Oh, the Depths We Have Sunk

10 Aug

I am haunted by signs. Help Wanted signs. My day to day life is a perverted (and much scarier) version of The Sixth Sense. These signs are LITERALLY everywhere. Where I eat. Where I get my prescriptions filled. Where I buy my groceries. When there is an automated job counselor in my Shaw’s Supermarket, I have to wonder: is this a selective recession? It seems I can work anyplace I please, so long as I can punctually pronounce, “Would you like fries with that?” before disconnecting my headset microphone.

Why are there so many service jobs accosting me while my friends receive curt rejection emails for entry level positions that likely have fewer benefits and worse hours? Have all the waitresses and cashiers suddenly decided to become paralegals and secondary assistants? Has everyone climbed the ladder a rung, and now I must truly start from the seaweed-strewn bottom?

Or is there a simpler explanation for the sudden job openings at MacDonalds?


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