"When I was young, I didn't know what I wanted to do."
Is that a quote from someone wise? Absolutely. It's a snippet of conversation overheard, from the guy stocking Bisquick at Grocery Outlet. Stocking Bisquick is what he decided he wanted to do, or more likely the choice wasn't his.
There's another job interview on Monday morning, for office work. It's exactly the job I've done off and on for 40 years, so it's hard to imagine anyone more qualified than me, but I'm old, which seems to be what matters. My prediction is, I'm not going to get the job.
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My monthly pension from Acme Amalgamated is $345, and usually arrives on the 28th. If it's on time, coupled with the last remains of my bank account, I'll have the rent on May 1.
After that, there'll be about $50 left, plus $30 in quarters purchased long ago for laundry. I'll be poorer than I've been in many years, maybe ever, but this room will be mine through the end of May. After that, I'm not sure what the future holds, but then again, nobody is.
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It's my own fault, almost entirely. I should've been looking for work long ago, instead of watching old movies. Should've kept one of the brief jobs I've had, instead of quitting them all. Life is a collection of mistakes, I've made plenty, and there's no stopping now.
Today's mistake is, I should be scratching desperately for work, worried about my looming lack of funds. And I am worried, but worries get treated same as bad news — stored on a back shelf in my brain, where things aren't thought about much.
I'm watching old movies instead, musicals mostly. I'll probably die watching Singin' in the Rain.
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My brother Dick was scheduled for surgery of some consequence and risk, and I know how awful hospitals can be — my wife went through many surgeries and emergencies — so I wanted to be there for him.
Two things were nutty about it. First, Dick's surgery was scheduled for 10:30 in the morning, and he was supposed to be there and being prepped by 9:15, so we agreed to meet in the waiting room at 9:00. My mom and my other brother Clay would be there, too, and we were all on time … except for Dick. He showed up at 10:45, passed through the waiting room just long enough for a hug from each of us, and then they wheeled him away.
Jeez, who shows up late for their own surgery? If it's me, I want the guy with the scalpel to be in a good mood, not annoyed as he starts slicing into me.
What freaked me more was something routine — Christ on a cross over the hospital's reception desk, and a statue of some saint in the waiting room. Religion gives most people the warm and fuzzies, but it baffles me. I'm the opposite of 'reassured' at the notion of doctors and nurses looking skyward and offering a prayer before surgery.
It went fine, though, and my brother's prognosis is good.
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My sister Hazel spent last week in a hospital, too, but it was someplace that could not be reached by bus, and I guess I don't love her enough to walk a mile and a half each way. So I didn't visit. Who ever heard of a metropolitan hospital with no bus service!
Anyway, she's OK now, and back at the nursing home, where the bus stops just a few blocks away, so I visited her today.
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My mom texted a few barbs — first the old reliable "You disappeared for 17 years," and then a new one, "You didn't even visit your sister when she might be dying."
I didn't snap back, though. I need to be on Mom's good side, since I might be borrowing money from her soon. Hope I don't have to ask, hope she doesn't make me beg when I do, but I'm running low on such hopes. Probably I should pray.
4/27/2024
The cross photo you display is a crucifix, a symbol of Catholicism. Every town of any size has a Franciscan (Catholic) hospital and a non-denominational hospital. I know more about hospitals than I'd prefer to, but Franciscan hospitals don't go out of their way to hire Catholic docs and secular hospitals don't turn away applicant docs based on their religion. I've had surgeries in both (both saved my life) and, except for a crucifix hanging over the door to each room, the Franciscan hospital was indistinguishable from the secular hospital. If the surgeon is going to say a little prayer before slicing, she's just as likely to do so in a secular hospital.
ReplyDeleteAnd OK, I know I'm old and forgetful, but is the brother who showed up late the same brother who always shows up on time with pizzas? And if not, why didn't he have his brother with the quick driving award haul his ass to the hospital to insure prompt delivery? These questions must be asked. Both packages are supposed to be delivered warm.
Glad he has a good prognosis.
jtb
I'm glad the Franciscans got you patched up and running fine, presumably because you didn't need an abortion, which they won't do. They could fix me up too and I wouldn't object, but of course they won't take me because of money. Just generally, I like the separation of church and state, and of church and health care.
DeleteI don't remember a story about a brother who shows up on time for pizza, sorry. Dick is my brother who wants "just a little ice" in his drink and gets pissy if it's five cubes instead of three.
One of your brothers was displaying his "Driver of the Year" or some such button at breakfast. That's what I was referring to. I assumed he got it for getting the pizzas there on time, but he might have just done the quarter mile really, really fast. If they're gonna have kids he'll need to make sure the iceman cometh. I'm at Sis's and have to get back to work, but I'll send some kind of response at 4 in the AM if you're still up. Or up again. Or up to piss.
Deletejtb
as per usual, all the best,
John
Ah, yes, Dick is the pizza brother. Sorry, I was confused because (this is nuts but) his award wasn't for getting the pizza there *fast*, it's for getting it there *safe*. The bastards put some sort of tracker on his car, and he gets demerits if he brakes too hard, possibly upsetting the pizza.
DeleteSay hi to your sister, and I missed you at 4AM. Also missed when I was peeing at about that time, and sprinkled the whole bathroom, but accidents do happen.
What the world needs is larger targets to piss in. Also, peace, but that seems unlikely.
DeleteHell, I haven't shot straight in a decade. I think I'm not compensating appropriately for windage.
John
I'm a safe, slow driver, but I'd be happy to let those bastards clamp one of those monitors onto my drive shaft. Then they'd be walking funny for a week with a monitor shoved up their ass.
DeleteSpeed -- Safety -- Quality: Pick two.
I know a man has to work, and no job is too small if you intend to survive market capitalism. But mon dieu, stay out of my bedroom and my car.
John
It's amazing what people are willing to tolerate, as every vestige of privacy is removed smidgen by smidgen. Tattletale technology is now standard equipment in cars, and of course in almost everything any of us do, unless you're consciously making an effort to resist. And even then, probably.
Delete