If You Believed We Put a Man On the Moon

Minor setback: as it turns out, my transfer wasn't approved to work at the Landmark out here. Which is interesting, because regardless of the fact that my managers have all known about my plans to transfer since January, for some reason I'm just finding out about this now. I find it impossible to believe that no one sent my paperwork ahead of time, that no one foresaw this, that everyone told me that the whole thing was just a matter of a couple of emails and maybe a phone call when, in reality, there were several channels to go through and apparently, the district manager could simply say no at any time.

My transfer wasn't approved because I had a write-up in my file. I remember the write-up, too, I recall it being kind of a bullshit thing, a bureaucratic formality, because I lost a ticket book or something equally as ridiculous. That stupid piece of paper just set fire to plan A.

If I don't figure out a way to get into an apartment very soon, then by the time I find a new job, I'll have run through my savings and I won't be able to afford one. There is a delicate balance to maintain here while I try to keep Plan B alive--a difficult process seeing as Plan B is a deformed and weak little newborn creature and it seems pretty inevitable that it won't make it through the weekend.

So, in the meantime, I need to start working on Plan C.


There are just a lot of issues that hang in the balance now: I have to find a job, but how do I print resumes? Do I go to Kinko's and pay a bunch of money for them, knowing that in a couple of days I might have an apartment where I can set up my printer? I probably should, but then there's the issue of having clothes to wear to an interview. I'd have to buy those, too. The apartment needs to come before the job, but how is that supposed to work? And I can't answer any of these questions yet, so I'm mostly just filling out online applications and sitting around waiting.

Money goes fast without a place to keep groceries, a place to escape the houses and the people in them, a place to set my things down and just be, and all that comes out of it is this mounting guilt about not being able to do much about any of it.

Luckily for everyone involved in this transfer fiasco, this escapade wasn't supposed to be easy and I realize that. I'll make it work, I just don't know how anymore. Otherwise, I would be completely and irrevocably pissed off.