Year in Review - 2014 Edition

For reasons unbeknownst to me, my first Year in Review post (2012 edition) continues to be the most read of this blog. This put an enormous amount of pressure on the shoulders of the 2013 YIR post. Unfortunately, it could not match the numbers of its predecessor (not even close – 768 views compared to 16). So had 2014 been a “normal” year I would have striven to make its YIR entry stand out. But that was not destined to be, for whilst the first 14 days were OK, and the last nine proved to be quite nice, the rest of 2014 was quite sucky. So, to the majority of 2014, I have just one thing to say: Go fuck yourself.

Is today my last day on Earth?

Tomorrow is my ??th birthday. Which means today is my last day of being ?? years old. As this post explains, I have long believed I would not live much past ??. Because I have been preoccupied with other things this past year, I had forgotten that this might be the year I die. But had I not been watching The Price is Right job-hunting, would this past year have been lived differently? Not really, I suppose. I mean, if I knew for certain I was going to die, I would have tried to fit in visits to various places (England, New Zealand, Denver, Pittsburgh, etc.), but that would be impossible anyway, because of Sammy and money issues. Oh, I just thought of something: maybe that is why the Universe conspired to keep me out of work for such a long time – to take my mind off my imminent death. Ironically, I would have been out of work for some of the year anyway, if I could guarantee my death, because no effing way am I working if I do not need to and if I am going to be dead then I would not need to work.  

So, with no plans to drive today (no plans to even get dressed, still in my nightwear (Superbowl XL t-shirt)), the probable way I am going to die is eliminated. There is still the chance of the heart attack (the second probable cause of my death). There is nothing I can do about that today (although starting Monday I am going to try (I even bought almonds from Trader Joe’s)).

But wait, when I have thought about it, I have always used the disclaimer “not much past.” So maybe I will live to see my ??th birthday tomorrow, but will die later (well, yeah, that is kind of guaranteed). So then this raises the issue of how much time is “not much past”. A week, three months, two years? I think my OCD would dictate that “not much” to mean I would still be closer to ?? than ??. And so any time before my half birthday (July 3) falls into the “not much past” timeframe. So, yeah, OK, I will give up on my belief of dying “not much past age ??” if I am still alive on the 4th of July this year.

(As Promised) The Deets

Those of you who are Facebook friends know that I got a job!!!!!!! And I promised details, so here goes…

Actually, I think, like The Job From Hell of this past spring, I am going to keep most of the details to myself. Suffice it to say, this time it is in an office setting, although it too is in an industry that is new to me. I hope that is all it has in common with TJFH. I start January 5, exactly 10 days before the one year anniversary of being laid off. The commute is rather hairy (for me, that is: none of the Americans reading this would be fazed by it) and it is located literally in the middle of nowhere, with nary a 7-Eleven nearby. But I am looking upon that as a positive as far as eating is concerned because I have to do something about my weight and this way, with no lunchtime temptations, I will be forced to eat whatever it is I take with me. Pay could be better, but I am not exactly in a position to complain about that; and the dress code is casual. The staff is small, about 10, and one of them has a bicep tattoo I would like to lick.

Sammy’s Third Annual Holiday Message

I think of all the sad and pathetic things my 11-month long (11 months!) bout of unemployment has caused, the story behind this picture of Sammy is amongst the saddest.

I’d never sent out a holiday picture before Sammy came along because I had never loved anything enough to picture it and share it with people (well, I think I might have briefly flirted with the idea of sending out a pic of my tattoo the year I got that, but never got around to it. Because I never loved it as much as I love Sammy). Now, selecting an image and getting it all dolled up in the holiday-themed embellishments offered by the online photo people is the highlight of my summer (I’m organized and do not have a life – I get stuff done early).

This year was different, of course. First off, the pic was taken on my iPad, not on my regular film camera (yes, I still have one of those. I have a landline phone too. Luddites Forever!). I’ve taken a ton of pics of Sammy but for financial reasons the film rolls remain undeveloped. Thankfully, I caught him at a good angle (he is watching the pigeons) while my iPad was switched on and decided to go with this one for the very few I would have to have printed out this year, just for the English contingent (because they do not – and cannot – know I am out of work, so I have to keep up at least a semblance of normalcy when it comes to them). But even though I got fewer printed out this year, I still had to cut as many financial corners as possible so the paper quality is much lower this year. And I usually avoid a Christian-based greeting (not out of political correctness but out of atheism) but this year I couldn’t even be arsed with that.

But I wanted everyone else to see it for Sammy’s annual message. Which, coincidentally, has been every year on December 17. Well, a coincidence this year because when I got up this morning, after my daily online job hunt was over, I decided I should get around to doing it. I checked the last two postings, to see what they were titled, and discovered they too were posted on December 17 (I am sure last year I did that on purpose but I have no memory of doing so, but last year my life was relatively calm and I wasn’t an unemployed mess). But it is just one of many coincidences my life has been riddled with recently, the freakiest being that the guy whose Craig’s List ad I answered (something to do with BBWs and pearl necklaces) turned out to be someone I used to work with! Freaky because I have literally only worked with about, maybe, 100 people, tops, in my seven years in Vegas, and maybe only 30 of them were men.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so to make this even more pathetic, I no longer have access to a scanner (one used to sit on my desk, back in the halcyon days when I had a – gasp! – job!). So, yeah, the above is a badly positioned, iPad-taken picture of a poor-quality photo that came from an iPad picture!

But what does that matter because, in the end, it is a picture of my beautiful boy who has kept me going through these miserable months. I hope this picture of him brings you as much joy as the real version of him brings me. And I hope your holiday season, however you celebrate it, is filled with delight.

First, no work; now, no wok

 

I started selling stuff on Craig’s List around the same time my unemployment ran out. Two dressers went quickly, as did a blender and the Magic Bullet (hey, O., remember schlepping around Green Valley looking for that? That was a great day.). My beloved Crock Pot and related recipe books were next to go. I had a lot of trouble getting rid of a television – no wonder, it was the last boxed kind ever made, it was huge and heavy and a complete dinosaur (it even had a built-in VHS deck!). I ended up giving that one away (and even that was hard; I got no takers the first time I advertised it). I got offers on an iron and my director’s chair but decided to withdraw those, just in case I ever need to iron anything (although I haven’t in the five years I’ve owned the thing. Not even sure it works.); and Sammy took a shine to the chair five minutes after I placed the ad (seriously, I’ve had it for four years and he has never once glanced in its direction; I get an offer to buy it and he is all over it). I’ve had no takers for a rice steamer, electric griddle (brand new, still in the box), or my George Forman grill. (Going cheap! Make me an offer!)

And this morning, I (kind of) sold a wok. And it has devastated me. A bloody wok that I never used. After I (kind of) sold it I came back to the apartment and bawled for about an hour. Why? It was obviously a metaphor for my current situation, although my reaction could have a lot to do with the nice gentleman who (kind of) purchased it. He took a look at it and decided his wife would not like it so he could not buy it. All of a sudden I was overcome with emotional exhaustion and embarrassment that my situation has led me to selling crappy kitchen appliances on Craig’s List. So I handed it back to him and told him he could have it. He thanked me and then reached into his pocket and gave me a handful of change (“Because you’ve been cool about this” or something like that). Eighty-five cents; not even enough to upsize a meal at McDonald’s. But the gesture just devastated me with its sincerity and kindness.

But now I have a craving for Kung Pao Chicken.

It’s a pill, not a metaphor (but, really, it is)

 

 

It is the last pill of the last bottle of the last prescription I filled when I still had health insurance. I had four prescriptions going when I was first laid off and slowly they all ran out, but I managed to stretch this last one out until now. So my thyroid, cholesterol, mental health and birth control issues are now in the hands of the employment gods. *Snort of derision* – good luck with that, health issues, for those employment gods are stingy bastards.

Now What?

Today marks the first day since I was laid off that I am not “earning” any money – yep, my unemployment has run out. The good news is that I no longer have to be concerned about being audited by the State - they could at any time request evidence that you are actively looking for work and you have to apply for a certain number of jobs per week - so I no longer have to apply for crap jobs just for the sake of getting my numbers up. The bad news is, well, I have no income coming in. But I am far from being homeless or going hungry, because I do have some cash reserves I can fall back on. I’ll close out my savings account and cash in my 401(k), and that should give me another three months. But once again, when (if?) I finally get another job I am back to square one as far as a retirement fund is concerned. It was always iffy anyway, my chances of being able to retire, but this bout of unemployment has made it official – I will be working up until the day I die.

 

“Welcome to Walmart. How can I help you today?”

Catching Flies and Squeaky Wheels

A Facebook friend suggested I change my profile picture because prospective employers sometimes check out Facebook, and apparently my current pic - evidence of Sammy's biting issues - is not suitable. So I had a session with a renowned photographer. I have narrowed it down to two. One with the most votes will become my new profile pic, although I have a feeling the second one will appeal to only those familiar with 1980s British television.

 

 

 

 

The “Nothing to Report” Report

Really, nothing much has happened since my last post. Well, I had a couple interviews; halfway through one I was told it was a part-time position so that was a big fucking waste of time (I wore pantyhose too). The second was more promising but it did not work out (ironic thing about that one was that the start date would have been September 15 – exactly eight months to the day since I was laid off).

Then the Robin Williams’ stuff did not help my mood at all – that desk-standing scene from Dead Poets’ Society reduces me to tears at the best of times but taking into consideration my current state of mind and add my sadness over the death of such a good and talented man, watching that scene every five minutes on TV reduced me to even more of a blubbering mess than I already was.

Then I discovered someone whom I thought was a friend would rather make money than spend time with me (and this was additional money, not their regular wages - I would never ask anyone to choose their job over spending time with me). This one was especially hurtful because just a few days later a Facebook post revealed that this person does not always put money above friendship. I guess it depends on the friends. So I will never again put them in a position where they have to choose money over friendship – because now I know where I stand on their friendship scale, I can obliterate them from mine.

All I can say is thank the Universe for Sammy and alcohol.

Daysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysdaysda

The days are melding into one another. Sometimes I only realize it is the weekend when I go to watch The Price Is Right and instead there is a gardening program on. I go days without any (non-electronic) human interaction and on those days sometimes I do not even brush my teeth or change out of whatever I wore to bed the night before. And when I do have contact with someone it is usually just the clerk at the liquor store or the library or whoever is manning the drive-thru window that day on my twice-a-week outings, one to the library (although the books are returned mainly unread and the DVDs unwatched because I feel guilty for doing something even remotely pleasurable when I am out of work) and one for groceries (booze). I could combine these trips into one but just one outing a week would put me over the edge, I think.

My stay-at-home days follow a very similar pattern: when I have done all the job-applying for the day I try to eat something (but I have very little appetite these days). Then it is The Price is Right (today was especially good – I came within $200 of winning a car and Bob Baker was on it because it is his 90th birthday, which is funny because the last time I was out of work it was his 80th birthday. He was still hosting the show then and Adam Sandler was a special guest. What a coincidence that I am out of work when Bob Baker has a milestone birthday). Then it is another round of e-mail checking, just in case. Then I assume the fetal position on the bed or the couch (whichever is nearest to Sammy) for a few hours where I am either dozing or sobbing. Then at some point I realize it is after 5 pm so I start drinking. (Of course, the ironic thing is, back in the day when I had a job and I would take a day off, apart from the job-hunting and the sobbing, that was how I would spend my day anyway!)