kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Black Anniversary This has just not been a good week, so please cut me some slack, but major whine fest ahead: News flash, but I am so tired of being financially on the edge. Four years ago this week, my husband had lunch with me, told me he would have to quit his job (a decision I agreed with-- 110 hour weeks for $25k a year is unhappy-making, to say the least) and went back to work to have an extremely lively exit interview. His boss, in mortal fear that he would advertise the fact that she was boinking her boss (and both of them were married--to other people) proceeded to blacken his name up hill and down dale, and after he had exhausted all avenues looking for another tech-industry job in this area--and the mud stuck--he got caught in the underqualified/overqualified trap and since has only worked the odd temp or contract job, and then mostly not. We had been married for 9 months at the time. I don't blame him for this. I lay the blame squarely at the feet of the person who deserves it--his ex-boss--and the fucked-up economy that this area enjoyed even BEFORE the dot-bubble popped. But I am GODDAMNDED TIRED. I always expected to work--I was raised to work. I've been working since I was twelve years old, but you know? I somehow expected that when I got old enough to have a grownup job, I'd also get grownup vacation time with it, and at this point I have not taken a break longer than 3 days from work (except when unemployed or ill) since 1992. Even that wouldn't seem like a terrible thing, except that all of this work has gotten me absolute bupkiss--like far too many folks out there, we live paycheck to paycheck, and the asshole who said two can live as cheaply as one? Is a liar, and never lived in the Northeast, to boot. We have some of the lowest pay and highest cost-of-living in the US. I'm tired of the folks who ask me when I'm going to have a baby. I can't AFFORD a baby. Neither the time nor the money. I'm tired of the people who ask when the Darling Husband is going to get a job. He's sent out somewhere in the neighborhood of 100,000 resumes by now--YOU get him a fucking job. Don't tell me "oh, he couldn't have sent out that many, or he would have something by now"--he did, I saw them. What the fuck are you trying to suggest, he's lying to me? Nope. You think he's not getting jobs because he didn't cut his hair? He didn't send a pic with the resume, people, and they didn't give him an interview. I'm tired folks asking when I'm going to get a house. See above. The crappiest houses in the area are six times my annual salary. You know, the salary that two people can't live on. I'm tired of people asking me when I'm getting a shop for my jewelry, when I'm going to apply for more shows... don't you get it? You can't do that without some kind of cash to back you up. Ain't got it. I'm tired of knowing I'm locked into my current career path, because I can't afford to either take time off for school to get something better, or go back to something like teaching, because that would mean a pay cut of a third of my salary. That salary that two people can't live on. Remember that one? I'm tired. Tomorrow I'll be grateful for the roof over my head again, and for my job, however shitty it is, and for the other things that I do. Tonight, I'm drinking. 5:37 p.m. - 2003-04-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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