Unemployed America.

I went to a job fair the other week to support a friend with his search for employment. I needed a job too. Except my friend needed one for survival while I did for sanity. What I saw at the fair was horrible.

I stopped at a booth for a mortuary. They needed someone to counsel families of the recently deceased. “id be great at that,” I thought, “plus I get to be right next to the graves, not in them.” The mortuary director talked to me about it. Her skin was milk white, but shiny. Like plastic. The words she spoke were paced and precise, as was her smile. She was like a robot mannequin. She said the same things to everyone that walked by her booth. The mortuary director was more dead than her customers.

I walked by a stand that said BYD. I had no idea what it stood for. The two attendants in the booth looked really sad. I would be too, if no one came to my booth. Of course, my booth would be a kissing booth, which no one would come to anyway… SO! I leaned in, said hello, waved, and looked at the pamphlet of their literature on the desk. “BYD” stood for “Build Your Dreams.” A tear could have fallen at anytime from the attendants eyes and a little boy would skip in front of a city bus. No dreams today.

I walked by the booth for the federal aviation department. It was empty. Just the sign, which seemed to dangle there, lop-sided. I remember when flying was only a dream to Howard Hughes, but the empty aviation stand suggested they would only be dreams once again.

“did you find anything

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