Category: rants

August 26, 2009

August 26, 2009 / / 0 Comments

I finished the online weekly claims form for Unemployment, and it informed me that since I’d quit my job, I needed to call and talk to an actual human being. Sighing with annoyance, I did so.

“Unemployment,” A tired voice said. “Can I have your social security number, please?”

I rattled it off.

“I’m sorry, sir,” The voice said, now clearly annoyed. “There’s no record of a claim for you for this week.”

I looked more carefully at the form telling me to call, and noticed that it said to wait two or three hours before doing so. Apparently it takes a while for data from the online system to trickle into the phone operators’ system. I explained my error, and said I would call back in a few hours.

“Don’t bother,” said the voice. “It’s a Monday, and the system is really slow because of all the claims coming in. I wouldn’t try back until tomorrow if I were you.”

I did so. This time, the “unemployment specialist” had my info available to her. I explained my reasons for quitting my job–bounced and missing paychecks–and she dully informed me that someone would get back to me within twenty-one days.

“Ok, thank you.” I said, about to end the phone call. “…did you say twenty-one days?!”

“Yes, sir.” She responded, betraying only the barest trace of interest in the conversation. “Someone will call you, or you will receive a letter in the mail.”

Inwardly viciously cursing, I again thanked her and got off the line.

Twenty-one days, I thought. And that’s not even until I get paid. That’s when someone will begin investigating my claim.

That was two weeks ago, yesterday. My only response from unemployment thus far has been automated responses from the online claims system. I’ve continued to file for benefits in the interim, and each letter I receive in the mail informs me that my benefits are being held pending the results of the investigation.

Meanwhile, my savings are dwindling. I’m spending as little money as possible, but I still have bills to pay. My former employer owes me more than two thousand dollars, and shows absolutely no signs that she’ll be giving it to me without a lawsuit.

I’m to the point that I’m selling things I don’t need to make some extra cash. Megan, a friend, and I had a garage sale on Saturday, where I made about a hundred dollars. I sold a Wii game yesterday for a fiver at PrePlayed, and I sold a box of books to Half Price Books this morning for another fifteen. I’ve been searching through closets and boxes to find things of value I don’t mind parting with, but I’m starting to run low on them.

Christmas Time! The Best Four Goddamn Months of the Year!

October 16, 2008 / / 3 Comments

Well, it’s that time of year again.

Shut up. Yes it is. Been in a Walgreens lately? There are already shelves full of wrapping paper lining the tops of the aisles. How about a Jo-Ann Fabrics? They’ve got ornaments for sale. I’ve even heard the odd “holiday” radio commercial here and there. And if you read The Consumerist, you’ll know there are a number of stores that already have displays up.

Here’s the thing: I hate Christmas. A lot. More and more with each passing year.

It wasn’t always this way: when I was a little kid, it was the best day of the year. I loved it. As I grew up, it stopped being an awesome holiday where I got tons of loot and saw my favorite relatives. When I was a kid, every single family Christmas was at my grandparents’ house. After they became too old to host the event, then died, it began rotating to various relatives’ houses. It never felt the same and Christmas lost most of its magic.

Later, in college and for a few years after, I worked in retail, the belly of the slavering, wallet-sucking beast. At one store, we began receiving Christmas merchandise in August. If we were lucky, the Christmas carols on the PA didn’t start until the Friday after Thanksgiving. Most of the time we weren’t, and they started a week or two beforehand. If there’s a better way to make someone loathe Christmas music–making him listen to it for eight hours a day, day after day, week after week–it would have to be akin to the treatment scene in A Clockwork Orange. While you’d think that Christmas carols would stop on December 26, you would be wrong. Very wrong. One year at Kmart, they continued well into the middle of January.

Over the years, Christmas stopped being a magical time and became a sickening national orgy of consumerism. It became a burden, with every retailer shouting: “Buy shit you can’t afford, then give it to someone who may not even want it!” “You don’t love your family if you don’t buy them shit!” “Sure, you bought shit for your family and a couple friends, but did you remember to buy shit for your teacher or boss? How about your neighbors? The mailman? The dangerous-looking bum that always glares at you on the bus sure looks like he could use a new jacket!”

Fuck.

Even if I was materialistic, which I’m not, I wouldn’t like the holiday. I’m so impossible to shop for that I don’t even know what to buy myself. I was given a $200 gift card for Amazon.com for my three-year anniversary at work, and I haven’t used a penny of it. That was two months ago. As a result of being so difficult to shop for, I end up with a lot of well-meaning stuff I don’t want. Merry Christmas, I got you a shirt you don’t like and can’t return! My drawers and closet are full of shirts and jeans from my mom that have never been worn. I feel guilty about getting rid of them and wasting her money, so they just sit there year after year. Happy Holidays, here’s a box of warm, woolen guilt! Hold it up. Does it fit?

On the flip side, I enjoy giving gifts, but only ones that I think people will actually enjoy and use. My family is just as hard to shop for as I am. My parents have three cars (one is a Corvette), a boat, and an ATV. My dad has a full woodworking shop, my mom has a full sewing room. If there’s anything that they want, they already have it. My sister is equally difficult. There’s no joy in giving a gift, then awkwardly pointing out that the gift receipt is tucked inside the box, because, you know, in case you don’t like it or something.

The most ridiculous part of all is that I celebrate this stupid, made-up holiday in the first place. If it wouldn’t disappoint my parents, I’d dispense with all the extraneous trappings of the season: the tree, the presents, the garish light displays, the Jesus, and just use it as a day to spend with my family. (Not the food, though. God, do I love the spread every Christmas.) My mom loves to buy me things, I think because it’s a tangible way for her to show her love. My dad is the same way–when I was a kid, Christmas day was just about the only time he seemed genuinely happy. Like me, he struggles with depression.

I’m also not looking forward to the next four months of incessant reminders of a religion I take no stock in. Those of you who still believe the reason for the season isn’t money, imagine you walk into the mall, and every store is filled wall-to-wall with dreidels and menorahs. Vendors are hawking latkes from every mid-mall cart, and Klezmer music is blaring from every low-fidelity thirty-year-old speaker. What’s more, the Chanukah Zombie is in the middle of the food court with all the good little Jewish boys and girls. Imagine that this goes on for months at a time, and that every commercial break on every TV and radio station is filled with constant reminders to buy, Buy, BUY! BUY SHIT FOR THIS HOLIDAY THAT HAS NO MEANING TO YOU! In between the commercials, imagine that there are very special episodes of all your favorite shows where everything is going wrong and Homer isn’t going to make it home for the lighting of the menorah but oh wait everything is fine because a miracle happened, happy holidays everyone.

It’s enough to make me choke the first person I see wearing a red and green sweater.

As the Holiday Season fervor whips into a frenzy over the next few months, I’m going to get grit my teeth and snarl every time I hear a happy Christmas tune, see a poorly-done light display, or receive another Holiday savings flyer in the mail. I want it to be done yesterday. Quietly.

I Hate Phone Books

August 20, 2008 / / 1 Comment

This is a great idea. It’s a service that allows you to opt out of receiving telephone books. I’ve gotten three or four unnecessary, unwanted, unsolicited phone books in the last year. I walked all but the last straight of them to the recycling bin behind my house without ever taking them into my apartment. (I was in a bad mood when the last one showed up, so I just hurled it on the sidewalk and left it there.)

Here are a few facts that I think phone book printers ought to be aware of:

  • There’s this new thing called the “Internet” that’s updated more than once a year.
  • The majority of the people I know only own cell phones, so they wouldn’t be in a phone book even if I didn’t already have them in my contact list.
  • If someone is under 40 years old, it will never even cross his or her mind to look in a book for a phone number or address.  That’s what the Internet is for.
  • I consider phone books to be a step down from litter.  At least with litter, no one paid money to compile, print, and deliver it before I throw it away.  Phone book manufacturers, on the other hand, killed a few dozen trees in order to leave me their trash.  Way to go.

There’s no national “Stop Leaving Your Garbage On My Doorstep” list, so it’s voluntary for the phonebook manufacturers to comply with the request.  I’m hoping it works.