It was the end of September, and I was as poor as a church mouse. I even hesitated to enter a cafe to have fresh coffee. To tell the truth, my state of poverty was pretty scandal. As a result, I had reached the conclusion: I had no choice – I had to put myself into a humiliating position, namely, taking a pathetic job again. I was supposed to go back to Vancouver to start writing a book a year ago, but I still did not know how to escape form the inferno. I was feeling that I had to do something to change my abortive circumstances before I was knocking my head to a wall like a lost freak.
The most imperative task for the desperate undertaking was that I must have looked for the most insignificant job which was available, so that my mind would be free all the time to think. Thinking and improving myself were the two top priorities at that moment. I could not waste my brain to think about a stupid job, so I needed a job without wearing my brain out. In addition, I would have to have enough energy left to study my favourite books with full attention after work. With that in my mind, I had inaugurated the most embarrassing task under the sun: looking for a job.