And Goldidith said, "This job is too odious. And this job is too boring. But this job is just right."

Finding work here is easy.

My first inclination was otherwise, given that in Kirksville or St. Louis it's usually fast food or the highway, but it's amazing what a college degree and some customer service experience can give you. Or in the case of Ricky's, a pulse and some faint brain waves.

Ricky's is a health/beauty/Halloween store that hires every warm body with an inactive criminal record and active green card in October to handle their huddled masses yearning to be Dracula. At first I was excited because I worked in SoHo, I could put together a cool costume, and they had Ben Nye makeup. The work itself wasn't bad the first day, a Tuesday, but the manager was a condescending ass, and it didn't help that I could barely understand what he said. I also heard more remixed versions of "Umbrella" than I could stomach. On my way back home, I stopped by Gizzi's, a coffeeshop/cafe I'd applied at through Craigslist, and talked with the manager, who said she might be able to start me on Thursday.

The first task they gave me at Ricky's the next day was to run the money from the day before to headquarters. I went, not sure if I resented this or not, but made full certain to stop by Starbucks on my way back. The next four hours were spent on their smallish second floor-- walking around, putting costumes back in their packages, and helping people. All the real work I did could be condensed into maybe seven minutes. This was not for me.

On my way home, I met with the district manager of Oren's Daily Roast, a Manhattan-centered coffeeshop chain which just sold coffee and beans, as opposed to every food under the sun that one could eat with coffee. They essentially made me an offer I couldn't refuse--larger starting wage, a raise after a month, benefits after three months, in a high-traffic store. I agreed to check out the location I'd potentially be working at. This was right before Allison, the manager of Gizzi's, called me back, confirming that I'd be able to work on Thursday.

I opened at Gizzi's at 6:30 AM with Louise. She was nice, the store was cute. We got to play our own CDs over the sound system, which was cool. It had only been in operation six months, so they were still a little inconsistent in some things. It also meant that they were slower than JavaCo in wintertime, which worried me that I wouldn't be able to pay the bills. But the final sign came towards the end of the day.

"I'm going to go upstairs and put on the radio," Louise said. "Allison's about to come in, and she hates the Beatles. And I think that CD is next."

This was not going to work.

I had an hour between when I was off there and when I was supposed to work at Ricky's that evening, so I went to 58th and Park to meet with an Oren's store manager. She agreed to hire me and I'd start training on Sunday. As I rode the subway back to SoHo to work at Ricky's another seven hours that day, it occurred to me that I was technically employed at three different jobs. It also occurred to me that I'd probably be late to work anyway, so I ended up just quitting and going home. I quit Gizzi's the next day after my shift ended.

My boss at Oren's sings along when I plug in my iPod to the speakers. So far, so good.