Today I am small and sad. And if you don’t know what that means, I am 4’11” short, which makes me small and I feel sad. It is exactly what it sounds like. I have no particular insights in my writing today, I am just trying to comprehend my own emotions as I listen to Frank Ocean, Mac Miller, and Post Malone. Which is even more depressing because it’s not even their good music, it’s just a self generated playlist on Spotify.
If you haven’t been following my posts, first off… you should be. Second off… I am currently unemployed and the explanation is written in a previous post titled, “Discrimination”. Since I am unemployed, I have been applying and interviewing for a lot of different jobs. Which in itself is kind of exciting and really depressing at the same time. It’s like riding your old bicycle that you found in the garage and it fits and provides you with that feel good nostalgia feeling, but as you begin to ride the bike, you realize that the bike tire is flat and next thing you know, you fall off of the bike. Another analogy I could use about this job seeking process is comparing it to serial Tinder dating. As you vigorously swipe right on every single person you can before you run out of matches, you gotta end up with at least a few people who don’t find you repulsive. You go on a date and you realize the alcohol consumption isn’t making either of you thinner or prettier, you decide to sleep together, and from the next morning on, you never hear from each other again.
I may have lost some of you with that last one, but that’s because I have had a lot of Tinder dates go like that. I’ve also had a lot of interviews go like that. No, I don’t sleep with my interviewer, but the part where we meet and then never talk ever again is very accurate.
This morning I went in for an interview for an office job. To give you a little back ground about me, I have five years in customer service being a checker at a grocery store, one year as a bank teller, two years as a government employee as a mechanic, six months working in a kids’ psych ward – graveyard shift, and six months as a paralegal. I have nine years of work experience squeezed into five. I have been working since I was sixteen years old. I completed half of my associate’s degree to receive my AA-S in Paralegal Studies. My dream was to become a juris doctor, but not actually practice as an attorney, but after my the incident with the attorney I worked with, I am a little legal tainted and jaded from everything that had happened. Back to the story. I nailed this interview through and through. Up until the part they asked me why I left my paralegal job. I wrote on my application that I had been terminated, which is accurate. I was fired due to lack of work, business was failing, and my social media posts in regards to mental illness. I stated in my interview that I was being discriminated against. The interviewer’s expression and demeanor changed entirely. They quickly completed the interview and the other lady proceeded to give me a typing test. Fun fact: I can’t properly type. I never learned how to in school and I practiced a lot as a paralegal, but I have developed this weird hybrid of touch typing and stroking each key with a particular finger. So when asked today to touch type, you know how many words I typed in one minute? With 87% accuracy, I typed 11 words in one minute. Pathetic I know. I also don’t do well with tests and her keyboard was large and awkward and meant to be ergonomically correct, but it actually wasn’t. So once I submitted my score to her, I got up and proceeded to not make eye contact with anyone and not say anything and walked out the door, held my head high.
I was devastated and humiliated. Humiliated because I can’t type. Devastated because of how those two women who were so welcoming and inviting during the interview and once I muttered the words, ” I have a mental illness”, their demeanor did a 180. They closed their selves off to the potential of a really good, stable employee because of a stigma that exists and has been mostly debunked by most mental health professionals. But regardless of the facts, the stigma is and will always exist. I have discovered we live in a world and a culture that regardless of how many facts there are out there about a minority group, such as those with mental illness, bigotry, discrimination, and hatred will prevail. Advocacy has gone far in our society to help lower cases of discrimination, but that doesn’t erase dogma and ulterior motives and parents teaching their children hatred and their own ideologies.
I didn’t cry after I got into my car, which I am proud about. But being jobless for almost two whole months is getting to me. I am a workaholic. I absolutely love working and having a sense of purpose and putting a suit on everyday. It makes me a better person with a sense of purpose. I know I have purpose without having a job, but a lot of my personal pride derives from working.
When I lost my job, I had nothing in savings due to my gambling problem. I love to go to the casino. I love Blackjack and slot machines. So right when I received my last paycheck from the law firm, I decided to “celebrate” with a run to the casino. That day, I won not one, but TWO jackpots on a slot machine totaling a little over three grand. I paid a lot of my bills ahead as much as I could, so I don’t owe anything on my car loan or personal loan until the middle of April. I also received my tax return recently, but like I stated, I have a gambling problem so out of that four grand, two went to bills, and the other two went back to the casino where I lost it all. Now I sit here, with my credit card maxed out, $3.18 to my name, poor credit, and about $48,000 in debt.
Without my parents, I would have been homeless, hungry, and without medicine. I had a house close by to them and had to give it up when my boyfriend and I of five years split and I broke my foot as a mechanic. That was in 2018. I have been living at home for the past year and a half and if it weren’t for them, I don’t know where I would be.
My last employer is trying to take away my unemployment benefits away from me so I have no income whatsoever. I am getting desperate and don’t know what to do because I can’t qualify for a credit card or a temporary loan because I have no income. I have no savings. I have nothing. I am alone. I am bipolar. I am not successful. I am in debt. I am failing. That is all I know. That and I am desperate and I am breaking.
Til next time,