When it rains...

Oh where to even start with how my day has been? I've been tasked with writing a journal-style entry every day for a week, and, boy, did I have a "Dear, Diary..." day.

I was scheduled for an interview with a "management and leadership" company who contacted me about my resume, and, looking at their website, I wasn't entirely sure what I was in for. It says a lot about how great managing and leading people is, but not what it is they actually do. It didn't look promising, and honestly, I was only going to go through with it for the benefit of practicing my interviewing...skills? Anyway, I got dressed for that, that's how my day started.

There's nothing strange about that, it's just, I got up and dressed, as I have been doing ever since I was let go, and I sat down at my desk to check emails and finances before I was to take off for my interview. That's where the shit started hitting the fan.

Today was my final payday and if you've followed my recent spiral into chaos you'll be aware that I was on vacation the week before I was let go. That is, they let me finish my vacation, then fired me. The pay-period ended/began within my week of vacation, so only a few days of pay even made it onto this check. It's not that I got a smaller than normal check that's the problem, it's that I got robbed. You see, even though we're all told how much vacation we have at the beginning of every new year, and we're encouraged, nigh on harassed, to schedule all of our vacation for the year as early as possible, that vacation time isn't really there. You're going to earn it...month by month. And...seeing as I was let go, I hadn't actually earned the whole amount of the vacation that I was gone, so, they took it out of my pay.

That's right, I paid them to be on those last few days of vacation. Then they fired me.

And all of this is above board. It's shitty. It's an honest to God "fuck you." But it's legit. That's how my day started.

When I of course called the human resources department to find out exactly wtflolbbq was going on, the only suggestion they could give me was to reach out to my former manager and see if they would be willing to change that vacation time to personal time. That way I could at least get paid for the days that I was still actually employed. So, cordial as I could be, I shot off an email...to no response. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe she didn't get it. Maybe my Gmail is blocked because that's the offending email that I went and cocked things up with. Or maybe, just as likely as far as I can tell given previous experience, she will never respond, having washed her hands of me. So, not only am I unemployed, but now I'm flat broke.

Okay. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So then I go to my interview. It is cold and blustery today in Tulsa, despite warm temps yesterday and tomorrow. Today, of all days, when I have to get dressed up and get out, not just for keeping the routine, but because I am expected somewhere, it is just miserable outside. I get to the place and it's in a nice office building and the receptionist is nice, and oh...they only have one client they work with, and oh it's sales, and oh, you're expected to recruit and build a team yourself so that you can become a manager yourself, and oh fuck-you-this-is-a-cultist-pyramid-scheme-no-thanks-good-day-sir.

I got dressed up and out in this shit for a 10 minute sit down with the most shit-eating-ist grinning rah rah yes-man... No, I'm telling you it was a little scary. But, hey, interview!

So how do these two events make me feel? I've been kind of reeling all day. It's not been two weeks since losing my job, and I've already Googled bankruptcy and debt forgiveness programs and wondered if I shouldn't take a significant pay cut just to have a job that might turn into something more lucrative in a year. I've got a GoFundMe (#HelpJDHorrify), and if you're following me in any capacity, you've seen me post from it a few times, including this morning. I'm honestly at a loss. I don't know what to do, and I'm trying to accept that. Uncertainty is my bane, being out of control is pretty high up there in the baddest of the bad fears, but I am now in it. If this blogging is my cognitive behavioral therapy, the being unemployed with a mountain of debt and still processing grief from my lost pets is the immersion therapy.

But hey! Apparently the few files I've transcribed for Rev are impressive enough they've already bumped up the pay I can make per file. So, there's something. Sill not a viable career path as far as I can tell, but at least I can make a few bucks here and there. Come time I return to work, and I will...eventually...Rev can be a supplement to that, maybe where I can make some extra scratch to buy a new video game.

Oh, wait, there was some good news today! We have a court date set for the adoption petition to make the ANT my legal daughter. Next Friday, April 7th. Maybe we'll treat it like a new birthday.

None of this really addresses my problems, though, with the anxiety and depression, the coming undone as I lose grasp of control... And, I guess, that in and of itself, is indeed addressing the problem. I have no control. There's nothing to control. Shit's gonna happen and it's gonna stink. But even shit can be used as fertilizer...eventually.

"Where the fear has gone...
Only I will remain."

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