Today reminded me of how good I am at lying.
I’ve been applying for jobs for a good couple of months now, to varying extents. Arden and I have a Plan, and without being too obvious the first step is getting some means of stable, gainful employment. I might sometimes trade off going full-tilt in my search for the sake of my mental stability, but for the most part it’s been productive, if a little lacking in returns. But that isn’t surprising. I’m entering the job market at its absolute worst, and without persistence I - and everyone else graduating - is doomed to fail. I’m optimistic, despite the countless rejections, because that’s normal.
And I got an interview! Yesterday, in fact. I didn’t really know too much about the company structure - the salary said “competitive”, rather than an actual figure, and the business spiel read “event-based direct marketing”, which it transpired was a tiny stand in a shopping centre with the branding of a popular internet service provider that I shall not name for the sake of propriety.
So I had the interview, and they liked me, and invited me in for an observation day, where I’d see current marketers and What They Do, and have the opportunity to ask questions and impress them. It was going well - I was being enthusiastic, and friendly, and not at all like I usually am but good for that sort of role.
And then I learned about the pay. And how it was one hundred percent commissions-based, meaning that if there was a bad day then I’d go home with nothing after ten hours of hard work. I’m not even sure if that’s legal, but even if it is, I need more security than that. It has been less than two months. I am not at that point of desperation - not yet.
It was 2:30pm when, after calling my Mum for advice (she didn’t give any, but at least reassured me that I wasn’t mental for having suspicions), I decided I needed to leave. I was scheduled to stay for another four hours. I had no idea what to say. So I walked back up to my boss for the day, got a little choked up, and told them my Dad had been in an industrial accident and was lying in a critical condition in A&E and how I am really sorry but I think I’m just going to have to go, is that okay, and of course they lapped it all up because I know from a history of chronic lying about missing seminars that the more extravagant and horrific the lie, the more people believe it. What asshole would lie about the safety of his family, after all?
It’s funny, though, because today was a day when I was observing an act - an act that involved two yuppie (but niceish) men constantly cheerily winking at disinterested people and saying “you’re not still paying for your internet, are you” - and ended my time with them by delivering my best performance for a while. I think there was even a tear. I sounded panicked. I mean, my imaginary Dad was in the hospital. I had a right to be panicked, god damn it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m really good at faking orgasms.
No. Wait. That’s not it. This is a good time to put away my suit and move onto the next hundred opportunities, though. The next one that comes along might actually be alright.