As any responsible philosophy major does after graduation, I moved back in with my parents. I sleep on a futon in my brother’s room, eat everything in the fridge, and drink my dad’s beer.
“You need to start paying rent,” Dad told me after the second straight evening of going through his Racer 5 IPAs. “Three hundred bucks a month.” I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and wondered out loud how the hell I was supposed to conjure up three hundred dollars a month. “By getting a fuggin’ job, that’s how.”
“Ah,” I mumbled, “the j-word.”
I put on my job helmet and my job gloves, sat down on the job couch, opened up my job computer, and typed “jobs around Palos Verdes” into the Google search bar. The first website to pop up was monster.com, which gave me a list of jobs I could pick up. Most of the listings required two to five years of entry-level experience for entry positions. The others were pyramid schemes. I closed the page and went back to see what other options Google had to offer. The second suggested link was for Craigslist.
Craigslist contained a list of openings for jobs. One read, “Looking for full-time, professional cleaner. Paid in cash — no English or documents preferred.” I figured that the person who posted the listing wasn’t looking for someone like me. Another read, “Earn $195,000 in first year! Fool-proof way to start your career!” I clicked on the link, and upon discovering that it didn’t involve cooking meth in the middle of the desert, I guessed that their proposal was unlikely to yield the advertised income. After scrolling through several pages of scams, spam, pyramid schemes, and “Salesperson: Miracle Creams!”, I closed my job laptop, took off my job helmet and gloves, and got off the job couch to go look for some job beers in the fridge.
“How’s the job search looking?” My dad asked. I replied that it had been pretty shitty so far. “Welcome to the real world.”
Welp. At least the fridge is stocked.