I'm still talking about last Friday,
but from the Friday I'm typing this on, things are looking pretty good. I'm making a
better wage than I hoped. My only problem with my job is that I'm not
good enough at it yet. My hours are iffy, but once they stabilize I
can either get a second job or start working—seriously working—on
training, certification, and building a portfolio for a development
or technical career.
If I do leave here some time before the
end of June, I'll be leaving a lot of folks behind. Dennis, who's a
hard worker with a failing body. Wheelchair Guy, who has a heart of
gold. Eric who took me under his wing. Sharon who's been through so
much and continues to be such a good person. Some hot dudes, who,
well humans are programmed to feel empathetic towards the pretty.
Larry, who...well, kinda wants to stay.
I got a call the night before I typed this. Part of my job is working for an organization which gives out
information to help folks with a certain kind of disability. The
caller has that disability and wanted to know about resources
available to help her afford the equipment to live with it more
easily. She was in her seventies and sounded like it. She lived in a
senior housing complex. She could barely afford medicine and her
caregiver picked up food for her at the food bank. She couldn't
afford new clothes. Her debts were exceeding her income slowly enough
that she could see it happening. Dealing with her disability was the
least-critical cost and it would just be the first one to go. She was
in for a slow death over the course of a tormented life of
deprivation within a crumbling physical shell.
I sent her a brochure she'll barely be
able to read.
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