A Sonata for High-Tec

I'm looking for a job. Going on an average of 8 interviews a week. Each one ... well the varience is big, yesterday i was kept from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., on only chocolates i stole from the kitchen, never knowing when i will go home (?שבוע שבי בקורס טיס). Most of them ask me about things I don't know, things I dont want to know, things I don't care about, things I couldn't care about even if I tried, and mainly things that humanity shouldn't care about. So before I come in the room I stand in front of a mirrow, fix my bra, my hair band, close my eyes really tight so that not a single ray of neon light can come through, and imagine a cute little flat in Yaffo with a sea side window, a cute little bank account saving up for me for the times i will have a very cool very low paying job and a very handsome very poor husband just because i can afford it. and most important, when i think about my evenings in Tel Aviv, all free and solely dedicated to coffee drinking and dancing. Now I'm ready to face my interrogator, traverse all his binary trees and reverse all the digits in his numbers.
Funny enough, with all my attitude I feel pretty decided on the course of the next 10 years of my life, all trade-offs considered. And what's even funnier, all my friends are only trying to confuse me. It's very sexy to be confused. If you have graduated in philosophie or french history you must be confused by definition, otherwise they don't grant you your diploma. If you have graduated in occupational therapy or pharmacology you're still confused because you might be stuck either economically or your work becomes a routine and you loose interest, or both. If you're a mechanical- or a "software"- engineer you almost have to stay confused to be interesting. A techie that loves his job and doesnt complain on every occasion that if it wasnt for the money he would quit immideately and become a kindergarten teacher - will never get married. lack of sex appeal. The other day a friend from school, the biggest pc nerd i know, comme il faut, told me he wants to be a cheff. Did this world go crazy?!
My dear friends fall into 2 categories. Those who drive leased cars and rent double bedroom appartments in the heart of Tel Aviv, eat sushi on friday nights and go on and on and on how I should not fall victim to this terrible, detrimental life style. The only person that did something about it is one of our mutual acquaintances, whom we all know well, that quit his fat job and went to teach sailing. Back in the day, when all he had to offer to his guests in his floating house was black coffee (no sugar) and cheep cigaretts, he was my official hero. He's back in high-tec and his phone number is lost to me with my old cell phone. Friends from the other group look at me with a trace of envy - the job, the car, the benifits - how can i not have the most complete, happy and acomplished life? how is there place left for confusion?
In fact, there is none. I realize it as i'm writing these lines. I did understand something traveling. The most important thing is money. The second most important is not to be a slave of money. Ask my grandma.