The House Of Mirth

I received 2 phone calls in a day for possible employment. At 33, the job market for me looks bleak. Let’s face it, I am competing against young professionals, and I have come at this part of my life wherein I have made my life complicated. My asking price is quite steep as compared to other applicants, and I have decided to employ a headhunter, who happens to be in a business wherein the pond is shrinking. In this age, no one wants to go out of their comfort zone, everybody is weaving a heavy duty safety net. I am competing against cheaper labor, and for a product, I could be compared to a gas-muzzling BMW when everybody is clamoring for a fuel-efficient Toyota, I could not believe that I have positioned myself as ultra premium when the market is demanding for affordability. I have to admit, I am so disillusioned, with myself, with my present state. I can’t help but remember Lily Bart, Edith Wharton’s tragic heroine in her novel “The House Of Mirth”, I am poor and friendless, beautiful but in the end, she has to kill herself due to her being destitute.