What an idiot. I quit two jobs in two years, and now I’m struggling to find work. [Several paragraphs of self-loathing omitted.]

The first job I quit paid really well, and I had stayed there for more than 4 years. I could have ridden that one out for another 15 years until retirement if only my fucking brain wasn’t such a baby.

Waaaa, I don’t feel challenged here!
Sniffles! The work we do here isn’t my passion!
Boohoo, some of the people here aren’t my kind of people.

Shut the fuck up, baby.

The next job I quit had lasted less than a year. I just wasn’t feeling it, even though it paid better than the first, the location downtown was fantastic, and my teammates were awesome.

Each time I quit, I knew that I could fall back on my freelance web development clients. And of course, my wife, who has a great job — and health insurance — and has never quit a job without having a new one lined up. Yeah, she’s the adult in the marriage.

My age doesn’t help things. Looking for work in my late fifties reminds me of the bruised, overripe peaches at Safeway. Well, no, I’m not taking that one, but probably someone will eventually, right? I mean, it’s got a lot of wear and tear, but it would be good in a smoothie, I bet. Where do the old peaches go when they don’t sell, anyway?

Am I a stinky soft banana?

I spend my days scouring the indeedlinkedinglassdoorhubstaff hellscape, clicking Apply on anything I might possibly have a shot at. I talk on Zoom to recruiters and we have such a nice time! Then I hear nothing.

When I get sick of reading job descriptions and paging through endless way-underpriced Upwork listings, I take an hour and write a fucking blog post like this one, just to tell myself, yes, you can produce something, you fucking idiot.

I guess I shouldn’t end by calling myself names, so let’s look on the bright side: my desperation for something to do has rekindled a tiny flame of interest in writing that has lain dormant for decades. I’m getting in touch with the explainer inside me again, and adding some fizz to the reserved introversion that bubbles up naturally. And if I can build some connections through these wispy posts, then that’s something, right?

Right?