Ashley Stirling sits in her apartment, surrounded by several newspapers and her laptop precariously balanced on one knee. It's the middle of a Friday workday, and they've still not done their personal quota for job contacts this week. Everything out on the market is so complete ass nowadays, truly. No one pays sufficiently, everyone has terrible conditions, and Ash has some standards despite being on a thinner and thinner budget every week. They throw a newspaper away, and it lands as an undignified pile of sheets. Some of these jobs read like one is meant to sell their soul for a pittance.
Sigh. She sips from a by now only mildly toasty hot chocolate. It's still more than good enough to them—she's used to making do with leftovers and such. And then, when Ash is about to give up and go have a displeased lunch feeling bad about the insufficient efforts, something comes up on her laptop scrolling down a list of adverts, that catches their eye.