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Thursday, 15 December 2016

Jobless Again

Jobless Again

A Bloggage
Alexander Gordon Jahans

I change. I change a lot. Circumstances break and remake me, interests and knowledge flows into me, displacing prior occupations to the back of my mind but nothing is ever truly forgotten. I do believe that capitalism is almost certainly beyond saving, that is cannot be again successfully reregulated to the point of being preserved. I do believe that a post scarcity society is inevitable, that a pseudo-socialist society is the best move for society until post-scarcity technologies are refined enough. But I am still a greedy bastard at heart.

I like earning money and I like working. Zarquon help me I actually genuinely like putting the effort in. I hate it about myself because I am well aware of how shit I am but I am competitive. I like being a hard worker. I don’t want to live on social security payments or even a UBI. I want to graft. I want to save. I want to sacrifice.

The Alt-Right has a concept they are obsessed with. The proverbial Red Pill. The idea that a moron like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix can choose to be enlightened and radicalised by knowledge forbidden by the system of normality. Only Neo-Nazis can look at a concept that appeals to conspiracy theorists and the lowest of misogynists and think “That will be our swaggering cry of impending victory.” They have been haunting me with that phrase for months but they’re wrong. I’m not close to being redpilled, I’ve been blue pilled.

I grew up obeying orders, dressing smartly, never lying, working hard and saving my money to buy tat from the Games Workshop. If I was born in the 80s I would have worshipped Thatcher. I bloody devised a plan to scrap taxes in favour of a shop then tried to become an entrepreneur. I am a cold hearted, sadistic, cruel, vengeful, greedy, jealous, lazy shit at heart. But there are surprisingly few stories about selfish pricks abusing power to become successful where the selfish pricks are painted as the good guys and allowed to win. So I got bluepilled by rationality, facts and a desire not to get my head kicked in.

I am heartbroken right now and I don’t mind saying that right now if I had a gun I would probably be dead. I did everything right. I went to the interview my Universal Credit advisor told me to. I said the truth at the interview, it went well enough that despite being told no I was asked back for a job. I turned up early, despite a wretched cold, an infamously crap sleeping pattern, and the fact the bosses weren’t in till the afternoon anyway. UI did everything right and I still lost the job because my boss was somehow able to hear the words I said say on multiple occasions that everything would be fine even if my fears were true and then be completely blindsided and unable to keep me on when after 4 days of work my fears were born out.

I had purpose. I had a reason to get up in the morning, I had a daily commute involving time without distractions and a fair walk by a pub and good shops. I had an office to myself a lot of the time and a job that I could do, provided interesting challenges and was relaxed enough I could have bad days. On my honour, morality and everything I hold dear, the Farsh-nuke could turn up on my doorstep with every woman I’ve ever written about, the keys to my own tardis and a high end gaming pc and I would still rather I had that shitty little minimum wage job.

I’m not meant to be a writer, I’m not meant to be some grand lothario or youtube superstar, I am destined to be sat at a desk working hard on things that don’t personally matter to me in a 9-5 job with a commute that takes me 30 minutes my strain and 30 minutes by foot. I don’t want holidays and sight seeing, don’t want orgies and dinner parties, I don’t even really want a convention panel on the philosophy of Doctor Who or the military effectiveness of the different game4 of thrones armies. I want to work. To be employed. To earn. To see the ebb and flow of money coming in and out of my bank account.

There is one thing that this pointless diversion of a job debacle has really given me and that is closure on the Asda situation. Because this is what I’m meant to be doing, sat at a desk on minimum wage, helping make somebody else’s dreams or success come true while I quietly support and improve myself. This one wasn’t my fault. I did everything right and I still lost and that hurts like hell but I know I will come out the stronger for it.

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