The last few days have been remarkably frightening. It starts with knowing I have a new job starting on Monday. I knew I was going to have to bide my time at the old job, because A. I hadn’t had a pay check in 3 weeks, being commission only sucks arse. and B, I knew I had about $500 coming from that same job, because of prior commissions earned. Hells to the yeah. So when I get this phone call yesterday that said “call the office asap”, and I did I heard Cindy say “We are going to have to terminate your employment, because it’s just not working out.”
Holy shit snacks, it sounded like she was breaking up with me. Granted I agree with her, it wasn’t working out. I wanted a job that I actually got paid. Not one I had to tell my child “sorry baby we can’t have Christmas because the guys at work decided to screw me over”. It’s all alright though, cause I now have another job. Yes…it’s not the greatest, doing incoming calls for Direct TV isn’t going to be the most exciting thrilling job ever. That said, it’s fine and dandy. It’s a promised wage, with at least 31 hours a week. NO that’s not going to be enough to really suit, but yanno what? That’s fine and dandy also. Knowing I have a certain amount each week or month will mean I can actually budget.
So where is the inspiration, lately I’ve been struggling with my anxiety, yesterday was a freaking nightmare. I had been fired, were they going to screw me out of this last pay check? Cause Commission jobs are often a lot stranger than people realize and employees do have different rights. The employers often have more than the employees in this situation. So it was valid.
Never the less I was freaking out because we literally had $4.
I have some fantastic friends who messaged and said “Fuck that, you WILL be able to get to work on monday, we’ll be there with some cash if you need it.
I love my friends I’ve got some fantastic friends.
But talking with another friend, tonight I was toying with her about the idea of me writing a novel.
She said “Write about this, make it fiction, make the ending happy, but write about this, Put in there you were desperate enough to want to go steal gas out of someone else’s car, so you could get to work on monday”.
I was like. “well I’ve never done that, but holy crap was I close to doing it.”
My dogs asleep next to me, blissfully unaware of how stressed I’ve been the past couple weeks, curled up as close to me as she can get, proving to me that it’s all alright, that I am okay that she will take care of me.
Alright, I would love it if she would NOT pee in the house. But what can you do really? I don’t think a whole hell of a lot, but it does make me feel better.