jobless in july
I am unemployed again! This time last year I was “fun-employed” as I liked to call it, but this time it’s different. This time it’s not by choice, and it’s not in the summer, and I am not surrounded by my closest friends and family. So it is not so fun.
Perth is mid-winter right now, meaning gloomy days filled with rain and wind. Everyone wears dark coloured puffer vests and jackets, toques and blundstones. I have to admit it makes me chuckle a bit- these people don’t know what winter is. They all stay inside, except to walk their dogs and buy groceries and go to their jobs. The hospitality industry slows to a crawl because of this, which is why I, a backpacker, cannot get a job for the life of me. Which is why I, unemployed, cycle to the bookstore in a tshirt, passing the dog walkers and grocery buyers all bundled up in their puffy coats. I silently curse these job goers for staying home and putting me out of a job.
On this bike ride I have a thought that often occurs to me in this neighbourhood, in this city, in this country: I don’t belong here. I don’t fit in here. This upside down, backwards place where July weather makes me want to watch Halloween movies and prepare for Christmas. This neighbourhood which is full of families and 9-5ers, and where I rarely see another person in their 20′s. This city, where I am considered plus size because everyone else seems to be thin and fit and put together.
I was reminded of this thought quite brutally the week I got back from El Questro. I got called to come in for an interview with a temp agency, and so off I went. I put on my new pants (the ones I had to buy after trying on the only nice pair of pants I brought with me from Canada and finding I could barely button them) and hopped on the train to the city. From the train I trudged 20 minutes up a steep hill, following the hoards of job goers who were walking to lunch; all dressed in identical business clothes. I weaved between them and tried to ignore the feeling of dread pulling at my soul. I had always run away from this world and here I was, marching up a hill to sit and smile nicely and beg to be initiated into it.
When I got to the office I was shown to the board room and given a glass of water. The young receptionist, blonde and barely 25, handed me four cards with work personality traits on them and told me to choose which one I most identified with. I read through them and tried my best to fit myself into the boxes on the cards; Was I analytical and logical, or a big picture thinker with emotional decision making? My whole life I have been both, and my whole life I have been told to choose one. I rifled between the cards for five minutes before setting them aside.
Ten minutes later the lady I met with promptly, and rather bluntly, ripped apart my resume. She was in her 50′s and mentioned her daughter a few times. She was wearing a turtle neck, a blazer and heeled boots, and she made me want to sit up straight. It felt like meeting with my own mother, and when I told her I hadn’t bought any office clothes yet she tsked and started naming thrift stores in my area where I could find a blazer. I didn’t mention how hard it is to find clothes in my size at the thrift stores in my area, only nodding instead. She never mentioned the personality cards.
When I left the meeting I sat on a brick garden wall outside the building and thought about how badly I had to pee. I’d felt too embarrassed to ask for the washroom, and mostly I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I snapchatted my friends from El Questro about how dumb I felt for not wearing business clothes to an interview for an office job, and how out of place I felt in the city after 3 months in the bush. Then I walked back towards the train and found a coffee shop busy enough that they wouldn’t notice if I used the toilet without buying anything.
On the train home I thought about how today wasn’t the first time I’d felt out of place in a city. I don’t know how to stop correlating crowds with nausea, but ever since graduating and travelling that’s how I’ve felt. Being around so many people in such concentrated spaces makes me feel like I am suffocating. That’s how I felt in Edmonton, in Calgary and now in Perth. I look around at all the people wearing the same white sneakers and zip up jackets and I feel sick to my stomach about the state of the world. I see the job goers and dog walkers and grocery shoppers just living their life, same as me, and all I can think is capitalism consumerism landfill nuclear family heteronormativity patriarchy etc etc. It’s my curse as a social sciences studier.
I know this a dramatic story and I’m sure you’re thinking, okay, Raylene. Relax, your life isn’t that bad. And you’d be right! It is actually a very good life, and the thing about me is I am great at seeing both sides. I am logical and I am big picture; detail oriented and creative. I don’t fit into any big box, but there are some little boxes I do fit into. Because I am feeling wordy right now, here are a few:
One absolute sure fire thing, no ifs ands or buts about it, is that I am a Coffee Gal. At least once a week a cappuccino will restore my faith in humanity. I will have a full blown meltdown about what it means to be a member of society in this specific point in history, and then I will cycle to the coffee shop and order a fluffy warm beverage because it’s the only thing I can think of to cure my despair. And it does; that specific combination of steamed milk and espresso is my magic little fix.
Another solid truth about me, is that I am lazy. Truly and simply, I am a lazy girl. I love to lay in bed and scroll instagram. I love to curl up in the lazy boy I got for free from verge collection and watch movies I’ve already seen. If I am feeling creative I sit in the sunny window in my living room reading or painting. On a night out I will not be on the dance floor, but sitting down at a table with my drink and chit chatting. I like to say I am chill but really, I am just lazy.
One last truth about me is that I am a fake vegetarian. Largely this is because chicken is so tasty, but it is also because I am so chalk full of contradictions. Everything inside of me wants to go a different way, explore a different feeling, experience a different thing. I guess that’s how I ended up here, isn’t it? Here, in this big city, drinking cappuccinos and cycling past dog walkers after a meltdown about which outfit to wear. I hope I never change.
