Take The Toliet Challenge

The things we do for money.

This week I am taking the toilet challenge.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I am taking the toilet challenge.

What is the toilet challenge?  I have to try out a new brand of toilet paper and, after I've used the entire package, write a review of my experiences.  Then I'll get paid.  It's not a lot but it's enough to pay a bill.

So far, I have to say I am thoroughly disgusted.  This paper breaks apart and feels like sandpaper.  Who do they really think is going to buy this?  Outdoor woodsmen who have never used real toilet paper before.    It makes me sick just thinking about it.

And my butt is sore.  I feel like crying.

Unemployment Seminar

They call it a one day, unemployment seminar focused on establishing skills for future success or something ridiculous like that.  I call it one day, torture in loserdome.

The paperwork I received in the mail said this was a mandatory program for everyone on unemployment benefits.  When I got there, however, I learned it wasn't mandatory for everyone.  Only those whom they were convinced would exhaust their benefits.

So I'm one of those losers they think will exhaust benefits.  Great!

We spent the whole, entire time talking about resumes and how to respond to job ads.   I already know how to do that.  I want to know how to find the open jobs.  That's what I want to find.  But they didn't touch upon that, not once.

What's worse is that I have to go back in two weeks for a one-on-one session.  What a tremendous waste of my time.

If they want to help me, they could start by boosting my self-esteem not breaking it.

Sad, Sad

I'm still feeling very depressed.  All I seem to do is sleep and cry.  I feel lost and hopeless.  In this economy, how am I going to find a new job?

I haven't even wanted to see Bill although I will take his phone calls.  I won't take anyone else's calls, though.  I don't want to be seen or heard.  But, for whatever reason, I had the overwhelming urge to call Mama.

"Mama, I have horrible news," I said to her when she asked how I was doing.

"What did you loose your job" she said, joking.

"Yes, Mama."  I started to cry.  "And my surgery scar still looks like Frankenstein and ... "

"Fran, what surgery?  What are you talking about?"

I apologized for not calling or emailing like I should have.  I told her the whole story and I felt worse than I had before. 

"Well, if all else fails, Fran, you know you're welcome to come home."

Come home?  The last thing I wanted to do was come home.  I'll probably have nightmares about that one for weeks.

"Thank you, Mama.  I'm just sad, sad, sad today."

"I know, baby, everything is going to be okay."

But is it?