Haters Gonna Hate

Ah the word "hate." Those four little letters are just filled to the brim with emotion. They stir up images of red faces and clenched fists and an almost comical portrayal of someone stomping around in a tantrum. To many that word is bad and off-limits and is put in a no-go-zone portion of the vocabulary. However, sometimes all of the connotative adjectives and politically correct terms in the world can not pack the punch that saying the word "hate" can. And lately, that teeny tiny little single-syllable sound has been escaping my lips a lot. And I don't necessarily hate it. See what I did there.

As always, let me explain. Currently, I am NOT living the dream. Although waking up with no work and nowhere to be sounds like a cloud nine situation to most, I consider it my own personal hell in a hand basket. Today marks day 50ish of my unemployment run, and let me tell you right now, the morale is low. Like Death Valley depths we're talking here. So naturally, when things get tough and the white people problems set in, I turn to hate. And no one is safe. 

If you would like to migrate over to my hate column, please feel free to commit one of the following acts of tactlessness. And we're off:

In the past two months, if I have congratulated you on something work-related -- ie. a big promotion, a new position, a well-received presentation I was lying about being happy for you. If you think this is harsh, just you wait. You'll really find me appalling before you finish reading. I'm not mad that you have achieved something great in your professional career, I just hate you for it. When I am re-employed and waking up each morning with a purpose again, I promise to be happy for you and your ever-growing resume, but as of right now can it, would ya? I've sent out 70 applications, gone on six interviews and have, thus far, received a 100% rejection rate. So think twice about describing your brand-spankin' new corner office with actual views of the Empire State Building. Even if you think you are getting away with your bragging due to your shy, modest tone, just know that the h-word is flashing neon and zooming around in my mind while I sit there sharing a close-lipped smirk. In conclusion, I hate you.

Please, if you like where your nose is placed on your face (as if I would actually ever hit anyone, no one is more all-talk than I am), I suggest you do not bring up the subject of the dollar bill. I get it, we are all in our mid-twenties and struggling in our own right. To some this means that Ramen graces your plate every night and to others this means you better return those $400 shoes before that credit card bill floats into your inbox. As I've said all along the third decade is weird and wild - one minute you are living life on the Upper East Side and the next your scared to buy a new coat for fear of ending up back in Florida with roommates who go by the name mom and dad. So when you tell me that you really need to cut back on your expenditures, but you just got back from a two-week sun-and-sand dream vacation it will make me hate you. Of course I will be nodding eagerly in agreement, but on the inside I'm devising a plan that will cause a lot of pain on your part. If I tell you that lately my diet has consisted of canned tuna and cheap crackers, I'd be lying. There aren't cheap enough crackers in the world. 

This next one is a bit tricky because it's a fine line between love and hate. So let me approach this delicately... If you try to help me I will either end up loving you or hating you and that fact is unavoidable. The amount of people that have been willing to pass along a resume, contact a long-lost acquaintance, and share inside information with me has been overwhelming. I never knew I had so many yentas on my side. However, if you are extending a helping hand, but do not have any clue about my past experiences or my industry in general, I hate you. Like I said, it's a tricky concept. Do not send me an opportunity where the first line reads: business degree a must, accounting experience preferred and to be honest you will be sitting on excel crunching numbers until your eyes bleed. I stopped taking math junior year in high school, yes, high school, so show some respect to the right half of my brain and don't try to help me. Just occasionally ask me how the search is going, and I will keep from creating a voo-doo doll in your honor. 

There are many other, far more passioned reasons to hate, of course. I hate people for being ignorant and for not accepting those that are different. I hate bullies. I hate parents who are terrible to their children. I hate abusers. And, rightfully so, I hate tourists who lean their entire bodies on the poles in the subway. That pole is for EVERYONE! These people deserve what I believe to be karmically coming their way. Religion isn't my thing, but The Golden Rule sure is. 

So while many of you surely believe that this terrible, miserable hate inside me will manifest itself into a bitter and angry person on the outside, please know that you are probably right. And when I get my shit back together again, I promise to slowly siphon off the hate and replace it with just regular dislike and discontent. 

But until then, hater gonna hate. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Unless, of course, that thing is to get me full-time job with a comprehensive benefits package.