Oh, the dastardly controller of thine life: Credit Scores

There’s no denying the simple fact that the quality of adult life rests largely upon the three little numbers derived from the sum of everything on a stupid credit report file. Daily credit, car loans, home mortgages, even jobs in some cases, all care about this number and use it to judge whether you’d be a good risk – as a consumer, an employee, or anything freaking else it seems. I hate that something so impersonal wields such power. Once upon a time I had a very carefully managed and controlled credit file of stellar quality. I worked hard for

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The World SUCKS: A Rant

It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling to find a regular job for well over a year (close to 2, at this point). I can’t even begin to count the number of jobs I have applied to during that time period, but I can tell you how many have requested an interview: ONE. One interview request in 2 years. That’s ridiculous. (No, I’m not counting my 3 month stint with the temp agency, which was the reason I had to turn down the ONE interview request, because it came exactly 3 days after I reluctantly agreed out of sheer desperation

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