What else was Earl to do?

What else was there for Earl to do? He had exhausted every channel in search for employment. Job after job came and went, none fulfilling as hoped and none paying as promised.
                "If I could just find what I was born to do." Earl told himself after he walked away from yet another job.
         This had been the third job in as many months. The bills were pilling up, paid training was never enough and he was constantly in training, training for what, he thought, I’m not going to stay at this one. The add looked good and enticed Earl to apply. No cold calling it said, become a manager in three to six months. Sure.
         Earl ran a hand over his buzz cut. Some people find their calling or at least a job they can stay with for a few years. Not Earl, he drifted aimlessly. His friend Mike called to see how he liked his new job. Earl hated to tell him he was done with it.
         “Hey Earl. How do you like the job?”
         “Oh that didn’t work out. I um…there was no money to be made there.”
         Earl would have to repeat that conversation over and over to at least six different people. His parents would be the toughest. They were his biggest fans but even lately, their support was weaning.
         It was still morning when Earl stepped through the door to his apartment. He had gone to work at eight thirty as usual but this time when he got to his desk, he looked around the three sides to his cubical. He did not feel like working, he did not feel like doing anything. The boss, Mr. Miller, stopped by to drop a load of paper work off.
         “Earl, now that you’re done with training you can start on these.” The middle aged bald man tugged at the waist band of his Dockers after dropping the paper work. He turned and waddled off, presumably to his office.
         Done with training, that meant this was officially his job. Earl did not want to be a tech support slash salesman. How is that anyway? He thought the job was helping people who called with technical problems concerning their PC’s. On the second day of training, the first day being an hour of the company’s history followed by a question and answer session, the instructor dropped the bomb that they would be helping people with tech support but their main purpose was to sell them spy ware and add on software. Software they did not really need, but presented right would help with their problem.
         Earl wanted to walk out. That sounded dishonest. He decided to stick with the training and when he was on the phone he would offer the tech support the caller had wanted and if and only if they could really benefit from the companies software would he sell it. So he sat in the class from 8-5 for two weeks at 7.50 an hour to learn how to fix peoples’ computers over the phone as well as sell them stuff they did not need.
         Back at home, Earl sat on the over stuffed sofa. The clock on the cable box lit green telling him it was 10:35. He had left that morning content to stick the job out and see where it lead. Possible management position the trainer told them. Why, when he had first started out with the company, the instructor told the class, they made him a manager in three weeks and look at him now. Look at what he was training, mostly high school dropouts, excluding Earl who was a college grad, how to sell computer software to people too ignorant of computers not to know they did not need the software. 
         The classified ads had been left open on the coffee table from the night before. Some where subconsciously he must have known it was time to quit or maybe it had just been routine to look for a new job after two months at another. Earl picked up the paper nothing had been circled. Where to begin and where would this end.
         Earl searched through the ads. This one wanted three years experience plus a specified degree. That one just required a bachelors with relative experience, so it held promise. A call would be made on that, this one too. Things were beginning to look up.
         Earl went to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich, and opened a can of soda. He went back to the coffee table to look over the prospective jobs. His shoulders dropped,the yoke of reality hung once again around his neck. He would not be happy at any of those jobs. They were not his passion nor would they allow time for its pursuit.
         Passion. Earl wished his passion were something that would allow him to make money. He thought back to high school, he could picture his counselor’s face. Long, oval shaped head with a mustache and a flat top. Mr. Gergetzky was the football coach as well as Earl’s guidance counselor. Too bad for Earl he did not play football, if he did then perhaps Mr. Gergetzky would have paid him more attention.
         The man’s bottom lip parted from the mustache, “You’re going to community college.” It was really more of a question then statement.
         “Yep” said the young Earl, “I’m not sure what I want to do with my life so no sense in wasting the money on a four year.” It made perfect sense to Earl. Most other kids had an idea of what they wanted to do, finance, medical, engineering, all of these careers were mapped at out for them. Earl did not have the slightest clue. He liked art, he liked history, and he liked this and that but what would he do with those degrees and besides they were his likes not passions.
         Mr.Gergetzky stopped talking to Earl after that conversation at the start to of his senior year. The next fall Earl went off to community college to find himself. Six semesters later he concluded the self he sought remained lost. It was time to go to a four- year college.
         First, it was a business major then back to his liberal arts side with a pursuit of an art history degree. Finally, he settled on a history degree with the prospect of teaching. It is said those who cannot do teach.
         “We need teachers!” went the cry from the county Earl now resided in. After graduating, his hopes of a career had risen with the cry. The application was filled out and the job fairs attended. Just sit and wait for the call. It never came. Earl called the county recruiters to find out why, if teachers were in so much demand, why had he not been chosen for a job.
         “Sorry,” The recruiter said into the receiver, “there are 100 applicants for every history position right now in the county. We really need special ed and science. If you can get certified to teach in those areas call me back.”
         Earl felt tricked. Like the time he saw an ad that a particular car dealership would pay $10,000 for his trade in. He drove his car to the dealership, the salesman let him pick one he liked and when it came down to crunching numbers they were only going to give him 1,000 for his car. He protested, what about the ad. Sorry that is only on SUV’s with less than 12,000 miles. 
         Earl held the phone in his hand, but never dialed the number. This job would turn out like the rest he told himself. Mattress salesman. It was not a title he would enjoy telling people. What do you do? I’m in sales. That works. Oh really where? Retail sales. Yes, but more specifically. Okay, okay mattress sales, I’m in mattress sales. Earl shrugged, if it pays the bills who cares.