The Interview

Three a.m. is a lonely time of day.
Had the job interview on Tuesday. No idea how it went. Job interviews are never straight forward. Too much going on there. You might think you were fabulous, they might think you were a clown. You might think you sucked and they decide to hire you.
My honest impression is a mixed bag. I think I was solid on some of the questions, improvised on others. Don't know what to expect.
Went after the job because I want it. Don't want it because it is the greatest job ever in the history of employment. Don't want it because it perfectly fits my talents and desires and dreams. I want it because I NEED it. I NEED it because we are broke and living on the edge of disaster.
Had to borrow money from friends to get through the recent truck disaster. That is an uncomfortable feeling. How will we handle the next disaster? When you are in this position, one disaster too many can cause your life to fall apart like dominoes going down in a row.
I am entirely to blame for this and it is an uncomfortable feeling. Carol works hard at a job she doesn't like (she doesn't always admit that) and she gets paid well. For the past six years I have been a chronic underachiever. Because I tried to make myself happy. I was delusional to ever think happiness could enter into the equation. I am earning far below what I am capable of. I am killing us. Because of that, the interview had an air of desperation about it. As if the interview itself was not stressful enough.
In The Scarlet Letter, Hester Prynne is forced to wear a bright red A for all to see. I am forced to wear a bright yellow U. The Underachievers Exposed Society has asked me to go on a speaking tour of local area schools to scare kids straight into success by demonstrating just how badly your life can suck when you make all the wrong moves. Of course the society being what it is they won't pay me, but they have offered to give me two pork chops a month. Our situation being what it is, I am seriously considering the offer.
I have today off. Without pay, of course. All I can think about is what can I do to get money now. How can I put myself in a position to get money soon. Everything I do today has to be geared towards getting money. I cannot waste one second. Nothing else matters. I need money now. Not in six months. Not in thirty days. Bags of it, piles of it.
I woke up at three a.m. this morning. Woke wide awake with this crap on my mind. And listening to the cats and Carol sleep. It was over an hour before I could even calm myself down to the point where I could lie peacefully in bed without my heart pounding and my body sweating. Another hour before I fell asleep. Fitfully.
I am exhausted but it doesn't matter. Learned that a long time ago. Happiness doesn't matter. Health doesn't matter. All that matters is that you get up like a machine and do as you are told.
The alarm clock kills sleep, the job kills independence, the paycheck kills dignity and whisky kills the pain.
That is life in a nutshell.
My pain and anger and frustration are so huge they eclipse my body. I carry the overflow behind me in a fifty five gallon trash bag. Like Jacob Marley eternally dragging the chain he forged in life, link by link and yard by yard.
Been spiralling downwards since the end of 2011. One thing after another. The Chairman of the Board and Ceo of Seagrams called me personally asking me to back off on my whisky consumption. He said they have had to divert all deliveries originally intended for Rhode Island, directly to New Hampshire. Millions of RI whisky aficionados are furious and conducting investigations into the origin of this crisis in order to mete out blame and punishment.
As if I don't already have enough on my mind.
If I get a call from HR that begins with "we're sorry to tell you................" the reaction will be swift and vicious. I'll head into downtown Concord and start beating up on anybody who crosses my path. My initial focus will be anybody wearing any kind of ny football giants gear, but I think once I get a taste for it my choices will be less discriminating. (Violence disclaimer: No women, children or animals will be harmed in this venting process).
Sunday, February 12 is our thirty fourth wedding anniversary. We are going out to dinner. Not because we can afford it. Because we have a gift certificate. If not for the gift certificate we would spend our anniversary at home eating sawdust and regret.
Thirty four years and that's the best I can do. As much as I hate my existence, I hate even more not being able to spoil my very special wife.
This is where I am at as I wait for The Call.
Three a.m. is a very lonely time of day indeed.