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.
Early riser that I am, I’ve already perused the job listings this morning, tagged the ones I was interested in and presumably qualified for, registered for required background clearances pursuant to said applications and wherever possible finalized and submitted them — all on my phone. What a pain in the posterior!! I highly recommend avoiding getting stuck conducting all your business via a smartphone! All these websites that immediately convert
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
Yay! Finally secured a contract for a work-at-home position to hopefully help make up the income loss from the conclusion of my previous contract. Or maybe not. I officially signed the documents just yesterday, so I’m not sure yet what the deal is in relation to signing into the system and finding no work assigned to me. I’m grateful for the opportunity, but if I can’t get in clocked hours
Over qualified. Under qualified. Kiss my ass. I need a job! Job satisfaction? Who cares! A paycheck in and of itself is more than enough satisfaction at this point! Ridiculous! Officially nine months since I began looking for a new job (or any source of income at all, really) and still flailing. No job = No home. My divorce was final in December. I totaled my minivan in the same