Although I think it would be a stretch to say that Providence had interceded on my behalf to save my defeated pride and fragile self-esteem from the dehumanizing clutches of Dunkin Donuts, I am nevertheless free of its powdered or cinnamon shackles. After a mere one day, I was rescued (using the word liberally) by a factory job.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm a firm believer in doing what you have to do, no matter how much of a blow it is to your pride. Years ago, I remember whatching a story on 20/20 about the ex-wives of rich and powerful men who had absolutely NO marketable skills or work experience. Most of them were dealing with it except for one old 'ho, who just refused to actually work for a living. She said she appeared on the show in the hopes someone would offer her a position as an anchorbroad.
Fat chance.
Granted, me working in Dunkin Donuts isn't quite as much of a fall from grace as some middle-aged broad who was living off the fat of the land (and her husband) for most of her life, but it still sucks. For the record, I'm not singling out dispossesed women, I'm sure men are the same way; it's just that my only frame of reference is that one story.
Nevertheless, my brains and education are still being wasted in a cesspool of mediocrity. I still have no money, no chick, and my dog is still dead. I never though it would be this incredibly difficult to find a single, stupid job that is somewhere near my experience/education level. The problem is, I guess, that all of those jobs are hundreds of miles away from me. That's right, I'm living in an employment wasteland.
Somebody kill me. PLEASE.