Life With A Werewolf

Job Hunting

          Job hunting sucks. Anyone who says it doesn't really hasn't ever had to go job hunting. Especially after you've spent a better part of your adult life in the military. The civilian world and military one are two entirely different beasts. One is cold, calculating, bitter ready to chew you up and spit you out if you let it and only the strongest survive them. The second is the military.

          Think I'm exaggerating? All it takes to survive in the military is four things: Right place. Right time. Right Uniform. Right attitude. You have those for things, and you're good to go. Be where you're told to be, when you're told to be there. Be wearing the right clothing. Have a positive attitude about the crappy situation that you're about to suffer, whatever it is. Unit runs. Command layouts. Inspections. Recall formations. Whatever the situation, be positive about it and things run much smoother.

          Try that in civilian life. Sure, those qualities can get you in the door, but they only carry you so far. And your bullshit detector has to be in good working order, cause it's going to get some work, especially when people find out that you've been in the military before.

          Most just want nice, simple things from us military types. You know: the horrific stories of death and destruction that we'd rather not live through again with each retelling and instead would rather just drink those memories away. The bitter drama of going away on deployment only to come back and find out your spouse had taken the opportunity to screw half the folks on installation, most of the folks off, has ran away with your cash and is currently living three states away with another person who is driving your car. You know, those horrible things.

          But others want more. They want our cash, benefits, anything we're willing to sign away to them. Of course, dodging the traditional greedy, money hungry types who just go hunting for soldiers is easy enough. However, dodging those who come at you with the face of one organization or another who simply want to "help" you is where it's easy to get in trouble.

          Sure, there is crooked schemes out there looking to take advantage of us. It comes with the territory. There is also those who simply are afraid of us. Those who watch far too many movies and expect us to snap at any moment and start spraying bullets through an office building simply because Suzie in accounting has said the wrong thing about our red swingline stapler.

          So, yes you could say that job hunting has been a bit of a chore. I've thought of doing the traditional things: security guard (can you do that with a cane or laying down?) postal worker (all that walking? With my hip?) TikTok personality (Yeah. No.) You know, all of the jobs that us military types have available to us when we leave military service.

          I've managed to shoot down pretty much all of them. I have far too much ADHD to be of any use in a boring job that requires me to concentrate on one thing for too long. So that leaves a couple things, sadly TikTok personality could be among them. But I'm not the type who can do funny faces or even dumb, catchy dances. So, that only leaves writing.

          But writing isn't all that it's cracked up to be. A shrinking market filled with a growing number of players who all want to be a part of the game makes for a very competitive work place. Work that isn't always paying all that much.

          But it always helps to have friends. Zack is good for help and a game or two. Shawn and Kris are great listeners, and everyone pitches in on groceries. A support system of caring, loving people. A family of sorts that is, in it's own weird way a pack. A misfit pack.

          Crash has told me before that werewolves always form packs around them. Usually it ends up being mostly werewolves, but for him it's been mostly us human types. We're always there for him. He's always there for us. We're always there for each other to give what another needs, whether it's space, an ear or a helping hand.

          I'm not angry about ending up in such a place or in such a space. Sure, it would be awesome if I ever find some of that Stephen King money. Have the type of success where a growing list of B grade movies are made of your characters starring a string of bad soap opera actors. That would be great. But life never quite works out that way.

          I'd be happy with Edgar Alan Poe fame. That sort of success level that only hits after I've gone from this plane of existence into the next. Of course, I'd prefer to get printed, and paid now. But I think I'll settle for this. A life with a werewolf friend, several human room mates, an occasionally visiting stone dragon who helps keep our lawn gnome infestations down, and a car that is ugly but just won't die. And of course the vampire.

         Oh, I didn't talk about him yet, did I? Well, that's a long story I'll tell another day.