Chapter 312.

Chapter 312.Chapter 312. My Birthday: Interview. (3/4)

It was on this day that my search for a nonexistent part-time job where I didn’t have to do anything began. It would no doubt be a long and arduous journey of discovery. Especially when I was too lazy to write cover letters and tailor my resume for the positions. At the end of the day, I was a lazy bastard. Even when I tailored my resume to the positions and wrote cover letters, it typically didn’t do much for me in the past.

I always lost out to women or attractive social guys. The world was harshest to the gloomy-looking guys who were social misfits. Appearance and sociability were everything. These days, employers even screen people through social media to see what they look like and get a better understanding of the person’s character by judging what sort of things they post publicly online. For someone like me who remained disconnected and had no such online footprint, a good job was a near hopeless endeavor.

The best you’d get were shitty positions for call centers contacting you back only because they had sky-high turnover rate. You’d be lucky to land an account that was mostly dead with low call volumes and little work to do.

How did I know? Well, for a period of time, I’d worked for one in my first go through life of course. They were effectively the legal modern equivalent of sweatshops. You were paid not to help others with their problems, but to be scarecrows who endured endless verbal abuse from cranky customers and be incessantly degraded as a human.

You’d be slowly worn down mentally over time until you cracked and had a nervous breakdown. The people who could put up with call center work for a long-term career were rare.

Such places would constantly come up with bullshit slogans and mottos. Sprinkling rubbish inspirational quotes your way and shoving their politically correct jargon down your throat. They do all sorts of things to convince you their working environment is normal. It’s all just a form of brainwashing to make you believe in their idiotic culture at work. I’d go so far as calling it a sort of cult.

No matter what it is they tell you, it’s bullshit. All of it. Everything they force-feed you and make you regurgitate to eat again. They know it, and deep down, the workers know it too. But those workers have to lie and tell themselves that it’s not so bad. If they don’t they’ll face repercussions. They’re disposable and can be replaced at the drop of a hat. That’s the problem that develops when there are more workers than there are decent jobs available.

Shitty work conditions become the norm. It’s the lifestyle that comes with the growth of giant corporations and the death of small businesses. The little guys have become more and more incapable of turning a profit over the years. The big players have the huge advantage in being able to set the lowest prices for consumers while still generating large profit margins thanks to purchasing stock in bulk at lower prices.

Small businesses typically can’t compete as a result. The system is stacked against them to the point that it’s practically designed to crush them. Ninety percent of new small businesses are destined to meet their demise. About twenty percent fail in the first year, thirty in their second, fifty in their fifth, and seventy in their tenth.

For those statistics, it only grows more skewed in the future.

Well, statistics aside, honestly, at least working here under the Owner’s tyranny wasn’t anywhere near as bad compared to a crappy call center gig.

“It’s not like he’s dead.”

“But I’m never gonna see the guy again if he resigned. It’s sad when someone you’re used to seeing somewhere is suddenly no longer there. Man, it really starts to sink in just how fast things change as time goes by.”

“Yeah. The world around us is always changing and we’re constantly getting older.” I couldn’t help but agree.

“Haaaah. Tell your brother I wish him the best of luck in whatever he does in the future.”

We rarely interacted much yet he was giving me his best regards. What a strange feeling. I don’t know what this sort of feeling is supposed to be called or how I’d put it into words. It’s another among the foreign ones I’m unfamiliar with.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, I will.”

“Thanks. Haaaah. Man, I need a drink now. Might as well hit up a bar I guess.” We weren’t close or anything, the most I ever did was help that one time. On other occasions, we barely talked or interacted. Well, after that particular event I suppose our interaction when he came to this location had increased a little bit despite the frequency of his visits decreasing.

I didn’t think there would be any customers who would even notice or care when I stopped appearing here in disguise as Sean. I guess it has to do with the nature of small businesses.

Unlike large businesses with hundreds or thousands of employees, you’re typically not going to recognize many you interact with. They come and go. But small places like this are the exact opposite.

One day... this sort of little thing will completely disappear. Small businesses like this will either be forced to automate everything, cutting out the employees from the picture to survive and become a soulless husk of what they once were, or shut their doors and go exclusively online. It’s honestly depressing to think about.

I’ve never drank before, but... I think I could also use a drink to forget about the depressing state of the future I’d personally seen.