I wonder if I’d be this cynical if I didn’t work.
If I hadn’t worked for a staffing agency and heard people make up the most rare diseases to get out of going to work, which always miraculously healed when it was time to pick up their checks. If I hadn’t seen four counts of child abuse and three assaults and a false imprisonment on the same background check that the applicant swears he knows nothing about.
If I hadn’t been a recruiter and heard every possible excuse for rescheduling an interview six times. If I hadn’t heard people lie to my face in interviews every day in hopes of getting a job they were going to end up quitting soon anyway.
If I hadn’t worked in unemployment and heard people say they didn’t quit, they were discharged for performance. Even though they signed a resignation letter. But of course we forced them to do it.
If I hadn’t worked in corporate environments where people lie and cheat and kiss ass and back-stab each other all in hopes of getting a promotion or not getting the pink slip they deserve.
If I had a sugar daddy and stayed home and wrote under the pseudo-occupation of aspiring writer, would I be this jaded? Or would I be a girl with even a shred of naivety and innocence left? Who knows, I could be Polly-f***ing-anna without the experience I have today.
My resume would look like shit, but maybe I’d still believe in the good in people. Maybe I wouldn’t always assume I was being lied to and the everyone was looking for a handout. Aw shit, who am I kidding? Pollyanna? I thought her Glad Game was a crock of shit by age ten. Both your parents died! You’re staying at your wicked aunt’s house confined to the attic! What the hell are you smiling about?
I guess I’ve always been cynical. Now I just have proof that there’s reason to be outside of the movies.