I wrote this while in my boxers

So week three of the temp job is going along nicely. It’s late tonight, and I haven’t blogged in a while. Wife is sleeping, dreaming poorly if history is any indication. Lots of things going on, and I don’t know how to organize it all into a coherent blog from the heart.

Temping. I have to say that I have truly enjoyed the mind-numbing trudgery that is my temp job for the past 2 and a half weeks. Mostly, I spend my days cutting and pasting from one document to another. Sometimes, I go in and fix html code. Sometimes, I create excel documents on what information is missing. Sometimes, I read over pages and pages of numbers to make sure that they are all correct. But, I’m getting paid for the first time in a long time, and that’s nice. I got to work overtime last week by going in Saturday. Time and a half kicks ass.

Not to complain about getting hung with a new rope, but it hasn’t made hunting for a permanent position easier. I now spend my few hours not working and not trying to tackle the laundry or keeping connected with the wife by applying to jobs. I’m still up for a couple, that said they would call two weeks ago. I send emails every 6 days to see if they are progressing. Nothing.

On Thursday, I went in for an interview at Sears. The internet link led me to believe it was the first of two such interviews, but I was hired after 20 minutes. For $6 an hour plus commission.

I’ve never been a proud person. I’ve worked shit jobs for shit pay and had no problem doing it. I lived for 2 and a half years in a 2 room apartment that had a bathroom in the main hallway, and with no shower where I had to sit in a tub and pour water on my head with a bucket because the tub was too small. I’m pretty sure my neighbor was cooking meth every night too.

But there was no mention of benefits. There was almost an expectation on the interviewers part that I would say no. “Do you have any problems with what I’ve said so far?” was a common question.  Then I was told to get a drug test in the next two days, regardless of what my availability was. The drug testing place was only open 9-4, and on the other end of the metro area. I already had work scheduled for the temp job where I get more than twice what I would earn at Sears.

So now came one of those moments. Those decisions that will haunt you no matter which way you choose.

Left: a soul-sucking job that I woudn’t enjoy, that wouldn’t help with the bills that have already piled up, that would be a large step backward, keep me away from the wife, and horrible to be around when I was with her, and my job hunt would be curtailed for who knows how long.

Right: A soul-sucking joblessness that continues to eat what little remains of my self esteem and self worth. Temp work that isn’t reliable.

A long weekend and lots of soul searching and conversations led us to me not going in for the drug testing. I have an interview Friday to do a similar job to the caretaking thing I did for 8 months after grad school – watching people with disabilities to make sure they are OK. I didn’t mind the work then, and would be happy to do it again. It also pays a shitton better, if not as well as I got in Fargo.

Here’s what keeps me going, in all the darkness. I just need a yes.

One yes.

I’ve been asking for that yes for six months now. And wading through rejection after rejection.

But One. Just one and both wife and I will have full time jobs for the first time in our relationship. We dream of paying bills when they come in the mail, instead of waiting until the last possible day. It’s a small dream, but its ours.

One yes and we will be able to finally take part in some of the events that the Twin Cities has to offer.

One yes, and we can start the long road of recovery back to not having to raid the change jar to pay for gas to get to an interview. To not having to craigslist items to get by for another week.

One yes and our world changes.

That’s what I hang on to.