The terrible Economy has finally taken out its deeply repressed mommy problems on my little family. Sure, we’d gotten smacked around a little in the past; it took my husband six months to find a job that didn’t involve espresso after I moved us to this forsaken little hole. Eventually, it seemed that Economy got bored with us and finally allowed Mr. Dead to find a job that he really loved. He came home smelling like printer ink and curry instead of old milk and mocha, and all was well. Unfortunately, the position was always a bit tenuous. He was the third employee out of three at a very tiny, privately owned business. With Economy looming over the owner and making him all twitchy, Mr. Dead was counting the days until he’d have to sell his soul to the caffeinated masses…again.
I think Economy saw how happy and comfortable we were, overheard the conversations about moving to a better apartment and buying more audio equipment, and decided that he had to intervene. Two days ago, Mr. Dead was informed that the little business he works for just isn’t pulling in enough money to cover his wages and still pay the electric bill for the shop. Economy sat back and cackled while the poor owner, who loves Mr. Dead to death and feels terrible about all this, apologized profusely and promised future employment should things change for the better.
Economy, I’d like to kick you in the crotch right now. It’s hard enough to make a living as a grad student without you getting our spouses laid off. What are you going to do next, take away my fellowship? My teaching assignment? You, sir, are a class A dickface.
This is yet another reason that I regret coming to this university. We’re in a city that was named the #1 place to live in America in the recent past. That means that the city is completely packed with very experienced workers and their families who moved here for the wonderful community, so there are no jobs and no housing. It’s impossible for a fresh-out-of-college like Mr. Dead to compete in this kind of job market. Yeah, jobs are tight everywhere right now, but this town is particularly bad, and it’s going to kill Mr. Dead if he has to go back to working retail. He’s an artist, and it just destroys his creative spirit to be in that kind of environment.
I really wish my university would be a little more open with their jobs. There are grad student-only jobs that they have to beg and plead with people to fill, and so many of them are things Mr. Dead would love to do. There should really be some sort of spousal hire system that applies to grad students too, not just professors.
Back later. I have to go tape Mr. Dead’s resume to the forehead of every HR person on this campus.
/spit Economy
