June Blues

June was a busy, eventful month for me, so much so that I barely had any free time to, among other things, write. But being a writer, I will use any excuse to not put fingers to keyboard; at one point, I delayed working on the book in order to reorganize my sock drawer.

Seriously, who could concentrate on writing with that mess needing to be corrected?

My job at the UPS Store marks my return to the wonderful world of retail, something I have not subjected myself to for almost ten years. The job may be different, but the core functions are the same: deal with a customers belligerent bullshit while plastering a ultra fake smile on your face and pretending to give a shit about their inane problems.

I love helping customers

I suppose I shouldn't complain; I knew what I was getting into when I applied for the job. Of course, in my defense, I was being influenced by frantic desperation at that point; 10 months of unemployment had reduced my saving to nil, and I was reduced to swiping bars of soap from my moms place in order to bathe.

Sure, I could have just asked for some soap, but then I would have to reveal how low I had sunk. And a man has his pride.

Anyway, six weeks into the new job, and I can safely say that I am completely over it. While that doesn't come as a complete surprise to me-- working retail is about as enjoyable as walking barefoot over shards of broken glass covered in salt and lemon juice-- what does surprise me is the speed at which I am over it. Never before have I been so quick to write a job off; even my last job took over a year of constant stress and anxiety for me to decide, "Nope, fuck this, I want out." Believe it or not, but the assholic nature of the customer isn't the issue here.

That would be my supervisor.

The UPS store I work for is a small operation; there are five regular employees, my supervisor, and the store owner, who blips in and out like a lagger in a fps. My initial impression of the supervisor was that she was friendly and professional. But then, considering that first impression was in a job interview, it's understandable that I goofed; I'm sure she thought I was a charming young man who enjoys interacting with customers, so I guess we both lied.

Joke's on you

What I found is a person who delights in being right, whose desire to teach is tainted by a craving to appear knowledgeable and experienced when speaking to the underlings (that would be me and my coworkers). As I quickly discovered, this behavior has been stirring up a lot of issues and instilled the others with an understandable feeling of spite and resentment. Something that I am sad to say I find myself sharing.

The biggest problem is her teaching style. Rather than simply explaining something, whether it be a how-to situation or correcting an error, she instead has to make a game out of it. She will point to a thing and ask, "Tell me, what's wrong with this?"

Suppressing my urge to snap at her, I instead take a breath and respond, "I don't know, what?"

Having her ego stroked by my ignorant response, she will then explain what the problem is. At great length, whether you want her to or not. 15 minutes after, she'll saunter off, while I stand there shaking my head in disbelief, because a simple explanation would have taken two minutes, tops. Instead, I get subjected to a long winded lecture over something that I'm still learning to do or am completely ignorant of.

Speaking of ignorance...

No not you. This time...

On the second week in the job, the other new hire and myself ended up being chewed out by the store owner because we hadn't done an essential aspect of the job: sorting the old mail into a pile and then calling our mail box holders to inform them that they need to pick this up. Under normal circumstances, I could understand that. But there is one problem with the scenario:

We were never taught that. Our supervisor never informed us of this apparently crucial job function. And when we tried to explain to the store owner, he just brushed it off. Which doesn't appear to be anything new.

It seems that all of us peon employees have had similar issues crop up with the supervisor, and every time someone complains or voices an opinion counter to that of the store owner, at best they are ignored and at worst they get scolded.

This sort of repeated behavior has instilled an aura of discontent around the store from the employees, something that is amazingly overlooked by those in charge. Which is astonishing considering that store is a cramped room where everyone is packed in tightly like a bunch of clowns in a clown car.

Clown Car

Beyond that, the nature of the job itself is not sustainable for someone with as many money problems as myself. While I am working full time, the pay rate is not great by any stretch of the imagination; working as I am, I can make ends meet, barely; rent and bills are covered, and I can eat. But beyond that, I have no wiggle room; rebuilding my savings and 401k is basically impossible. Even worse, I simply can't afford to miss any shifts; I don't intend on playing hooky-- no matter how tempting it is-- but at the same time, shit inevitably happens; I might get sick or have an emergency that requires me to miss a day. And if that happens, I'm boned; the job has no PTO, and even worse, with so few people working there, your absence is felt and will instill resentment.

Meanwhile, as I was dealing with that mess, I had another one brewing at home: the need to find a new roommate.

With our lease expiring at the end of June, my previous roommate decided to move out so that he and his girl could get a place together, which was fine. The problem was finding a new roommate before the end of the month.

I posted an ad on craigslist as well as a few apps made especially for seeking roommates. At first things went well; I received multiple hits and over the course of two weeks, I interviewed a dozen or so potential candidates. Most of them were... not good. A few of them clearly hadn't read the ad, as they were smokers or druggies or both. Some were just awful people. There were a few good ones, perhaps three out of the bunch, and after much thought, I settled on which I thought was the best.

The best declined, having found a more desirable living arrangement. Okay, fair enough.

The second best declined as well, for the same reason. Grrrrrrr, okay fine.

The bronze metal said yes, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At that point, I only had two weeks left, and while that still left time to search, it was a bit too close to the deadline for comfort. The soon-to-be new roommate and I chatted over the next week, getting to know one another and making arrangements for getting the paperwork signed and all that fun adult crap.

Then came Monday, June 19th, and everything went to hell.

Nobody likes Mondays. Mondays are the chronological equivalent of smelly dog farts, rocks in shoes, Trumps stupid voice, and a punch in the face all rolled together. This particular Monday was all those other Monday's older, stronger sibling. It started off badly, and just went down hill from there. The entire day was full of the most shit-brained, ignorant fucktard customers imaginable. It's as if congress all decided to visit the store at once.

After enduring that epic shit-show, I trudged my way home. The soon-to-be new roommate was supposed to show up at the apartment and sign paperwork, thus cementing the deal. Instead, I got a text from him:

"Hi Darren. So some buddies of mine all decided to get a place together. So I'm going to go with that instead. Sorry about that."

All I could do was stare at my phone screen, outrage and disbelief warring to gain dominance in my mind. Outrage won, but only because that Monday had already been so fucked up that I couldn't be surprised that it managed to spill over into my living situation. After ranting at the the room for a solid hour, panic replaced the anger; I had a little over a week to find a new roommate, or I would find myself shopping for a new cardboard box to live in.

That entire weeks was an awful mix of panic and depression as I reposted my ad... and received no responses. The days sped by, and by the weekend, I was convinced that I was boned. That last weekend was spent packing my belongings in preparation of moving them to a storage facility.

By the following Monday, all hope seemed lost. But then my luck turned. I got a response the next day from who is now my new roommate. I interviewed him, and thankfully he seems like good people and not a shitbag like I expected; regardless of how desperate I was, I refused to live with someone who clearly wouldn't be a fit; I've had too many fucked up roommates in the past to fall for that trap again.

Narrowly, by the skin of my teeth, I managed to avoid homelessness. And while the job is... not good, it's still income. So I'm hanging in there. But the struggle is still real. My situation isn't sustainable in the long run, and so I can't afford to get comfortable-- not that I could be comfortable eating Ramen in a near empty apartment while frantically searching for a better job.

Not out of the woods yet, but I found a path

It seems that the universe has decided to ease up on me. Just a bit.

"Alright, take five while I get more lube."

Much to my shock, I got a call this past Thursday with a  job offer. I'm thrilled to announce that I am once again employed! After 10 months of constant searching and applying, I can finally stop worrying about being able to eat. The pay isn't as great as I'd like, but it is full time, provides benefits, major holidays off, and best of all, it will be nowhere near as stressful as my previous employment. That right there is worth its weight in gold.

As much as I'd like to celebrate, I'm not exactly out of trouble just yet. While the job is a much needed win for me, I still find myself in a number of binds. As the title suggests, I found myself a path, but the deep dark woods are still all around me.

Each one these trees wants to ruin my life.

First on the plate is my current living situation. The lease is up at the end of June, and my roommate will be moving on. That leaves me with three options: stay in the apartment and find a new roommate, move out and find a new place, or move back in with the 'rents. 

Obviously, no 34 year old man wants to move back home, so that third option is out. Option two would normally be my choice; the apartment I live in is... not good. Stuff is falling apart constantly around the complex, and they only have a single handyman to handle it all, thus creating a massive backlog; it took three months of constant nagging to get them to come to the apartment and fix a leaky toilet. And from what I hear, they are going to be upping the cost of rent. Again.

But moving out isn't an option for me. Ten months of unemployment and an inability to pay off my student loans-- and no options to defer them-- has fucked my credit hard; no landlord in his right mind would dream of renting so much as a cardboard box out to me.

That leaves the first option.

So, once I get this housing situation settled, I'll then have to contend with my student loan problems. For those not in the know, debt is kind of like herpes: extremely inconvenient, uncomfortable, embarrassing, and it continues to crop up again and again, no matter what you do. Student loans are the super saiyans of debt; every time you beat them down, they get a significant power boost. And right now, my credit is doing a fairly accurate impression of Frieza.

And lastly, I need to begin rebuilding the decimated ruins of my savings. Well, decimated isn't an accurate word, because I have nothing. My emergency fund and my 401k were all depleted, so the goal will be to somehow get my debt in check while also setting money aside for the inevitable future crisis that will doubtless take place when it's most inconvenient.

Doesn't that sound like fun?! Cue the manic laughter.

Scrub

So, it seems that the universe has decided that me finding a job isn't in the cards.

"Afraid not, buddy."

Since I began searching for a new job waaaaaaaay back in August 2016, when I was laid off from my previous employment, I have filled out literally hundreds of job applications to a diverse number of potential jobs. I've signed up on a few of the more popular job sites-- indeed and monster specifically-- and plastered my resume across the internet. I even signed for a temp agency and had them go over my resume with a fine toothed comb.

All of that has produced nothing. Zilch. Nada.

10 months of continuous job searching has produced no results. Just three interviews and three rejections. Three interviews out of hundreds of applications and resume drops. That delightful temp agency I signed up for-- the one designed to find me temp work-- has also produced nothing. At this point, I honestly don't know what else I can do.

Other than start drinking.

I've exhausted all of my unemployment. I cashed out my 401k a couple of months ago, and that allowed me to pay my rent and phone bill. I am now completely and utterly broke beyond anything I have ever experienced before; I have about $15 in my wallet, and that represents the entirety of my money. Nothing in the bank, nothing saved up.

Looks like I can't even explore that "Start Drinking" option; who can afford booze? Certainly not I.

And if that bit of misery isn't enough, I'm also facing a series of what I like to call, "I'm Fucked Situations." Let's go over them in more detail, shall we?

1. My lease is up at the end of June. That would normally be fine, welcome even; this apartment complex blows goats. It's expensive and shit breaks down on a regular basis. The complex only employs a single handyman, and the poor guy runs himself ragged trying to keep ahead of the decay and entropy that this apartment complex experiences.

Unfortunately, me not having a job or money saved up means that when the lease is up and my roommate moves on, I won't be able to find a new place. That will force me to move back in at my moms place due to lack of options. That's what every 34 year old man dreams of, right?

2. My phone is going to be shut off this month, seeing as I, you know, can't pay my bill. Not having a reliable means of communicating with the outside world-- or potential employers being able to contact me-- is going to hinder this finding a job mission of mine.

3. After this month is up, I'll have a very limited ability to get around town, seeing as-- you guessed it-- I won't have bus fair or money for a pass.

I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here. No money= I am completely fucked.

4. The depression that I have been wrestling with since three minutes before I was born has gained a mighty big foothold in my mind of late, due mostly to the fact that I am lonely and broke. Nothing helps my self-esteem like realizing that I'm a grown man in my mid-thirties who cannot reliably take care of myself. Needless to say, I'm feeling a mite bit worthless at the moment. I'm sure spending my days closeted in my room isn't helping, but try finding the motivation to move when you don't feel worthy to even look at other people, let alone speak to them.

5. Disclaimer: This next bit might be a little TMI, but whatever. I have been out of control horny for what feels like months now. My libido has always been on the large side, but lately... yeesh. I feel as if I could pelvic thrust my way through a brick wall, if that wall happens to have an hourglass figure.

"You looking fine, girl"

Put all of that together and you'll find a man who is barely keeping his shit together. I find myself raging at the smallest things, and this even resulted in me breaking down into tears a few days ago. Manly tears of righteous frustration, mind you, but still tears.

Even worse, I haven't been able to get any writing done in weeks, because what the fuck is the point to trying to accomplish anything when I am a big fat failure? I'm almost certain that was the depression talking just now. But do you see what I'm working against?

Rock Bottom

And no, the title isn't referring to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's bottom, which I'm sure is a huge disappointment to some of you.

Do you smell what the Rock is cooking?

No, I am referring to the current state of affairs that is my life. So, for those of who are big on schadenfreude, good news! This post is going to be a dozy.

When last we left off, our hero-- that's me-- was in a bitter spiral of despair and depression based off of a number of tragic events. I had been unemployed for a period of four months and unable to find a new job and even worse, an orange buffoon had just been elected the leader of the free world. After my last blog post, I figured I needed to take some time and get my head together. Cool down and come up with some kind of plan to navigate this new, frightening world I would soon find myself in.

Well, it's been about five months since that decision, and I'm sad to say that I am officially knee deep in the shit. Bleak political landscape aside-- after all, there isn't much I can do about that except protest, write letters, and bug those in power-- my employment situation has not improved at all. In fact, quite the opposite.

I have hit rock bottom, folks. I stand at the precipice of a looming abyss, desperately swinging my arms in a futile effort to maintain my balance. I used up my unemployment benefits back in February. I have no money, no options, and no time remaining. The one job I have heard back from since I started looking back in August keeps having delays and technical difficulties preventing me from starting. Thus I find myself in the awkward and humiliating position of contemplating moving back in with my mom. If I don't find some form of employment in the next week or so, I'll have to do just that, as I won't have the money to pay next months rent.

Though this is a viable option too

Needless to say, I'm a wee bit depressed and miserable at how terrible things have been working out for me of late.  Keeping my head up and trying to stay positive is increasingly difficult, especially when you consider that my entire adult life has been the same struggle, the same constant drudgery through one misfortune after another. Each choice, each action, seems to lead to something worse. I feel like Charlie Brown, trying again and again to kick that football, thinking that maybe this time that bitch Lucy-- or as I like to call her, Life-- won't pull it away at the last second.

"Sorry, Darren, you gotta be quicker than that!"

When you are in a situation such as mine, you can't help but examine your past, looking for that one thing, that one action that caused events to morph into a shit spiral of epic proportions. It's a futile effort that does more harm than good, of course-- like digging at a wound trying to heal over. Because regardless of what may have happened in the past, it does nothing to change the present.

But on the bright side, they say humility is good for you. Considering all of the humble pie I've been eating, I'd say I'm set.

Little known fact, humble pie is pecan. I hate pecan.