You have not answered about the job list. Did you look at any of them?

I looked at all of them twice, and then I closed the page.

That is still something.

It is six months of nothing. I have written thirty letters and come to four interviews.

Four in six months is a small number, but it is not zero. What happened at the last one?

They asked why I left the old office, and I told them the truth.

And the truth was a problem?

The truth was that my work was cut, and nobody told me until the paper came to my desk.

That is a hard thing to say in a room where somebody is deciding about you.

I know what it sounds like. But when I said less, the person on the phone stopped asking questions.

So you would rather tell the hard truth and lose the job than tell a smaller truth and get it.

I would rather not pretend for eight hours a day for the next ten years.

That is a real choice, and I am not going to tell you it is wrong.

Then what am I doing wrong?

The letters are not the problem. The waiting is. You read the page at eleven at night, when everything looks bad.

That is the only hour I have.

It is the hour you have left after you come home from the shop. Take one more hour in the morning.

To do what?

Two letters, before you read anything they send to you. In the morning you are not the person who has been told no all day.

That sounds like the words on a card in a shop.

It sounds like a thing I did for four months. Of the three jobs I asked for then, I got two.

Then I will try it on Monday. Do not ask me how it went on Tuesday.

I will ask on Wednesday, and I will bring coffee.