8 Chapter 8: Frustration

Fred was frustrated. He was searching for jobs, and next to each listing, there was a very red, very big NO.

Fred was looking at standard office jobs. Accountant, paralegal, salesman positions. He thought with his degree in math/economics, he would be able to get a white collar job.

He went to college for that, right?

But oddly enough, every position he looked at, Fred knew he wouldn't get the job.

He would look at the listing, and see the empty inbox. He could see himself making it to an interview here and there, and see a cellphone, not ringing.

Despite all these NO's, Fred kept searching. Desperately. He tried rewriting his resume to be more professional, to make himself look more hire-able. He even disregarded the NO's and sent in cover letters to various companies.

This went on for a week. Then two weeks. Then a month.

"Fred, an education without putting in the effort just results in a piece of paper called a degree."

"Fuck you."

"The present comes from the past, and the future comes from the present. Unfortunately, the past is that, the past. And what had you done, except pass the classes? No internships. No making connections. No worthwhile friends. No one to get references from."

"Shut up!"

"Fred. You must own your past, and yourself. Do you really think that getting that office job will solve all your problems? That it'll make you happy? That it'll make you someone, something?"

"..."

"It's just another job, Fred. Some pay less, some pay more. What's important, Fred, is what you do. How well you do it. And what you yourself think you're worth."

"That's just feelgood nonsense!" Fred shouted. "People judge you on how much money you make, and what career you have!"

"People like who? Rick? Or maybe, your parents? Fred, didn't you learn anything by seeing those futures? Your own future, that you cut away?"

"I..."

"Don't you see, Fred. Money. Jobs. Don't you see you have something greater than all that?"

Fred got up from his computer. He was hungry. And sick of listening to all this crap. He was going to the deli.

He saw a "HELP WANTED" sign in the front.

"Do you think you're too good to work at a deli?"

"No! Well, yes!"

"Fred, on what basis do you think you're too good to work at a deli? Your intelligence? Let me tell you, you aren't smart. Your educational background? Fred, you went to a community college. You never worked in your life. Might as well start somewhere."

Fred was distraught. But he couldn't refute the knife. It was true. All true. And next to the HELP WANTED sign, he saw a very big, very green, YES.

So, after ordering a sandwich, he asked if he could work at the deli.

He got the job.