Next Week: Leanjoe Loses His Arm to a Lamppost.
The new semester has taken off without me. I can't get myself to study. Partly it's because the first two lectures were mostly review of stuff from the spring term; partly it's because I'm distracted by other things in my life. Namely money.
I went to pick up my measly little paycheck from the restaurant on Friday and it was half of what it was supposed to be. I played phone tag with the payroll person and then got frustrated and went home to find two overdraft notices from my bank. Yay!! My paycheck: $101. My checking account balance: -$99. No lie. I now have $2 to my name.
I called my Mom and (literally) sobbed to her about the state of my finances. The fuckers at U.S.C. financial aid won't release my living allowance loan until sometime next week. All my bills are past due. Even once I get those loans I won't be able to cover everything.
My mom didn't know what to say, which came as no surprise. Her first words of comfort were: "Well you knew it was going to be hard" and "Do you want to drop out of school?"
Uhm, no Mom. I don't.
The problem is that she always thinks I'm just hitting her up for money; but honestly I just wanted someone to say they understood what it feels like to work so hard and have nothing material to show for it. When I told her that's what I wanted, she came through with sad-sack stories about not being able to afford groceries and her bratty kids whining about not getting to go on vacation.
Drew spotted me some cash so I wouldn't end up back in the red by the end of the weekend. Then on the way back from the bank my blinkers stopped working.
So now I'm using hand signals.
I went to pick up my measly little paycheck from the restaurant on Friday and it was half of what it was supposed to be. I played phone tag with the payroll person and then got frustrated and went home to find two overdraft notices from my bank. Yay!! My paycheck: $101. My checking account balance: -$99. No lie. I now have $2 to my name.
I called my Mom and (literally) sobbed to her about the state of my finances. The fuckers at U.S.C. financial aid won't release my living allowance loan until sometime next week. All my bills are past due. Even once I get those loans I won't be able to cover everything.
My mom didn't know what to say, which came as no surprise. Her first words of comfort were: "Well you knew it was going to be hard" and "Do you want to drop out of school?"
Uhm, no Mom. I don't.
The problem is that she always thinks I'm just hitting her up for money; but honestly I just wanted someone to say they understood what it feels like to work so hard and have nothing material to show for it. When I told her that's what I wanted, she came through with sad-sack stories about not being able to afford groceries and her bratty kids whining about not getting to go on vacation.
Drew spotted me some cash so I wouldn't end up back in the red by the end of the weekend. Then on the way back from the bank my blinkers stopped working.
So now I'm using hand signals.
Labels: Drew, Mom, Money, Postbacc Program