No Soul, No Soldier
I don't know what I am going to do. I am literally at my wit's end.
I have ninety-nine dollars, not including the $4.58 $2.58 in my bank account.
My mother has $300, and she is still having to pay our Cingular bill.
My father filed bankruptcy on Monday, so we'll lose the house, and probably my car. I don't have the job to get a new one right now, and my mom doesn't have the money to put a down payment on an apartment. We're going to have to share the Expedition, while I try to get a job somewhere--two jobs, really--and she tries to pull fifty or more hours a week.
I was supposed to get $500 from Chicago Board of Elections for working on November seventh this year. They're telling me there isn't proof I worked that day. Except that I signed everything I was told to. So, they are calling the judges that worked at my polling place, and they will call me today or tomorrow to tell me how I am going to get paid. If something didn't get signed, or if something is missing, it is not my fault. They hired people who spoke Spanglish, and who didn't read the rule- and handbooks, people who didn't know what they were fucking doing. If something went awry, it's not my fault, and I am the one who gets to pay for it.
I am so tired of this shit.
I am so tired.
So, I have ninety-nine dollars, I have eight boxes to ship, and I have no idea what is going to happen once I get home.
I think that makes it:
Money: 7
Rachel: Broke
I don't know what I am going to do.
I have no-fucking-clue.
-Edit-
But, I have some incredible friends.
However, I am tired of the shitty ones.
I don't have so many of those, luckily.
To those that aren't shitty--thank you, I love you, you're keeping me alive.
To those that are: fuck you.
...and, once again, I have no idea what to do.
I have ninety-nine dollars, not including the $4.58 $2.58 in my bank account.
My mother has $300, and she is still having to pay our Cingular bill.
My father filed bankruptcy on Monday, so we'll lose the house, and probably my car. I don't have the job to get a new one right now, and my mom doesn't have the money to put a down payment on an apartment. We're going to have to share the Expedition, while I try to get a job somewhere--two jobs, really--and she tries to pull fifty or more hours a week.
I was supposed to get $500 from Chicago Board of Elections for working on November seventh this year. They're telling me there isn't proof I worked that day. Except that I signed everything I was told to. So, they are calling the judges that worked at my polling place, and they will call me today or tomorrow to tell me how I am going to get paid. If something didn't get signed, or if something is missing, it is not my fault. They hired people who spoke Spanglish, and who didn't read the rule- and handbooks, people who didn't know what they were fucking doing. If something went awry, it's not my fault, and I am the one who gets to pay for it.
I am so tired of this shit.
I am so tired.
So, I have ninety-nine dollars, I have eight boxes to ship, and I have no idea what is going to happen once I get home.
I think that makes it:
Money: 7
Rachel: Broke
I don't know what I am going to do.
I have no-fucking-clue.
-Edit-
But, I have some incredible friends.
However, I am tired of the shitty ones.
I don't have so many of those, luckily.
To those that aren't shitty--thank you, I love you, you're keeping me alive.
To those that are: fuck you.
...and, once again, I have no idea what to do.