Melbourne isn't so bad, job wise. It just depends what sort of a job you want. If the prospect of serving whining customers and guzzling fat bastards amuses you, you could do worse than take a resume around to some cafe-rich area, like St Kilda or Carlton. And hey, if things get bad there, you can always pour a coffee over the customers head.
On the other hand, you could try an office job. Office jobs suck cos, though you're on the computer all day, you're not allowed to use the net. Then again, office jobs rock, because you can usually USE THE NET ANYWAY and nobody will find out. Forbidden internet is the best internet.
I know a guy - we flatted together, actually - who needed to get a job, so he took his resume around to several St Kilda cafes, and in two days he got a job. And when I first moved to Melbourne, I took my resume around to all the temping agencies I could find. And I got jobs. Okay, most were shit jobs. Most were data entry, of one sort or another. Once, I remember I was typing up comments from a survey of a major Australian company. I found myself typing up some guys suicide letter.
Definitely you should do work that you like. If digging holes is your thing, so be it. If you like building ships, hey, whatever floats your boat. Me, I'd like nothing better than to sit around churning out bilious, foam-flecked rants on this blog and get paid for it. But you've got to be realistic. Who gets paid for churning out bilious, foam-flecked rants? Oh, wait, there's Phillip Adams. Is his position up for grabs...? Some people call Tim Blair the right-wing Philip Adams. Hey, maybe in the future, everyone could be Philip Adams for fifteen minutes ...
When you're working, of course, you've got to keep it all in perspective. Vanessa Perspective would do nicely:
"How am I today? It's 6:30am, I got three hours of sleep, and now I have to deal with you douchebags. I'm gung-ho as fuck."
"I couldn't help but overhear and I just wanted to say that yeah, the skirt makes your ass look fat. Also your face makes your head look stupid."
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to exit the kitchen area before I rip your heart out like an Aztec priest."
Because, after all is said and done - there's nothing wrong with working for a living, but there is something very wrong about living to work.