No one wanted to hire me. No newspaper, television station, television network that I worked for ever wanted to hire me.
You know the economy is bad when illegals start complaining that Americans are taking their jobs.
I have two college degrees, but the only way I could make a living was by showing kids how to put a ball in a hole.
At a tiny station in New Albany, Indiana, which is right across from the river from Louisville, Kentucky, where I grew up. The Louisville stations were loath to hire beginners, so I had to go across the river.
We have 23 million people unemployed. They're America's forgotten people. It's the damndest thing that this much collateral damage is acceptable to this [Barack Obama] administration.
In 1971, after seven years in college, with that magic piece of paper clutched triumphantly in my fist, the best job I was able to get was night watchman on a sewer project in Babylon, N.Y. guarding a hole in the ground to prevent anyone from stealing it. God bless the American educational system!
There's a stage where you're desperate to get a job, and you're waving your hands in a sea of nothingness, going, 'Please, please, please! I'm over here - give me a job!'
I felt a failure because I couldn't sustain myself from what I earned from my writing. My day jobs were what mattered, and it was hard to even get those because universities wouldn't hire me as a real writer.
But instead I am applying for a job as an elf. Even worse than applying is the very real possibility that I will not be hired, that I couldn't even find work as an elf. That's when you know you're a failure.
I was working at Lowes and Target, then FedEx, and still did not have enough money to pay rent on my own.
I spent the four years I was an undergraduate working on the beach. And it wasn't because I was lazy; it was because my freshman class would go to a hundred different employers and wouldn't get a nibble.
The bar to get entry into the labour force is rising faster than people expected, and the ability to stay there is falling.
Is it worth the aggravation to find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?
Men and women of high professional standing were reduced to the status of vagrants, unable to find employment and forced to eat the bitter bread of public or private charity.
Well, I'd probably go for any work I could get.
Please spare us the self-pity about how tough it is to look for a job while living with your parents.
Black women . . . work because their husbands can't make enough money at their jobs to keep everything going. . . . They don't go to work to find fulfillment, or adventure, or glamour and romance, like so many white women think they are doing. Black women work out of necessity.
