Diving Back In - A poem of Job Searching in Frustration

I have a confession to make.

Forgive me folks, for I have sinned.

Amid my determination to stand up for myself

I relented and started job searching

despite vowing months ago not to.

The real sin is not trying.

You see, tossing in the towel

was something done through my sheer disgust

at getting no where at all

these last three years of effort.

Now, don't get me wrong, folks.

I still have had enough crap

to last this homeless bum a lifetime.

But, I find to satisfy some

I must once more move mountains.

And mountains is how it seems.

Try getting a job without foundations

upon which to build back your life.

Things others take for granted daily

like homes, bank accounts, or transport. 

Some say I aim too high,

yet in the same breath berate

that I look at jobs well below

my previous levels of abilities shown,

hoping they make some small offer.

Dare I look at my emails?

Having already tossed out some resumes,

I know there might be replies there

but fear them to be rejections

from folks who don't understand me.

Already, six places have sent letters

demanding I stop applying with them.

Six places, with two others, now listed

in my little, evil, black notebook

to never do business with again.

One of those latter places lied,

another played games with my head, 

promising it was the first interview group

when they had another before it

from which they filled the position. 

I admit that for the moment

I am cherry-picking the places applied

not taking the big step down expected

for the time being at least.

But that will come soon enough.

The others? That first damning group?

Well, if you must ask indeed

it includes four firms owing me favors, 

one organization to remain unnamed forever,

and one government agency of hypocrites.

Still, for now I will try.

Once more into the breach boldly,

and all that crap from literature read.

But I still have a bet

that writing will pay off first. 

So, here I sit, nervously debating

over opening that browser this day.

Will it be good news, ill omens,

or just more of that silence

so many use as reply now?

Time to find out, before diving

once more into those job postings

on the internet while sitting so patiently

here in the sunny library section

trying to keep my hopes alive. 

30December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, hoping for better things next year. 

Commentary: Yeah, it wears on you. The constant process of application, rejection, and getting up, dusting off to try again. I do hope for better things next year, but realistically? No, things will probably stay the same. Look, after three years unemployed, many places claim I am unemployable. Despite doing volunteer work, pick up jobs and even stooping to shoveling snow on the sly to keep myself busy and in coffee and tobacco. But, despite those earlier disgusted moments, I keep going back to trying. Think about it, folks. Who would you rather have, the guy who keeps slogging on, or some super-model who looks good, but fails the test of time. Not that I have much better a record. My only redeeming quality, I feel some days, is that loyalty and pride that prevents me from looking for a job while taking another's dime, unless I'm working part time. 

    So, chide me all you want, for breaking that promise earlier this year to give up. And remember, I still think I will see money from my stories or poems well before I get another paycheck from a permanent job, but would love to be proved wrong. - D.R.