#and why do i have to pay hundreds of dollars to a company to learn how to drive instead of being taught that in public school???????????????

[one-last-scare]

someone tell me why i need to go through a private company to order official government documents. the united states of america is one of the most countries of all time

[idyllcy]

and on and on, yeah we got the time

Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)

summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv

"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."

"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."

"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."

"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"

"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"

"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."

"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."

"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"

"Just a little, maybe."

"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"

"I mean, I'm not saying no..."

You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.

At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.

"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."

"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.

"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."

"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."

"You can start by catching up with me."

"M..." You pause. "How about... no."

"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"

"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."

"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."

"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."

"At least you got all of your packages."

"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."

"We own the building."

"WHAT." 

"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."

"Worst being you?"

"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"

Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"

"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."

"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."

You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."

"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."

"Not."

"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."

"Definitely." You hum.

Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 

Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.

"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."

"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."

"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"

"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."

"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.

"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"

"They don't."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 

"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."

"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"

"No."

"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.

"You'll be fine."

"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."

"You're my smart girl." He hums.

You grimace at him.

"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."

"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 

Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.

"Tired?"

"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"

"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."

Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."

"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."

"By killing me?"

"Jay, baby?"

"Yes?"

"No." 

He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.

"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.

"You cheeseball."

"Says the one who asked me out."

"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 

"Yeah, but you asked me out."

"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."

"Yeah, your loser."

"My loser." You sigh. 

[3liza]

saw a youtube sponsorship for a brand that markets itself as "masculine shoes in small sizes, for trans men" and if the entire idea wasn't already preposterous (this is part of a large scale marketing push to convince trans people that clothing that has been available on the normal heterosexual market for generations is "hard to find" so they can charge you hundreds of dollars for it), it's also ugly, and they have chosen to call their company "Tomboy Toes". if you said those two words to my face in a shoe store i would slap you

$120 for a black or brown version of the standard school uniform brogue which has been available all the way down to toddler sizes since uhhhhhhh approximately 1820.

just to double check my sense of reality i went to the largest single online shoe market on earth besides Amazon (zappos) and typed in "women's brogues" and selected size 5 which would be pushing the lower limit on the larger part of the bell curve of adult AFAB people on earth, or at least the northern hemisphere, and there are many options in approximately the same price range depending on brand name, with sales regularly down to much less, on similar or identical styles. ebay also. Tomboy Toes carries down to size EU33 which is around 3.5 US Women's and again, that's just in the children's section if you need Picture Day/uniform (children)/ Office Whatever (adult) Shoes and they are on eBay lightly used in great numbers because kids grow out of them in 6-10 months.

is it annoying to be shopping in "women's section" or "kids section" for these things when you are an adult man. yes. so i dont understand the marketing impetus to replicate that exact scenario by naming your company for adult trans men something i would assume was a sassy yet misguided terf brand if i found it on a label in a generic wingtip at Goodwill. cis men who are very small also have to shop in the small sections for their small clothes. i am wearing a t-shirt meant for a 7 year old right now, it says so on the label. it fits me better than any of the shirts i own that are made for the standard american adult. i literally have bigger things to worry about

naturally their "vegan leather" selection is much larger but again, it's ugly Trendy Booties that will fall apart in a year and are, i cant emphasize this enough, made of plastic, nothing special, and in standard women and children's sizes which are already plentiful at every shoe retailer. why are we letting these "trans brands" charge us a $100 tax to pretend to take us seriously (while at the same time calling us "tomboys")? does anyone know

i do, its actually because of the learned helplessness issue again. the accepted wisdom at the tumblr layer of transness is 'its so hard to find [item of clothing that is suitable for trans people]" because the knowledge of how to shop for these items in the actual market has completely evaporated within the last ten years, i watched it happen right in front of me. but it's a complete fallacy, you can find this stuff easily. you can find large women's shoes, small men's shoes, women's clothing with wide shoulders or long torsos, there are entire stores for this already and measurements and sectiions within "department stores" (such as they are) and then after that there are one million billion foam inserts and seams and button placements and belts and scarves and gloves and hem lengths and blah blah blah that trans people and also cis people who are not standard-shaped or who just want their shoes or bras or shirts to fit have already been using for thousands of years so ive been mad about this all day. TOMBOY TOES. they are having us for absolute fools. just call me a slur at this point

i already know some nincompoop is going to match me paragraph for paragraph in a heated defense of the hundred dollar jingle keys boring shoes so i just want them to know in advance: we are not the same. i have so many cool shoes it is unbelievable. in every gender imaginable. and i didn't pay more than like $50 for any of them. also no theres no cheat sheet to learning to buy clothing for your body, i do not say this with any rancor either, its just hard, it takes a long time, and i dont have a cheatsheet for it because there isnt one. except rule #1: dont buy $120 boring ugly shoes from someone jingling their keys in front of your face and calling it Queer Fashion when you can get them for a lot less basically anywhere $120 isnt even a lot for a GOOD pair for mid-range, non-designer leather dress shoes. if you know they will last for ten years and stand up to resoling, it's completely fine. but not for thooooooose

[mitchipedia]

The way we live in the United States is not normal.

Kirsten Powers:

I began to notice a learned helplessness in the United States, where people don’t revolt at the notion of a college education costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. I wondered why so many people treat it as completely normal that we have GoFundMe campaigns to help people pay for life-saving medical care that their health insurance won’t cover.

I watched as people on social media claimed it was “pro-labor” to tip a person for ringing up your order at a food or coffee chain rather than demanding the multi-millionaire (or billionaire) owner of that company pay their employees a living wage (as is the norm in Europe, where tipping is not expected and the owners of the restaurants and stores are typically not among the uber-wealthy).

I realized there are other places in the world (not just Italy) where life isn’t about conspicuous consumption and ‘crushing’ and ‘killing’ your life goals, where people aren’t drowning in debt just to pay for basic life necessities. There are places where people have free time and where that free time is used to do things they love — not to start a side hustle.

Ends on a hopeful note. The United States can—and should—do better.

[raining-tulips]

I think because we can pay someone to do anything for us now, we have become detached from the value of that work, and that’s partly why we complain everything is too expensive.

I’m visiting my grandparents, and my car needed to be cleaned, but everywhere here to get a nice inside and out clean is $100+. Ridiculous, to me. My grandpa and I spent today cleaning the car myself. He has made me do the whole sha-bang, deep clean & detailing.

I feel more connected and grateful for more car, more inclined to take care of it. I feel more connected to my grandpa, who definitely didn’t need to help at all or teach me what all the things do.

And, I feel more like the $100 would be worth it to have someone else, a team of people, do it for me. That was a lot of work and I’ve never had to do it before!

When I learned to knit and hated it, I learned I understood why knit sweaters on Etsy were hundreds of dollars and a now happy to save up and pay. When I learned to sew and also disliked it, I understood why clothes should be more expensive. Every time I try and DIY anything, I understand better why things! Are! Expensive! (Obviously when done by small business or ethical companies, Amazon and Target I hate you)

Anyway…those are just some thoughts.

[trippingthemoonlightfantastic]

I'm thinking of posting this on medium but I'm genuinely scared. I'd welcome thoughts.

I’m So Terrified To Tell These Stories But Something Needs To Be Said

The concept of victim blame always seemed to be presented as a phenomenon exclusively found in the arena of sexualized violence. As a survivor of several episodes of sexualized violence, I’ve found the experience repeated as the daughter of a deadbeat billionaire father and suffered exploitation by unscrupulous landlords. 

Victim blame has undeniably been experienced by many victims of sexual violence but rather than being a phenomenon of sexual violence, victim blame is a feature of any situation in which the perpetrator has a more political, economic, and/or social power than the victim. No one blames you if you buy a huge TV that’s stolen because you have demonstrated you are of the owning class. However, if you want your landlord to fix a leaky roof, you must justify why you don’t just move somewhere else without a leaky roof.

My father says on one of his own website bios his and assets are worth in excess of two billion dollars. He used addresses in South Africa and the Channel Islands. That my single mom in Denver, Colorado could not begin to navigate international family law is my father’s proof that he was not responsible for child support. So insulated by privilege provided by wealth, I am forced to defend that a father should pay child support. A father who has made hundred of millions in housing while I experienced a decade of housing insecurity and intermittent homelessness. 

Over the years I’ve received variously skeptical and accusatory questions about why my mom didn’t do this or I didn’t do that. The truth is neither of us could find an advocate. Would you want to enrage a billionaire? Would you go out on that limb? No one ever asks how he could live knowing his daughter was unhoused? My half siblings ask why my mom didn’t do something. They don’t confront our father and demand he do something, despite having 700 units in my city. 

The experience of being blamed in a situation I seemed to be powerless in was replicated again in my relationship with my landlord. In September of 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, eviction ban in effect, rent paid through October 5th, my landlord have my utilities cut at the street. I was given nothing in writing but was forced to vacate on the 18th of September. The inspector from the energy company never asked if I lived there. I tried to talk to the police, I was told it was a civil matter and I needed an attorney. I was unable to obtain a call back. No one wants to represent a tenant. 

I was “allowed” to say in a windowless room with a back breaking sectional in half a duplex shared by their adult son, the yard was also shared with another person so I had to coordinate for my dog’s pee breaks. I had been renting a two bed, two bath, single family with a yard, so the accommodations were not equal. 

They moved me into another property without any maintenance between tenants. I couldn’t move in until 6pm because the guy was still in the house. There was a period of 18 hours during which I was renting two houses and not allowed to occupy either and had current leases for neither. 

What had been an agreement to allow an elderly parent to sleep on my couch over the holidays became me providing 24/7 home healthcare because he had just had a “mild stroke” and he had been checked out of the hospital so he spend the holidays at home. Not only did I care for the stroke patient with dementia, I ended up coordinating the in home care professionals and entertaining the family. 

Around that time I fell in love for the first time. Being verbally abused by a man grappling with his own mortality in the company of relative strangers, at Christmas no less, was not ideal as a backdrop to our budding romance. He is a coffee guy and so I learned to make it but I don’t drink it. I made it for everyone. My landlord would visit with her father have an espresso, sometimes and then some breakfast that I made, and then do other things like prep another property. 

Why would anyone allow this? Was she paid? Did she get free rent? No. 

After Christmas, my beloved having vastly misjudged the power dynamics involved, gently informed my landlord that I wasn’t able to get any of my own work done and was too nice to say so. He also asked if she had a steam cleaner, this was because I was not comfortable laying down the law vis a vis use and changing of urinary and fecal incontinence products. He was able to do it but would belligerently insist it wasn’t necessary. Within 24 hours she was threatening housing. She was offended that I suggest my dog couch was soiled by her father, even though it’s why he was ostensibly not in her 5 bedroom home across the street.

I have talked that all through with a number of attorney’s intake people I’m asked again and again why didn’t I? Get help. I tried. I was unhoused from March 2019 to October 2019. My housing is everything to me. I am not being dramatic when I say I would rather die than lose my housing. That’s the answer. Why did I allow that and all the other horrifying things? Because of existential extortion. 

Power assures your destruction if you try to fight it. If you’re a victim of sexual violence you face further violation and there’s a like 90% chance the perpetrator won’t even be charged. Nor have people stopped blaming the victims of office harassment for the consequences suffered by their harassers. If you have a legitimate grievance against the billionaire class, you may not be a daughter but you could be a caterer that didn’t get paid for a society wedding or a gardener or a tenant, that you simply can’t afford justice. Maybe someone wields power like housing or income to get more. 

We as a society need to broaden our recognition of when victims of power abuses are demanded to justify how they’ve coped with their situation. The demand for explanations always seems to look down. Power does not expect questions and they rarely seem to come. 

Again I see parallels between my sets of experiences. When I had a particularly brutal encounter, I played nice all the way until he was in a lyft and via text for months after. I didn’t want him to come back. I also feared his confidence. I was sure that, despite him needing to hold me in place, his assuredness I wanted what happened would convince a third party. My mom she feared him taking me in spite, she convinced herself I was her choice so solely her responsibility and his marriage needed protecting. With my father, well the fact that he hasn’t treated me like one of his children has made people assume I’m lying. I’m something he has gotten away. The housing is an undecided struggle but terrifying none the less. 

I’ll leave you with image…Coffee guy left and never came back. He knew something was up and bailed before he had to know and pretend to care. I’d had a miscarriage and didn’t know how to talk about it because I hadn’t known prior to miscarrying I was pregnant. I couldn’t do anything for months. I missed that had once again conceived in our last days and then miscarried a second time. In one brief moment outside my landlord saw me and told me she missed the coffee in a way that made it clear she had wanted me to go on making her espressos. I’ll remind you I don’t drink coffee, the coffee stuff was his and I was grieving a pregnancy, my first love and a future that seemed so real to me I could see it when I closed my eyes. 

[korrasera]

svb & capitalist psychology

This single tweet is a good example of the psychology of capitalism, in which you can see a blind spot that capitalist true believers always seem to have.

They are always seeking to protect the capital, not the people and not our collective society. How does Bill Ackman's tweet demonstrate that? I'm glad you asked.

He thinks that this isn't a bailout because the company and the executives will take losses. This positions the depositors as innocents caught up in the failure of the bank. As though the depositors were just common folk who had their savings account there, surely you don't hold Joe Average responsible when the bank they're using fails, right?

The depositors are not Joe Average, they are companies with assets measuring in the hundreds of thousands of dollars at a minimum. Many had millions in assets in SVB and Circle had $3.3 billion banked:

The depositors are capitalists, meaning that they are investing capital in order to create profit. And while capitalists may describe it as a healthy competition, in reality capitalism is effectively a card game in which everyone is cheating.

When capitalists want to experiment with new strategies to make Even More Money Than Ever Before, they're gambling on an extremely large scale. It's a simple kind of bet, too.

On one side, their risk. Their idea might fail and they might lose everything. This is why you see capitalists learn how to save their money in overseas banks or report income in different countries, all to lower the amount of taxes they have to pay. This reduces how much risk they face.

On the other side, their profit potential. Their idea might hit it big and they might get even more goddamn wealthy. In other words, they profit. And just like you see them dodging taxes to mitigate risk, capitalists work to do everything they can to make that potential payout as high as possible. Things like charging customers additional fees, exploiting low cost labor markets (up to and very much including slavery), and literally killing, stealing, and lying whenever they need to.

The depositors were part of the same card game, just like the investors and the executives. Their money being invested in the bank was in turn being invested in other capitalist ventures. The interest rate the bank was repaying these companies was their cut of the profit from that process, just as surely as any direct sale of goods or services.

Like, I don't know if people really clearly understand how interconnected our world is, how our financial systems create a complex web of relationships. The capitalist mechanism functionally *is* capitalism, a web of profit generating mechanisms that specifically require and demand the exploitation of people.

The depositors are not innocents, they are accessories before the fact.

What protects Joe Average is that the FDIC ensures every savings account in the US for up to $250,000, so Joe Average won't lose his life savings, which would ruin a lot of working class and middle class people in the US.

The companies that are exposed and that want to be helped by the government are asking us, the collective us, to reimburse them when their company couldn't compete successfully and went under. And we don't even get anything out of it, it's not like this gives us a cut of the profits that they could make in the future, they just want the money for free because losing what they have sucked.

Since I'm long-winded and not great at making a point, here's the really simple version:

Capitalists see companies, capital, the entire structure of the system itself like they see their neighbor. Like a person. To them, they see a company as an individual who should be protected, and not as a part of the machine that grinds everyone down. They cannot see it systemically, they see it from an individualist perspective. At least, I think the vast majority of them do.

[curlyhorns]

I’m quitting one of my jobs this week.

On one hand I feel relieved, the environment there has been pretty shitty for a while but these past couple months (even just working one day a week) has been nothing but a headache. I’ve been checked out for a while now, just kind of doing what was required so that I could get a discount on cat food and a couple extra hundred dollars to pad out my pay cheque. After literal years of shitty management I just can’t will myself to go back.

I used to work nearly full time hours there, but not “real” full time obviously because then they might have to pay me more or something. There were two other girls working there before I came onto the team, one was hired one month before me and the other was two months before me. Together we dedicated a lot of mental energy and work into making things run smoothly and we formed a close bond against our manager, at the time, who was just generally mean and uptight. Another girl came on a few months later and another after that

We all had our different skill sets and despite the occasional friction (even good workplaces will have those) we worked well together. They all left, over the years, one after the other and none with a particularly good taste in their mouth.

We switched management when COVID took off in our area, the best thing I could say of her was that at least she wasn’t mean. Incompetent, unreliable, irresponsible, but not mean.

I eventually got a second job but it got put on hold with lockdown. The less I say about those times the better.

The first time I put my foot down came around Christmas of 2020. My manager was living with her parents at the time. Myself and two of the other girls learned that her parents were returning from their vacation home in the states and she just could not understand why she would have to quarantine with them, why she couldn’t share a home with people who had been traveling and then come into work with our customers - many of whom were old or immunocompromised. The three of us were so angry with her, going against what was recommended to keep us and our customers safe, that we all informed corporate that we would not be coming in for the two week quarantine period. Immediately before Christmas. I hope it made them sweat.

During that time my boss from my other job reached out, asking if I could start working there again. They had been functioning with a very bare bones crew, just himself and one other person, and were in need of some help with their Christmas orders. I said yes, and it was then that this job became my main job and the aforementioned store turned into my “other job”.

It got to the point where I am now, or rather was, where I would work at my “other job” once a week because I could handle the bullshit a little. I could sacrifice my Sunday to the bullshit if it meant a couple more dollars in my pocket.

I could handle the micromanaging.

I could handle the girl who was an assistant manager in all but title who made the rest of the staff walk on egg shells.

I could handle the stupid corporate decisions that over complicated a very uncomplicated job.

I could handle the last minute release of schedules, after all my shift never changed.

I could handle it until I couldn’t.

The company stopped using the app where our hours were posted. I was never told, I just assumed my manager was being lax with posting it. She was never very good at that part.

This Sunday I went into work. I arrived a little bit before my shift was meant to start, as I always did, when the not-an-assistant-manager, without looking up from the laptop, said “I thought you worked later?” and slid the printed schedule over to me. She was right, the page said very clearly that I was to start work an hour later.

Much to my shock there were several weeks prepped in advance! All but one had my regular shift, the rest were all shorter. That made for a couple less dollars in my wallet.

“That’s weird, my shift is always the same. Why would she change it?” This was mostly rhetorical.

“Hours.” She still hadn’t bothered to look me in the fucking face.

I went for a walk. I needed some time to think and to text my manager, but I wouldn’t get a response from her until after my shift would have started.

I spoke to a friend, one of the girls who started before I did, and vented my frustrations. I’ve vented to her a lot both before and after she left the company, because who doesn’t enjoy a cathartic bitching. I kept walking around the neighbourhood. It was a nice day if a bit muggy, the trees were covered in fresh leaves and flowers but I couldn’t shake how angry I was.

I walked home. It’s about forty-five minutes. I knew I wasn’t going back, if I did I had no doubt in my mind that I would either cry or say something I would regret. So I walked home.

Fifteen minutes after my shift was to have started the not-an-assistant-manager, who I had always been friendly with, texted me, “are you coming in for your shift?”

I said no, that I was frustrated, and I haven’t heard from her since.

I don’t know if she called our manager or if she had just woken up but I received a response to my question shortly after. My manager explained, very simply in a way that made me feel like a fucking child, that she had said that hours may be changing what with the two new staff members and I am sorry if you feel this is unfair - shut the fuck up.

Eight hours a week. All I asked for and all I have gotten for months has been eight hours a week and somehow that’s not doable anymore? The shift that is always there, the shift that nobody fucking wants, the shift that I would take without a second thought and work with no issue is suddenly “not in the budget” - shut the fuck up.

It all sounds so petty written out but I am so tired. I have worked here for five fucking years and I don’t care anymore. I put my two line resignation and my store key in an envelope and I am done. The weeks, months, years leading up to the has proven that they do not give a fuck about me as an employee or as a person. I have my current cat right now because of the not-an-assistant-manager and I thought that meant we were friends but she couldn’t even fucking look at me.

I am so tired.

And on the other hand, and against my better judgement, I am so fucking scared.

[windybit]

My comments aren’t going to be hidden in the tags this time because I’m very passionate about this specifically.

Another issue is that if you want a job with decent pay, they expect you to have a degree (OR 8-10 years of experience). And even if you do have one, you still might get paid like shit because it’s the BARE MINIMUM. Going to college for four years and earning a Bachelor’s degree is not the achievement it was back in the day. And it’s even LESS affordable now than it was 30+ years ago. So companies are expecting all these 20 somethings who have nothing to their names to spend tens, sometimes HUNDREDS of thousands of dollars to get an 8.5x11 signed by some old fuckers that says congrats you learned some shit specifically pertaining to a career path. And even that’s not enough. You have to have 2-5 years of experience SPECIFICALLY pertaining to the job you’re applying for too. Where do you get it? Who the hell knows. I sure don’t. And how are you supposed to get it if nobody will hire you because you don’t have it?

Also have you guys TRIED writing a cover letter? After growing up being told not to brag about yourself, it’s really hard to write a whole letter bragging about yourself in a professional manner.

Third of all, and this is a big pet peeve of mine, so many people say “You need to call them and bother them. Ask if they got your resume and when you can expect an answer.” News flash: you can’t. Nobody posts phone numbers for their HR departments, and I can guarantee they don’t want to hear from you either. You could maybe send them an email, but it’s SO easy to just ignore an email and claim you never received it. Or they actually won’t see it because it’ll get buried under all the other emails they’re getting from the hundreds of other applicants who are also trying to get a job.

For example, my degree is in engineering. Computers to be exact. You would think I’d have an easy time finding a job because everyone needs computer bitches. And you would be wrong. I have been applying for jobs for almost ten months now. I graduated in May. I have had THREE interviews, countless rejections, and even MORE who have just. Not replied at all. The lack of progress has been infuriating. I’m living with my parents, I’m driving a car that they own because I can’t afford to buy one (not even used), and I have no dental or vision insurance because the cutoff age for those is different than for medical. I have loan payments that start in a month. And it’s not that I don’t want to work. I want to work so bad. I want to make money and be able to pay my bills and be financially independent and move out. I had a job, but it was seasonal because I thought for sure I’d have found a full time job by the time October rolled around. Because 8 months should have been more than enough time to find a job. And tbh I love my seasonal job and would probably do it forever if not for the fact that insurance is super expensive and it doesn’t pay the best.

So yeah. Please please please don’t buy into the “nobody wants to work” biz. Yes there are some lazy fuckers out there who don’t want to work. But there are way more of us who are trying and trying to get a job and are just being rejected and ghosted constantly by these companies who won’t even give so much as a reason why. And please, if you know someone who is or has been struggling to find work, don’t tell them what they should or shouldn’t be doing or what they’re doing wrong unless they ask for your advice. Nothing has been more frustrating than the boatloads of unsolicited advice people (mostly over the age of 50) have been throwing out left and right. Just support your friends and sympathize with them as they wade through hundreds of job postings that they’ll never hear back from. And maybe send them one or two if you happen to find one that fits what they’re looking for :)

[joshuawithers]

We don't have to live this way

I’m reading Kirsten Power’s Substack on how life in the USA is not normal, whilst visiting the USA, and I can not only agree, but say that many parts of the thesis apply also to Australia in a uniquely Australian way.

Kirsten:

I began to notice a learned helplessness in the United States, where people don’t revolt at the notion of a college education costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. I wondered why so many people treat it as completely normal that we have GoFundMe campaigns to help people pay for life-saving medical care that their health insurance won’t cover.

I watched as people on social media claimed it was “pro-labor” to tip a person for ringing up your order at a food or coffee chain rather than demanding the multi-millionaire (or billionaire) owner of that company pay their employees a living wage (as is the norm in Europe, where tipping is not expected and the owners of the restaurants and stores are typically not among the uber-wealthy).

I realized there are other places in the world (not just Italy) where life isn’t about conspicuous consumption and “crushing” and “killing” your life goals, where people aren’t drowning in debt just to pay for basic life necessities. There are places where people have free time and where that free time is used to do things they love — not to start a side hustle.

I started to have a dawning awareness that we don’t have to live this way.

Australia might have a semblance of public health care, and tipping was not the norm (how tf is tipping becoming normalized in Australia is beyond me), but Australian society automatically assumes that everyone wants to be in a race to the bottom where we’re overloaded with debt and ambition whilst setting our children up for a life of therapy.

We don’t have to live this way.

[aquoteamusetheword]

THE INDICATOR OF PRAYER

One of my favorite stories on prayer, from one of my favorite authors...enjoy.

“It is not your business to succeed but to do right: when you have done so, the rest lies with God.” ~ C. S. Lewis

One of my favorite adventures in prayer involves Doug Coe, who has a ministry in Washington, D.C. that mostly involves people in politics and statecraft.

Doug became acquainted with Bob, an insurance salesman who was completely unconnected with any government circles. Bob became a Christian and began to meet with Doug to learn about his new faith. One day, Bob came in all excited about a statement in the Bible where Jesus says, “Ask whatever you will in my name, and you shall receive it.” “Is that really true?” Bob demanded. Doug explained, “Well, it’s not a blank check. You have to take it in context of the teachings of the whole Scripture on prayer. But yes—it really is true. Jesus really does answer prayer.” “Great!” Bob said. “Then I gotta start praying for something. I think I’ll pray for Africa.” “That’s kind of a broad target. Why don’t you narrow it down to one country?” Doug advised. “All right. I’ll pray for Kenya.” “Do you know anyone in Kenya?” Doug asked. “No.” “Ever been to Kenya?” “No.” Bob just wanted to pray for Kenya.

So, Doug made an unusual arrangement. He challenged Bob to pray every day for six months for Kenya. If Bob would do that and nothing extraordinary happened, Doug would pay him five hundred dollars. But if something remarkable did happen, Bob would pay Doug five hundred dollars. Bob began to pray, and for a long while nothing happened. Then one night he was at a dinner in Washington. The people around the table explained what they did for a living. One woman said she helped run an orphanage in Kenya—the largest of its kind. “You’re obviously very interested in my country,” the woman said to Bob, overwhelmed by his sudden barrage of questions. “You’ve been to Kenya before?” “No.” “You know someone in Kenya?” “No.” “Then how do you happen to be so curious?” “Well, someone is kind of paying me five hundred dollars to pray. . ..” She asked Bob if he would like to come visit Kenya and tour the orphanage. Bob was so eager to go, he would have left that very night if he could.

When Bob arrived in Kenya, he was appalled by the poverty and the lack of basic health care. Upon returning to Washington, he couldn’t get this place out of his mind. He began to write to large pharmaceutical companies, describing to them the vast need he had seen. He reminded them that every year they would throw away large amounts of medical supplies that went unsold. “Why not send them to this place in Kenya?” he asked. This orphanage received more than a million dollars’ worth of medical supplies.

The woman called Bob up and said, “Bob, this is amazing! We’ve had the most phenomenal gifts because of the letters you wrote. We would like to fly you back over and have a big party. Will you come?” So, Bob flew back to Kenya. While he was there, the president of Kenya came to the celebration, because it was the largest orphanage in the country, and offered to take Bob on a tour of Nairobi, the capital city. In the course of the tour, they saw a prison. Bob asked about a group of prisoners there. “They’re political prisoners,” he was told. “That’s a bad idea,” Bob said brightly. “You should let them out.” Bob finished the tour and flew back home.

Sometime later, Bob received a phone call from the State Department of the United States government: “Is this Bob?” “Yes.” “Were you recently in Kenya?” “Yes.” “Did you make any statements to the president about political prisoners?” “Yes.” “What did you say?” “I told him he should let them out.” And he did.

How about you?

What are you praying for? Give it six months. I won’t promise you five hundred dollars, but I will give you a refund on the cost of this book. To the contrary, if something extraordinary does happen, you have to write and tell me about it.

‘Water-Walking’ ~ Joh Ortberg

‘And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.’ ~John 14: 13-14

[sorcerers-quest]

I'm listening to an essay on the rust belt and how industrialization in America moved to other countries and states where labor, taxes, and materials would be cheaper and they could get away with worse practices (illegal dumping, unsafe work environments, long hours, etc) and what came of this was rioting in the rust belts region, and police brutality. all in like, the 1800s? and like I don't remember learning about this in school. I feel like maybe this is something that should be thought about again. like eventually we were no longer producing things as much as having service jobs. and that's where we are now I feel. importing everything from out of our country and using cheap labor from poor people in other parts of the world who are loosing their sanity, health, digits, and lives over our entertainment and individualistic living. we don't need as much as we have. for hundreds and thousands of years the clothes you owned were the ones on your back, you didn't have changes of clothes for everything.

"no one wants to work anymore" maybe working in america was awful to begin with, and people don't like suffering or even dying because of their job. and maybe we should start rioting and inciting other countries to join on the same basis, you should not be spending more hours at work than you are awake at home, per week. you should be able to have healthy and happy relationships and the ability to have children who you love and care for as a real human being and not as a burden on your lively hood and paycheck, because having a child is so expensive now the birth rate is so low in America that we won't be having many more generations to take care of things unless we open our borders up to immigration.

if we want things to continue in a "normal" way, 5 hours should be your maximum amount of hours on a shift per day, with 3 days off at minimum. you should be getting paid $30+ per hour, or things you need to survive should be lowered in price. we do not live in a scarcity, we throw out more good and edible food than we sell. we have enough housing, apartments, motels, and places to sleep for everyone. healthcare should be given to you for free by your job, at every job, as long as you are employed. preferably and ideally, it should be free. as you are a human being with the necessity of living and taking care of yourself. companies have the ability and money to hire to hire more people. they just don't want to. because having less than 10 people trained on 4+ stations working one home depot for a shift is cheaper than having 30 people all working their own station. it's cheaper for a dollar general to have 2 employees per shift than 5, so their stores end up never being stocked correctly and just looking like a disaster. the cashier your boomer dad yelled at is making $9/hr while her manager makes $16 and their GM is making a 30k salary. every one. EVERYONE. should be mad. how do you manage to live? you apply for food stamps so the government, who should be forcing your employer to pay you more, can give you $25-200 a month, depending on whatever they feel is right based on the hours your forced to work in order to pay rent. how can you even pay rent, utilities, a phone bill, internet access, literally fucking everything to be able to live a normal life, on top of eating. like????

I'm so pissed off and disappointed I don't know why we aren't running among the streets ripping the intestines out of billionaires. you jest "eat the rich", while I'm heating up my fucking crockpot and getting the meat grinder out. I'm tired of the false prophets out here doing nothing to organize and improve the lifes of themselves and everyone else around them. why are you scared. you have a phone you have internet access and so does the majority of everyone else in this sad and pathetic fucking world like start organizing the revolution now because we will not have a future generation to do it for us

[briamichellewrites]

73

Brad discovered through a conversation he had with Mike and Bria that she had a past life, of which he was a part. What happened? They were nervous but he learned he initially met her when she was sixteen years old. She was shooting a music video on the same lot he was shooting Fight Club. They flirted a little. He then kissed her while they were in his trailer. She later found out he was engaged to Jennifer, so she became incredibly upset that he lied to her.

He showed up at her apartment to talk. They ended up sleeping together. He asked for clarification on how old she was. She was sixteen. He hung his head as he thought about that. What else did he do? When she was older, they were drinking at his place. She got drunk, so he put her to bed. While she was sleeping, she became unconscious and went into a coma.

“Bria, I love you. I am ashamed that happened to you. I’m not going to say that it didn’t happen because it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. You’ve redeemed yourself by being a great neighbor and friend to me and Mama.”

Mike agreed. He admitted he was unsure about him because of what happened before, but he kept an open mind. I was wrong. He apologized to which he forgave him. Was she still escorting? No, she quit. He asked why. Mike was uncomfortable and anxious about her flying around the world to be with random men. That was more than understandable. He would be anxious about that, too.

Did he know about the lawsuit against the company she was working for? No, he didn’t. What happened? One of her customers was going through a divorce. His wife found out he was seeing other girls through the website, so she was including them in her divorce petition. That included her. She and Mike took everything she had, including the nondisclosure agreement she signed with their friend, Brad. He had some experience with legal contracts, so he looked over everything.

He told them that the NDA she signed was BS. She couldn’t be held legally liable if she spoke about the men she had dated. Even so, he highly recommended her to only answer the questions asked of her and to not over-explain. Mike added that she had done a great job of keeping the identities of the men she was dating confidential. He asked her multiple times but she never told him anything.

“I know I’m on the list. Who else”, Brad asked amused.

“Oh my god. Now you guys are going to get me in trouble…”

They laughed. She got up and went over to grab her notebook where she recorded everything. It was the only way she could keep track of everything. Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp, Gérard C. Louis-Dreyfus, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jude Law and others. Brad mentioned he had recommended her to some of his friends. Mike kind of already knew about some of them since Brad showed him the notebook after finding it at the studio. They were very high-profile men.

She had opinions about all of them. Jude Law was a cad. He was charming, while also being a snake. She got bad vibes from him. Johnny Depp was shy, something she didn’t expect. He was also very polite and he acted like a gentleman to her. Did any of her friends pay to go out with her? No, she wouldn’t let them pay for her.

“It just didn’t seem right to me to have them pay hundreds of dollars for a date.”

“And you’re not selling drugs anymore”, Brad asked.

“Nope, not anymore. Rob confiscated everything I had. I don’t know what he did with it but no, I don’t have anything anymore.”

“Your past life, did you have any addictions?”

“I was an alcoholic for about five years. Bradley Cooper was the one who pushed me into getting sober. He told me that I was better than my alcoholism and that I had so much I could still do with my life.”

At the time, she was a very successful alternative country artist but she wasn’t happy. So, she started drinking which she hid from everyone. Until they started noticing changes in her. Brad knew what it was like to have everything and not be truly happy because he experienced that himself. He didn’t wish addiction on anyone.

How many cats did she have? Mike laughed.

“I think at one point, I had five cats. I know Bon Jovi died from leukemia. Then, I adopted a mother cat and her two kittens. Then, I had another cat.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was five cats. Six now with Mama.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of a crazy cat lady”, she joked.

They laughed. She was thinking about getting a kitten for Mama to play with while she was gone during the day. Maybe the same breed. It just depended on what they had at the shelter. What breed was Mama? She was an American Shorthair. They were supposed to be very friendly and adaptable. She joked about having a cat rock band. How would that work? She would adopt cats named Jon Bon Jovi, Alice Cooper, and Slash from Guns N Roses. Brad pointed out she needed a drummer.

They could teach Mama how to play the drums. Rob could teach her how to play the drums. Mike laughed. How would he do that? She didn’t know.

The next day, she adopted an eight-week-old American Shorthair kitten named Slash. He had a beautiful black coat. Mama was curious about him when she brought him home. He looked just like her but with a different color coat. Slash meowed because he didn’t know what was going on or where he was. Mama was gentle with him. She assured him he was okay and this was his new family.

He was surrendered to the shelter by his owner, who was moving away and couldn’t take him with her. It was a scary experience because he was in a place he didn’t recognize with different humans coming in and out. Now, he was in a new place with a new human. He relied on Mama for comfort while he got used to his new home. She shared her toys with him and let him sleep beside her. When it was time to eat, they each had a paper plate to eat from.

He was taken to the vet, who gave her advice on how to make him feel more comfortable in her home. It would take a month or two before he would finally be completely comfortable. He was a playful little guy, who was just shy. She started spending one on one time with him in the enclosure. He sniffed her hand before he let her pet him. She told him she loved him.

Mike watched her interact with him. She was incredibly patient and calm while sitting with him. It was amazing to see the progress he was making. He went from not wanting her anywhere near him to letting her pet him. Just because she was gentle and loving. On the third day, he climbed into her lap and purred loudly. Oh my god! She laughed in happiness! Mike could not believe it! She scooped him out and held him. I love you! He loved her too!

“Congratulations, Bria! You earned his trust.”

“Oh my god! I’m so happy right now!”

She kissed his little forehead before putting him down on the floor. He wanted to play, so he went over to his toys. For the first time in his life, he was one hundred percent safe and happy. He had a human who he could trust one hundred percent. She loved him and he loved her.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[promarketingworldnm]

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[somethinglikelife]

What not to do when running a company

Okay, I don't run a company, I don't think I ever will, only because I really don't want that kind of responsibility. But here are a few things I noticed with my last job that made me feel uncomfortable there. It wasn't my co-workers, honestly they were great. It was the owners.

First time I met the boss's boss, I'm going to call her Karen, she was was ripping into me and another new hire for 'wasting her money'. Mind you we both had only been there about three days, and were still learning the ropes. She also insisted putting the introvert right smack in the front of the store (yeah that so went over well, I fought panic attacks the rest of the first few weeks I was there).

The beauty of it was, neither of us at that point were actually trained on the register just yet, so how could we be wasting 'her money'.

The second thing that would be a no go, would be if you're putting an employee's name into the computer, please put it in correctly. My full name happens to be the feminized version of a male name, most people spell it without an H in it, but, mine has the H. I asked them the first time I had to clock in on the computer to change it, but the IT guy (apparently the only guy who could do it in the company) was on vacation. Though when he got back, I mentioned it to him, and again to my manager, and the issue still wasn't fixed. I know that it seems like such a small thing, but with my name incorrect, it does tend to mess things up a little when you know you're filling out taxes.

I worked this job about a month and a half, and if I was lucky I got 30 hours in a pay period, mind you that was every 2 weeks, and the pay wasn't enough to cover both rent and bills. Yet both owners would come in gloating about going overseas for vacations, and drove expensive cars. I had to walk an hour to get there, because if I caught the bus it was an hour and a half until I got there. And when it was only 4 hour shifts, I wasn't going to risk my health (I had to cross two busy highways) for 12 an hour and the feeling I was just there because they needed a body to man a computer. Granted, I did learn some skills for shipping, but the headaches the owners gave, wasn't worth it.

So, yeah, if I actually (I'm not holding my breathe) ever own a company, I have found better business models that I would borrow from to run it.

First thing, I would make sure that everyone has the name that they use in the computer, and that means spelled correctly. Another would be the pay, I would make sure that my staff is able to make a decent wage (meaning I would give them the hours that they need to make it worth their time and not tell them one thing and barely pay them anyway) . In fact I would make sure that we're all paid equally, even though I'm the boss, I would make sure to not be one of those owners that are making three hundred times more than their staff. Yes, I'm looking at you multi-billion dollar corporations, and the whole 1%.

I may be a jaded American, but I've been around my whole life and seriously, I've noticed that if to make ends meet you have to work two to three jobs and have a few side hustles, you're no longer living, you're just a corporate slave. I'm pretty sure that slavery for the most part was outlawed in America, so I'm leaving you with this question. Why are we, as a collective, Americans willing to allow this to go on?

[ms-demeanor]

*Peering through my glasses at some discourse on the dash*

Most humanities majors don't actually think they're going to get a dream job lecturing about their special interest at fancy universities for hundreds of thousands of dollars; they are capable of looking at their professors, who are people with PhDs in the subject they're studying who aren't doing that exact thing, and recognize that even getting a tenure-track job at a local school is a pain in the ass. Most humanities majors take easy classes that they enjoy with the understanding that they'll learn project management and research skills that will be useful in a variety of industries while absolutely seething that they are expected to get a 4-year degree for an entry-level job or a temp position.

And the vast, vast majority of humanities majors don't pay $200k for the privilege.

So I get that yeah it's fucked that people are expected to have degrees for all sorts of things that they don't need degrees for but if you're blaming the people studying humanities (or saying that studying the humanities is a luxury and should be treated as such) you're aiming at the wrong target.

For the record, I don't think there's an easy solution to this problem because I think that bullshit hiring requirements are essentially a mechanism to sort by class/neurotypicality/ability level than a tool to actually hire people who have the kinds of skills that a degree in their subject of study would confer. Maybe alongside normalizing talking about salaries we should normalize listing applicable skills and experience on resumes without talking about graduating from college, except that you don't even send resumes anymore, you fill in applications on a company's website where "level of education" is a required field.

It *IS* bullshit, but how many kids who got lit degrees at quarter-million dollar schools actually ARE there? Is this a real concern or is this a popular bogeyman? Isn't the opposite problem - kids graduating with, like, computer science degrees who have no practical experience and no current certification and can't be trusted to babysit a server farm - a bigger issue facing recent grads and hiring managers alike?

The one dude I know with a classics degree is the VP of distribution at a mid-sized seafood plant; he doesn't need that degree to do his job, and he's learned more about his job from his job than he did while signing up for summer digs in athens. That being said: he needed a degree to get the kind of job that would lead to his current job, and knew that, so he figured he might as well study a subject that he liked that gave him the opportunity to do archaeology in a beautiful place for three weeks of the year.

My degree in English Lit is totally unnecessary to my job, but it is why I got the job and it has more than paid for itself as a result (though, again, I'm a huge proponent of state schools and community colleges because I got my diploma for about twelve grand, which is about 7% of the price being cited as the cost of luxury college).

Also: if you feel secure enough in your financial situation to attend a school where a Lit degree DOES cost 50k a year you are already in the group of people who likely don't have to worry about things like 'rent' or 'getting paid a living wage in grad school' and are much more likely to be one of the people who DOES successfully land a cushy job at a nice university because you are *already* the kind of person who has a bunch of connections at USC because you could afford to consider going to USC.