It was a beautiful Sunday. Not a drop of rain, just enough sun to burn off the moisture from the Seawall, leaving it perfect for skating. A slight sea breeze, keeping it cool enough to be enjoyable and Chinatown fresh enough not to attract too damn many screaming shithawks. My chores were done, my work was done, and I was free.
I checked my email.
Suddenly, it was no longer a perfect Sunday. It was a deeply, irrevocably flawed Sunday.
It was the Sunday on which I found out that the contract which makes up 40% of my income had vanished, Poof, into thin air. The company just stopped paying their bills, it seems. The company for whom I’m subcontracting is going to pay me for my work to this point, but not beyond, so suddenly I find myself with a considerable amount of free time and a considerable hole looming in my bank account.
Naturally, I self-medicated in an entirely irrational fashion. I figure if the universe can be irrational to me, I can be irrational right back. I went on what someone on a budget as tight as mine would call a bender: I went to the Ovaltine for a house burger and diet Coke, $7, then I took myself down to the A&N boutique where I bought two new, lacy bras for $4.98 apiece and three summer tees at 3 for $9.99, and then I went for a long walk down Robson where I saw many, many shoes I now cannot afford and even walked right past the 40% off sale at the Gap without so much as going in or even pining much, and then I went to Dix and bought myself an IPA and a Red Truck Ale and a very nice man heard me out and bought me a conciliatory Red Truck as well, although believe me, when I’m on a vegan diet it doesn’t take much to get me quite entertainingly loopy and I was, and then we talked about El Alamein and Monte Cassino and Ypres and many similarly cheerful topics dating from before we were both born.
And then I came home, thought about working out, thought ah, fuckit tonight because, really, how often can anyone, even me, have a day like this, and decided to work my aggro out watching V for Vendetta yet again. If I’m still aggro-acious in a few hours, I’ll suck down a coffee and go out for a run.
Anybody need a blogger?
ShitfuckpoopbuggerdamnBother! That sucks.
Thank you. Goddam fucking straight it does. AND another contract got cut in half last week. So my income this week is exactly half what it was two weeks ago.
I figure I’d take today to sulk and tomorrow go look for another gig. AND publicize some more blogging classes, even though things are really slow in the summer. Maybe I can teach a class on travel blogging.
That sucks. I am so sorry to hear it. Stay frosty. Something else will come.
Thanks. Tomorrow I’m hitting MediaBistro like it’s never been hit before.
T’was a sweet gig, and fun, too. And I did a damn good job. So at the very least I’ll take the XML export for portfolio purposes.
Catch me when I’m asleep – I’ll let you sell a kidney and half a liver. But don’t go trying to pass off my gall bladder as that of a grizzly bear, okay?
I live in Canuckistan, where the kidneys and the liver are free, especially on Thursdays in the cafeteria.
But the gall bladder, now the Chinese pay good money for those…
Mind you, I could use a new liver myself.
There’s always the market in Saudi and the emirates . . .
@FFE: Her mum already tried to sell her in that area, no? Still I suppose she’s gained antique value since then.
That sucks in a major way. I had rather hoped you’d be too busy to visit, but now I suppose we’ll have to put the combination lock back on the fridge.
“I could use a new liver myself”
What the hell is going on around here? I’ve just lost all my income and will soon be losing half a liver. Do I detect a pattern here? Conspiracy theory, anyone?
But seriously … agree with Metro (and everyone else) that this sucks in a major way, Rain.
Good luck with finding something new.
I don’t know how many ways there are to say That sucks, but add my voice to the chorus.
I had a day like that last year (50%) and I think I was more pissed by the people, so-called friends, who just blithely said, “Oh, you’ll bounce back.” ‘Scuse me, but “bounce” wasn’t a word I wanted to hear when I had both eyes on the bank balance and my bills.
Great deals on the bras and tees, though, but not great enough to make up for the overall suckiness, I know.
Awww, rain!!! Major bummer. :( Will they at least give you a good recommendation?
az, an anti-Canuck liver conspiracy? Possibly. The Americans have been known to dig up Oscar winners to sell for parts. And they know Canadian livers are strong.
Thanks, all. They won’t give me any recommendation at all, which is why I shall export the entire blog and write my own letter of reference, which the person I’m subcontracting to will sign.
Oh, duh. Maybe I can move Lolebrity off WordPress and put some ads on it. Time to bother the boss on his vacation and ask. That should be worth a few hundred a month for 400 hits a day.
Sorry to hear about the contract :-(
Hopefully fate is contriving this to allow you to stumble on an even greater opportunity :-))
Thanks. I’m feeling rather panicky at the moment, and wouldn’t be surprised if I fire off an email to Boris, asking if he wants me to teach blogging to the marginalized. It is, after all, what I do, and it’s pretty damn powerful at un-marginalizing people and helping them stand on their own two feet (while getting serious resume bling and better social, English, and computer skills, Club Penguin members excepted).
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Well, if I could get my head out of my baby-steps html I would have seen this sooner. Still don’t have a clue what CP really is, but the fact that you’re excepting them from the benefit of your skills makes me think all will be well.
As one who voluntarily slashed my income to zero 18 years ago and then built a life around sailing and varnishing boats, I’m not quivering for you at all. Looks from your current post like this was opportunity on the hoof. Go lasso and rope it!
Thanks, done. And another email sent out about more work. I’ve got a few more to do, though.
Raincoaster I reminded him (through the fire alarm) of his loyal international supporters in a recent meeting. I did, of course, remind him of the talents and benefit of the very fragrant Melissa too. So fire off that request for emplyment ASAP. The name you need is…. email me and I’ll tell you if you’re serious.
What, work for a Tory? My mother would rise from the grave and strangle me!
Also: still no passport. But this teaching gig has promise of going international, so I may get over to that side of the water to annoy you and Boris and Melissa in person someday.