THE DEVIL CAN'T AFFORD PRADA

OH, HONEY. IT’S NOT THE ECONOMY. IT’S YOU.

98 Days of Unemployment * 74 Days of Aggressive Job Searching

80+ Resumes Submitted * $353.52 To My Name

I never thought I’d be in this situation. Not only am I unemployed, I’m apparently completely unemployable. I have milked every contact, sent out countless resumes, applied to every job under the sinking California sun. I began the job hunt with a discount suit, a folder full of resumes, a pocket full of useless accolades and a head full of false hope. Only to find graduate school just may have killed the very television career I was hoping to enhance. My enablers assure me that it’s just the economy, not me. One day something will come through.

Well, as I gathered the necessary documents to file my first unemployment application, I couldn’t help but shed a tear and reflect on what brought me to this ultimate low. Maybe I made a mistake somewhere along the way.

It’s no wonder, really. I’ve made a series of bad decisions. My wrap sheet is just as gruesome as all the others on my cellblock. I often ask myself- “Why didn’t someone intervene?” A friend, a neighbor, a legal parent or guardian. Someone should’ve stepped in and guided me out of this mess.

I suppose I started getting into trouble somewhere around high school. First Offense: Honor Roll. I was foolishly lured by promises of a bright future, endless praise and that ridiculous “My Child Is An Honor Roll Student” bumper sticker with which my mother never intended to defile her Jaguar.

Then I started fooling around with those hooligans at New York University. Bad news! This is when the real intervention should have happened. But no- people turned a blind eye.

I took a job at Nickelodeon after college. It’s here that I first came to know and love having a steady income. I’d shamelessly skip into Washington Mutual with my weekly paycheck, a devilish grin creeping up my cheeks as I daydreamed about how to spend my earnings. But the high didn’t last long. Like any real junkie, I wanted more. More responsibilities, promotions, raises. And when that wasn’t enough, I made a final desperate decision. I couldn’t spend my life screwing around with SpongeBob and Dora The Explorer. Those shady characters were going nowhere. So I applied to graduate school at UCLA.

After what I thought was a horrible interview at UCLA, I was admitted to their grad school with a scholarship for “Most Promising Incoming Student.” With that, I was hooked. Those clever UCLA fishers reeled me all the way across the country. I packed up my New York office, sent the obligatory “never have I worked with such a fun, funny, creative group of people… yada yada…” goodbye Email, and I set out to plant my star on the walk of fame.

DIGGING A HOLE OR WORKING THE POLE

I’ll save the two-year grad school experience for another day. But I will say, I wasn’t a shabby student. Here again I made the mistake of working hard, scoring internships and winning awards. Foolish! Time wasted hitting the books would have been better spent swinging from poles. Have you seen the talent at Jumbo’s Clown Room? Had I an ounce of common sense I would’ve taken a more analytical look at my career path and realized that the girls at Jumbo’s don’t have to pay back $100K in student loans because of out-of-state tuition. They have a social network far stronger than any alumni association. They spent nights sweeping in tips and getting in peak physical condition while my sleepless night were spent writing Critical Studies reports and downing sugary caffeine concoctions.

From thousands of miles away, I can here the giggles of all of my Nickelodeon friends who advised me not to leave. Their laughter echoes throughout my hollow studio apartment every time I submit a resume to another Entry Level assistant job, offering a third of the money I was making before. I use my diploma to dab away the tears each time I ensure an employer that I can answer multi-line phones like a pro or collate photocopies in record time. Yes, I multitask in my sleep, think quickly on my feet and operate Microsoft Office like Bill Gates. Oh, how I appreciate my master’s degree each time I respond to job posts calling for applicants who “must have a valid driver’s license, thick skin, ability to lift 50+ lbs and a flexible weekend schedule.”

DID I SHAVE MY LEGS FOR THIS?

Fortunately, each day brings the possibility of fresh rejection!

At last, after 60+ job applications I scored an interview! $12/hour is better than $0/hour, right? So I throw on my pearls, button up my suit (not too high, a hint of cleavage may work in my favor) and pray to the God of Employment that this works out. When I got my first Variety mention this summer, I thought it would propel my career far beyond the realm of Post Production Facility RECEPTIONIST, but- this is a start. …Or not. It appears the incredibly friendly man who called me in for the interview didn’t bother to look over my resume first. After taking a look at it in our meeting, he shook his head, commented that I’m “drastically overqualified” and urged me to hold out for something better.

So here I am. Holding out for something better as I reuse paper towels, boil another pack of Ramen noodles, and hand wash my unmentionables in the kitchen sink. How many times can you use a rusty razor before it becomes a health risk? My cat’s two week cold is being treated with Vicks Vapor Rub, health insurance is a thing of the past, and I’m wondering if taking half doses of birth control pills is a reasonable alternative to paying $30.95 for a new pack.

And to top it all off, I just found a dead bug in my saltshaker. What shoulder do I throw it over?

ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE UNEMPLOYED ALUMNI ASSOCIATION? HOW ARE YOU LOOKING FOR WORK AND MAKING ENDS MEET?