Unemployment Object Memoirs: A Tribute to Goggles

I decided to write thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to Goggles.

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Dear Goggles,

After watching television for fourteen hours yesterday, I saw a commercial for the Microsoft search engine, Bing. As television has become my only form of social interaction since I have fallen under the influence of unemployment, I take television’s advice more seriously than that of my parents, my friends, the Dalai Lama and God herself, Michelle Obama. So, I faithfully changed my default search engine to Bing. However, after Bing suggested a flatbed, moving cart (dolly) when I typed in “Dali,” I figured it was time to go back to Google. Unfortunately, I typed in G-O-G-G-L-E, and stumbled upon you, Goggles.

Goggles, when I saw you, I knew I had to have a pair of you. So, I made my way down the fanciest of all fancy (Target), and picked you up. Now instead of pondering the meaning of my life by computer, I do it in public pools and public fountains, scouring the bottoms for dropped pocket change, half-eaten sandwiches, and expensive cell phones that are the victims of dramatic movie scene reenactments. I may not have a job, Goggles, but thanks to you, I am now the proud owner of 17 broken iPhones, a pepperoni calzone, and a weird rash on my right foot.

Now Goggles, in between my float-time, I have managed the strength to look a few job postings, and have realized one thing: in order to get a job, I must be disabled. Sadly, this “disabled” category does not include impediments such as making bad life choices, being bads aat righting, nor being unable to stomach fast food. However, I figured that near blindness would be considered a disability. You thus serve an invaluable function, Goggles. You see Goggles, the next time I get an interview, I will wear you and pretend you are some special bifocal glasses I need in order to get around. Just for good measure, I will purposely bump into chairs, people, and sharp objects to demonstrate just how terrible my eyesight really is. Then they have to give me the job! And those sweet plastic scissors! Who would reject the poor blind girl who is are write’s bad?

Now Goggles, I understand your concerns. I am in international development and marketing. What if the job requires eyesight? What if the HR rep recognizes you are Goggles? What if I never get another interview ever again? To these concerns, I say this: I don’t fucking know! How the hell should I know what to do!? If I knew what to do, I wouldn’t be unemployed, would I!? Damnit Goggles, stop being such a pessimist. All the other things I’ve done have kinda sorta sometimes, okay, not really worked out! Life is about risk, Goggles. So if this doesn’t work out, we at least have a pepperoni calzone that is virtually indestructible from all that chlorine. And 17 iPhones. AND a rash. Ew.

Where are my Goggles?,

Mala