What's What

Lately, my days are packed with work. My head can start spinning if I begin to think of everything that needs to be done.

I get disoriented - a feeling akin to vertigo - from looking at a small screen for any length of time. As a result, I am on social media far less these days, which is probably for the best.

I am thinking of my son.

I am thinking of the young ones in cages removed from their parents.

I am thinking of Chris Mavronikolas.

I am thinking of my mom and dad.

My goal in this life is to live as fully in the present moment as possible. I have a long way to go.

It requires great discipline to sit still and quietly, allowing thoughts to pass through the brain without attaching any energy to them. The goal, I think, is not to attempt to make the brain free from thought, rather to allow your thoughts to pass like clouds on a sunny day. I believe that if we all sat still and quietly in this manner, for even a short while, the world might become a different place.

On Saturday, I am to perform improvisational movement and spoken word to accompany a phenomenal bass player, Vattel Cherry. I asked Vattel if he had a theme or a quality he wished to convey. He suggested that I look up Bacon's Rebellion. This incident, and the series of conditions leading up to it, explain so much about this country that we call the United States. My eyes welled up with tears as I read about it. And so I offer the following:

People are people. If they look different from you, they are still people with feelings and thoughts valid to their experience of the world. We do not own other people. We do not control other people. We are in charge of ourselves. And we are barely capable of that. We cannot even manage sitting still and quietly for a few minutes with our thoughts floating by like clouds in an endless sky. Try to be in a state of calm and peace. It's harder than you think. And, it is the simplest thing in the world.

Give it a go. Give yourselves some downtime.

THOT

A co-worker left a note for other co-workers to see.  The note began in this way: "Don't be a THOT or a twat...." This phrase caused me to wonder two things. 1) Is it acceptable these days to leave notes to co-workers using words such as "THOT" - which is actually an acronym for "That 'Ho' Over There" - and "twat?" And 2) If "THOT" stands for "That 'Ho' Over There," is it correct to use the article "a" before it? Would that not be, essentially, "A That 'Ho' Over There?" Making the entire phrase read as follows: "Don't be a that 'ho' over there or a twat...."

I suppose if one is called a THOT or a twat, it really doesn't matter whether the article "a" is used or not.

Which lead me to my next question: am I a THOT?

I went to this sweet kid who works in the dish room and said, "Hey, you like me, right?"

"Yes," he replied.

"You would tell me the truth, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Am I a THOT?"

The kid raised an eyebrow and cocked a crooked grin as he said, "No! How do you even know that word!?"  I explained to him that I didn't, that I'd needed to ask someone else what it meant.  When I first saw the note, I thought it read, "Don't be aT HOT." I needed help deciphering.  The sweet kid in the dish room - whom I call The Dish Room Ninja - assured me that I was not a THOT and that if anyone ever called me that, or anything like it, he would beat them up.

This made me feel a lot better.

A little bit later, the Dish Room Ninja came out to the area where I was working and said, "You know, I feel really protective of you right now.  If anyone ever messes with you in any way, you let me know.  I'll take care of them."

It's nice to know someone has my back in a world of THOTs and twats and unanswerable questions.

Reflections From a Parking Lot

I am in the parking lot at Planet Care a half an hour before needing to clock in for the day. I am hammering out this missive via my portable phone unit.

I came to work this early in order to avoid being late. I am six to eight minutes late 93% of the time. Planet Care does not care for this practice and threatens to fire me from my post there.

I have assisted Planet Care in its money making practices for eight years.  It is hard to believe I have worked there this long and even harder to believe that I am recognized more consistently for the things I do wrong than for the things I do right.

I am not alone. My coworkers express the same sentiment. And I recognize that working conditions in general have deteriorated in America. More work is put on each worker with less time alloted to complete designated tasks. Compensation does not match energy expended.

How did we reach this point in our history? When I hear my elders speak of the way companies used to take care of their people, I feel sad for never really knowing what it feels like to be appreciated for my work.

Ah me. The customers appreciate my work. Because frankly, I kick ass when it comes to customer service. I like making people happy. I just have to remember that corporations aren't people and I won't ever make them happy. They will always demand more.

I feel like I am in an abusive relationsip. Maybe it's time to move out.

The Bodhisattva

A bodhisattva works at Planet Care.  You can find him in the "dish room."  We often speak together of existential problems and techniques for transcendence.  We are able to gauge each other's internal climate the way a meteorologist tracks a storm.  Ultimately, we manage to help each other feel better when there are obstacles in our paths.

Last night I said to the bodhisattva, "I do not like this game called making money that was invented by some person a long time ago.  I don't even understand the rules of this game.  Who invented this game of making money?  Who?!"

The bodhisattva said, "You!  You did!"

We both fell into hysterical laughter.  

"Of course!  I did!  I invented this game!  I did!  And I know all its rules!"

Later, I walked through the dish room and the bodhisattva said to me, "That's it!  I'm finished!"

"What do you mean?"

"I quit!  I never want to see another dish in my life!"

I commiserated with him for a moment.  Then I said, "Thich Nhat Hanh says washing dishes is like bathing the baby buddha."  

The bodhisattva's eyes lit up.  "Ah!  Yes!  I will kiss each dish from now on."  And he pulled a large pan out of the soapy water and gingerly kissed it.   

Life is a Video Game

I have recently become slightly addicted to a silly little video game called Little Big Planet in which cute characters of one's own design run throughout various obstacles to pop blue bubbles and collect "new objects."  I have never been much of a video game player, so my eye/hand coordination needs fine-tuning.  Every time I die, rather than get upset, I simply re-play the level in which I died so that I may utilize any new information I have ascertained, formulating a strategy for my ultimate survival and the completion of said level.

This is a new mindset for me: this notion of practicing again and again until one masters a particular level.  It shouldn't be, though.  I was subjected to various music lessons as a child, the result of which was this understanding that daily practice was necessary in order to progress in skill.  For some reason, that just didn't stick.  Not in the same way as playing Little Big Planet has made it stick.

As ridiculous as it may seem, all my life I have struggled with the perceived constraints of the "real world."  Things such as time and money.  I have been so busy resisting the ills of a capitalist society that I never learned simple things like budgeting and being on time.  I've never devoted time to the practicality of personal economics and never made concrete decisions to "be" one thing or another in terms of a career.  I have never been able to look at Life as a game.  I've never understood that one must master certain skill sets and conquer various obstacles in order to progress to the next level. It's that simple really.

Recently, I had an extended conversation with the manager at Planet Care.  I expressed to him the various discoveries I've made about myself recently.  Some of these discoveries are positive.  Some not.  Under the category of not-so-positive discoveries is my propensity for tardiness.  I am habitually late.  Every day.  Six to ten minutes.  It is a habit of which I have never fully cared to rid myself. I have never understood a reason for punctuality.  It has always seemed an arbitrary imposition on my personal freedom against which I have rebelled.

The manager of Planet Care told me in a matter of fact manner that it is against the rules to be tardy all the time.  And now that I have confessed my propensity for tardiness, I have put myself on his radar.  He then challenged me to be on time for the next thirty days that I work.  "This is not a threat," he said.  He merely wants me to change my habit and has set me the challenge to do so.

Something strange happened when he set this challenge for me.  I imagined myself practicing a certain level in Little Big Planet.  And then, the awareness sank in.  This is a game.  There are certain perimeters within which I must play this game.  Being on time is one of the perimeters.  Just as I must be careful to leap across the burning coals in the Burning Forest level of Little Big Planet, I must be careful to be on time in order to avoid being burned at Planet Care.  In this case, being burned means losing my job.

Hence, I set myself the task of being on time for thirty consecutive work days.  I've succeeded for the first three days of my personal challenge.  While this may not seem like much of a challenge to most folks, it is a significant one to me.  I have Little Big Planet to thank for making it make sense.

Moral Pontifications Regarding Babies and Monies

I sat in the cafe area of Planet Care yesterday eating my dinner: a banana, an apple and some peanut butter.  I've run out of money again.  I rely heavily on peanut butter and bananas for my sustenance at times like this.  It is unfortunate and ironic that I work in a supermarket filled with healthy foods that I cannot afford.  Sometimes I laugh at the irony.  Sometimes my ire is too great for laughter.

As I looked out the window of the cafe area of Planet Care, I noticed a pregnant woman and a man, presumably the person who impregnated her, get out of their car and walk across the parking lot to the doors of Planet Care.  I had an immediate sensation of revulsion in my gut upon seeing this pregnant couple.  I examined this revulsion and found myself thinking, "Why would anyone want to have a baby in this day and age?!"

Why would anyone want to have a baby in this day and age.  

Suddenly, the realization hit me: I have allowed the cannibalistic mentality of society to consume my thought process.  I have, to a degree, lost hope that our world will improve.  I have temporarily become That Person Whom I Abhor at any sort of family or social gathering: the Pessimist. The Nihilist.  The one who focuses on the destruction of the planet's natural resources, the monopolization of our food supply, the corporate takeover of our government, the unwillingness of the NRA to be reasonable, the vast number of people who are blatantly angry and aggressive who contribute further destruction through their anger and aggression.  I have grown angry.  And I am contributing to the destruction of the world around me through this anger.

My thoughts have been cycling around the topic of money to the point of obsession.  How can I make more?  What job can I see myself doing that would pay enough to comfortably sustain me?  I've invested money in therapy so that I can overcome the obstacles to my own growth....so that I can get a job that is more in alignment with who I am and what I am, a job that pays me a living wage.  I have taken money out of my food supply and put into a professional counselor for this reason.

The stunning realization is that there is nothing wrong with me.  I am merely trying to conform to a world whose principles I reject.  I have worth, despite the fact that I earn substandard wages.  When I have time to write or paint or play music, I am aware of my place in this world.  Everything makes sense.  When I put  time and energy into the pursuit of money (job-hunting), I feel like I've raped myself.

The thing that has become abundantly clear is the need to create a new world for myself.  A world of freedom.  A friend once told me that we are all slaves to money.  Whether you have it or whether you don't, your existence is ruled by money. My goal is to emancipate myself from this mental slavery. My goal is to spend more time enjoying my life by doing the things that I find rewarding and less time chasing money.  It is an attitudinal shift. Not a financial one.

While it can be argued that one needs money to do the things that one enjoys, I will argue that one can find a way to do the things one enjoys without money. For example, I was painting with The Greensboro Mural Project one Saturday and a man pulled over in his car and offered free paint.  Free paint?!  How can that be?!  He's a painting contractor.  He has a lot of left-over paint from jobs he's done.  Rather than take all this to the recycling center, he would like to give it to people who could use it!  Imagine that!  Free paint from someone who was just going to throw it away!

There is a facebook group called "Friends Swapping Stuff"  where people will post the need to get rid of certain items and the need to acquire certain items.  Sometimes it works like this: someone will announce that they have a couch they no longer need.  They would like to have garden tools.  So someone with garden tools approaches them about swapping for their couch.  Or, someone who needs the couch finds someone with garden tools and gives that person something that he or she needs and then swaps the tools for the couch.  Sometimes people offer things for giveaway and do not ask for anything in return.  I got a piano this way.  The only thing I had to do was move it.

I want to believe in a world where money doesn't rule.  I want to utilize resourcefulness and cooperation rather than fear and competition.  While I recognize that money-making will be a part of my existence, I do not want my existence to be defined by money-making.  Rather, I want my existence to be defined by the sheer joy of living as manifested through creative acts.

I went on a job interview recently in which I was asked what I would like to see myself doing in a job scenario.  I immediately said I'd like to write.

"What else?" he asked.

"I'd like to utilize my networking and promotional skills."

"What else?"

"I'd like to work with the public."

"What else?"

"I'd like to....."

I started to zone out here.  What was he asking me exactly?  How was I supposed to answer?  I was really trying to avoid saying things like "I want to paint vaginas all over Greensboro.  I want to make mask and puppet theatre pieces in the park downtown.  I want to bring Carl Sandburg's "Rootabaga Stories" to life.  I want to be in an all girl cowpunk band that writes and performs silly songs.  I want to make movies."  I knew if I said these things, I wouldn't get the job.  But those are the things I really want to do.  So I edited my answers. There was a time when I did not do this.

I had an interview once in which I was blatantly honest.  I did not get the job.  But I was on top of the world at the end of it. Happy beyond measure.  Because I'd told the truth.

To lie to myself and others is to diminish the life force inside of me.  Creativity is my Truth.  I vow, therefore, to only speak the Truth and nothing but the Truth. 



 

The Interview

Sometimes, I amaze myself.

I had a job interview this week: my first in a few years. While I am still under the employ of Planet Care, I send out resumes and applications periodically, in case there's a better job situation floating around somewhere. I look at it like fishing. I keep casting lines out into the sea of potential jobs to see if I get a bite. Quite surprisingly, a casual inquiry led me into the office of a small business owner looking for a Jane Do-All sort. An impromptu interview was arranged.

1) Do not arrive late.

I arrived two minutes late. And while that is not significantly late, one does not need any additional stress or self-doubt clouding one's psyche during an interview.

2) Bring a copy of your resume.

Additionally, I realized too late that I had not bothered to dig up a copy of my resume.

3) Dress better than you would under ordinary circumstances.

I walked in off the street, hurried, disheveled from a gusty wind, feeling the particular kind of gritty that comes from working around the flying cotton and hemp fibers at my second job and from sitting in the grease-coated interior of my boyfriend's Volvo. I had taken the time in between working at my two jobs to participate in this interview. I was dressed in the clothes that are appropriate for my sewing job and my can-stacking job.

The business office which I entered had a sterile environment. Walking in, I became aware of the expanse of floor space between the main desk and the front door. The walls were a dark color. There was no art hanging behind the desk. And there was no music. I become acutely aware of the lack of music in spaces that have none. This is an unnerving sensation.

Jane Do-All stood behind the desk. I walked the requisite floor space to bridge the gap between her and myself. "Are you Kathy?" she asked before I had a chance to ask if she was "Jane." I extended my hand to clasp hers.

Jane Do-All is a highly competent lady with a distinct sophistication. Most likely she is younger than me, but I felt like an untrained teenager in her presence. Which is not to say she was intimidating. On the contrary, she was most gracious and did her best to make a roustabout vagabond like myself feel welcome.

I became acutely aware of her appearance and the way every aspect of it was acceptable. The length of her hair, her choice of jewelry, the tasteful application of make-up, her standard issue shell dress, an understated confidence. The combination of all of these elements created a subtle air of professionalism which I admired.

Jane Do-All explained that Mister Master, the business owner, had stepped out but should return momentarily. She directed me to a lounge-like area to the side of her task station. Puffy fake leather chairs - or maybe they were real - in beige and red were clustered around a low table. A badly rendered floral painting with garish colors hung on one wall. I was instructed to have a seat. And within seconds, Mister Master arrived.

Mister Master sported a suit jacket over a t-shirt, along with jeans and boots. It is one of those familiar quirky looks reminiscent of a Woody Allen character or some cool guy one knew in the 80's. It is completely unoriginal and tired. And Mister Master struggled to keep it fresh and vibrant.

4) Even though people tell you to be yourself, don't do it.

The requisite polite banter ensued. I felt an air of discomfort. I examined this while attempting to maintain continuity in the banter. I was not personally uncomfortable. There was something about me that was making Mister Master and Jane Do-All uncomfortable. And I was picking up on this.

I tried not to psyche myself out. I tried to relax and be myself. But there was this nagging voice inside of me saying, "Act professional! Act professional!!!"

How can I act professional when I look like I just came in off the range?

Project confidence!

How do I project confidence?

Believe in yourself! Believe in your ability to do this job!

How do I know whether I can do this job when I don't know what this job entails?

"Here's what this job entails," said Jane Do-All. And she proceeded to explain all the do's that must be done.

5) Pretend like the job you are applying for is the most important thing in the world to you.

I interjected, whenever I felt an opportunity to do so, that I have experience in this capacity as a result of having been employed at X. And I have experience in that capacity as a result of having been employed at Y. And my employment at Z made me great at networking. At which point, Jane Do-All said, "You have a variety of experiences. What makes you choose the jobs you get?"

Panic.

No, no!!! Don't panic! You have an answer!

"Well, in the past I've looked for jobs that would challenge me...."

Good! Good!

"....jobs that would allow me to expand my skill set....."

Nice!

"......jobs that would enable me to learn and to grow as a person....."

A little over the top, but you're doing fine!

".....and to be honest, I was a single mother for years. I had to take whatever job would pay the bills....."

Mmmmm.......I'm not liking this direction.

".......Currently, however, I need a regular paycheck. I've had some unstable job situations in the past. Now I'm happy just to have the steady income."

No! Wrong direction! Turn back!!!

8) Do not mention your true passion in life. Rather, pretend that this job is of the utmost importance to you.

"My current job just doesn't pay me enough. I'm an artist. This is my vocation and the thing of primary importance in my life. I want to earn the money I need to survive so that I have the freedom to create."

Crap. We're sunk.

The professional woman and the business owner were uncomfortably silent for a few seconds. Until that point, they hadn't missed a beat. And this is when I realized I'd taken this being myself thing too far.

Mister Master explained that he was really hoping to find someone that would think of this do-all position as a career, not just a job. He was hoping to find someone that would feel excited about seeing the business not only flourish but expand. He wanted to find someone that would enjoy reaping the benefits of said expansion.

I wondered how I might reverse myself gracefully. Luckily Jane Do-All asked if I had any questions for them.

Ok! Here's your chance to come up with something that indicates your level of interest!

I asked her to describe her average day. She struggled to do this, which I found peculiar. The thing that immediately came to her was, "On Monday we meet with the bookkeeper who looks over all the receipts I've saved and everything I've entered into Quickbooks. Mostly I just sit around and wait for her to finish. That takes up most of the day. Sometimes we have meetings with CEO's of agencies. Sometimes I have to entertain clients."

"Anything else?" she asked after this vague description.

9) Do not further indicate your obvious lack of professionalism.

"Well, yes. I, um, forgive me if this seems superficial. But I came in today dressed as I normally dress - because I have to work at both of my jobs today and sandwiched this interview between them. I notice that your attire is more business-casual. And you carry an air of professionalism. Is this a vibe that you wish this office to maintain?"

What the hell? Are you actively trying to insult their intelligence?

The words escaped my mouth even as I realized it was an inane thing to ask. The damage was done. I needed to simply accept that some part of me had chosen to tank this interview. I may as well fully commit to that decision from this point on.

"Oh that isn't superficial at all. There are days when we meet with CEO's of different agencies and we feel it is important to dress up to their standards."

"Not me," says Mister Master. "I dress as I please."

"Well, that's not entirely true. Remember that time I wouldn't let you wear your hoodie."

I felt like that exchange was for my benefit.

At the end of our chat, Jane Do-All asked if there was anything else I wanted to ask or say.

"Yes. Thank-you for taking time to meet with me and tell me about your business. It sounds truly great. And I think that my skill set is compatible with the position you need to fill. However, I have to be completely honest with you and say that I would not view this as a career. It would be just a job for me. I am 50 years old and I've denied myself the opportunity to fully explore my creative life. At this stage in the game, making art is all that matters to me. So if you want someone who looks at this as a career, you would be short-selling yourself if you were to hire me. "

The shock was as thick as the metaphorical rope I'd bound myself in, the room as quiet as death.

"Well.....we....thank-you for your.....honesty."

The eyes darted anxiously around the room. No one knew how to end this interview. So I said, "Good luck on your search. Mister, great meeting you. Jane, thanks so much. You've both been most gracious." I stood, tossed my messenger bag over my shoulder and started toward the front door. Without turning around I said, "And if you decide you need an artist who just wants a job, call me."

They both laughed. Nervously. I'm sure they needed the release.

As I walked down the street, I felt giddy. This sensation mystified me when I had clearly thrown away my chance of securing a desk job. I examined the root of this sensation and realized that I had spoken the truth. And this was a liberating feeling. I had broken all the standard rules of engagement in an interview scenario and had been completely honest. Everything I said and everything I asked came from an honest place in me. Even when I asked, essentially, whether I would be expected to dress nicely. I really wanted to know if I needed to alter my personal dress code. I really wanted to know whether I needed to invest money in a new look. I needed to consider that piece of the daily grind.

I was absolutely true to myself. I indicated to the interviewers that I felt myself capable of performing the tasks associated with the position. I know in my heart that this is true. At the same time, I did not feel compelled to jump and spin and dance on my heels for their amusement. I inquired about a job. They had a job. It was pretty cut and dry to me. It only became dishonest when tainted with the thought that I must turn this job - which was just a job - into a career. I was simply unwilling to assume that attitude. It made no sense to me to do this. I would work and work hard. But at the end of the day, I would care no more for this job than for the job of stacking cans on shelves.

These realizations made me appreciate my current job at Planet Care. When I clock out at the end of the day, I can release the job and engage in the activities from which I derive a deep-seated satisfaction. I can make things. And there is nothing and no one connected with Planet Care that demands anything otherwise.

I wonder, if I had not been employed and had gone on this job interview, would I have conducted myself in the same manner? Did I insult Jane Do-All and Mister Master by my lack of interest in the standard interview process? Will I ever find a job that I might treat as a career? At the end of the day, none of this matters. We can only answer to our inner knowing in any given moment. The moment of the interview has passed. I am currently in the moment of making as I pound out letters on the keyboard, forming words that coalesce into sentences.

I hope this moment of making, which has been so completely satisfying to me, brings you some degree of enjoyment.

To re-cap:

If you want to succeed in a standard interview scenario, heed the following:

1) If you don't care enough to be on time for the interview, most likely you won't care enough about getting the job.
2) Ordinary clothes get you an ordinary job.
3) Bring a copy of your resume with you.
4) If you choose to be yourself, be willing to accept the accompanying consequences.
5) Commit to your enthusiasm. It doesn't have to be false when you make a conscious decision to pursue it.
6) Act thoroughly interested and excited about everything that the prospective boss tells you.
7) Do not mention your true passion in life. Rather, pretend that this job is of the utmost importance to you.

And for bonus points:

8) Laugh enthusiastically at the prospective boss' jokes, no matter if you understand them or not. 

$2.66 Worth

I admit, when it comes to managing money, I suck.

"Kathy, you have to have money in order to manage it! Your problem is you don't have any money!"

Truer words were never spoken. These words came from the mouth of a dear friend during my brief stay in the third world country that is West Virginia. This was a dozen or so years ago when I was the sole provider for my family - which at the time consisted of my daughter, my son and ex-husband guy who, at the time, was married to me.

I was the store manager of a gift shop in a little tourist town on the eastern panhandle. It was a lovely shop and I had a lovely time working in it. But the various worldly demands made of me tempered my enjoyment. I made $9 an hour. And feeding everyone and taking care of everyone's needs on that salary was challenging to say the least.

Fast forward to my life today. I am a cashier in a "healthy supermarket." I make fifty cents more an hour than I made at the gift shop job in 1996. I stand in a cubby behind a cash register for roughly 8 hours a day. I crave activity and a feeling of usefulness. When there is a steady stream of customers to keep me busy, there is no problem. I can pretend like entering information into the store's computer system about each and every item purchased is a useful thing. I can pack up the customer's groceries and load them into their carts and pretend like I'm being helpful. When there is not a steady stream of customers, I pace around in my tiny cubby like a caged animal longing for freedom. My boyfriend says the cubby that I stand in is too small for my dreams.

Ah yes. My dreams.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to make movies. I wanted to travel the world. Today, I am a writer, even though I currently don't get paid to write. I am an artist who makes no money at her craft. And this year, I worked on my very first movie - again, not for money. This year was a bit of a milestone for me: I traveled to Brooklyn twice.

I am not living up to my full potential and I make a ridiculously low salary which is not nearly enough to pay for my existence on the planet. These are hard realizations to allow to manifest in one's consciousness.

Tim LaFollette recently told me to stop being a wimp. He said this after I told him that I am too scared to play guitar in front of people. Tim LaFollette is battling a disease that will end his life. He is doing so with humor and dignity. When he told me to stop being a wimp, I realized I am the biggest fucking wimp on the face of the planet. And I have no excuses.

I have talents and skills which I do not exercise during my daily grind. I long to feel useful and productive. I would feel useful and productive if I were to utilize my true talents. Yet do I seek out opportunities which will allow me to utilize the talents that lie dormant for eight hours a day?

No. I do not. And it is this awareness that makes going to work such a chore.

My sister, Boot Camp Becky, tells me "You need to believe in yourself!" I wonder in what way.

I believe in my ability to create. I believe in my ability to make people laugh. I believe in my ability to tell a story or to write a song. I believe in my ability to connect with people, to listen with respect and compassion to their stories, to empower them. I believe in my ability to be the person I want to be. But I do not believe in my ability to translate all this into a money-making venture.

"Well, it's no trick to make a lot of money...if all you want...is to make a lot of money."

This quote from the film Citizen Kane haunts me. Is that all there is to it: if I need to make more money, I just need to focus on making more money? Why does that concept elude me? Why am I unable to motivate myself to simply make money?

Typically, I find ways to justify my inability to focus on money. Typically, I dodge a lot of financial bullets. Occasionally however, I am hit. Major illnesses, mishaps with the law, automobile repairs, these are among the biggest bullets. Up until recently, I've been doing pretty well with the ol' robbing-Peter-to-pay-Paul strategy. Today, my years of financial struggle came to a head in a millisecond during an insignificant transaction at lunch time. And as a result, my self worth was called into question.

Each day that I work at Planet Care, I select food items from its salad bar and purchase my meal. I purchase my groceries from Planet Care because I'm too tired or lazy to go anywhere else at the end of a shift. In this regard, Planet Care and The Company Store have a lot in common.

Today I took my salad bar selection to the cash register reserved for employee purchases. Planet Care employees are able to purchase salad bar items for half the cost of the average customer. This is called a "staff meal" purchase. And this is fairly nice. In an instance such as today, the meal that I had selected would have cost the average customer $5.32. The salad bar items are sold by the pound at $7.99 per pound. We cashiers remove the weight of the dish or receptacle that the customer has placed their food selections in. So in theory, the customer is only being charged for the weight of their food.

Items such as meat, fruit, potatoes and beans are heavy either because of their density or water weight. I try to avoid heaping too many heavy items on my plate. I base my food selection on the amount of money I will have to shell out for it at the cash register. I try to keep my cost a little below $3. This is less than a pound of food. Which is ok really, because I only have 20 minutes in which to eat. It is better to buy a little food which can be thoroughly masticated than a lot which one must forcibly swallow in large chunks.

Today, I selected $2.66 worth of food. I slid my debit card through the debit/credit/EBT card processing unit and touched the appropriate flat screened buttons.

Declined.

I had no cash. I had nothing with which to barter. I could have opened a vein and payed in blood. But my blood is defective. I'm pretty sure that offer would have been rejected.

It takes roughly 17 minutes of my time working at Planet Care to earn enough money to buy this meal that I would have to consume in 20 minutes or less. I could have offered to tag an additional 17 minutes onto the end of my shift. But this is not the way Planet Care rolls. I needed an immediate form of payment. Fortunately, a co-worker was buying her meal at the same time as I and offered to pay for both. I feel it is noteworthy to mention that her name is Hope.

Yes, in money matters, I suck. In other regards, I'm a pretty decent human being. But the money thing is a real ball-buster. Something as simple as being rejected by the bank for having insufficient funds to pay for a $2.66 meal creates such a staggering sense of worthlessness, anger and depression.

I had $2.66 worth of food which cost me - at the current rate of $9.50 an hour times the amount of time I spent feeling bad about insufficient funds and my co-worker bailing me out so I could eat lunch - $85.50 worth of angst. I am no economist, but it seems like I should invest in my future with a bit more discernment.