ZOMBIESWesley Street is a mess of potholes and stains. As I explore the worst potholes, I keep an eye out for worried pedestrians scurrying across the street like a lost army of ants. The parking lot is a sea of ​​cars, acres and acres of cars. After what seems like endless trips up and down each lane, I find a parking spot. When I turn off the engine, I take a deep breath and look at the imposing building. I checked my additional time to make sure I had everything, but I knew it was a delaying action. There was no way around it; it was time to enter. Michigan Works is located in the Commonwealth Commerce Center. The CCC, as locals call it, was built in 1980 and rises from the surrounding urban decay like a monument to better days gone by. After you apply for unemployment, you must register and post a resume with Michigan Works. Computers, workshops, and training programs such as "No Worker Left Behind" are provided to individuals, and recruiting services are provided to employers. I can access most services online, thus avoiding a visit. Unfortunately, a total dismissal is impossible. As I approached the entrance, I made my way through the labyrinth of people who, having nothing else to do, stood there smoking cigarettes or making calls on their cell phones. A nondescript reception room that I had seen many times before has not changed since my last visit. Bodies come and go in all directions like balls on a pool table after a break. Banners, pamphlets and posters with messages of false hope dot the walls. On one side it served as a waiting room, where a dozen bodies filled the chairs. Some of the occupants sit like lifeless mannequins, while others look... middle of paper... fed up and decide to do something about it. You become proactive, start school, and join the human race. In “The Pit” you are reminded how large the unemployment problem is and now your situation seems hopeless. Some unknown force sucks your soul. With every minute that passes, the need to escape becomes stronger and stronger. Not wanting to go that route, I focus on my research. With relief I finish my work. I pack my bags and silently wish my fellow zombies good luck as I leave. I walk slowly to my car, but in my mind I'm at full speed. Safe in the safety of my car, the numbness begins to lift and I feel myself returning to normal. Once again I make my way through the potholes of Wesley Street. As I watch the image of Michigan Works and “The Pit” fade away in my mirror, terror lets out one last scream. I turn right and join the living.