Job seeker's fantasy, a source of strength

  

Date Posted: 4/4/2017 7:51:07 AM

Posted By: WHITE SEA  Membership Level: Silver  Total Points: 737

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I woke up feeling crumpy. That little voice still urging me to be productive today like a dutiful son and brother. I can't seem to ward off the remote thought of running into a God-sent heavily stuffed purse. Not in that sense but landing a job that will bring bacon home. I will not haggle, I promise myself, after a lucid idea of how difficult it is to catch a whiff of a to-be employer. Maybe my dart will hit the spot this time. So I reluctantly puff up my hopes to give a shot.
Again.

I have lost count to this far of the many application letters written to the numerous organizations. At first, I sent each letter to a potential employer and sat back filled with a sense of self-importance like a CEO dismissing a junior staff. I envisioned greatness. I fancied a moment when I sat behind a huge African mahogany desk that exudes authority. I imagined being in a spacious office with marble floors, thick transparent glass walls and windows overlooking the parking lot where my red Ford Ranger double cabin amply stood. Red, the symbol of power has been my favorite color to coincide with my love for speed.

My phone rang jogging my mind out of the day-dream once again. Thanks a bunch, pal. Without looking at the display screen I knew there was no point in lying to myself that that call was summoning me for an interview. "It's Tuesday for Pete's sake. And these people don't call, they email or go silent like a " dead" phone."

It was a while longer before I realized the morning was already feeling several hours old. Looking in the mirror I saw the shrubbery around the chin and on the sides of my cheeks. I passed my right palm

over the bristles that brushed it as the hairs on the back of a swine. Tired bloodshot eyes stared back at me and I shifted focus upwards. A balding dome was starting at the region immediately after my forehead like a clearing in the forest. My God, how much longer?

It was not the anxiety of losing all the hair but the restlessness of uncertainty. Not knowing the ages between then and the moment when a handsome income would arrive. I wondered then and doubted my earlier stand where I had sworn in my alien name to be my own boss. "To be my own boss; free and happy," was a mantra I never meant to give up so soon. I called it a superb mission statement. Whenever my friends argued about employment matters and I got involved, it was a thing for me. I always won. I gave them a free crash course on how to create a path to a sure blessed destiny. Strings of faith are not snapping yet, if you may ask.

At this juncture, however, even bowing to a government yoke is the only option, but absent. I have weaved through town in an attempt to secure something lucrative. As if not enough, I have cast my net further careful to make good friends with high affinity for job vacancies just in case they wake up on a good side. I have made a complete circuit around the exterior of this Kenyan city. My shoe has got a gaping hole as a result; a condition that signals a desperate youth or positively put, an ambitious young man.
The knowledge of what I want and when I want it is the firm elbow nudging me forward. I feel my roving eyes and feet will soon take me to a hole full of bread and butter to last a lifetime. I only hope to get the map that leads there still intact wherever it lies in wait for me.

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