Jake learned the geography of humiliation.
By ten in the morning his shoes were already chewing into the back of his heels. The pavement radiated heat through the thin rubber soles like the city was trying to brand him.
Job One was a bakery that smelled like sugar and denial.The manager didn't even take the resume — just glanced at the empty experience column and said,"We'll call you."
They never used names. Names made lies heavier.
Job Three was a mobile store where the employee scanning his form had better nails than his entire future.
"You worked nowhere last year?" she asked.
He nodded.
She smiled politely, the way people smile at stray dogs they don't plan on feeding.
Job Five was security. The guard outside the office looked Jake up and down and said,"You don't look like you can scare anyone."
Jake almost laughed. Almost.
By noon, his resume was soft at the edges, folded and unfolded so many times it had started to tear along the creases. He ate nothing. He didn't even pretend to look at food.
Job Eight asked for two years of experience for minimum wage.Job Ten wanted recommendations.Job Eleven wanted him to fill a form online — the same website that had already ghosted him twice this month.
By the twelfth place, he didn't go inside.
He stood across the road, watching people enter with straight backs and leave with lighter shoulders. He could already hear the words in his head.
We'll contact you.We've decided to move forward with other candidates.Thank you for your interest.
He crumpled the resume and threw it in the bin.
Then he took it back out.
Smoothed it.
Folded it again.
Because even quitting required money.
The sun was lower when he finally stopped walking. His legs trembled — not from effort, but from the humiliation of pretending the day had mattered.
Twelve attempts.
Zero results.
Jake leaned against a wall covered in peeling motivational posters.
DREAM BIG.The B was scratched out.
He closed his eyes.
Not to cry.
To breathe without feeling like the world was watching him fail in real time.
Tomorrow he'd print another resume.
Tomorrow he'd try again.
Because being invisible was better than being dead.
At least, that's what he kept telling himself.