The glamorous life of the unemployed

When I was younger, I worried a lot about choosing the right job. It would have to be one I enjoyed but also one that made me enough money to survive live off of comfortably*. The money part was pretty easy to figure out, but how on earth was I supposed to predict what sort of job I would actually enjoy?

By the age of eleven I had deduced that most jobs are more fun in theory than in practice. I became obsessed with reading the job descriptions posted on Future Careers websites. Being a veterinarian sounded fun, but a quick look at the job description revealed I would most likely have to cut open at least one animal in my lifetime, which made that career choice rather unlikely**.

It has now occurred to me that, with all the job descriptions I sifted through and job titles I clicked on, Unemployment was never an option I was presented with. While I am not unemployed, the stark difference between having two jobs and a full-time course-load, and having only one job, can sometimes make me feel unemployed (in the glamorous sort of way that Gertrude Stein was unemployed in the first half of the 20^th century). I feel like my life might have turned out rather differently if I’d managed to track down this job description:

Job Title: Unemployed Overachiever

Job Description: Determined to at least pretend to be doing something, without any possibility of actually being paid for it.

Average day: Wake up far too early. Go for a jog. Spend an hour deciding what coffee shop to spend the morning in. Pick two. Read three chapters of a Gustave Flaubert novel of your choosing. Think of a great idea for a novel. Write the first page. Promise yourself you’ll finish it eventually. Spend too much money on lunch. Come home. Write three blog posts that will never see the light of day, and one that will. Teach yourself the first thirty seconds of the bass line to “She’s Only 18”. Memorize the lyrics to three Jack White songs. Convince yourself this will come in handy someday. Spend an hour and a half sitting on the floor staring at your bookshelf. Realize it is 5pm. Spend two hours deciding what to make for dinner. Decide to order in. You spent all your money on lunch. Resolve to find a job. Tomorrow. Paint a tiny cupcake on each of your fingernails. Watch too many films on Netflix. Make sure to be in the middle of a project when your parents get home, so that at least someone thinks you're making good use of your time. Go to bed far too late.

Projected Salary: $000,000 yearly.

Anticipated Hours: full time. Overtime guaranteed.

 Of course, the rate of pay is a problem. As always.

*and by that I mean, living in a schoolbus in a Walmart paring lot.

**Not that it didn’t prevent me from opening my own veterinary practice in my living room. I saved the life of my favourite panda bear five times in a single afternoon, once.