The biggest thing the regular population doesn't understand is the stress of homelessness.
And this comes from a lucky man only in transitional homelessness. I'll find a job. I'll find a place.
But the goddamn anxiety is exhausting.
I've been applying for jobs across the country as well as locally. The national jobs largely include editor jobs. That's what I do. My two job skills are reading and writing. I have the skill set of a kid graduating third grade.
The local jobs, given there's really only one newspaper from which I was laid off, include things like technical writer and human resources generals. In regard to the first, I can write about almost anything. The only exception would be "How the Chicago Bears are awesome."
But I have also managed newsrooms since at least 1994 and I have four years of assistant managing a McDonald's restaurant. I know how to deal with people that allows for dignity and respect in all circumstances.
Frankly, if need be, I'll go back to managing a fast-food restaurant. I like work. I get to accomplish things and face challenges I can fix.
But does that mean a diminishment of my skills?
I have challenged governors and senators and local politicians. I like to brag that three governors have yelled at me. Never because I was a jerk but because I asked tough questions. When working at small newspapers, I always had this chip on my shoulder that big-time politicians expected softball questions. So I always prepared and shot them hard balls like Nolan Ryan. When now Vice President was our local U.S. congressman in Richmond, Indiana, he once told me his fear was I'd knock on his door and say, "Hi, my name is Rich Jackson and I have some questions."
These experiences don't mean I'm a jerk.
I intend to do well at my job.
Please hire me.