Nothing Left

This time last week, I was celebrating my chance to work at a company I love. Today I was told having marijuana in my system makes me ineligible to work. I knew this ahead of time. That’s why I used a system cleanse to flush myself out before peeing in a cup. This method has worked for me before. Many times. Apparently 1 out of 4 is the statistic I needed to watch out for. 

Let’s forget for one second that weed is legal in this state. I don’t understand the correlation between getting stoned at home and not being qualified to have a day job. Would employers screen for alcohol drinkers if they could? What about caffeine or a sex addiction? Would they screen people for being assholes if they could? I respect the right of a company to dictate their employment standards. I just wish they made sense.

My resolution from this experience is to die early. I have nothing to offer the world that justifies my parasitic existence. No one in Seattle is invested in me and most won’t even know I left. I’ll just never show up again, like anyone else that makes a life change and abandons old haunts. The assumption is they found somewhere new, not that they died untimely. What we don’t know can’t hurt us. I overestimated my abilities and the price is isolation. I can’t justify any more expenditures. Not even the bus.

I don’t have anything left to fight for. Despite many people hoping I do well, there’s no one actually sitting in my corner. Pulling myself along, inch by inch, I’ve operated on faith in something I didn’t totally understand. If there was any opportunity that consummates my work for the past two years it was this job with this company. I blew it. Casting fate to the winds, I’m ready to retire. This camel’s back is broken and not even half way through the desert. There should be a mercy rule for people like me.

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