Inner Monologue for the Unemployed Manager

Here I am, 30 something years old, staring at a job application that’s saying something about python and java script. application question, “how familiar are you with coding software”… my answer “I DONT WANT TO BRAG, BUT i did have a myspace”. But low and behold, they like mean real coding, not embedding aggressive music so people know you are edgy. I woke up and realized I do not know the first thing about job hunting. Back in my day, after we walked to school and back in the snow, up hills both ways, we went to the place and got the paper thing that filled out my availability, then chad, the manager, who is also a senior called, mom dropped me off in an ugly visor thaT SAYS Chicken Hut on my first day and me and chad made out in the backroom on break. maybe it’s just where i’m looking, but I feel like the makeout days are over and i need a noble peace prize to apply. But momma didn’t raise no quitter, i submit my distinguished (read: mediocre) resume. I sign up for the free co pilot trials and it just blasts everyone from here to the moon with my resume, but still my phone is not ringing. I check my Verizon app, did I pay my bill, because unemployed and all.. but it’s not that. there is a secret password to this remote society that i do not know yet, but i will sneak through the backdoor somehow.

BEST.