Unemployable Foreigner

I spent five years in the university like everyone else. I speak four languages. I have six years of job experience, yet the French cannot find it in themselves to employ me. What is wrong with this country? What is wrong with me? Not even a god damn clothing store found me employable (have to tell you that story one day).

I’ve heard others say the same thing: My education has been for nothing. Literature, philosophy, history, French. Society doesn’t need it.

I so wish I’d chosen to become a nurse or something, instead of studying comparative literature. At least I should have stayed in Norway and become a teacher or something. I’ve always admired that profession.

Or I should have studied music, so at least I could have been a music teacher.

Still, I thank God for literature, for the passion for writing, the passion for music. Besides love, art is the only thing who really means something to me. But everyone have to pay the bills. Don’t have any idea how to do that in a city like Paris. If you don’t belong, no one wants anything to do with you. I suppose the problem is that I’m not chirpy enough. Also, I don’t know how to get out there and get what I want. I don’t know how to play their game. I don’t know how to (oh, I despise just writing the word) network. (Can one still use that word in 2011? It feels so 2002…).

God forbid I have to wait tables again, like when I was a student. Those days are so over… I’m hoping to end up in a reseption. That way, at least I can write when it’s quiet. I’m crossing my fingers.


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