Please, God, Let Good Things Come In Threes

Two people I know got jobs today.

Eric, my friend and the former bar manager at the hideous bar I quit (hideousness totally unrelated to him, related to upper-level management having their heads inserted firmly up their asses) got a job today.

So that made me a) happy, and b) realize people my age actually can get jobs right now.

The bigger piece of news is that my mom finally got a big job. She’s a philanthropy consultant (basically, she advises ridiculously rich people on how to give away their wads of money), so her definition of “job” is a little different.

She got offered a contract by the Herb Block foundation. Herblock, for those not in DC and not as nerdishly into political cartoons as I am, was the legendary Washington Post editorial cartoonist who worked there for the better part of five decades, and died about a year and a half ago.

He left a huge chunk of Washington Post stock to create an educational foundation in his name, and my mom is basically going to help the people who are setting it up, since most of them don’t know much about the ins and outs of philanthropy.

I’m really glad she got this job, because she’s been bitching about needing to get out of the house (gee, where have readers of this blog read that before?), and this will definitely do that, and it matches up pretty well with her experience.

Plus, maybe she can swipe me a book of his cartoons. Yes, I am that much of a geek.

Anyway, I’m hoping these two developments are a sign that I will be the third to find gainful employment, though I have many other friends seeking it, so who knows.

I’m clinging to the hope because otherwise going around do dozens of bars and having two thirds of them tell me “Oh, we’re not even accepting applications,” and the other third take the application but say, “Well, I don’t really think we’re hiring right now…” is really discouraging.

But who knows. Perhaps some non-deceased legendary newspaper figure needs a personal bartender. It could happen. I know enough alcoholic journalism students to extrapolate that there are still alcoholic newspapermen…right?

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