Unemployment Blues in a Third World Scenario

If you’re an average guy living in this part of the world (Philippines), and had already graduated from college chances are—you’re unemployed!

That’s the hard fucking truth slapped in the face of the society today. Youth in all their energy and glory are faced with hard facts regarding unemployment and the tough life.

Browse over the classified ads of the local papers today and much to your disappointment you will end up wasting those little money you have buying those goddamn ad papers. This world is so fucking mad that discriminates you like isolating m&m chocolates from peanuts. If you don’t have Ateneo or La Salle University badge nailed in your forehead while applying for a job chances are you will be kicked out of the human resource department door fast as you can utter a word.

I have been working for about a decade in an animation industry after it was being hit by a goddamn virus called bankruptcy. All broke and nowhere to go I decided to apply for a different position apart from my previous job, I tell you the experience was so humiliating, degrading, crushing, shameful, mortifying or what else you got there in your thesaurus to explain and quantify my fucking feeling during that time. It was a feeling of shame of no Richter scale can measure.

I was applying as a factory worker from a pharmaceutical company after being laid off as an artist, naturally the former is not related to the latter in terms of work parameters, but as the economic needs arises I was forced to apply in every work opening I first stumble, I’ve got mouths to feed and a nagging wife’s (ex-wife now) temper to avoid. Here’s the story titled…

What a wonderful world

The pharmaceutical company was located just near where I live a suburban neighborhood 56 kilometers away from Manila. After dressing up in a business fashion, (I wonder what does that mean) and taking off temporarily my artsy-bitsy paraphernalia and tucking my pony tail, Imagine how it is so intense for me to do that, as I have been dressing up for a decade or so in a way Kurt Cobain would everyday in his entire short life.

The Human resource office was just an ordinary one, somebody would have mistaken it for a comfort room--the line up of applicants’ looks like a lump of people who can’t wait their turn to empty their bladder, they look so tense and restless for a factory work applicants.

After waiting for nearly an hour in between yawn and stretch a geeky voice finally called my name. “Good morning sir” handshakes…handshakes…Blah-blahs.. silence…

I was looking at him while he browse over my resume, the HR guy is geekingly young and dorkily wearing a tie that matches his face, a red polka dot shirt and tie that best suited his red zit filled face that makes you think is he had just recovered from chicken pox—it’s basically a face germinates over a pimple.

Confident and proud, I have a long experience of hard work and talent, including all those teaching jobs and well known art organization that I belong, I said to myself that I will finally land a job here, and daydreaming already what it is like to work here…the compensation maybe of minimum wage but as of now I have no choice, beggars can’t be choosy, I’m uttering mantras’ and spell to myself not to blow this job if ever I have the chance to bag it. My mind wanders of life being different in these four corners of god-forsaken factory apart from the animation studio where artistic freedom is written all over the soft paper used to wipe my ass.

I was cut short by the guy’s sudden chuckle and snort, he had just put down my resume and asked me “exactly how old are you?” as if trying to confirm what was written in my papers. “I’m 31 years old now” my immediate recoil. “You see, you’re too old to be working here, we only accept applicants who are 25 years old below, thank you for your time—have a good day”

His word sounds like AUS automatic shotgun firing at me in point blank, never missing an inch, creating a hole big and wide enough to hit even my tongue that can only utter— “What?”

My eyebrow begins to meet at the center frowning and strutting and swaggering the wave pattern, I can sense smoke coming from my nostrils as if I’ve smoke pot like hell in Jamaica, my ears began to flap and flutter, I feel like a beheaded chicken running across the room while trying to grasp what he just said.

I just take hold of myself and stood in front of that zit-filled fucking moron’s face and said in a low manner voice: “did you take into consideration the years of experience I have written in those…” lost in words I just pointed to my resume to finish the sentence, but before he could take one more look to where I’m pointing at, I grab it away from his table instantly tearing the document in pieces while looking solid-faced at his terrified expression.

I left the room still flushing with so much rage, as if I wanted to fill that room with gasoline and throw cig butts instantly, blazing the entire factory and smoldering Mr. Zit-shit-face into ashes.

I never felt so ashamed and humiliated in my life before. Our society discriminates so much that it make wastes work force in their peak level. A third world country trapped in a first world—globalization thinking, a society who is profit centered run by egotistic morons who possess no human compassion at all.

It is all being said and done, things of the past, I finally got back my job that time and regarded things as past but something makes me think back again after reading this letter I found in the internet, and the memory of that zit-filled face of a moron surfaces once again in my mind, by years I hope he is still alive and finally his face has advanced into a lunar crater flesh and old as he is now, experienced the same predicament he had just gave me.

Here is the letter:

Herbert A. Millington

Chair - Search Committee

412A Clarkson Hall, Whitson University

College Hill, MA  34109

Dear Professor Millington,

 Thank you for your letter of March 16.  After careful consideration, I

regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me

an assistant professor position in your department.

 This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually

large number of rejection letters.  With such a varied and promising field

of candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals. 

Despite Whitson's outstanding qualifications and previous experience in

rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my needs at

this time.  Therefore, I will assume the position of assistant professor

in your department this August.  I look forward to seeing you then. 

Best of luck in rejecting future applicants.

Sincerely,

Chris L. Jensen

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