The rent scare
As mentioned in my post from earlier today, due to my illness I missed a lot of work and as a result, I'm not getting a full paycheck. It'll be just over half of my normal take home. Mom and dad are going to pull through and loan me the $150 I'll be short on rent. The roomie, Jodie, is going to buy a couple gift cards off of me that I received as gifts for Christmas, so that'll be another $50. I figure I can sell my cd's since my new car only has a tape player - that may pull in as much as $25. Since I know $75 isn't enough to get me through for 2 weeks, I'll have to figure something else out - but I'll cross that bridge in a day or two.
When I told my dad I hated asking for money knowing that his surgery's coming up and money's tight he said, "Well, it's not like we're broke around here. We can help." Which sparked a number of memories and thoughts. At first, I was just down on myself and frustrated that once again, I need to be pulled out of a fiscal jam. I was giving myself the old lecture: Why can't you be more responsible? You should have money set aside for emergencies like this. Most people do not live literally paycheck to paycheck, with just pennies left in their pockets come payday. When are you going to grow up and take care of yourself?! The only plan you've ever had since high school was to be independent, and yet here you are at 32, still needing help from mommy and daddy. You suck!! You get the idea. After the lecture was over, I realized that this is the first Can't-Make-Rent scare I've had since 1997 (which resulted in me getting evicted and eventually moving back home with Mom and Dad) and that made me feel pretty decent. Not good. Decent. Like I'm making progress or something. After I realized that, it sparked the memory of when I lived with Sue.
Sue and I shared a one bedroom apartment in an okay part of town. Okay jobs within walking distance that didn't pay worth a shit, if they were hiring at all. I got hired at a restaurant as a Hostess. I was trained by a surly old lady who stood about 5 feet tall and spoke like she'd been smoking 3 packs a day since she was 8 years old. "Look kid, yer job ain't that hard. Just greet 'em and seat 'em. Empty their ashtrays when they're full." For this, I was paid the tidy sum of $3.85 an hour. (And no, it wasn't 1980. This was like '92 or '93.) I think I worked 2 hour shifts 3-4 days a week. Sue was hired to bus/wash dishes at the same place. We worked there all of about two weeks before Sue talked me into not showing up for work one day so that we could stay home and get high instead. (I never said we were brilliant.) To say that we were a couple of broke motherfuckers would be an understatement. We didn't have shit. No tv's, stereos, shit like that. Sure, we had weed. But when people came over to hang out and smoke it with us, they had to bring toilet paper or we wouldn't let them in. You just don't know broke until you live without toilet paper.
This also reminds me that when I lived with Sue, I had a gigantic beast of a car - we called it the "Dragon Wagon" though I've no idea why. For the life of me I couldn't tell you what kind of car it was, but I do know it wasn't a station wagon. Anyway. It got about 5 miles to the gallon. The gas gauge was seldom accurate. Sue and I went out one winter morning to go to a friend's house to clean her house for cash. She had on a v-neck sweater and a mini-skirt. I had on a t-shirt, v-neck sweater, and leggings. (We'd done acid the night before and a) were hot and b) were complete morons.) The temperature was about -5, and that's not counting the wind chill. Factor that in, and it was about -15. Farenheit. I think we each had a light jacket, but nothing resembling winter wear. No gloves. No hats. No scarves. Not even earmuffs. So getting stuck on the side of the freeway due to the piece of shit car running out of gas was a tad inconvenient. And boy were we pissed to see two, count 'em TWO cop cars drive past at separate times and not stop to help us. (To this day, I pray those were hallucinations. I refuse to believe law enforcement would leave us stranded in weather like that.)
Huh. I just remembered how we got out of that jam. Tow truck stopped to help. Refused to help when we told him we had no money. Gave us a ride 1/4 mile to the next exit and dropped us off (at the end of the ramp), where we had to run to an elementary school (it was the nearest thing) and beg to use a phone. Mom came and bailed me out of that one, too.
When I think back to how I felt at the time, it wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, mostly it sucked. (I say mostly because it wasn't sucky all the time - there was a lot of partying that went on, and that was all good.) But it wasn't as monumental as it would be to have to deal with that same situation at this point in my life. When I look at it now, I can't imagine dealing with that and not having a nervous breakdown of sorts.
The point of all this? Though I deserved my self-lecture, things are not as bad as they could be, and definitely not as bad as they once were. I'm not to the point I want to be yet, but that's okay. I'm not at the point where I once was. No matter how slowly, how little the progress, I am moving forward. Just seems that somedays, I take two steps forward, ten steps back.
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When I told my dad I hated asking for money knowing that his surgery's coming up and money's tight he said, "Well, it's not like we're broke around here. We can help." Which sparked a number of memories and thoughts. At first, I was just down on myself and frustrated that once again, I need to be pulled out of a fiscal jam. I was giving myself the old lecture: Why can't you be more responsible? You should have money set aside for emergencies like this. Most people do not live literally paycheck to paycheck, with just pennies left in their pockets come payday. When are you going to grow up and take care of yourself?! The only plan you've ever had since high school was to be independent, and yet here you are at 32, still needing help from mommy and daddy. You suck!! You get the idea. After the lecture was over, I realized that this is the first Can't-Make-Rent scare I've had since 1997 (which resulted in me getting evicted and eventually moving back home with Mom and Dad) and that made me feel pretty decent. Not good. Decent. Like I'm making progress or something. After I realized that, it sparked the memory of when I lived with Sue.
Sue and I shared a one bedroom apartment in an okay part of town. Okay jobs within walking distance that didn't pay worth a shit, if they were hiring at all. I got hired at a restaurant as a Hostess. I was trained by a surly old lady who stood about 5 feet tall and spoke like she'd been smoking 3 packs a day since she was 8 years old. "Look kid, yer job ain't that hard. Just greet 'em and seat 'em. Empty their ashtrays when they're full." For this, I was paid the tidy sum of $3.85 an hour. (And no, it wasn't 1980. This was like '92 or '93.) I think I worked 2 hour shifts 3-4 days a week. Sue was hired to bus/wash dishes at the same place. We worked there all of about two weeks before Sue talked me into not showing up for work one day so that we could stay home and get high instead. (I never said we were brilliant.) To say that we were a couple of broke motherfuckers would be an understatement. We didn't have shit. No tv's, stereos, shit like that. Sure, we had weed. But when people came over to hang out and smoke it with us, they had to bring toilet paper or we wouldn't let them in. You just don't know broke until you live without toilet paper.
This also reminds me that when I lived with Sue, I had a gigantic beast of a car - we called it the "Dragon Wagon" though I've no idea why. For the life of me I couldn't tell you what kind of car it was, but I do know it wasn't a station wagon. Anyway. It got about 5 miles to the gallon. The gas gauge was seldom accurate. Sue and I went out one winter morning to go to a friend's house to clean her house for cash. She had on a v-neck sweater and a mini-skirt. I had on a t-shirt, v-neck sweater, and leggings. (We'd done acid the night before and a) were hot and b) were complete morons.) The temperature was about -5, and that's not counting the wind chill. Factor that in, and it was about -15. Farenheit. I think we each had a light jacket, but nothing resembling winter wear. No gloves. No hats. No scarves. Not even earmuffs. So getting stuck on the side of the freeway due to the piece of shit car running out of gas was a tad inconvenient. And boy were we pissed to see two, count 'em TWO cop cars drive past at separate times and not stop to help us. (To this day, I pray those were hallucinations. I refuse to believe law enforcement would leave us stranded in weather like that.)
Huh. I just remembered how we got out of that jam. Tow truck stopped to help. Refused to help when we told him we had no money. Gave us a ride 1/4 mile to the next exit and dropped us off (at the end of the ramp), where we had to run to an elementary school (it was the nearest thing) and beg to use a phone. Mom came and bailed me out of that one, too.
When I think back to how I felt at the time, it wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, mostly it sucked. (I say mostly because it wasn't sucky all the time - there was a lot of partying that went on, and that was all good.) But it wasn't as monumental as it would be to have to deal with that same situation at this point in my life. When I look at it now, I can't imagine dealing with that and not having a nervous breakdown of sorts.
The point of all this? Though I deserved my self-lecture, things are not as bad as they could be, and definitely not as bad as they once were. I'm not to the point I want to be yet, but that's okay. I'm not at the point where I once was. No matter how slowly, how little the progress, I am moving forward. Just seems that somedays, I take two steps forward, ten steps back.
posted by AmyVegas at
12/28/2004 02:30:00 PM
