Hello. My name is Amber (Amberella to some), I'm 24 years old, and tomorrow it'll be two months since I had a job. Had, as in, I'm unemployed.
Let's go back to last summer, shall we? Girl has a job in her field of study that she's not particularly happy with. Girl gets fed up, takes out a $5,000 personal loan from her bank and decides to move to New York and live a Carrie Bradshaw-esque life. By the grace of God, girl lands a job as a Junior Account Executive for an intimate apparel company in Herald Square, and moves into a Brooklyn apartment.
November 22nd I got called into my boss' office. While making little to no eye contact, the VP of the company tells me that funds are down, cuts have to be made, and I had to go. I signed some paperwork, packed my belongings into a large H&M bag filled with some clothes I had purchased on my lunch break and left. And then I hopped on the M train, placed my head on top of my packed up office supplies, and cried the entire ride back to Brooklyn.
