I'm flicking ash all over the floor. I'm aiming for the ashtrays, but weeks of careful rollie action have made my aim terrible.
Monday I applied to work at a florist down the street. The place is beautiful, full over of color and aroma, a few workers with haggard New York eyes but pleasant smiles. The owner seemed charmed enough by my dimples, but I haven't heard from him and twice on the street he's ignored an acknowledging smile.
I hate when people make eye contact but ignore you anyway. Was I that off-putting when I went by? I was clean and fresh-faced, wide awake and sober, not even hung over. Douchebag, I'm asking to help make you money to keep you in your (I'm sure) lovely apartment, to be underpaid (I'm sure) to do tasks a monkey could do. Gimme a broom, I'll clean the damn place.
I walked in and asked about their current hiring prospects, and was asked stonily if I was, in fact, a florist.
"Well...no, but I'm an artist. I'm great with color and composition. And I don't mind doing grunt work."
I somehow feel I'm not getting that job.
Where else to look? Delis, diners, fancy clothing shops? How many public service establishments would hire a student with tattoos on her forearms? I swear, people say they've gone mainstream, but the stigma is still there. I'm marked up. End of story.
Monday I applied to work at a florist down the street. The place is beautiful, full over of color and aroma, a few workers with haggard New York eyes but pleasant smiles. The owner seemed charmed enough by my dimples, but I haven't heard from him and twice on the street he's ignored an acknowledging smile.
I hate when people make eye contact but ignore you anyway. Was I that off-putting when I went by? I was clean and fresh-faced, wide awake and sober, not even hung over. Douchebag, I'm asking to help make you money to keep you in your (I'm sure) lovely apartment, to be underpaid (I'm sure) to do tasks a monkey could do. Gimme a broom, I'll clean the damn place.
I walked in and asked about their current hiring prospects, and was asked stonily if I was, in fact, a florist.
"Well...no, but I'm an artist. I'm great with color and composition. And I don't mind doing grunt work."
I somehow feel I'm not getting that job.
Where else to look? Delis, diners, fancy clothing shops? How many public service establishments would hire a student with tattoos on her forearms? I swear, people say they've gone mainstream, but the stigma is still there. I'm marked up. End of story.
