Only Nola

People Person, Shmeeple Person

Newsflash: People suck. No, really, hadn't you heard? Uh huh, it's a widely perpetrated myth that being a 'people person' is a GOOD thing. Let me clarify this for you... if you are a 'people person', others will walk on you, use you, make mincemeat of you, generally treat you like the hacky sack of the day. For years I fooled myself into thinking that I, too, was a people person. I was outgoing, friendly, trusting... *gags*. Now, in fact, I'm still fairly outgoing and friendly, but I don't trust anyone to speak of. There are those I trust more than others, and those whom I don't wish to see disemboweled, even those that I might turn my back on and not expect to get stabbed, but by and large I've grown weary of looking for people to be kinder than your average bear. This manifests itself in so many ways. Take, for instance, your average encounter with random person... they ask 'how are you?'... now, see, here's where the trap is set... they don't REALLY want to know how you are, they want you to say 'fine' and move on about your business, out of their way without cluttering up their head with your actual pain and suffering. Now, sure, no one likes to hear incessant whining, but there are times in all our lives when we're so burdened with crap that if you ask how we are, you'd better grab a chair, because how we are isn't brief, it isn't pretty, and we're *gasp* honestly thinking the person who asked gives a shit. But when you see their eyes glaze over, and they bolt like a rabbit at the first pause you take to breathe, well... there ya go. There is also the ever present statement, 'let me know if I can do anything'. Now, this one's a real kicker. People say that ALL THE TIME, and what they really mean is, 'I feel I'm pretty safe here in not actually being put out to help, so I'll say the standard line and make a break for it like a refugee from a cannibal convention first chance I get'. If you were to say something like 'well, gee, yeah, if you could babysit this weekend/put in a good word with your boss about a job for me/let me stay on your couch instead of in the refrigerator box on 4th and Main', pick one of those that works, they'd turn blue and stutter like Mel Tillis.

Now, maybe you think I'm being harsh. Bear in mind, I'm 33 years old, and have seen more situations, traumas, births, deaths, divorces, separations, and confrontations than most people see by the time they're 60. So, like I say, there are some people who sit on the 'suck' scale at least no higher than I do, but by and large, they're all miserable shits that just don't want to be disturbed, put out, or actually expected to care.

I saw a homeless man on the corner the other day. It was on a day that we'd just found out that we wouldn't be joining him on that corner, so I was feeling very relieved. He was standing there, holding his dog on a leash... both looked hungry, but not starving, thank god. The thing I noticed right away was that the man had done his best to look clean, even though he was on hard times. I also noticed that he stood there, holding his sign that said 'God Bless You', but didn't move toward any cars or people uninvited. He had an odd pride about him, as horrible as his life must be right now. So there I was, stopped at the light near him, surrounded by all these cars much nicer than mine, people with more money than I had, and no one would even freaking LOOK at him. It was awful. And the worst part was that initially, I'd done the same, out of habit. Then, after truly looking at him, the light still being red and all, I rolled down my window. I had, to my name, three dollars in cash, and maybe $20 in the bank. We were, and still are, facing horrible financial uncertainty. But right that minute, I saw a person that society, and all the people who refused to look at this man, was making invisible, right before my eyes. So, when the window came down, I got his attention... he walked over, bent down a little to be where he could reach out to me, and I held out my hand... I'd grabbed some of my dollars, and honestly, I don't remember if it was one of them or all three of them... anyway, I did something that even the people that give money to these poor souls almost never do, and I tell you, it's preyed on my mind before, but this time I did something about it... when that man leaned over, and I held out the money for him, I TOOK HIS HAND. Yeah, a small thing, but he looked like he'd die of shock. No one touches these poor people, like poverty is a contagious disease. Anyway. I took his hand, just for a second, looked right in his eyes, and said 'Good luck to you'. He kind of started, like he'd just woken up, looked at me, and just said 'Thank you', in such a way that I honestly think he hadn't heard the words before from someone like me, someone who doesn't live out on the street or in a box. I looked around, at all the people who could have given more than I did, and I thought... 'Yeah, people suck'.

Living in Fear

I'm all out of funny today. I'm sitting here in my new apartment, fighting off a black depression. I've been battling for the last year and a half, since my ex-husband and I separated, and I'm just feeling... used up. When my ex moved out last year, no matter what he'd done to end our marriage, I never suspected he'd do the things he's done to punish me, thereby punishing our son. It's been hell, fighting him every week, every day, every hour, trying to get him to be responsible, to abide by the court's rulings, to merely be... fair. Instead he's wrecked his son's life and mine, and now dragged my new husband down as well.

For months after he moved out, he would skip child support, or not pay the car payment, which was in my name (both our cars were in my name, since he had no credit). Now, since it was in my name, if he didn't pay it, I had to, so there was more money I was out that I needed to take care of my son. Then there was the car insurance, which I had to maintain since the car wasn't paid off yet. And the credit cards, which he was an authorized user on, and had made a large amount of the charges on, which I also had to pay every month. We're not talking chump change, we're talking over ten thousand dollars in credit card bills. He had agreed to pay one of them, while I'd pay the other three. Needless to say, that didn't happen. Almost a year after he left, I finally got the circuit clerk to take the child support from his paycheck. He had made sporadic payments for the 4 months prior to that, but it wasn't making a dent in the backlog of money I had had sucked out of my bank account to cover his bills. The day the divorce was final, he moved to Atlanta, leaving our son to wonder why Daddy left and why he didn't come to see him anymore. He rarely called him. Now, he likes to blame me for that, because he says he 'didn't want to deal with me asking about money'. Well, when you're responsible for costing someone thousands of dollars, I think them asking when they can expect to get it back is pretty fair, but the fact is I didn't harangue him on the few occasions he'd call to talk to my son. I usually contained communications to emails. So he's full of shit. He didn't call Connor because he didn't want to, and because he knew he was being unfair, and god forbid he face that fact. Then, in June of this year, the car that he had, the one in my name, well... he blew the transmission, then refused to fix it or continue making payments on it. Now, keep in mind, from the time he moved to Atlanta, which was August of 2002, until the end of July this year, he was living rent and utility free with his father, and making over $16 an hour. So someone please explain to me why he didn't use that time to pay me what was owed so that I could care for our son. So here I am, forced to drive to Atlanta and tow the now defunct car back to Arkansas to try and find a way to do something about it. I can't make two car payments, and I can't sell it since it doesn't run. The only option I was left with was trading in my 2001 Cavalier and the car he was bailing on together for one new car. A payment hike, as they were both upside down on their loans, but better than two separate payments plus the repairs on his car. So now I have a $400 a month payment, all thanks to him. Now, does he do anything to pay me for the $2700 loss I took on that car of his? Noooooooo. He figures it's all okay, because he 'never wanted that car anyway'. He wanted the one I was driving. And since he didn't get it in the divorce, he figured it was fair to stick me with the whole mess as payback.

Now, we just moved to Phoenix. Why the move? Well, we were about two weeks from being homeless, and I have a cousin that lives here that said we could stay with her till we got back on our feet. We didn't end up staying long, but that's another story. Anyway, my ex was furious when I told him we were moving. Why? Because I was now taking our son 'too far for him to visit'. Um, excuse me? Visit? What the fuck is a visit? You mean that thing you've done once in over a year? Not to mention the fact that he'd also stopped paying anything resembling a payment on the credit card, he'd bought himself a car the week after bailing on the one in my name, and for about the 8th time in as many months he'd set up a payment plan to get all the past debt settled and then decided to never follow the plan HE HIMSELF brought to me. And when I have the utter NERVE to ask 'hey, what about that money you promised?', he goes off on me, screaming, cursing me, telling me how he hates me and I'm a goddamned bitch and greedy to boot. Greedy? Because I want to have something resembling a life, and I can't as long as I'm covering my family's needs as well as picking up his slack? Greedy because I *gasp* expect him to do what a)he's promised, and b)the courts ordered? Greedy because I watched my son outgrow clothes and shoes and had to cry because I couldn't buy him any because the ex was busy digging me a hole I couldn't dig out of? I don't understand any of it. I really don't.

So now here we sit. I've had to abandon my pride and borrow money from family and friends just to buy food. I got a job that I couldn't start until my license came in, and when my license did show up, they hadn't left any room for me on the schedule for the week, so we have one more week of worry and weeping wondering how we're going to feed ourselves and pay car insurance and all the rest. Meanwhile, my ex, now making (if what he told me is true) about $19 an hour, doesn't send anything. Yes, I get the child support. But you know, when the bills I have to pay that he's supposed to be paying eat the entire amount of support coming in, it doesn't leave any room for silly things like new shoes, clothes, food, school supplies, etc. He screams at me that he pays support and that I can go fuck myself for being a greedy bitch... meanwhile, his son suffers through all the relocation crap, switching schools, far from friends he's known for years, the uncertainty and tension all around him. I love my son, so much it's like a pain sometimes, and to see him needing things I can't give, well, it breaks my heart. None of us deserve this, least of all him. I'm in arrears now to the credit card company, because for the first time I wasn't able to pay them last month. And I can't pay them this month. Or probably the next. And the great part? Even though according to the courts my ex is legally responsible for that debt, the credit card company won't go after him, only me. Because it is my name on the card. We got that card while married, and he incurred the majority of the debt on it while an authorized user, and the JUDGE said he HAS TO PAY IT, but the credit card company doesn't care. And, ironically, they'll go after me, when HE'S the one they'd have more of a shot at getting money from, because he makes more and has fewer bills. Ah, the fairness of life.

I don't know how we're going to make it through the next few weeks. I'm scared. Down to the bone scared. I feel like the worst kind of failure, as a mother, for not somehow being able to change all this, to make it right. But I don't know what else I could have done. I made more a week than your average person at my old job in Arkansas, but according to my ex, the fault for us not having any money lies with me, not with him, because I should have 'found a job that paid better'. He also says that my 'man' should make more money, so that we wouldn't need my ex's money. Yeah, there's some twisted logic for you. My husband makes a decent wage, but even if he didn't, my ex's responsibilities would be the same, and he would still not be taking care of them. My husband may not make a lot of money, but he's more man for all that than any other man I know. He works hard, he's caring, he's good to Connor, and he knows that love is not a selfish thing. When I'm sick, he takes care of me. When I'm tired, he wants me to sit and relax. I rub his shoulders when he's worked all day, I cook dinner. We take care of each other, which is how it should be. So do I give a FLYING FUCK how much money he makes? Nope, not a bit of it. I'm sure it helps my ex to foist the blame anywhere but on his shoulders, but the fact is, he's used me for a long time to cover his debts and his sorry ass. My wants are simple, you know? I want to be able to go to the grocery store without watching every dime for fear a check will bounce. I want to have enough money to put gas in the car. I want to go buy my son new shoes when he needs them, not a month after they're tight and uncomfortable. I'm so very tired. I wake up and don't want to get out of bed. I catch myself just wanting to curl up into a little ball and cry for however long my tears will let me. What do I do when I can't juggle anything else, when I've exhausted all my maneuvering and there's nothing left to do but go hungry or get evicted? I'm used up...

Power Trips of the Bureaucracies

So, as you can tell from the length of the gap between my last post and this one, things have not been going very well since the move. The key point of my pissedness? The Arizona State Board of Cosmetology. See, here's what happens... you give a handfull of people in a non-essential job an inordinate amount of power, and they go bat-shit. They get Hitler disease and suffer from delusions of ruling the world... or at least your small part of it. In most states, it costs about $40 to $50 to reciprocate a license in cosmetology. Not a horrible fee, really. Here? One hundred and ten goddamned dollars. Lovely, eh? Now, to add insult to injury, they make you wait... and wait... and wait. Three weeks, they inform me. For what, I ask? Processing, they say, looking affronted that I would even question them. Um, processing? Can you vague that up for me a little bit? I walk in, with all my paperwork in hand, and my money order, so where's the 'processing' involved? Okay, these are the workers of a little office with too much power, so let's just get past the wait period, as I obviously am not going to budge them on that. So I ask if I can get a temporary permit pending the arrival of my permanent license, since I am the proud owner of a current license and have paid my reciprocity fee... see, I kind of need this, since I'm actually LOOKING FOR WORK SO I CAN EAT! I'm informed that they don't do that. They tell me, oh so snidely, that state board law requires a current license for workers to hold jobs. Well, DUH! YA STUPID TWAT! I have one, here under your nose stapled to the proper forms. I just need to go to work to pay for pesky things like food and shelter for myself and my family. I just got the glare. So I'm forced to wait until my license meanders it's way from there to here, three weeks or so. Just wait, it gets better...

So, I call yesterday, a week after I had turned in all my paperwork, right? I wanted to check and make sure my certification had arrived from Little Rock so they could 'process' (I'm learning to hate that word) my application for reciprocity. See, here they won't just take your actual license so that you can transfer it... they want you to have your former State Board send them a 'certification', basically just another copy of your license with a State Board letterhead on the envelope. And heavens no, they can't accept a FAX! That would just make the whole thing too fast and convenient. So I get fecund sow number two on the phone. She informs me that no, she can't let me know if it arrived. If there's a problem, they will mail me any issues that need to be addressed. Um, mail me? As in, taking more and more days that I can't afford to sit on my ass? As in, let's drag this shit out as long as humanly possible because you wannabe's are getting your passive aggressive kicks out of making the stylists gnash their collective teeth as much as possible? I explained, yet again, that I really needed to know this so that I can work... live... eat... not hold up a sign that reads 'will run over bureaucrats for food' next to the offramps of the interstate... you get the picture. She wouldn't budge. Gee, just NOTHING she can do to help me. Um, I can think of something... GET UP OFF YOUR WIDESPREAD ASS AND LOOK ON YOUR DESK AND SEE IF IT'S THERE, DIPSHIT!

I swear, can't we just round up people like this and ship them off to a nice asteroid belt? Hopefully one infested with Mutant, Pus Dripping, Tit Biting, Syphillis Carrying Horse Flies or some such.