Guest post by Joe Tremaine, a character from my novel, Jobless Recovery. Joe can scare you sometimes, but he's an okay guy. Sort of.
Thanks, L.C. I'm going to start my post with a few questions. Probably going to end it that way, too.
So. What are you supposed to do when your country gets economically dismantled by a few greedy people at the top? Do you sit there and believe the lies about the jobless recovery? Not unless you want to starve. I'm going to tell you something--if it's jobless, it's not a recovery. I'll bet you know that already. Seems everybody except the people in Washington and the media know that. If you want to engineer your own recovery, you need a job.
Yeah, I know. That's what we all want. But how far do we go?
I've thought about that question every day since I heard that my neighbor Martha--a sixty-one-year old grandmother who goes to church twice a week--has finally found herself a job. Martha calls herself a phone actress. I don't need to explain what that is.
After I got dumped from my government job, I did handyman work for a while and now I'm an Internet psychic. Don't judge. It pays the bills and it's kind of fun. I don't believe there are any legal jobs I wouldn't do to keep myself alive. I'd even oil my body up and dance for Chippendales.
Man, I can see that. Middle-aged guy with a bum knee prancing around the stage at Vegas wearing a bow tie and not too much else. I'd do it--if I could get that job. It's not like I've been discovered by the Chippendale talent scouts.
How about you? Would you be willing, for example, to pick vegetables in the fields or work in a meat processing plant? That's assuming, of course, that they paid enough, so you wouldn't have to live in a one-room shack with a dozen other people.
Anybody care to weigh in? Where would you draw the line? Remember, we're talking legal jobs.