WTF? - Job fairs
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: BBC World News
**Rant warning - filthy language is likely to ensue.

So this is me getting frustrated and bored with unemployment. My mind harkens back to a song lyric "Successful unemployment is more challenging than having a job." Ain't that the truth, brother. I shaved, trimmed my sideburns, gelled my hair, removed any offensive piercings, threw on my nice shirt, strapped on a tie and headed for the Woking job fair after dropping off some applications I'd filled out yesterday.

Wow, Stephen thinks, the H.G. Wells Center is swanky. Polished old wood floors, shiny steel fixtures, Safe but elegant art prints, a chi-chi secratery to point you in the right direction. Good thing I dressed up, I thought. This is my ticket to the big time!

(I'm realizing that Iceberg Slim's Pimp writing style is rubbing off on me - apologies.)

Upon entering, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake. Little did I know that proper attire for the job fair was your team's football jersey, sneakers, a toque (Which E&I call condom hats - long story) and a pair of eyes that say 'I smoked a bowl 1/2 an hour ago.' >sigh< I thought all this would give me a leg up except that 50% of the stalls were all the employment agencies that took my CV last week and don't return my calls. I don't want to say that all employment agencies are useless; all but 1 are.

The other 45% of the stalls were fat yobbos in wool turtlenecks eating the candy in the little baskets that every stall had in order to entice you in (I admit that I was tempted by a tasty red lollipop). They were looking to hire drivers. i.e., people who want to drive delivery vans around and deliver pizza, kebabs, McChinese food and curries in vehicules I'm not qualified to drive.

As I left, the last stall caught my eye - The British army was here. How fitting, perhaps I should join the army. After all, for most of the yobbos skulking around the hall, wondering when they could suck down their next pint of cider, this is the job most appropriate for them - drinking and getting paid to run around terrorizing the minorities they profess to hate over here.

Instead I headed back to the mall and dropped my CV off at a jewlery store; this job, at least, will involve dressing in something a bit more elegant than in something I'd be likely to sleep in. Then off to the market for farm fresh peppers and onions.

As I was heading back, something that had been niggling away at the back of my skull all morning suddenly became clear: There weren't even any rides at the fair!