Sunday sucked. I was late, hungry, hungover and disappointed to find Jeannie in the office instead of Mitch. “Hi. Greet,” she said.
My feeling of accomplishment is completely out of proportion with what I’ve actually achieved.
During my last shift, I had started building a Lego car, the Nitro Menace, that would be put in a display case. In two hours I had barely finished 10 pages of the 62 page instruction booklet. The age suggestion of the book, 12+, infuriated me. This simple thing proved a logistical and engineering nightmare.
Today at 2 PM, after nearly a full two a half days at Lego, I finally saw Mitch. Mitch is a funny guy, and I had hoped to see him a bit more, because, well, my life is terrible and laughing makes me feel better. The day had gone by quickly enough; a constant line about 10 insufferable Mag Mile shoppers deep kept me busy on the register. None the less, the depression of my situation did not escape me (Ed. note: as you may have noticed).
There was a brief time in my life, not very long ago, when I was nearly out-on-my-ass poor. In the end, I came out both more compassionate and more resolute because of it, but at the time, it was desperate. I couldn’t turn the heat on in my apartment unless it was dangerously cold, and even when I did, the heater wasn’t strong enough to do the job. I often only ate one meal a day – usually pasta in melted butter. I had been more gainfully employed before that and had managed a small savings, which was quickly used up paying rent. I remember nearly crying because my state tax return came back in the negative; I simply did not have $50 for the State of Illinois.