I was up into the wee hours of the night applying for a writing position that has probably already been filled, but I was determined to at least finish the application if nothing else. Just as I have been determined to see this #OnWednesdaysWeWrite project through each week. I might not be writing the next great novel with these posts but at least I’m writing something. Don’t get me wrong, I write all the time, but I typically write in multiple different journals, making it difficult to keep track of what I wrote when, whereas here I have a definitive public record of everything I’ve done.
In my exhausted state today I still had the wherewithal to do this project…(/beg people to do it for me)
Which garnered this excellent reply…
I can tell you that 60% of the time my drunk decisions work out every time, so this is an excellent topic for this week. I shall elaborate further tomorrow, but for tonight I present you with the best response to last week’s “shitty jobs” prompt via oioilarrie on Tumblr:
When running became a part of my job.
I turned eighteen (way too) recently so my job experience is limited. Please be merciful.
I was the house captain in my school. For those of you who aren’t aware of this, house captains are basically team leaders. All the school students are divided into four houses -yellow, blue, green and red.
Anyway, we had our sports day, and I was standing, you know, in my fancy blazer and dress and fancy hair, holding my house’s flag in my 5’2 body. And we had a final competition, relay race. I was standing there, glad that I wasn’t a part of the team and away from the dirt,when our sports teacher comes to me and says, you’re one girl short.
Do you remember the scene from the movie ‘The Mask’ in which Jim Carrey’s eyes shot out in the distance? Like they, quite literally, popped out of his head?
That was my exact response.
“You got to run.” He said. Mentally, I was screaming. I’d rather roll with my humpty dumpty body.
I have never run in my life. Never. I was always terrible at sports (except swimming, I’m a blob or globfish, whatever the name is). And he looks into my eyes, and says,“You have to do it for your house. You have to run to become the House of the Year.”
And I almost cried. I think I looked like Niall during Tattoo Roulette on The Late Late Show.
Nevertheless, I ran.
And I came last. Not my proudest moment.
Thankfully the girl after me was pretty fast, so we came third (out of four teams). Ehhh.
We did win the house of the year yada yada shit but there was this video which went viral on our school page, in which I was running, with my knees weirdly buckled, hands quite literally FLAILING everywhere, screaming at the top of my lungs, which the entire school saw during my farewell.
Physically I was alright, emotionally bruised.
All for a stupid house.