It was two short years ago that we met. I was a strapping, confident, 22-year-old college graduate with ambitions of taking over the world. Having done my research, and armed with a brand spanking new diploma, I boldly entered the working world with a Maya Angelou-sized portion of self worth. I was serious, salary requirements, benefit demands, and company perks were all apart of the plan–and that’s when I met her. After hearing so much about her from my friends and family, we were introduced via email, a love letter if you will. She told me her name was “Recession”, and our first conversation went like this:
Dear Mr. Weatherington:
We have received your resume, and would like to thank you for considering our company to be your next place of employment. Across the last few months we have been OVERWHELMED by a substantial pipeline of incredibly talented, deeply experienced candidates. After reviewing your resume, we decided to select another candidate who we believe more closely matches what we are looking for. Thank you again for your interest and good luck in all your future endeavors.
PS. Please do not reply to this email
With emails such as this flooding my inbox, so began my love affair with Recession. Seeing that she was becoming apart of my existence in more ways than one, I decided to rid myself of her and attempt to “Recession-proof” my life. So I began to flex my rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Rule #1 in the book entitled Recession-Proof is: Location.
Forbes Magazine also seems to think so as they recently put together a list of the most Miserable Cities in America. The city’s misery was measured by unemployment, taxes, commute times, crime, and the success of professional teams. It saddens me to have the first reference to my city to come like this, but such is life.
With a dash of hesitance and a sprinkle of embarrassment, I humbly admit that I hail from the city that tops the misery list. Because I am writing this I have the freedom to do what I feel, and despite the elements that plague my city, I remain proud of where I am from, and will not allow this list to taint the minds of those who have never been. I’ve heard somebody tell me that “It’s not where you’re from but where you’re at”, however, where you’re from makes you who you are. Even if Forbes thinks its miserable. So I have attached the Forbes link and report, as well as some photos of Cleveland to give you a sense of the Cleveland aesthetic and allow you to make up your own mind. In the words of my homie Drake: “Hardly home but always reppin”