for maybe the third or fourth time that they could write a recommendation for me on the aforementioned website. I asked if it would just be easier if I created an infographic that walked them through the process of recommending someone and they said, “well, it can’t be that difficult, right?” What I wanted to say is, “obviously it is for you because you still haven’t done it,” but I just said that if I have it spelled out, then all they have to do is follow the instructions. I found an even easier way to get it done: I just went to their profile and requested that they recommend me for the two roles at the last company. I went ahead and emailed the person a couple article links on tips for writing recommendations and followed up with a text saying that I sent the recommendations to them. After I concluded that I was getting ghosted by that one person, I texted the person whose recommendations I’m trying to get and said that I hate putting pressure on them, but I need the recommendations taken care of because I stated on my cover letter that I have recommendations from my last two direct managers to speak to both my character and ability. They said they’ll “check those out the next couple days”. I flat out said that I put on my cover letter that this person has published a recommendation of me, which currently makes me a liar, and their response is that they’ll get to it in the next couple days. Why does nobody take me seriously or respect me? It’s beyond that…. It seems that most people are actively working against me. I hope they soon live to regret their decisions to treat me that way, but I can’t control how they will respond, emotionally.

I also finally nuked a person who had been lying to me about their ability to help me get into a particular company. Early last week, they texted me in a panic, telling me that their boss just quit and now they think they’re going to lose their job because when we worked at the same company a few years ago, they lost their job a few months after getting a new boss. I only responded with, “well… different company”, but I wanted to say so much more. Have some fucking perspective. The person is making six figures for basically just stealing oxygen and they think they’re going to get some sympathy or empathy from someone who is literally about to have a checking account balance of -$238.79 after my car insurance and family mobile phone plan payments (my mother and two siblings also on it) come out. I mean, maybe I’ll still have the $68.21 in it and the payments will just flat out get rejected…. I don’t know how this works. Later in the week, when that person decided to write me about this ridiculous project of theirs that they keep trying to rope me into, I told them that I thought more about their panic text and had some thoughts/feedback on it, but I wasn’t going to just give it to them unsolicited, however, if they wanted the feedback, I had it. They chose to get the feedback. Just because I feel like it, I’m going to put the entire message below:

Well, I think that it’s completely irrational that thinking because your boss quit, that you are going to end up getting fired by the new one. that happened at [previous company], not [their current company].

Also, what does that say about the belief in your ability to do the job you were hired for if you think that a new boss will fire you? Is the only reason you are still there because that boss was coddling/protecting you? If you are competent and confident in your ability to perform the job you were hired to do, who gives a shit who the new boss is? do your job and you stay employed. If you feel deep down that the only reason you are still there is because your previous boss, who just quit, was protecting you, then you should probably focus on getting better at the job. If you feel like you are good at what you do, and the results prove it, who cares who the new boss is?

I have to admit that it’s incredibly frustrating and insulting to me that I have supreme confidence in my ability to do any of the jobs that I’ve applied for at [person’s current company], but none of the recruiters fucking believe in me, yet they somehow believe in you. Yes, you did lie or at the very least embellish on your resume, but they obviously never did their due diligence or any fact checking, but you got in. I absolutely believe that I can perform whatever job it is that you do there and even do it better than you can. I have quantifiable evidence of my previous work achievements that have been publicly backed by previous bosses, so that’s not a personal attack, simply an objective statement of fact. And if I don’t know how to do it as well as you on day one, I certainly would be able to do it and run laps around you within a month or two. Somehow, they believe that you are a way better fit and far more qualified than I am to do the job, yet you are shaking in your boots because you have a new boss and don’t seem to have any confidence in your own ability.

Dude, I have been unemployed for over a year and a half; the universe and every company is screaming to me that I’m not good enough for them or anyone, yet I believe I can perform the job if only given a chance to prove myself. how is it that nobody fucking believes in me, and I still have more confidence than you do? You have a company that has clearly stated that they believe in you by the sheer fact that they hired you and wouldn’t even give me a second interview. I know that you have been talking to recruiters at your company because you’re trying to move into a different spot there and that’s a big concern for me because it looks like you think that you’re on thin ice or something, but you have two things that I do not: a company that believed in you enough to hire you and a fucking paycheck.

Yes, this is harsh and reading this will upset or anger you. You need to start having some confidence in your fucking ability to do the job or start working harder to get better at it if you truly believe that you need an empathetic/protective boss to keep you employed.

You belong in that position because they chose you. You belong because of the fact that you are actually there. Act accordingly. You’re better than that, man.

Me

I don’t believe the last paragraph of that text, but I had to end it that way because I know how fragile the person is. What I wanted to say is that I want to fucking die every day but can’t muster up the energy to get rid of all of my browsing history, emails, texts, pics, apps, accounts, and other things (both digital and physical) that will make other people really uncomfortable to learn about me after I’m gone and they stumble upon something. And that every day, when I pop more and more xanax to deal with my crippling anxiety, it is only making the prospect of going out cleanly and peacefully even more difficult to pull off because the stockpile will eventually run too low to do the job… and I have to listen to someone who lied to get a six-figure job that they are completely unqualified for, cry to me about how a new boss somehow means they’re going to lose their job. Fuck off. To steal a dark line from an otherwise funny movie, I’m so fucking broke that I couldn’t even, “buy a bullet and rent a gun”. This person’s problems are so meaningless to me that to even respond to them is a fucking joke. If you’re curious, they took the feedback decently.

Two lessons for anyone reading this:

1. Always say that you have feedback for the person and ask if they want it. Never just give someone the feedback without their permission. That way they can’t hold it against you later if they don’t like what they heard. They will usually say they want the feedback, because curiosity almost always wins. Admittedly, I often will say I don’t want the feedback. If you know me personally, you’ve probably gotten this response from me.
2. If you believe that what you’re saying or about to say is going elicit an emotional response, don’t say something like, “no offense, but…” or “this might [emotion/feeling] you” or anything like that. Call it out. Flat out say “this is going to piss you off”. Allow them to brace for impact. This is the one time where it’s great to be wrong about your assumption. Either you were right, and you set the right expectation, or you were wrong, and they were preparing for something much worse.

Look at you! You learned something useful by reading this. Don’t say I never taught you anything or never provided something useful to your life.

Apparently, I’ve had a lot of visitors to my site here recently, and it doesn’t seem like it’s one particular person who is constantly checking it to see if I’m writing something, which means that I’m still alive (as far as I know, ghosts can’t use keyboards). I mean, I think it would be interesting to train an AI chatbot to continue writing as me, long after I unplug. Just give it my life story, have it analyze my writing style (AI has described it previously as stream-of-consciousness, self-deprecating, and some other things that I can’t remember), and then give it some parameters to what it can and cannot write about, then automate it to post every N number of days. That would be too obvious because I don’t ever write every day. Maybe every N +X number of days, where N = 1 and X is a range from 5-30 days (for any science person, I am most certainly not an “N of 1” person, though I wish I were, at least in a positive way). I could live on until the subscription for this site ends. I’m on an annual plan, so really, this will likely end November 11th when my subscription ends, but if I wanted to dump the remainder of my checking account, I could pre-pay for another year and go on that way. I could even give the AI bot key dates, like my birthday, anniversaries of events that took place in my life. Such anniversaries to make for topics would have been yesterday, which would have been my 13th wedding anniversary, or today, which would be the 14th anniversary of my marriage proposal. Coincidentally, the internet tells me that today is also “Talk Like a Pirate Day”. I don’t know how I never knew that coincided with my proposal anniversary. I could mention other anniversaries like first kisses with people, first “other things” with people, death of people, hiring anniversaries, getting laid off, or whatever I wanted. It would already be able to figure out what I would say about it, or at least the style in which I would write when reflecting on said topics. Immortality for the low cost of $48 a year. Well, it’s not immortality if I only could get one more year out of it, since that payment would bounce if I tried to prepay for two years. Last I checked, 96 > 68.21, certainly greater than -238.79.

Funny story there, I always struggled with the greater than and less than symbols in fifth grade, when my class was taught about them. I remember the teacher always saying something about the < and > symbols being like an alligator eating a number. My mind couldn’t comprehend this concept. I couldn’t visualize it. To me, why was it that only something large could eat something small? Have you ever seen a piranha? They’re small but can eat something much larger than them. I worked up the nerve to raise my hand and go up to the board and explain a better way to do it. I’ll take advantage of the surface tablet to show you:

If you can’t tilt it and spell “Less than”, then the symbol is greater than. If you can spell it, read it to yourself to determine if the statement is or is not true, then you have the answer. A couple days later, during a conference that included my parents and teacher, I was invited to join the school district’s “Odyssey of the Mind” team. Public schools in Northern New York must have really low standards because look at me now, thirty something years later, just waiting for the right moment to do an irish goodbye because employers don’t think I’m good enough and I have nobody in my life. Yeah, yeah, I have people in my life. I have you! But either I don’t know who you even are or what I have with you isn’t enough or maybe you’re someone I know who reads this and I don’t even like you. It’s possible. The more I think about it, I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a wellness check from the local cops, which is only going to make things worse for me. Sure, let’s just add to the shame and disappointment and worthlessness I already feel by making a scene and having a cruiser roll up to my shitty apartment community and everyone crack open their doors to listen in. A friend (an actual friend, not a “friend”) texted me and said, “Hi there. No need to reply, but just wanted to say that I’m thinking of ya”. I didn’t reply. It wasn’t personal. I’m kind of past having a friend to talk to. I’m starting to understand the mind of someone near the end. Even someone who sincerely might care can’t do anything after a certain point, because there’s such pain involved in even talking about the feelings of despair and listlessness that silence just seems like the best course of action. 3 hours and 53 minutes later, my mom called even though I had talked to her less than a day prior. I know these two people are friends on social media, so I wonder if this person wrote her to say that they texted me and I didn’t respond, so my mom called to confirm signs of life and reported back. I haven’t heard back from that person since they last texted me 6 days ago, so they either were satisfied by my mom saying I answered her call, don’t care to try texting again, don’t care to get in their car and come see me because nobody wants to drive the 45-60 minutes it takes the few friends I have to get here, or have just given up on me. I don’t blame them if they chose any of those options. I’m aware that I’m pushing people away and that makes me a hypocrite, but having someone just to talk to isn’t enough anymore.

I called my dad (and his wife) earlier today to have a nice avoidant conversation about this past week in college and professional football. They didn’t answer. If they call me back and astoundingly ask me anything close to “what are you up to?”, I’ll say that I’m looking for jobs because I’m about to have a negative account balance for the first time since my mid 20s. I’m sure I’ll get a “you’ll figure it out.” or maybe something even more encouraging like, “you’ll figure it out. you always do.” How would they even know? I’ve been a ghost for years and even when I wasn’t, they never cared enough to ask how my life was going. Yes, I will be saying that part about looking for a job and my account balance in a futile attempt for help; the kind of bad help that I talked about before. The kind of help that only prolongs the suffering. Fuck it. What else do I even have to lose at this point? Absolutely nothing. My mom already said that my stepdad isn’t going to help me next month when rent is due, and I can’t even get to that point this month without needing help. It’s not that he isn’t financially able to help, but this is a “tough love” thing I imagine. The joke is on them. If they care to have me exist in their life, I need their help (even that’s no guarantee because no employer wants me to exist in their company). And I mean that quite literally when I say exist and I mean that in the physical sense. I told my mom about the situation with the job I applied for in my previous industry, thinking that it will somehow show initiative or something, not that I haven’t been trying anyway, but maybe the constant communication about progress will endear me to them enough to garner additional loaned financing, because I still insist that I will not take a gift. It’s like when I was on unemployment a long time ago and they make you check in online and list all the jobs you applied for and the websites you used to find them. If you don’t document it for the State, they won’t give you money.

As I write this, I’m realizing more and more that money isn’t the answer. Like I said, it only prolongs my suffering. I need a reason to exist. I need a reason to want to wake up the next day, even if it’s something as soulless as improving a company’s profit margins. I currently have no reason to continue to exist or anybody to live for. Like I’ve mentioned before about setting myself on fire to keep others warm, while I know it’s a terrible way to live, it gave me a sense of purpose or duty. Even in my doomed marriage, it gave me a sense of meaning and purpose; a reason to exist because I was needed. I don’t know if I was always wanted (and sadly after an admittedly short time I certainly did not want them), but I was always needed or at least felt that I was needed. Feeling like I was needed was enough. Sure, that kept me from pursuing my dreams and living a happy life for myself for years and years, but I mean… what have I done in the 7+ years since then anyway? I have a macabre magnet on my fridge that says, “all my dreams are dead!”, but I don’t even know that I have any dreams to begin with. I’m sure I did at one point in my life, right? Everyone’s had at least one, I imagine. I’m not living a happy life either, clearly. I haven’t been consistently happy since maybe 3rd-6th grade. I’ve had short spurts of happiness that stretched for a few months at most, and countless fleeting happy moments, but I’m not living a happy life.

I don’t know why I even care. The people in my life aren’t enough and what’s really going to happen after I’m gone? There would be some people who are shocked and some who saw this coming from a mile away. The people who end up having to clean out my apartment will probably get a little sad, either from memories or things I have or shock at something I have (I’m sure I’ll forget to throw out something or not realize how awkward it would be for someone else to know I have something), but surrounded by the very few things I still possess will make them feel a certain way; I have a few moving boxes and tape lying around at least and most of my stuff has been boxed up in a closet for years, so I’ve done part of the work for them (you’re welcome for that). After that, what? The first couple weeks that follow will be sad for some, and the first couple years of notable family holidays will be a little more awkward than usual, but maybe it will somehow make them appreciate each other more. After that, what? I’m forgotten, save for a few people who might remember something that happened on a certain date on a calendar. Sure, there will be people who claim they cared/liked/loved me more than they really did, but hopefully someone calls them out on it, because that’s what I would truly want. I don’t want to end up being remembered through some fucking tattoo, either blatantly with my name or initials, some design that represents something to do with me, or of something that makes you think of me – I want none of that, but I can’t control it. I’d rather have someone smile or cry when they hear a song or watch a scene from a show or movie, or even hear some quote or lyric from any of those things. Thankfully the culture in which I was raised does not believe in remembrance airbrushed t-shirts or car window decals, so I don’t have to worry about that. If I wasn’t thought about while I was around, don’t go out of your way to show everyone that you thought about me once the lights went out. I don’t want to be the equivalent of a post-9/11 flag decal on your car.

Most of my life I’ve been just in survival mode, just hunkering down and trying to weather the storm, believing that sunnier days await if I could just hold on tight a little bit longer. There’s no ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds and the rain isn’t about to let up. My hands and fingers are tired, both figuratively and literally.