Saturday, July 08, 2006

DEAR MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE:

In order to temporarily escape my post-PhD and -Euro traveling poverty, I am toying with the idea of getting a part-time job when I return to New York, before I begin teaching again in the fall. (This may not be possible because I may need to go down to Dallas for a week or two in August.) I don't mean like as a waiter or bartender, because I have never served people, and I know I would be complete shit in customer service. Sometimes I am rude. I also do not mean as a temp or anything because those people are scary, and not much has changed in the Manhattan temping world since Working Girl. Plus, I would prefer part-time work where I don't have to file other people's paperwork, fetch folks coffee, and get sexually harassed. Rather, if I have time between moving continents and starting work in the fall, I'm considering doing temporary or part-time editing jobs.

About 4.5 years ago when I quit working full-time for my television show to do my full-time MFA, I opted to look for part-time writing or editing work. So, I decided to send my CV to about 10 to 15 law firms, inquiring about paralegal editing/research work. The problem on this fateful day, though, was that I was in a very, very bad mood when I drafted my cover letter, and instead of writing To Whom It May Concern: and then replacing it with the appropriate Human Resources name, I wrote:

Dear Motherfucking Asshole:

This letter is in regards to the part-time paralegal position...

...and accidentally forgot to change it...on every letter I mailed out. I did not realize that I had done this until three days after making my angry mistake. Then, about a week later, I received a positive letter from one of the law firms, stating:

Dear Mr. Hedonist,

Although you have the right attitude, we are looking for someone with a little more legal experience...

Of course I received no response from the other firms. Oh well. Everything worked out for the best - much better than 'the best', actually. So, I have faith that everything will work out for me within the next couple of months, too. It always has in the past, so why am I freaking out about my future now?

In the meantime, I am currently in hell still eliminating all of my worldly possessions to not have to pay for extortionate intercontinental shipping costs; pay for extra airplane baggage (which I already know I'll have to); etc. Moving is so fucking expensive!!!!!!!! Grrrrrrrrrr. Um. Both of my coffin-sized suitcases are only halfway full and already over the weight limit. I am so fucked. But am completely open to all travel suggestions involving baggage weight issues; posting large boxes; sneaking extra personal items across the ocean; and more. Does anyone need a TV? No? How about two stereos? Nuh-uh? Want three giant bags of clothing - both in adult and children's sizes (but all of which was mine)? Maybe I can just write a nice, sweet letter to British Airways in advance, voicing all of my concerns: Dear Motherfucking Assholes...

I will also go procrastinate packing and writing book chapters all afternoon by having a long, elaborate, boozy picnic with a bunch of friends in Hyde Park, which will serve as No. 19 of my 52 Leaving Parties.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
There are no accidents without intentions. - Alex Miller