Struggle

Me on payday pic.twitter.com/KW5e50YrvB

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) September 15, 2017

I got paid at midnight.

At 12:01 am, I was heartbroken.

Why do I put myself – and my family – through this mess every two weeks? It can’t be because I like my job which I detest daily to the extent my skin shudders when someone utters my employer’s name. It does have me bent over a barrel since I am picking up our health insurance via biweekly deductions and trying to plan for the biggest pipe dream of all in retirement is the biggest fallacy known to mankind. If I could afford to, I’d drink myself silly yet staring at the bottom of an authentic Mexican tequila would only compound the problems in my life along with the mounting monthly bills.

Times like these are times which I think about putting on that trap jersey; consequently, I cannot get back in the game due to the real losses my franchise would accrue to one misstep:  getting raided or robbed, or worse busted by the law. Then there is the real possibility of applying for one of those medicinal sales licenses, and again that comes with two caveats:  The high cost of entry, and if approved, I would have to surrender my Second Amendment right in this state.

If making fifteen dollars an hour is the best I can expect in the prime of my working years, I’m out.

Why the hell did I spend so much time in school only to land dead-end roles that the HR recruiter must repeatedly cajole herself into selling as steppingstone positions? I should’ve noticed their poop-stained grins of building a bright future within the organization a long time ago; that “foot in the door” is all it ever will be. I’m overworked and grossly overqualified, vastly underappreciated, and I won’t enter the paltry pay as a part of the discussion. What a shining reality this has become – where are my shades to block out the searing sun rays?

The more I write about this, the more my frustration with the company simmers. I should’ve gone full-time with the catering business when I had the startup capital and opportunity; ironically enough, I paid off some localized debts instead.

Someone from the Swishahouse told me there ain’t no 401K in hustling and the way this job is treating me confirms the factoid.

Here I am giving serious thought about picking up a second job for the first time in over five years considering upcoming preschool expenses. The issues that come with that are twofold:  1) I am rarely home as things stand; and 2) I never have been much of a “people” person. In the pursuit of providing the best lifestyle possible for my family, the price of not being around for timeless memories could become too great. Why would I have surrendered living during my twenties if only to repeat this cycle again for the next thirty, forty years or so of working twenty-hour days to get by?

How is it that people whom I know are nowhere near as qualified as I am getting these plum jobs making serious jack and I’m living on Ramen and pork-and-beans?

In case you haven’t been able to figure it out, I need a better-paying gig that will help my ambitions of a comfortable retirement as well as get us through the mundanities of life.