Possible ways to explain these cavernous gaps in my work history:
- It’s my kids’ fault.
- My husband had me chained to the bed/stove/bird feeder.
- I wasn’t “unemployed,” I was “exercising my typing muscles,” “honing my internet expertise,” and “updating my Facebook.” I “maintained a major foothold in the social media.”
- I am a professional Twitterer/Tweeter. #ihavenolife #canonlyhandle140charactersatatime
- My car wouldn’t start.
- Did you check your spam file?
- Witness relocation. Alien abduction. Psychotherapy. A series of unfortunate medical events. A Total Makeover. Reality show participant. Rehab. Nut bin. Self-medication. Playing With Myself.
- My settlement check for suing my last job hadn’t run out.
- Reasons. Just reasons. Don’t ask. I can’t tell you due to a court order/fear of triggering a relapse/for your own good.
- The idea of a 9 to 5 made me feel like vomiting.
- I was writing stories.
That last one is a real knee-slapper, don’t you think?
I need a job. Do you know anyone with a job for me? I’ll work for almost nothing.