Friday, June 24, 2005
All right, what the FUCK? No really, what the fucking fuck. To say I need to catch a break would be hyperbole. I am so sick of every fucking thing in my life falling apart or threatening to fall apart--it's a fucking wonder I can even manage to get out of bed every morning. In fact, I think that if I didn't have to get DD to the camp's meeting site by a certain time to get her on the bus to summer camp every morning, I would probably lie around all freaking day. Why bother anymore?
I look for jobs in my town. There are a couple menial options that pay about the same as unemployment. I look for jobs in the two nearest larger cities. There are a few options that stretch my qualifications and experience a bit, but I apply. I get a phone interview with a company I think I'd love to work for. They never call me. I leave messages. They finally call back and reveal that they'd called the wrong number (not the number I'd given them, an old number that the career web site had in my profile--not the number I'd updated there, either.). We reschedule, I drive across town and sit in my car in 90° heat just so I know my phone will get good reception, only to have her say, "You don't have the experience we're looking for, but we'll call you if we have a baker position open up." ["Baker" is an entry-level position that usually pays around $8/hr.] But hey, that was a response at least; no one else even bothers to respond to my resumes and inquiries.
I apply for aid. I will not qualify for food stamps because my unemployment puts me $50 over the limit. In order to qualify for medicaid for my kids, I have to, among other things, go to my bank and ask someone to fill out a form confirming how much I had in my account on the first of the month for the past 3 months. Copies of bank statements won't do, of course. They won't tell me at all if I qualify for aid to pay for daycare. "Why do you need daycare if you're unemployed?" she asked me, as if I'm greedy. "Well, I don't WANT to be unemployed. And in order to find another job, I have to go on job interviews." Not to mention that his daycare is being completely uncooperative: they have no part-time option, so there's no way to cut the cost and still have somewhere to bring him when I need to go on interviews (ha, how optimisitic to assume I will eventually have one, much less multiple appointments). I can't take him out for a week for "vacation" without paying for the missed week. In other words, I am screwed to the wall. I'm so pissed about it that if I do get aid, I'm going to look for a new daycare to bring him to just to be sure they don't get any of the money.
And then on top of it all, Rusty's job is dangling by a thread. They've been dicking him around for weeks now, moving him in and out of other departments, promoting other people around him, criticising the smallest of details, reprimanding him for not blindly following orders, despite the fact that his choices proved to be the responsible and correct course of action... and this week they transfered an employee returning from paternity leave into his department--who constantly reeks of alcohol, and promoted him. He's had several depressive episodes lately, and today finally got in to see a psychiatrist, who told him he doesn't think he needs meds, that talk therapy will probably do the trick. And at the same time he finds out from his therapist that the insurance company misinformed both of them, and now not only does he owe her something like $350, but it will now cost him $65 for each session out of pocket. No way can we afford that!
Then his bitch pig cunt of an ex-wife refuses to let their daughter ride in the car seat I gave him for Father's Day, claiming it "might not be safe."
Could something just go right once in a while? I can really only be squeezed so much more before something breaks.
I look for jobs in my town. There are a couple menial options that pay about the same as unemployment. I look for jobs in the two nearest larger cities. There are a few options that stretch my qualifications and experience a bit, but I apply. I get a phone interview with a company I think I'd love to work for. They never call me. I leave messages. They finally call back and reveal that they'd called the wrong number (not the number I'd given them, an old number that the career web site had in my profile--not the number I'd updated there, either.). We reschedule, I drive across town and sit in my car in 90° heat just so I know my phone will get good reception, only to have her say, "You don't have the experience we're looking for, but we'll call you if we have a baker position open up." ["Baker" is an entry-level position that usually pays around $8/hr.] But hey, that was a response at least; no one else even bothers to respond to my resumes and inquiries.
I apply for aid. I will not qualify for food stamps because my unemployment puts me $50 over the limit. In order to qualify for medicaid for my kids, I have to, among other things, go to my bank and ask someone to fill out a form confirming how much I had in my account on the first of the month for the past 3 months. Copies of bank statements won't do, of course. They won't tell me at all if I qualify for aid to pay for daycare. "Why do you need daycare if you're unemployed?" she asked me, as if I'm greedy. "Well, I don't WANT to be unemployed. And in order to find another job, I have to go on job interviews." Not to mention that his daycare is being completely uncooperative: they have no part-time option, so there's no way to cut the cost and still have somewhere to bring him when I need to go on interviews (ha, how optimisitic to assume I will eventually have one, much less multiple appointments). I can't take him out for a week for "vacation" without paying for the missed week. In other words, I am screwed to the wall. I'm so pissed about it that if I do get aid, I'm going to look for a new daycare to bring him to just to be sure they don't get any of the money.
And then on top of it all, Rusty's job is dangling by a thread. They've been dicking him around for weeks now, moving him in and out of other departments, promoting other people around him, criticising the smallest of details, reprimanding him for not blindly following orders, despite the fact that his choices proved to be the responsible and correct course of action... and this week they transfered an employee returning from paternity leave into his department--who constantly reeks of alcohol, and promoted him. He's had several depressive episodes lately, and today finally got in to see a psychiatrist, who told him he doesn't think he needs meds, that talk therapy will probably do the trick. And at the same time he finds out from his therapist that the insurance company misinformed both of them, and now not only does he owe her something like $350, but it will now cost him $65 for each session out of pocket. No way can we afford that!
Then his bitch pig cunt of an ex-wife refuses to let their daughter ride in the car seat I gave him for Father's Day, claiming it "might not be safe."
Could something just go right once in a while? I can really only be squeezed so much more before something breaks.
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