Day two of silly precinct walking is over. I found out how much we're going to be payed. Let's just say it's less than minimum wage and leave it at that. Technically, if our beloved boss didn't think this the most important campaign on earth and therefore presume that we're all glad to work for free, we could just leave after we've filled our weekly quotas - with minimum wage pay. But I doubt we will ever do that. Whenever our feet hurt we shout "moneymoneymoney!" and our strength is renewed. Gosh, we're mercenary.
I think after today we've got a good system that will work for the door-knocking. I still think this is a colossal waste of time, but moneymoneymoney. I desperately need it.
This is going to be an exhausting two and a half months. When will I study? Oh dear. I'm frightened.
GAAA! I just realized we'll be working when my birthday rolls around! I REFUSE to work on my birthday! Turning twenty is going to be rotten as-is! I will not spend my birthday evening being hung up on by strangers. I refuse.
We tried to figure out why we won't just quit - and (besides moneymoneymoney) we decided that we're both overachievers. We expect ourselves to beat these kind of things; we work hard, we kill ourselves to get A's, we're extremely careful and contentious when given tasks. We can't quit because our reputations as fighters who can stick anything out will be tarnished. If we can survive, essentially, four years of junior college drudgery - as my friend declared, "what purgatory would be if I believed in it" - we can conquer anything.
But, I probably won't get to blog very often. I don't care that no one will be sorry to see me go (literally) - I just find it rather therapeutic. Same feel as journalling, but more legible and with pictures.
Though, I suppose I should be grateful. We could be payed, "Six dollars. That's like a dollar an hour!"
A lot later:
HA! WA HA HA! Guess what I did?
I QUIT. I QUIT THIS JOB. AFTER TWO WEEKS. And do I feel remotely like a quitter? NO WAY, JOSE. I've seldom been prouder of myself.