Thief of Baghdad

There is a joke doing the rounds that you might have heard that goes like this: “If 2020 was a drink, what would it be? Colonoscopy prep”. Now imagine using that gallon (believe me, I know) to wash down a family size box of extra strength Exlax. Now you have an idea of the kind of year I’ve had.

It started a couple of months ago, when during my break I checked my phone to see who had called me. To my terror, it was a call from Human Resources. Now, let’s face it, it is never a good thing when Human Resources calls you. Like most people, my mind went into overdrive trying to find anything I’d said or done recently that might warrant a call. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything, although that didn’t make me feel any easier. I returned the call and was asked “Have you filed for unemployment recently?”

Wha!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? No, I hadn’t. I’d lost three hours a week, but that was it. I was informed that someone had filed an unemployment claim in my name, which meant that among other things, they had my Social Security number. Oh shiiiiiiiiiiit! Of course, as soon as I got home I went online and blocked everything to do with my SSN, visiting the state Unemployment Department site as well as the IRS and credit rating websites. To cut a long story short, no damage was done, but as you can imagine, it was pretty frightening, and to be honest, it really took the edge off what had promised to be a relaxing and enjoyable evening, it being my sweetheart’s birthday.

Crisis over, or so we thought. Not very long after this I took the opportunity to check my email while on break. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, but not so. Sitting in my inbox was an email from my bank informing me that they had spotted a number of suspicious charges on my debit card and they had blocked them. Of course, I called them immediately and let them know that no, I hadn’t used my card with Uber in San Francisco that morning. They cancelled the card and said they would issue me a new one which I’d have in about a week. This meant that I had no way to get cash, so I resorted to borrowing some from my sweetheart just so I’d have something on hand.

Less than two weeks later ( can you guess where this is going?) I got a text regarding suspicious activity on my credit card. Seriously? I mean, seriously? What the fuck? Again, I called the bank who rattled off a series of blocked charges totaling over $8,000 to something called “Connections”. Again, they cancelled my card and issued another one. All this in the space of about six weeks, hence my opening statement.

The lockdown and the resultant increase in benefits claims has made it a lot easier for scammers to take advantage of company computer systems that are no doubt overloaded as claims are processed and passed back and forth to the appropriate agencies, banks, etc. I’m just glad the bank caught the fraudulent charges on my cards, although I’d have been happier if they had a more secure system that prevented such attacks in the first place.

As for my employer, they, at least, were on the ball, and I wasn’t the only person at work to be so affected. Of course, I had to update my information on the various sites I use and inform the recipients of my standing charges, which took a little time as one of them is in lockdown mode, but it was sorted out, so no permanent harm was done. Still, it takes a lot of time to change data on various sites, and I certainly won’t use my debit card online ever again.

I realise that the scammers don’t care, that they don’t see their victims as people, but merely as anonymous units to be exploited and discarded, but it really does nothing to improve my opinion of humanity, but as the current administration has shown, never let a good crisis go to waste.

My only hope now is that with new cards I won’t have to deal with this again for a while, although my sweetheart had five attacks in a couple of years, so I’m not holding my breath. Balance this with the fact that due to our impending nuptials, I’m going to be doing a lot of online shopping, so who the hell knows?

 

Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?

I’m now entering what Sir Alex Ferguson, one time manager of Manchester United Football Club once famously described as “Squeaky bum time”. You see, ever since early February, when my hours were cut in half, I’ve been living on borrowed financial time. When working 40 hours a week I was earning enough to cover my bills and leave a bit over, sometimes, at the end of the month. Not so now. I did a quick calculation and as things stand at present, I will have to move out at the end of April.

I’m applying for jobs like crazy to no avail, I’ve sold my wedding and eternity rings, cashed in all my change and cut my spending to a bare minimum. I’m living off what I have in the fridge and pantry and with the exception of essentials, only  buy food for the kids. All this is not really going to help, but what are my options? I will have to find some way of paying for a storage unit and keeping gas in the car, but how long can I keep that up? My job contract runs through August, but if I’m living in the car – which is a very real possibility – how long can I keep it? If I lose the job, the situation becomes exponentially worse, and I don’t see someone like me lasting long on the streets.

I’m 52 and in fairly reasonable health, but without my meds, I’m sure to go into a tailspin. Those of you who knew me at school will attest to the fact that the un-medicated NWSD is not the kind of person who can cope, even when well fed and housed.To make matters worse, it means that I will lose contact with the kids. I can’t spend time with them if all I have is the car and nowhere to take them. I won’t have access to laundry or washing facilities, and having worked downtown, I know how quickly people deteriorate without access to basic services.

Unless I can find a job by the end of March, I am royally fucked. Seriously, this is an existential crisis that shows no sign of resolving itself in any kind of positive way. I don’t have a social network on which I can fall back, and I’m by no means certain that my sweetie will be willing to take me in until I can get a decent paying job and get a place of my own again. I would hope that she would, but if she took me in and I didn’t find a job before the money ran out, there’s no way she could support both of us on her wages.

Just writing this is making me depressed, so I am going to sign off now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head.

For the last couple of months I’ve been gainfully employed at a downtown insurance company. I work in the Agent Communications department, where I turn templates of articles into web pages for the Agent News bulletin, copy edit and proofread articles, upload videos, and update the homepage amongst other things. The job is more engaging and informative than you might imagine. Like most people, I regarded insurance as both essential and incredibly boring, but as a result of reading many  articles and transcribing interviews, I’ve learned that there is much in the industry that goes unnoticed. Fear not, I’m not going to bore you.

The office is on the 16th floor and surpasses many of my previous places of employment by having windows. In the interest of ergonomics I have an adjustable desk that gives me the option of standing, should I so desire. Being a lazy bastard I never understood why someone would stand when they could sit, but having tried it, I really appreciate the option. Standing also affords me the opportunity of admiring the view: If I look straight ahead, I can see the Sound and the various vessels plying their trade. To  my left I can see what was once the tallest building on the west coast and the baseball stadium. Between these lies a view of the dockside cranes and docked container ships. Funnily, though, I have yet to see any containers being loaded or unloaded.

I’ve enjoyed the routine of the commute, dressing in something other than tee shirt and jeans and being around other people, particularly people who are interesting, intelligent and who actually talk – I think I mentioned during the entire 12 months at my previous job, there were two co workers who NEVER talked to me. Not one word, despite seeing them on a daily basis.

The swag has been much better as well. My last place had nothing better than cheap shopping bags that were one grade above disposable and crappy earbuds with the acoustic quality of  a soup can telephone. Not long after I joined the department, a major relocation took place – we all had to move to different cubicles to allow for the arrival of staff from two other floors undergoing refurbishment. This also meant the loss of some storage space. Our location was occupied previously by the Marketing team, who simply abandoned all their stuff when they were laid off.  As a result, in the space of a week I scored two portable speakers, one of which is Bluetooth enabled, a tote bag with a built-in speaker (yes, that’s a thing), a picnic cooler in the style of a backpack, an official U.S. Men’s Olmpic ice hockey team shirt, a scarf, a travel mug, a signed photo of Kelsey Keller and good quality earbuds.  Not bad, eh? Mind you, our unofficial family motto is “If ever you are offered something for nothing, take it. And what you can’t carry, you drag”, so none of you should be surprised by my eagerness to haul away as much buckshee merch as possible.

Now for the flip side. Early last week I received an email from the agency that found me the job which opened with the greeting”All is fine!” It informed me that due to a reduction in  funding  for support staff in the 2017 budget, starting in mid January my hours would be cut by 50 percent. This is some strange meaning of “fine” that I’ve never heard before.  You can imagine my consternation. Rather than walking away, I agreed to stay on for the remainder of my contract, as any money is better than none.

Not all was lost, though. My supervisor offered me the option of working from home, which would save me the expense of commuting and also the need to wear trousers during the day. Of course, I accepted her offer, although the cut in hours felt more like being laid off than anything else. You can imagine my distress at the change in circumstances as I really enjoy the environment in the office. My colleagues are all very charming people, the free coffee is drinkable and there is a genuine sense of teamwork.

My first day working from home is election day, and that’s probably a good thing, as I don’t fancy having to dodge flying bricks, automatic gunfire and Molotov cocktails as Trump’s supporters react to the inevitable defeat of their beloved Fuehrer.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for post – apocalyptic urban hellscapes as long as they’re in the movies and not a part of my commute.

Of course, my changed circumstances do have an upside: I can start looking for another job while working, and my supervisor has told me that she understands absolutely if I need time to attend interviews, etc. Twenty hours a week doesn’t even cover the rent, but at least I have some forewarning, my resume is up to date and the received wisdom is that it’s easier to find a job when you have a job.  I just hope I remember to put trousers on before I head off to an interview.

Black Coffee In Bed.

This isn’t the post I had planned, but then again, this wasn’t the fortnight I had planned either. You see, a week ago last Thursday I was laid off. It came in the middle of the afternoon just after I’d finished the Post Office run and had franked about 2,500 pieces of mail for bulk collection. As you know, I hated my job, (see Career Opportunities)and it paid so poorly it left virtually nothing after paying the rent and commuting costs. Still, it was a job and got me out of the house for 12 hours a day. It meant that I had about four hours between getting home and going to bed in order to feed myself, do housework and relax, so of course, I was always skipping something, but two out of three ain’t bad, as the saying goes.

I barely had time to take care of the basics and was always short of spare time, but at least I was clean, fed and in freshly laundered and ironed clothes every morning, so I count that as some sort of victory.

I now find myself at the other end of the spectrum with so much time on my hands I don’t know what to do with myself. I guess some of it can be put down to the general blues associated with being made unemployed, but I’m finding it difficult to motivate myself to get anything done around the house.  I now have plenty of time to cook – something I really enjoy, as well as read, watch movies and get everything done around the house that needs doing. In fact, I have so much free time the house should look like a palace, with neatly folded towels, immaculate dust free carpets and a kitchen table so clean I could eat my dinner off it. Of course, this is not the case. The house is respectable, that much I can say, but it is far from being spotless.

As you can imagine, I started looking for work right away, and have already applied for some likely looking jobs, but I just hope I find one before the money runs out, otherwise my posts may come to you from the local library.  Despite this post’s title, I’m not lounging around in bed all day with a crossword book and a pint or two of Java. I’m not the kind of person who can just lay in bed once I’m awake, unless of course, my sweetie is with me, in which case, all bets are off. The kids took the news with much more equanimity than I’d expected, but that may be because they don’t fully understand the implications of unemployment or just don’t want me to know that they are upset. Either way, I feel pretty shitty about it, and am not looking forward to having to move out and put into storage that which I can’t sell.

I’ve spent the last few minutes trying to think of my usual upbeat ending, but I’m afraid it’s beyond me right now.