A bit of good news. I was offered a temporary work at home job, via an internet friend. Pay is 40% more per hour than my old full time job and the hours are pretty darn flexible. The only down side is it only lasts two weeks. Still it's enough money to make a difference come holiday time. Granted every dollar I earn takes away from my employment benefits, but for these two weeks but I still come out significantly ahead.
Of course with the offer of temporary employment I first had to scramble running all scenarios of unemployment + this job + wife's income to make sure I didn't accidentally make too much money and lose some of the government aid we're getting. How disgusting is that. I could make too much money and wind up in worse shape than when I started. Government Aid is a game, a balancing act. Make ten dollars too much and lose hundreds of dollars in support. I hate that I have to play it, but my choices are limited. Yes, people choose to be poor. They can't afford to be just above poor. Just above poor is poorer than poor. I'm a white, educated male still married to my wife, therefor I'm the least eligible for government assistance. Not that I want assistance, I want a solution. And I can't seem to find this solution on my own right now. Not in this economy.
Sunday, I returned home from running errands and my wife informs me that the computer "isn't working." Fine, I can take a look at it. It won't boot. This isn't a simple software malfuction either. It's not even making that subtle hum of the hard drive spinning. I open it up and restart to confirm my worst fears. The computer's dead. Best case it needs a new hard drive, worst case there an electrical issue I'll never find.
My temp job starts in less than twenty four hours and I just lost the one tool I needed to do it. I just lost the lifeline to job hunting and sanity. I've been told in darkest times be thankful for what you still have, and after family, this was number one on the list. Now I've always kept anything critical on external drives so no real data's been lost. I just can't access any of it.
How do I do this job? How do I even contact my "boss" to tell him I can't work. His contact info is on the computer?!? I'm on a verge of a total break down. I wonder to the living room and slump on the couch as I apprise my beloved of the situation. "What do we do?" she asks. The only think I can think to do is run to WalMart and buy one, but oh yeah that whole lack of income thing. What else am I to do at 7pm on a Sunday night?
My wife and I briefly yell at each other out of shear frustration, but quickly think better. My wife starts planning the week as if we can go to public library and work there. But I simply can't do this job from a public terminal. Finally my wife asks me if I know anyone with a spare. No, when my friends need computer help, they call me. Then she suggests my parents.
So I call them and as luck would have it, they do in fact have a spare. I'm about to hang up and I say, "Why don't you make sure it'll boot up before I drive two hours there?" So my father hangs up and I wait his call.
My wife in the mean time decides to go to one of her social club meetings, leaving me with the kids.
Are you kidding me? It's already dark out, and you want me to drive two hours, with the kids, well after their bedtime, to pick up a computer and then another two hours back!?! Can't you offer at least some moral support for this crisis that possibly effects out entire existence? Can't you take one kid? Must you totally abandon me when I'm on the verge of a nervous break down? Maybe that's a little much. Perhaps over dramatic, but all the sudden everything was totally out of my control and I just wanted someone to tell me it was going to be okay, and my wife decides to go socialize!
Tick ... Tick ... *ring*
"Good thing you made me boot that up first, because it didn't work" he informs me. I sigh as I feel all hope drain out of me. "What's your back up plan?" I don't have one, there was no plan for this, there's not plan for everything going to crap out of the blue with no warning when I suddenly have a chance to earn money the next morning. Then my dad remembers his old lap top. It's a long shot, but he'll try to boot that. Of course he when he calls back, he can't find the power cord. Another false hope. He does however suggest calling my grandmother. She only uses her computer "once a month" according to my mother.
I call her. I can't remember the last time I called her and I suddenly feel guilty for calling her now in an emergency. She says I can take whatever I need. I tell her I'll be down as soon as I can pack the kids up. She tries to talk me out of bringing the kids down but I tell her "I don't have a choice."
I pack the kids and toys and food into the car as quickly as I can and hit the road. It's already pitch black out. I'm no more than fifteen miles from home and my cell phone rings. It's my mom. She tells me my sister has a lap top she only uses when she travels for work, and she doesn't travel for work this time of year. I call my sister and make the arrangements. Then call my grandmother to tell her the change of plans. Grandma makes me promise to call her after I check out the lap top to let her know either way. I'm sure it's several hours past their usual bedtime.
Two hours later I arrive at my sisters', I unpack the kids, check the laptop, change diapers and pack them all back up. When I call my grandma she tells me to stop by on the way home as Grandpa has some "spare change" he wants to give me.
I stop by, and am met at the car. Grandpa asks how I'm doing and I tell him honestly that I've been better. He hands me his "spare change" and tells me if I can't use it to put it in the kids bank account. I tell him I can definitely use it and shove it deep in my pocket. It's dark so I couldn't see what I was given. I didn't have to. I felt two crisp uncirculated dollar bills. I woke the kids to say hi, the least I could do and then we were on our way.
When I got home after midnight and had put the kids to bed, I finally pulled the money out. Two brand new hundred dollar bills. I'm glad I didn't know when I was there. I'm not sure I could have taken that much from anyone. My grandparents are amazing wonderful people and my biggest regret in my life is that by the time I realized this I lived too far away to do much about it.
They lived through the great depression. He fought in World War II, although I've never had the nerve to ask where or how. He could fix anything when I was growing up. During the depression you had to. Even into his early 70's he was out doing hard labor. Now time has caught up with him. His sense of sight all but gone, his hearing, even on the best days, is poor. His mind is still sharp, his heart obviously still powerful. A cruelity of age to rob someone of their tools but still leave the knowledge. Something that frustrates him daily.
Grandma is the queen of crafts. She could sew anything. My best shirts in high school and college were hand made from her. I had more than one request to literally buy the shirt off my back. For our first anniversary she gave me a scrap book. The most amazing thing. Starting with photos of her and my grandfather as kids, then my mother, then myself and my sisters. Filled with drawings I was too young to remember making, photos of mundane moments of my life I didn't even remember her being there for. When someone asks the hypothetical question, "God forbid should your house catch on fire, after your family what would be the one thing you'd save?" This is my answer.
Through my life, they've always helped me out. My mother tells me I'm their favorite and I'm too embarrassed to find out if it's true. They sold my wife and I their car just after we were married. They took a small deposit on it and then returned any other payments we sent. After six months of returned checks, we stopped trying to pay. That type of generosity was common, and always appreciated, but until now I never realized how poorly I've done at showing my gratitude. Partially because I was embarrassed at being the favorite and embarrassed because the money they gave me far exceeded what I thought they should be able to afford given their lifestyle. But mainly because I took it for granted. Not that I didn't appreciate it, but I didn't appreciate it enough.
They've been married sixty plus years. As I struggle through my sixth year of marriage, that amazes me. I want to be like them. Their Depression era thriftiness I'm starting to get, although not by conscious effort. I want to grow old and be able to help my kids or grandkids out like they helped us out. I want to spend a life time with my wife. I want to live a life that's a rich and as full as theirs has been.
There's not doubt in my mind that one day one of them will pass, and the other one will pass days later. I hope that day is far, far away. I hope I can get back on my feet before then and finally have the chance to know these amazing people I've taken for granted for so long. Money equals time, and I don't have money right now so I don't have the time and that just adds to all the pain.
This is my life now.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Living In The Lonely World
Last night we sent the kids to bed early and the wife stayed up way past her bedtime and we talked for three hours last night. Cleared the air about a lot of the stuff that's been going on. I don't even recall the last time we had five minutes alone to chat let alone three hours. I'm not sure that anything got resolved but it was made well known that I hadn't given up yet. She must have believed that much because the discussion ended with some hot monkey sex in the living room.
The obvious remedy to the lack of time together is to have the grandparents come over and watch the kids while we go out. That's infinitely more complicated that you might think. First, as previously mentioned the house is a wreck. It's messy and even minor repairs have been put off for the past six months. I ran out of string on my string trimmer in June and have never replaced it. So we have tall cross is all the nooks and crannies of our yard. At least winter is coming to kill it off.
Second problem, we go out and then what? We have no money to go to a movie, or dinner, or anything else. Escaping the bleakness of poverty requires money, in some way shape or form.
Finally there's where we live. When we went looking for a house we wanted to be between our two sets of parents so we could see them equally. We wound up an hour from her parents and an hour and half from mine, so we wind up seeing neither of them. Going to see them or them going to see is is an all day or all weekend event with the kids. There's never been a come watch them for a few hours. Watch the kids for two hours and spend three hours in the car?
I wanted to live in a small town. One like the one I remember growing up in and we pretty much do. We now live in a village with the population of 1,400. Correction we live just outside a village with a population of 1,400. The nearest city is a twenty-five minute drive away. If we want fast food it's twenty five minutes. If we want to go to the movie it's twenty five minutes. Any real socialization? Twenty five minutes. Everything is far away. It never bothered me because I grew up used to that. My wife however grew up withing walking distance of a mall in a major metropolitan area. Drives her batty, and now with two kids, I'm starting to see why.
I love the land. I see stars every night outside in my own yard. Not some stars, hundreds, thousand. There's almost zero light pollution. It's so fucking amazing that I have my private window on the universe that most people miss. Even growing up on a farm, I didn't see this many. The only thing that's even come close was a family vacation to Yellowstone in High School.
The house however has problems. It's a 1960's catalog home. Somehow both of us missed the painted wood paneling in all the rooms when we looked at the house. I think we were both just in love with the idea of having a house before our daughter was born, and this house fit the bill. The worst thing about the house is the water. We have well water, city water's not even an option. It's full of sulfur. We replaced the water softener almost as soon as we moved in . But it just eats at everything. The softener, the septic (replaced), the hot water heater (replaced the week before I was let go), the well pump (replaced 2 days before I was let go), drains, sinks, anything metal turns black just from the humidity, the wallpaper it the bathroom is coroding, and I think it may have taken out the washing machine the other day.
I went to start the machine and nothing happened. The machine is practically new. I just wanted to cry. Anytime something breaks around the house my wife blames me. 75% of the time she's right. I'm a clumsy fat oaf with ADHD. I knew this time she had used it last. But I also knew that wouldn't matter. I checked everything I could think to fix it. Checked the water lines, checked the fuses, the outlet, it was definitely the machine. So I carefully put everything back the way I found it in hopes she'd discover it on her own and the maybe not blame me. Two days passed and I finally decided to tell her about it. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. Yeah, she blamed me but it was thirty second tirade rather than a thirty minute tirade so I'll consider that a moral victory. She called her dad to see if he knew how to fix it. He had some ideas of course, but still I think I lost some man points for when she called her dad right away. Not fixed yet, but hey there's a laundromat twenty five minutes away. That's not a big deal with two kids right? Or we can buy a new one! I have also sorts of extra money just lying around ...
So as I started to look for jobs, relocation was a possibility. My wife would be happy in a new house. But as it turns out, the house is a chain around our necks. We bought it with a loan based on two incomes, which then dropped to one three months later when my daughter was born. That was the plan, to live skimpily until the kids were in school then the wife would go back to work. Then a year later the housing market totally collapsed and we lost 1/3 of the houses total value. We can't sell it, because if we got what it was worth, we can't afford to live anywhere else because we'd still owe in the neighborhood around 1/3 of what we originally paid for it.
The nearest city twenty five miles away, is still a micropolitan and there's not endless industry. I think I applied for every job in my field in the first week and made cold calls to everyone else by the second week. Odds are when I get a job it's going to be an hour away. And not an hour city drive either. I'm talking 65+ mph highway driving. Maybe further. And with two small kids whose bedtimes are around eight pm. That means I'd only get the see them for like an hour and a half a day. This is the relief from my current situation I have to look forward too? Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard. I know, because even if I don't get to see them, they need clothes and food and as much as I hate to say it they need this house.
For the time being though I can spend every minute of every day with them.. That's pretty wonderful. But at the same time I need to keep working hard at finding a job, so I can start missing them terribly again. Fuck me.
This is my life now.
The obvious remedy to the lack of time together is to have the grandparents come over and watch the kids while we go out. That's infinitely more complicated that you might think. First, as previously mentioned the house is a wreck. It's messy and even minor repairs have been put off for the past six months. I ran out of string on my string trimmer in June and have never replaced it. So we have tall cross is all the nooks and crannies of our yard. At least winter is coming to kill it off.
Second problem, we go out and then what? We have no money to go to a movie, or dinner, or anything else. Escaping the bleakness of poverty requires money, in some way shape or form.
Finally there's where we live. When we went looking for a house we wanted to be between our two sets of parents so we could see them equally. We wound up an hour from her parents and an hour and half from mine, so we wind up seeing neither of them. Going to see them or them going to see is is an all day or all weekend event with the kids. There's never been a come watch them for a few hours. Watch the kids for two hours and spend three hours in the car?
I wanted to live in a small town. One like the one I remember growing up in and we pretty much do. We now live in a village with the population of 1,400. Correction we live just outside a village with a population of 1,400. The nearest city is a twenty-five minute drive away. If we want fast food it's twenty five minutes. If we want to go to the movie it's twenty five minutes. Any real socialization? Twenty five minutes. Everything is far away. It never bothered me because I grew up used to that. My wife however grew up withing walking distance of a mall in a major metropolitan area. Drives her batty, and now with two kids, I'm starting to see why.
I love the land. I see stars every night outside in my own yard. Not some stars, hundreds, thousand. There's almost zero light pollution. It's so fucking amazing that I have my private window on the universe that most people miss. Even growing up on a farm, I didn't see this many. The only thing that's even come close was a family vacation to Yellowstone in High School.
The house however has problems. It's a 1960's catalog home. Somehow both of us missed the painted wood paneling in all the rooms when we looked at the house. I think we were both just in love with the idea of having a house before our daughter was born, and this house fit the bill. The worst thing about the house is the water. We have well water, city water's not even an option. It's full of sulfur. We replaced the water softener almost as soon as we moved in . But it just eats at everything. The softener, the septic (replaced), the hot water heater (replaced the week before I was let go), the well pump (replaced 2 days before I was let go), drains, sinks, anything metal turns black just from the humidity, the wallpaper it the bathroom is coroding, and I think it may have taken out the washing machine the other day.
I went to start the machine and nothing happened. The machine is practically new. I just wanted to cry. Anytime something breaks around the house my wife blames me. 75% of the time she's right. I'm a clumsy fat oaf with ADHD. I knew this time she had used it last. But I also knew that wouldn't matter. I checked everything I could think to fix it. Checked the water lines, checked the fuses, the outlet, it was definitely the machine. So I carefully put everything back the way I found it in hopes she'd discover it on her own and the maybe not blame me. Two days passed and I finally decided to tell her about it. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. Yeah, she blamed me but it was thirty second tirade rather than a thirty minute tirade so I'll consider that a moral victory. She called her dad to see if he knew how to fix it. He had some ideas of course, but still I think I lost some man points for when she called her dad right away. Not fixed yet, but hey there's a laundromat twenty five minutes away. That's not a big deal with two kids right? Or we can buy a new one! I have also sorts of extra money just lying around ...
So as I started to look for jobs, relocation was a possibility. My wife would be happy in a new house. But as it turns out, the house is a chain around our necks. We bought it with a loan based on two incomes, which then dropped to one three months later when my daughter was born. That was the plan, to live skimpily until the kids were in school then the wife would go back to work. Then a year later the housing market totally collapsed and we lost 1/3 of the houses total value. We can't sell it, because if we got what it was worth, we can't afford to live anywhere else because we'd still owe in the neighborhood around 1/3 of what we originally paid for it.
The nearest city twenty five miles away, is still a micropolitan and there's not endless industry. I think I applied for every job in my field in the first week and made cold calls to everyone else by the second week. Odds are when I get a job it's going to be an hour away. And not an hour city drive either. I'm talking 65+ mph highway driving. Maybe further. And with two small kids whose bedtimes are around eight pm. That means I'd only get the see them for like an hour and a half a day. This is the relief from my current situation I have to look forward too? Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard. I know, because even if I don't get to see them, they need clothes and food and as much as I hate to say it they need this house.
For the time being though I can spend every minute of every day with them.. That's pretty wonderful. But at the same time I need to keep working hard at finding a job, so I can start missing them terribly again. Fuck me.
This is my life now.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Love and Marriage
Everyday it becomes harder between me and my wife. We've never been the best at communicating with each other and now she's working her crappy minimum wage job from 3am until noon. So she's always in bed before the kids are and call me old fashioned but I really don't want to talk about all the difficult decisions in front of the kids. Partially because I don't want the them to know, but also things are bound to get heated and I really hate fighting in front of the kids. I mean, I totally recognize that knowing mom and dad fight isn't entirely bad. People fight and they work through it, and it set a good example. Our walls are paper thin, they don't need to see us fight to know we fight. More importantly, I'm not sure we are going to work through this.
My wife's been very passive aggressively dropping that hint. At least I think she is. Among other things she checked out a book from the library about trial separations. The heartache there is I've finally seen the error of my ways, on my own, but I'm not sure that she's ready to accept that.
So what is my ways? Well that takes me back fifteen years or so to High School. For reasons I've never full identified I was a very depressed kid. I was always the smallest kid in school, so I was picked on a lot. I had the second worst case of ADHD the evaluator had ever seen. The worst case ... my father. My parents relationship was always rocky. They did a good job of hiding it though except for the fact that one of my earliest childhood memories was of my Mother asking us kids if they split up who would we want to live with. One of several memories I repressed some time. Another fun filled repressed memory was some old guy trying (and failing) to molest me while I was on a family vacation. Actually, now that i see all this on paper, combined with the fact that I had an older half sister who I never knew existed until the summer she came to live with us actually does go along way to explaining my depression.
Anyway I won't bore you with the details but lets just say I cut myself often, I made a few week suicide attempts or plans. Only one was really serious and I remember standing on the overpass wondering if I live am I going to be so crippled I can't try again? The thought of living in a state where I couldn't even end it anymore was enough to talk myself out of it. So the point being I spent 7/8 of High School not planning on living much longer. I did finally shake the self destructive drive during my senior year but some how inside I still had the strong inclination that I wouldn't live very long. At one point I even had an exact date picked out. It wasn't so much a feeling of impending doom as much as it was don't waste a minute of your life on unimportant crap.
I continued to put my life back together, or together for the first time. And the date came and went and I didn't even realize it. But still live my life like I was on the clock. I'm really happy where my life wound up. I don't want there to be any mistake about that. I love my wife, I love my kids. I wouldn't do anything to change having them in my life. But that sense of being on the clock never really left me until recently.
I guess it can be best described in terms of Science Fiction. I feel like at some point in time I wound up on the wrong time line. I was supposed to have a miserable shot life, I was wired for it, and somehow I wound up with something else. I like where I am much better than where I thought I'd be, but that doesn't take away the feeling that it's some how not what the cosmos intended for me.
This ingrained short life span mentality permeated through everything I did. Why clean house when you'll be dead tomorrow? There's better ways to spend your time. Why watch what you eat because you'll be dead in a week anyway? Why save money for a rainy day when you may not live to see that rainy day. Why make friends when they'll only have to attend your funeral? Why share feelings if you won't be around tomorrow to do something about them.
That's what hurt our marriage long before the job loss. I was accused of being lazy but I wasn't I just didn't want to wash clothes I'd never have a chance to wear. My impulse buying ... why make money when you can't spend it? All of it every complain she's ever had comes back to this. And believe it or not missing that self imposed Halloween deadline to find a job hit me over the head to show me how fucked up this thinking was. Why do these things, because if I don't the people I love, my wife my kids, will have to, even if I do die tomorrow. Because thinking that the cosmos has some big set master plan for me that I somehow got off track from isn't fact and it isn't spirituality or faith. It's delusions of grandeur at best.
I've been with my wife for eleven years operating under a false assumption of my impending demise. And now I have to make it up to her. Now I have to fix a decades worth of damage before my wife's library books are due. So she won't decide to leave me, if she hasn't already. I'm hopeful and optimistic about fixing myself, but I know if she leaves even if under a trial separation, it'll be the crushing blow that puts me back on that ticking clock path. I don't need her to save me, I just need her not to throw another obstacle in my way. I want to change, I need to change and for the first time in my life I really mean that. I feel like a different person entirely. I've tried to change before, because I knew it was wrong. This time I don't need to try to change my mind set. That part is done. Trying to change the mindset is nearly impossible by shear force of effort. I had my epiphany, my new track is set and now it's just a matter of shaking old habits and repairing years of damage. I just hope it's not too late.
I can't tell her I'm changing, I've told her that before. My actions will speak louder than my words. But is she so used to seeing me as a lazy fat fuck up that she can't see me anymore as anything else? ... maybe. It seems that way. But I have to do this. The one thing that might save me is we're to poor to get divorced right now. The longer I go without a job the more time I have to fix it. Choose the job to save the marriage or choose unemployment to save the marriage. Arg!
This is my life now.
My wife's been very passive aggressively dropping that hint. At least I think she is. Among other things she checked out a book from the library about trial separations. The heartache there is I've finally seen the error of my ways, on my own, but I'm not sure that she's ready to accept that.
So what is my ways? Well that takes me back fifteen years or so to High School. For reasons I've never full identified I was a very depressed kid. I was always the smallest kid in school, so I was picked on a lot. I had the second worst case of ADHD the evaluator had ever seen. The worst case ... my father. My parents relationship was always rocky. They did a good job of hiding it though except for the fact that one of my earliest childhood memories was of my Mother asking us kids if they split up who would we want to live with. One of several memories I repressed some time. Another fun filled repressed memory was some old guy trying (and failing) to molest me while I was on a family vacation. Actually, now that i see all this on paper, combined with the fact that I had an older half sister who I never knew existed until the summer she came to live with us actually does go along way to explaining my depression.
Anyway I won't bore you with the details but lets just say I cut myself often, I made a few week suicide attempts or plans. Only one was really serious and I remember standing on the overpass wondering if I live am I going to be so crippled I can't try again? The thought of living in a state where I couldn't even end it anymore was enough to talk myself out of it. So the point being I spent 7/8 of High School not planning on living much longer. I did finally shake the self destructive drive during my senior year but some how inside I still had the strong inclination that I wouldn't live very long. At one point I even had an exact date picked out. It wasn't so much a feeling of impending doom as much as it was don't waste a minute of your life on unimportant crap.
I continued to put my life back together, or together for the first time. And the date came and went and I didn't even realize it. But still live my life like I was on the clock. I'm really happy where my life wound up. I don't want there to be any mistake about that. I love my wife, I love my kids. I wouldn't do anything to change having them in my life. But that sense of being on the clock never really left me until recently.
I guess it can be best described in terms of Science Fiction. I feel like at some point in time I wound up on the wrong time line. I was supposed to have a miserable shot life, I was wired for it, and somehow I wound up with something else. I like where I am much better than where I thought I'd be, but that doesn't take away the feeling that it's some how not what the cosmos intended for me.
This ingrained short life span mentality permeated through everything I did. Why clean house when you'll be dead tomorrow? There's better ways to spend your time. Why watch what you eat because you'll be dead in a week anyway? Why save money for a rainy day when you may not live to see that rainy day. Why make friends when they'll only have to attend your funeral? Why share feelings if you won't be around tomorrow to do something about them.
That's what hurt our marriage long before the job loss. I was accused of being lazy but I wasn't I just didn't want to wash clothes I'd never have a chance to wear. My impulse buying ... why make money when you can't spend it? All of it every complain she's ever had comes back to this. And believe it or not missing that self imposed Halloween deadline to find a job hit me over the head to show me how fucked up this thinking was. Why do these things, because if I don't the people I love, my wife my kids, will have to, even if I do die tomorrow. Because thinking that the cosmos has some big set master plan for me that I somehow got off track from isn't fact and it isn't spirituality or faith. It's delusions of grandeur at best.
I've been with my wife for eleven years operating under a false assumption of my impending demise. And now I have to make it up to her. Now I have to fix a decades worth of damage before my wife's library books are due. So she won't decide to leave me, if she hasn't already. I'm hopeful and optimistic about fixing myself, but I know if she leaves even if under a trial separation, it'll be the crushing blow that puts me back on that ticking clock path. I don't need her to save me, I just need her not to throw another obstacle in my way. I want to change, I need to change and for the first time in my life I really mean that. I feel like a different person entirely. I've tried to change before, because I knew it was wrong. This time I don't need to try to change my mind set. That part is done. Trying to change the mindset is nearly impossible by shear force of effort. I had my epiphany, my new track is set and now it's just a matter of shaking old habits and repairing years of damage. I just hope it's not too late.
I can't tell her I'm changing, I've told her that before. My actions will speak louder than my words. But is she so used to seeing me as a lazy fat fuck up that she can't see me anymore as anything else? ... maybe. It seems that way. But I have to do this. The one thing that might save me is we're to poor to get divorced right now. The longer I go without a job the more time I have to fix it. Choose the job to save the marriage or choose unemployment to save the marriage. Arg!
This is my life now.
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
From the beginning of this sad situation I never imagined it'd take this long to find employment. Every interview I had I was sure was the one. Sure being unemployed was downright inconvenient, but I told myself as long as I have a job by Halloween everything will be fine. But now Halloween has come and gone.
So why Halloween? I guess that to me was the cut off for when I could start a job, and then have a steady flow of income so that Holiday plans wouldn't have to change. No skipping Thanksgiving because my wife had to work her pathetic minimum wage job the day after. We wouldn't have to skimp on present for the extended family. We wouldn't have to cancel Christmas for our kids. Now I don't know what we'll have to do.
I suppose my son will never know either way this year. He's not even a year old and Christmas has no meaning to him. But I'll know. My daughter ... well she's been asking nightly to watch a Christmas Special that's not even on for another two weeks. She lacks a firm concept of time, but presents and pretty lights she knows. She's already reminding us we'll have to move the chair to put up the tree. We've bought a few presents through out the year at garage sales so she won't do entirely without ... but having a handful of second hand presents hardly says "Magical Christmas."
My wife asked me today what we're going to do about gifts this year. I don't know. We can't spend money. Even homemade craft type gifts take some supplies. I never really gave her a straight answer. Not because I didn't know but because I couldn't bring myself to actually say we have to cancel Christmas. I'm sure she thinks I'm not communicating again. She's right of course but not for the reason she thinks. I know what needs to be done. I just don't know how to face the pain and embarrassment of it. Our families don't know we go to food banks and Community dinners. My mom knows about being on WIC, but I think that's it.
I don't want to be the family that shows up, gets presents and leaves. I want to say just don't buy us anything. But if we go my daughter would never understand why everyone but her gets gifts. More importantly we need gifts. Useful gifts. Not DVD's and novelty jelly bean pooping reindeer. We need clothes. We need shoes. We need food. We need useful items. All the stuff you hated under the Christmas tree as a kid, we need. I can't afford to turn down gifts or any other charity for that matter.
How do you explain to a three year old Santa brings less present to poor kids? How do you even explain poor to the three year old? My wife asked my daughter what she wanted for Christmas at dinner. She told us a "A penny and a giant box of cereal." Adorable right? I tell myself it's because we only let her watch PBS Kids and she's never seen a real toy commercial. I tell myself that. At the same time she's always showed a wisdom beyond her years. Maybe she knows, maybe she even understands.
I hope not. I don't want her to know, I don't want her to understand. I want her to be a kid. Happy and carefree. I want her to have the same eager anticipation at 5am Christmas morning seeing the tree lit up but not quite being able to see what Santa left. I want her to have the same magical wonder I had coming downstairs with the tree overflowing with presents. I want her to spend what felt like hours unwrapping toy after toy after toy after toy. She's only three once and she's only going to believe in Santa for so long. One day she'll know the first picture of her and Santa was actually of her and her Dad. One day she'll know daddy disappointed her, not Santa.
This is my life now.
So why Halloween? I guess that to me was the cut off for when I could start a job, and then have a steady flow of income so that Holiday plans wouldn't have to change. No skipping Thanksgiving because my wife had to work her pathetic minimum wage job the day after. We wouldn't have to skimp on present for the extended family. We wouldn't have to cancel Christmas for our kids. Now I don't know what we'll have to do.
I suppose my son will never know either way this year. He's not even a year old and Christmas has no meaning to him. But I'll know. My daughter ... well she's been asking nightly to watch a Christmas Special that's not even on for another two weeks. She lacks a firm concept of time, but presents and pretty lights she knows. She's already reminding us we'll have to move the chair to put up the tree. We've bought a few presents through out the year at garage sales so she won't do entirely without ... but having a handful of second hand presents hardly says "Magical Christmas."
My wife asked me today what we're going to do about gifts this year. I don't know. We can't spend money. Even homemade craft type gifts take some supplies. I never really gave her a straight answer. Not because I didn't know but because I couldn't bring myself to actually say we have to cancel Christmas. I'm sure she thinks I'm not communicating again. She's right of course but not for the reason she thinks. I know what needs to be done. I just don't know how to face the pain and embarrassment of it. Our families don't know we go to food banks and Community dinners. My mom knows about being on WIC, but I think that's it.
I don't want to be the family that shows up, gets presents and leaves. I want to say just don't buy us anything. But if we go my daughter would never understand why everyone but her gets gifts. More importantly we need gifts. Useful gifts. Not DVD's and novelty jelly bean pooping reindeer. We need clothes. We need shoes. We need food. We need useful items. All the stuff you hated under the Christmas tree as a kid, we need. I can't afford to turn down gifts or any other charity for that matter.
How do you explain to a three year old Santa brings less present to poor kids? How do you even explain poor to the three year old? My wife asked my daughter what she wanted for Christmas at dinner. She told us a "A penny and a giant box of cereal." Adorable right? I tell myself it's because we only let her watch PBS Kids and she's never seen a real toy commercial. I tell myself that. At the same time she's always showed a wisdom beyond her years. Maybe she knows, maybe she even understands.
I hope not. I don't want her to know, I don't want her to understand. I want her to be a kid. Happy and carefree. I want her to have the same eager anticipation at 5am Christmas morning seeing the tree lit up but not quite being able to see what Santa left. I want her to have the same magical wonder I had coming downstairs with the tree overflowing with presents. I want her to spend what felt like hours unwrapping toy after toy after toy after toy. She's only three once and she's only going to believe in Santa for so long. One day she'll know the first picture of her and Santa was actually of her and her Dad. One day she'll know daddy disappointed her, not Santa.
This is my life now.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Missing the War
Sundays are Community Dinners. Local churches take turns providing the local community with a free lunch. Of course by "the Community" I mean the four most faithful church families, elderly church goers with nothing better to do and the abject poor. We now being the later. You come have a meal prepared by people to wealthy to cook for themselves on a daily basis, and rub elbows with the squallier. For a free hot well rounded meal it's not that bad. Come for the food, leave with a bag of Panera Bread.
Although about once a month though the meal is half inedible. Burger Briquettes come to mind. Another time there was a soup where the cook obviously didn't know what they were doing and added the dehydrated beans in last, leaving the result a mine field for chipped teeth. For my family anyway, most of the attendees were down to their last four and 3/4 teeth.
My wife happened to work this Sunday, and suggest I go by myself with the kids. I declined the suggestion for a number of reasons. One managing two kids and a tray full of food was a juggling act I didn't want to attempt. The stronger reason was the last time this church had the Community Dinner.
As a family we arrived right as it started. On the way into the dining room of the church I nearly literally ran into my old boss. That's right, I was was face to face with the man who let me go, leaving me in this awful situation. Imagine the feeling you get running into an ex-girlfriend. She's in a bikini with her jock husband, you're in a stained shirt with your fat cousin. Take that feeling and multiply by 100.
I had no idea he went to that church. He was wearing this ridiculous Kelly Green sport coat and matching bow tie. Somehow, despite having stole his attire from the guy on the Lucky Charms box, he somehow manages to pull the look off and makes it look good. Another reason to loathe him.
Our eyes met for a second, with his kids in tow, and mine as well and he blurts out a "hello." Caught of guard I returned a mumbled salutation. I know he knew why we were at his church, and if he didn't, I'm sure his wife told him after I refused her offer of olives on my taco.
I doubt he felt bad though. I worked for him long enough to know that he's never had a moment of regret for any business decision he's ever made. He told me on many occasions that "Everything's for sale except my wife and kids." At first that seemed like smart business savvy. Then I started to realize that meant trust, loyalty, ethics and friendship. Perhaps that was my mistake though. I in some ways did consider him a friend albeit not a close one. I bought my riding lawn mower off of him. I had qualms about the morality of him outsourcing my entire department to himself and his new company but in this economy there was no way I wasn't going along for the ride. I told myself while this career path might not be one I'd choose for myself, this new avenue only points up. I couldn't have been more wrong.
My department was already stretched thin. Myself, another full time employee and an intern. In December the other full timer found a new job and the intern's internship ended. So instead of taking some planned time off, I worked. The day before the new intern was to start my boss told me of his master plan to start the new company and made it sound like he was building this business around me. I move I found both foolish and ballsy. But the catch was the other full timer wouldn't be replaced until the new business is official. I was fine with that, but cautioned .. I can pick up the slack for a while but not for an extended period. He nodded in what I thought was understanding and told me it'd be a few weeks.
So I worked through lunch daily. Weeks turned into months. I stayed late and came in early until doing so only made me less productive not more. Our computers were often not working and severely hampering productivity, but couldn't be replaced until the new company was official. Our software was so out of date we had trouble opening outside files, and still we waited. Starting new project for this new company. Each day I wore on me more and more and each day I'd come home to a wife who was that much closer to giving birth to my son.
I needed time off. I begged my Wife to give birth so I could get time off. Somehow in my mind, the chaos of a new child would be less stressful than work. It was, but hardly enough to decompress. After a week and a half off at the end of April / beginning of May to spend time with my new son, it was right back at it, except now even harder. The routine was broken and there was another mouth to feed.
Eventually the Intern was made full time, which was a step in the right direction, but still left us a man down. Finally, the new company would open it's doors on Monday, June 15th. Finally all the additional work and waiting and bullshit would be over. New computers, new software and more employees! But first a meeting on the Friday before, my boss, his new business partner and myself. I thought this was a meeting was to get everyone on the same page. My boss and his partner were very obviously not on the same page and gave me conflicting instructions. I thought this meeting was to get us all on the same page and start this thing off on the right foot.
My boss per his usual M.O. was late. But he got to the point rather quickly. Not his exact words but a paraphrase: "You've been working very hard the past few months. We want to start this company out the right way with employees who can give 110%, and you're pretty burnt out right now, so moving forward I don't think you can be an asset to the company. Thank you for your hard work and turn in your keys."
I'm being fired for working too hard? Or for having a family that's a priority? Should I have slacked off? Did I complain too much? Not enough? Did I take too much time off when my son was born? Not enough? What the fuck did I do wrong? Did the company big brother spy some of my wife's hormone driven profanity laced tirades in emails to my work account while she was pregnant? What the hell did I do wrong? I gave everything, more than I wanted to make him, to make both the new and the old company as success and this is the fucking thanks I get?!?
I'm escorted to my office by the head of HR, a timid but likable man. I was either his first or second hire when he was brought aboard and obviously he felt more than a little pity on me. At my office I'm met by the head of security who didn't have far to go, as she had the adjoining office. The former intern and the partner are already there and doing something on my computer. The partner tells me "I'm not allowed to touch the computer." I know there's a good reason why, but it still pisses me off they'd think I'd formulate a plan for revenge that quickly.
I can't help but laugh. "Good thing my stuff's already packed, otherwise this might be akward and uncomfortable" I announce. I was ready to go to my new office! I take my boxes out to my car, escorted by the head of security. She offers to carry one for me, but since these boxes contain the last of my dignity I decline.
The trip home was the longest ever. I'm rehearsing the right way to tell my wife. As if how I tell her is going to make it not as bad. I enter the house to silence. I find my wife still sleeping. The creak of the bedroom door awakens her. "What are you doing home?" she mutters through blurry eyes, clutching my sleeping son to her breast.
I know I opened my mouth to answer, I'm just not sure one ever came out. I next find myself laying on the floor next to the bed sobbing uncontrollably., apologizing to my wife for everything I can think of, but mainly for letting her down, for letting my daughter down, and for letting my month and a half old son down.
Anyway, I had Ramen Noodles for lunch today.
This is my life now.
Although about once a month though the meal is half inedible. Burger Briquettes come to mind. Another time there was a soup where the cook obviously didn't know what they were doing and added the dehydrated beans in last, leaving the result a mine field for chipped teeth. For my family anyway, most of the attendees were down to their last four and 3/4 teeth.
My wife happened to work this Sunday, and suggest I go by myself with the kids. I declined the suggestion for a number of reasons. One managing two kids and a tray full of food was a juggling act I didn't want to attempt. The stronger reason was the last time this church had the Community Dinner.
As a family we arrived right as it started. On the way into the dining room of the church I nearly literally ran into my old boss. That's right, I was was face to face with the man who let me go, leaving me in this awful situation. Imagine the feeling you get running into an ex-girlfriend. She's in a bikini with her jock husband, you're in a stained shirt with your fat cousin. Take that feeling and multiply by 100.
I had no idea he went to that church. He was wearing this ridiculous Kelly Green sport coat and matching bow tie. Somehow, despite having stole his attire from the guy on the Lucky Charms box, he somehow manages to pull the look off and makes it look good. Another reason to loathe him.
Our eyes met for a second, with his kids in tow, and mine as well and he blurts out a "hello." Caught of guard I returned a mumbled salutation. I know he knew why we were at his church, and if he didn't, I'm sure his wife told him after I refused her offer of olives on my taco.
I doubt he felt bad though. I worked for him long enough to know that he's never had a moment of regret for any business decision he's ever made. He told me on many occasions that "Everything's for sale except my wife and kids." At first that seemed like smart business savvy. Then I started to realize that meant trust, loyalty, ethics and friendship. Perhaps that was my mistake though. I in some ways did consider him a friend albeit not a close one. I bought my riding lawn mower off of him. I had qualms about the morality of him outsourcing my entire department to himself and his new company but in this economy there was no way I wasn't going along for the ride. I told myself while this career path might not be one I'd choose for myself, this new avenue only points up. I couldn't have been more wrong.
My department was already stretched thin. Myself, another full time employee and an intern. In December the other full timer found a new job and the intern's internship ended. So instead of taking some planned time off, I worked. The day before the new intern was to start my boss told me of his master plan to start the new company and made it sound like he was building this business around me. I move I found both foolish and ballsy. But the catch was the other full timer wouldn't be replaced until the new business is official. I was fine with that, but cautioned .. I can pick up the slack for a while but not for an extended period. He nodded in what I thought was understanding and told me it'd be a few weeks.
So I worked through lunch daily. Weeks turned into months. I stayed late and came in early until doing so only made me less productive not more. Our computers were often not working and severely hampering productivity, but couldn't be replaced until the new company was official. Our software was so out of date we had trouble opening outside files, and still we waited. Starting new project for this new company. Each day I wore on me more and more and each day I'd come home to a wife who was that much closer to giving birth to my son.
I needed time off. I begged my Wife to give birth so I could get time off. Somehow in my mind, the chaos of a new child would be less stressful than work. It was, but hardly enough to decompress. After a week and a half off at the end of April / beginning of May to spend time with my new son, it was right back at it, except now even harder. The routine was broken and there was another mouth to feed.
Eventually the Intern was made full time, which was a step in the right direction, but still left us a man down. Finally, the new company would open it's doors on Monday, June 15th. Finally all the additional work and waiting and bullshit would be over. New computers, new software and more employees! But first a meeting on the Friday before, my boss, his new business partner and myself. I thought this was a meeting was to get everyone on the same page. My boss and his partner were very obviously not on the same page and gave me conflicting instructions. I thought this meeting was to get us all on the same page and start this thing off on the right foot.
My boss per his usual M.O. was late. But he got to the point rather quickly. Not his exact words but a paraphrase: "You've been working very hard the past few months. We want to start this company out the right way with employees who can give 110%, and you're pretty burnt out right now, so moving forward I don't think you can be an asset to the company. Thank you for your hard work and turn in your keys."
I'm being fired for working too hard? Or for having a family that's a priority? Should I have slacked off? Did I complain too much? Not enough? Did I take too much time off when my son was born? Not enough? What the fuck did I do wrong? Did the company big brother spy some of my wife's hormone driven profanity laced tirades in emails to my work account while she was pregnant? What the hell did I do wrong? I gave everything, more than I wanted to make him, to make both the new and the old company as success and this is the fucking thanks I get?!?
I'm escorted to my office by the head of HR, a timid but likable man. I was either his first or second hire when he was brought aboard and obviously he felt more than a little pity on me. At my office I'm met by the head of security who didn't have far to go, as she had the adjoining office. The former intern and the partner are already there and doing something on my computer. The partner tells me "I'm not allowed to touch the computer." I know there's a good reason why, but it still pisses me off they'd think I'd formulate a plan for revenge that quickly.
I can't help but laugh. "Good thing my stuff's already packed, otherwise this might be akward and uncomfortable" I announce. I was ready to go to my new office! I take my boxes out to my car, escorted by the head of security. She offers to carry one for me, but since these boxes contain the last of my dignity I decline.
The trip home was the longest ever. I'm rehearsing the right way to tell my wife. As if how I tell her is going to make it not as bad. I enter the house to silence. I find my wife still sleeping. The creak of the bedroom door awakens her. "What are you doing home?" she mutters through blurry eyes, clutching my sleeping son to her breast.
I know I opened my mouth to answer, I'm just not sure one ever came out. I next find myself laying on the floor next to the bed sobbing uncontrollably., apologizing to my wife for everything I can think of, but mainly for letting her down, for letting my daughter down, and for letting my month and a half old son down.
Anyway, I had Ramen Noodles for lunch today.
This is my life now.
Pieces Of My Life
So I awoke at six am; Packed both kids up to go to the Mobile Food Bank. My ideal weekend does not consist of waiting in line outdoors on a chilly fall morning before the sun comes up with my kids, but alas this is what it's come too to survive. The game is played like this: you show up, wait in line. At some arbitrary time they begin to hand out numbers to receive food. Everyone disperses, (this morning to their cars to warm up) then you wait, sometimes a few minutes sometimes until 9:30. Then when it looks like they're about ready to start handing out food the line reassembles in number order. Then we wait some more, until the line files past an assembly line filing your boxes with whatever food they have that day. If you're lucky volunteers with shopping carts carry your food for you. As if it's some cosmic joke played just on me the shopping carts are on loan from my former employer. Their name sprawled across the side teasing me, reminding me why I'm standing there.
This morning I was lucky number 113. The kids were surprising well behaved considering the ungodly hour I woke them. The rest of the needy in line talked and made faces at the kids as most adults do to cute children. One elderly gentlemen smiled and made faces at my son while saying something top him in Spanish. After waiting in the reformed line for 20 or so minutes a small commotion begins directly behind me. An older woman, frail and visibly poor for quite some time is yelling at a younger well groomed, fit man, "You're not supposed to be near us! You're not my son anymore." As she tosses her Propel Vitamin water on him I want to chalk this up to her being just another crazy poor person.
She shoves him and he yells in a booming voice "Your husband raped your daughter!" The crowd gasps and clears out much like a playground fight. I've never actually been anywhere before the crowd has simultaneously gasped. Given the nature of the accusation I couldn't help but feel it was underwhelming. She shoves him and throws the plastic bottle at him. "Your husband raped your daughter!" he yells. She shoves him. "Your husband raped your daughter!"
I just for a moment think about stepping between them to break it up. I instead move my son's car seat behind my daughters stroller, and myself between them and the commotion. "Your husband raped your daughter!" Whatever issues they may have with each other I'll be damned if it's going to spill over into my kids. I plant my feet firm, there's not going to be any chance they get by me, even accidentally. I look up and the woman's being restrained by the Spanish speaking gentlemen. Every male food bank volunteer has run over by now and the yelling male has been forced to leave. The battle is over. The woman is sobbing and being comforted by what I can only assume was her accused husband, the same Spanish speaking gentlemen who had been cooing at my baby boy minutes earlier and I want to throw up.
With such vile accusations, I suppose I should give them the benefit of the doubt, before judging them. But ... they look poor. And the accuser didn't.
I remain positioned between me and the horrid couple for the remainder of the wait. In fact as the line continued to reassemble in number order, a number of people wound up between us. So my thoughts returned to the task at hand, caring food my kids and getting food. The line inches forward and I watch the volunteers with shopping carts make trip after trip to Chevy Cavilers in the entire rainbow of primer colors. One of the volunteers is a stunningly beautiful strawberry blonde coed in a track jacket. I'm am married but ... I'm still a man, so of course I notice her. And at this moment I want more than anything for the volunteer who helps me to be anyone but her. Nothing will make this more of kick in the jewels than to have a beautiful woman assist me with getting the second hand food to my kids because I'm to much of a failure to provide for them myself. But as luck will have it, I can't even make eye contact with her to thank her for her help.
I don't want to sound ungrateful for the food, because I am very grateful. It's just it's second hand food. It's store stale outs, scraps and flavors of products that never caught on. While the rest of the world eats Count Chocula and FrankenBerry, we're given Yummy Mummy and Fruit Brute. Metaphorically speaking of course, that's way too name brand for the food pantry. It unhealthy or tastes bad, or at the very least, hard to make into a decent meal given the other food we've been given.
High end food tends to stale-out more often. So when we get enough of that to make a coherent meal out of it we actually eat better than we did before I lost my job. Those opportunities are rare though. With today's haul we had Chicken and Cheese Ravioli in Pesto sauce with a Multi-Grain garlic bread. We won't eat close to that again until next month. Most of the time though with the high end food we wind up doing things like putting 100% Natural Organic Ground Beef into a knock off Hamburger Helper because that's what have to make a meal.
The rest of today's haul was unusually bountiful. Lots of meat. All frozen, most likely on the day it expired in store. A package of pork chops, two of seasoned chicken breast, two Cornish game hens, an entire deli peppered turkey breast and six pounds of crovac sealed Cajun deli turkey slices, not opened yet, but most likely ends and scraps from a local deli. You know, the tough bits the cut off before selling it to you normal folk. We also received no less than eight bags of pork rinds in all sizes and degrees of heat, two bags of deep fried onion crisps, four bottles of fitness water seven months expired, and two packages of hot dogs. But not any hot dogs, delicious Hebrew National 100% Kosher Hot Dogs. In my employed days, we never bought beef hot dogs, let alone something as tasty as these. Has my life really come to the point where I want to save the hot dogs for only the most special occasion?
This is my life now.
This morning I was lucky number 113. The kids were surprising well behaved considering the ungodly hour I woke them. The rest of the needy in line talked and made faces at the kids as most adults do to cute children. One elderly gentlemen smiled and made faces at my son while saying something top him in Spanish. After waiting in the reformed line for 20 or so minutes a small commotion begins directly behind me. An older woman, frail and visibly poor for quite some time is yelling at a younger well groomed, fit man, "You're not supposed to be near us! You're not my son anymore." As she tosses her Propel Vitamin water on him I want to chalk this up to her being just another crazy poor person.
She shoves him and he yells in a booming voice "Your husband raped your daughter!" The crowd gasps and clears out much like a playground fight. I've never actually been anywhere before the crowd has simultaneously gasped. Given the nature of the accusation I couldn't help but feel it was underwhelming. She shoves him and throws the plastic bottle at him. "Your husband raped your daughter!" he yells. She shoves him. "Your husband raped your daughter!"
I just for a moment think about stepping between them to break it up. I instead move my son's car seat behind my daughters stroller, and myself between them and the commotion. "Your husband raped your daughter!" Whatever issues they may have with each other I'll be damned if it's going to spill over into my kids. I plant my feet firm, there's not going to be any chance they get by me, even accidentally. I look up and the woman's being restrained by the Spanish speaking gentlemen. Every male food bank volunteer has run over by now and the yelling male has been forced to leave. The battle is over. The woman is sobbing and being comforted by what I can only assume was her accused husband, the same Spanish speaking gentlemen who had been cooing at my baby boy minutes earlier and I want to throw up.
With such vile accusations, I suppose I should give them the benefit of the doubt, before judging them. But ... they look poor. And the accuser didn't.
I remain positioned between me and the horrid couple for the remainder of the wait. In fact as the line continued to reassemble in number order, a number of people wound up between us. So my thoughts returned to the task at hand, caring food my kids and getting food. The line inches forward and I watch the volunteers with shopping carts make trip after trip to Chevy Cavilers in the entire rainbow of primer colors. One of the volunteers is a stunningly beautiful strawberry blonde coed in a track jacket. I'm am married but ... I'm still a man, so of course I notice her. And at this moment I want more than anything for the volunteer who helps me to be anyone but her. Nothing will make this more of kick in the jewels than to have a beautiful woman assist me with getting the second hand food to my kids because I'm to much of a failure to provide for them myself. But as luck will have it, I can't even make eye contact with her to thank her for her help.
I don't want to sound ungrateful for the food, because I am very grateful. It's just it's second hand food. It's store stale outs, scraps and flavors of products that never caught on. While the rest of the world eats Count Chocula and FrankenBerry, we're given Yummy Mummy and Fruit Brute. Metaphorically speaking of course, that's way too name brand for the food pantry. It unhealthy or tastes bad, or at the very least, hard to make into a decent meal given the other food we've been given.
High end food tends to stale-out more often. So when we get enough of that to make a coherent meal out of it we actually eat better than we did before I lost my job. Those opportunities are rare though. With today's haul we had Chicken and Cheese Ravioli in Pesto sauce with a Multi-Grain garlic bread. We won't eat close to that again until next month. Most of the time though with the high end food we wind up doing things like putting 100% Natural Organic Ground Beef into a knock off Hamburger Helper because that's what have to make a meal.
The rest of today's haul was unusually bountiful. Lots of meat. All frozen, most likely on the day it expired in store. A package of pork chops, two of seasoned chicken breast, two Cornish game hens, an entire deli peppered turkey breast and six pounds of crovac sealed Cajun deli turkey slices, not opened yet, but most likely ends and scraps from a local deli. You know, the tough bits the cut off before selling it to you normal folk. We also received no less than eight bags of pork rinds in all sizes and degrees of heat, two bags of deep fried onion crisps, four bottles of fitness water seven months expired, and two packages of hot dogs. But not any hot dogs, delicious Hebrew National 100% Kosher Hot Dogs. In my employed days, we never bought beef hot dogs, let alone something as tasty as these. Has my life really come to the point where I want to save the hot dogs for only the most special occasion?
This is my life now.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Why Don't You Get A Job?
It's been five months since I lost my job. Lost my job ... As if I misplaced it like a set of car keys. I was downsized to line my bosses pockets with more cash. I wish that was some sort of bitter metaphor, but it a simple statement of fact. Like another 10% of Americans I'm unemployed.
When I was let go my son was a mere month and a half old. Brought into this world to share in our pain. My wife hadn't worked since my daughter was born three years earlier. I was the sole income for a family of four and a dog. We were just scraping buy to begin with. The idealistic dream we had was our kids would be better off raised by my wife without most of the creature comforts many kids enjoy, than with those luxuries by a daycare worker.
Four months living in crisis mode. It has an effect on a person. It has an effect on a marriage. And it's only a matter of time before it has an effect on the kids. Maybe it already is. My daughter's acting out more every day. Does she have some sense of what's going on or is she just three years old? I don't know.
I never thought I'd be poor for any reason other than my own choosing. Everyone has this fantasy of being the train riding hobo, living in the moment, but also being able to give it up. This isn't a fantasy and I don't see an end in sight.
My wife has a job now. Working at minimum wage in the middle of the night. Her wage plus my unemployment is enough to pay out fixed expenses. House payment, utilities and so forth. But anything not fixed like gas for the car, food or clothes, just puts us in farther in debt. But at least we still have the house ... for now.
There's a humiliation to going to a food bank. We're newly poor so we don't have the tattered clothes and worn out shoes of the other people. I often feel like they're looking at us like we're robbing them of the hand outs they need so much more than us. Being newly poor we still have the expensive things. The stitching in my shoes didn't wear out the moment I lost my job. My nice things are nice now, but in a matter of months they'll be as worn out as all the faces I see waiting for a total stranger to give them food unfit for regular people.
The food is terrible and eclectic. Frozen milk well past it's expiration date, stale Hello Kitty cupcakes, deep fried pork skin, the butt end of deli sliced ham, cases of pumpkin seeds in the middle of the summer, this is the food we live off of.
And I'm sick of eating Panera Bread. Bless them for they donate so much food. But we get these artisan breads with asiago cheese and smoked red peppers and bagels with fruit and cinnamon and what the hell do you eat with that? There's not lunch meat for sandwiches, there's not cream cheese or butter for bagels. You eat it plain. Bread and water, with a side of canned corn from a dented can. Pray you don't get botulism.
When you're not poor you see a poor person and part of you thinks they somehow chose to live that way. You tell your self "They're overweight, so if they spend their money on something other than junk food they wouldn't be that way." It's not true. When the healthiest thing you're given is beef jerky, it adds up. You gain weight. Then your clothes don't fit and you're force to get those second had too. Salvation Army or Goodwill if you can afford it, shelters if you can't. Laundry becomes an enormous expense. Clothes get worn a second or third time. Clothes with holes or stains normal folk would discard get worn until they give out because they simply can't be replaced.
Tomorrow is a food pantry. I've only been to this charity's one once before. My wife has gone to the rest. It starts at 10am, so they say, but it's common enough for people to start lining up the night before that security is stationed over night. The crowd is restless and the volunteers are eager to go home to their warm beds and hot bowls of soup, so as soon as the food arrives, dispersal begins. It's rare for the event to still be going on by the time it was posted to start. I can only imagine the desperation of the people who wait overnight for food. How many kids do they have? How much food is consumed on the way home because they haven't eaten in days? Do they even have a home?
I plan to get there at 7am. I won't be first in line, but I won't be last either. I won't get first pick of dented cans, but I'll get a dented can. With my wife working, I'll have to take the kids with me. My 3 year old daughter and my 6 month old son who I am so proud of and want to show off to the world will be on display for the whole world to see ... sleep deprived and begging for food with their failure of a father.
This is my life now.
When I was let go my son was a mere month and a half old. Brought into this world to share in our pain. My wife hadn't worked since my daughter was born three years earlier. I was the sole income for a family of four and a dog. We were just scraping buy to begin with. The idealistic dream we had was our kids would be better off raised by my wife without most of the creature comforts many kids enjoy, than with those luxuries by a daycare worker.
Four months living in crisis mode. It has an effect on a person. It has an effect on a marriage. And it's only a matter of time before it has an effect on the kids. Maybe it already is. My daughter's acting out more every day. Does she have some sense of what's going on or is she just three years old? I don't know.
I never thought I'd be poor for any reason other than my own choosing. Everyone has this fantasy of being the train riding hobo, living in the moment, but also being able to give it up. This isn't a fantasy and I don't see an end in sight.
My wife has a job now. Working at minimum wage in the middle of the night. Her wage plus my unemployment is enough to pay out fixed expenses. House payment, utilities and so forth. But anything not fixed like gas for the car, food or clothes, just puts us in farther in debt. But at least we still have the house ... for now.
There's a humiliation to going to a food bank. We're newly poor so we don't have the tattered clothes and worn out shoes of the other people. I often feel like they're looking at us like we're robbing them of the hand outs they need so much more than us. Being newly poor we still have the expensive things. The stitching in my shoes didn't wear out the moment I lost my job. My nice things are nice now, but in a matter of months they'll be as worn out as all the faces I see waiting for a total stranger to give them food unfit for regular people.
The food is terrible and eclectic. Frozen milk well past it's expiration date, stale Hello Kitty cupcakes, deep fried pork skin, the butt end of deli sliced ham, cases of pumpkin seeds in the middle of the summer, this is the food we live off of.
And I'm sick of eating Panera Bread. Bless them for they donate so much food. But we get these artisan breads with asiago cheese and smoked red peppers and bagels with fruit and cinnamon and what the hell do you eat with that? There's not lunch meat for sandwiches, there's not cream cheese or butter for bagels. You eat it plain. Bread and water, with a side of canned corn from a dented can. Pray you don't get botulism.
When you're not poor you see a poor person and part of you thinks they somehow chose to live that way. You tell your self "They're overweight, so if they spend their money on something other than junk food they wouldn't be that way." It's not true. When the healthiest thing you're given is beef jerky, it adds up. You gain weight. Then your clothes don't fit and you're force to get those second had too. Salvation Army or Goodwill if you can afford it, shelters if you can't. Laundry becomes an enormous expense. Clothes get worn a second or third time. Clothes with holes or stains normal folk would discard get worn until they give out because they simply can't be replaced.
Tomorrow is a food pantry. I've only been to this charity's one once before. My wife has gone to the rest. It starts at 10am, so they say, but it's common enough for people to start lining up the night before that security is stationed over night. The crowd is restless and the volunteers are eager to go home to their warm beds and hot bowls of soup, so as soon as the food arrives, dispersal begins. It's rare for the event to still be going on by the time it was posted to start. I can only imagine the desperation of the people who wait overnight for food. How many kids do they have? How much food is consumed on the way home because they haven't eaten in days? Do they even have a home?
I plan to get there at 7am. I won't be first in line, but I won't be last either. I won't get first pick of dented cans, but I'll get a dented can. With my wife working, I'll have to take the kids with me. My 3 year old daughter and my 6 month old son who I am so proud of and want to show off to the world will be on display for the whole world to see ... sleep deprived and begging for food with their failure of a father.
This is my life now.
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