Tough Times
Life • February 9th, 2009Recently we changed our house locks, and although something told me we might run into trouble at some point, today I could fully confirm it by accidentally locking myself out of the house — thankfully, with Joaquin by my side. I had just strapped him to the car seat, and had my car keys with me, but my bag and wallet, and coat and everything else I was planning to take with us, stayed in the house. So with a screaming baby, I went to my next door neighbors’ home to call Joey at work. They were not dressed and warned me that they had been sick, so staying there while Joey could get here to rescue us, was not an option. It was windy and raining (really snowing, though the temperature wasn’t cold enough for the flakes to stick), so the only thing I could do was to get on the car and drive Joaquin around the neighborhood during our 30–minute wait.
It was quiet, so I turned the radio on. The classic station I usually listen to was running an interview. Instead of switching for music, I started listening… By the time Joey got home I was completely depressed and full of an irrational urge to go out there and make money.
The story I listened to for 30 minutes, was that of a 58–year–old woman who lost her job 16 months ago. She’s spent all of her severance package, recently ran out of her unemployment benefits, and is now using her pension fund to pay her home mortgage. She has no money at all and can’t find a job in this depressed economy. She talked about how every time she goes to the grocery store, she must decide between buying toothpaste and toilet paper, or bread and milk. She’s done everything she can think of to get a job, but keeps failing because there’s such competition out there, and she believes employers discriminate based on her age. I was impressed by her calm tone of voice explaining her situation. I probably would’ve cut my veins a long time ago if I was on her shoes and childless…
As I listened to her story, particularly the piece about not being able to find a job because of her age, I wished I had a business so I could employ her or somebody like her. I told Joey the story and he made me even sadder when he commented “I’m getting old too”. It’s really a terrible thing to think that at some point, people won’t want to give us a job because we’re “old”. All this gave me a feeling of urgency to get a job, in case Joey loses his… But, back in reality, we’re fine for now, and we prefer Joaquin on my care. All that happened is, I was touched for a second by a dose of the ugly reality happening outside of my pretty home, and by tomorrow I will have forgotten and will go back to my usual self–protective ignorance. How sad is that?
