Job Hunting

You just never get used to it no matter how old you get or how many times you have to do it. It is nerve racking, it is, in a way, degrading and it is most definitely the one thing that makes you second guess every single word that comes out of your mouth. I am speaking of going on job interviews. You put yourself out there for people to judge you not only on your skills or your knowledge, but the way you look, speak, move or smile. Of course I am trying to find something similar to what I was doing because after all these years and everything I have learned trying to fit; I have finally found my niche and would like nothing better than to continue doing what I was doing for people.
The one good thing about being out of work this past week is that I have caught up on so much yard work that has been left undone because I was never home to do it. Mulching, weeding, planting, cutting down dead trees and wonder of wonders my imagination has come back and I am now able to create in my own yard. I did not realize how soft I had become until working outside these last few days. Tired? Yes, but a really good tired, physically tired not mentally.
When I was on the hunt for a job before, I put in at least three applications for the different Lowe’s locations and never once received a call. I finally, after visiting Lowe’s twice this week, have figured out why. I have a brain. Where do they find these people they hire? You just want to smile at them and say, “Here’s your sign.” It does not take a genius to accept a payment and enter the correct amount or figure out what that little card reader is for when people make a purchase but it seems that they have discovered the only two people in the area who can not do that. And the thought of having to go back to our local super store to grocery shop in order to save money fills me with dread. Once you get in it takes forever to get out. Never mind the lines at check out or the sometimes dim bulbs running the register, it is navigating around “old home week” in the aisles or the lookie-loos, or those that push their carts exactly the way they drive our roads; cell phone in one ear and no regard for oncoming traffic or anyone else that may be trying to get from one place to another.
My best friend moved to Colorado a few years ago. She has a job working with troubled teenaged girls. The things that have happened to those girls in their short lives would make you cry. I have no idea what the law did to the people who perpetrated these heinous crimes against the girls but the death penalty would be my vote if given one. One such girl in my friend’s care is a full-blooded Ute Indian. She has reached the point where she is now able to go out into society to work a part time job but in order to do this she needed a state identification card. My friend took her to the DMV in order to obtain this card but was told she would have to first get a card from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. After a multitude of phone calls the BIA informed her that the girl no longer needed a card from them that the state should issue a card if she has all the necessary paper work required such as birth certificate etc. which she does. Still the state refuses to give her an I.D. card. I could not help but be amazed at this situation. Here is a girl who is a direct descendant from the very first Americans who has been through a life that no one can imagine and she can not acquire an I.D. card, yet every day thousands of people cross our borders illegally and the federal government issues them social security cards and driver’s licenses, gives them welfare and food stamps and in essence, welcomes them with open arms. This situation angered me and it should anger you.