This is a throwaway account. Its not a call for charity, or some plea for help. Its just my life, in a capitalist democratic system, a constitutional monarchy, in a wealthy western country, from 2008 to now.
I am no one special. I graduated high school by grinding textbooks and quitting social life and weed. I then went to school for a trade at a community college, as I was advised it would bring job security and good pay. I completed the course in 2011 and every company I called was going out of business. The union never called me back.
Now with -5000 dollars, and a year wasted leaving messages on unanswering machines, I went into food service where I was grinded into pulp. Do dishes and move garbage, now jump on the line and cook, do it faster, no there is no training, just yelling, keep up or go home, and those tips? Theyre for front-of-house, not you.
After spending 2 years trying to make it in a circular system of “not enough money to live, but enough guilt to spend my check at the bar attached to my workplace where i GET that money” I looked for change and went into call center work. I told my sous-chef training started in a week for a class of 20 people. He asked me to have them push the class back so I could give 2 weeks notice. I told them that was an insane presumption that he was entitled to changing the schedule of someone else's business and twenty human beings with lives, and they fired me.
What i traded for my back breaking physical labor i got back in back breaking lethargy. Be 15 minutes early unpaid, doesnt matter if the bus is 30 minutes late. Take a cab, so you have to spend your first 2 hours paying yourself back for the privilege of being here in the first place. And your last 2 hours are cut for transport too: your a single man, so you dont leave until the buses are off the roads. Day shift is for older folks and parents. Stare at the box, no you cant surf the web, its all blocked from IT. No calls? Just sit and be quiet and review internal company policy. Be happy, it doesnt matter if you are, just fake it or thats a poor review. And with poor reviews, comes the passive aggressive threats: “You know what that means, we have to keep up with the growth plan, or else you might be out the door.”
I tried to stay active, and be healthy, but the mental strain was too much. Between the damage to my back from past accidents and the 8 hours of sitting down 5 days a week stressing about how I was going to navigate someone else's lack of education and abundance of privilege on my next call, I herniated a disc. I told them I couldnt come in, a day, 2, 5 days, 3 weeks… until I started to assert myself.
Give me part time. Give me work from home. Give me something so I can keep trying, please. I am in pain.
NO budge. Only corporate goals.
Fine. So i went on disability. I used my savings of approx. 3000$ to try to get help, therapy, physio, chiropractor, massage therapists, self help routines while living at home with my parents… I tried to get a doctor to look at me, but my GP told me I was weak. He plays hockey with a bad back, why cant I? Just stop being a pussy. Your a cookie, cut in the shape of a man, you have a penis, therefore, get over it. This was in the middle of COVID19, so trying to get anyone to help was impossible, and still is. I couldnt get any other doctor, the list of patients without a GP is massive, and under my provinces codes, EVERYTHING MUST go through the GP, period. If you are not bleeding out on the table at the hospital, its GP, or deal with it.
Alright, thats ok, I thought to myself. I dont need anything special. After years of trying, I accept it. I dont need dreams, I dont need possessions or vacations or a home or a car. I dont need anything. Just let me live in a dilapidated apartment. Ill work on myself within my means, Ill try to take care of myself, cherish the little things like the smell of air and the sound of music, Ill take pride in small victories like daily showers and brushing my teeth, and maybe the pain will go away, both physically and mentally. But this IS a dream. Its not a real thing.
I got a place with a friend I knew from high school, and once I was in, the abuse started. Now I live like an unpaid maid for someone else. My check goes to servicing the house, I do the chores, I organize finances, I cook, and without any thanks. No payment. And I cant force them to do better. I dont have the physical capacity to coerce them. I dont have legal framework or support to change them. I ask them to help, and the yelling starts. No, its MY fault they didnt clean up after themselves. Its MY fault that the garbage isnt taken out when its the one thing in 3 months Ive asked them to do. So I stopped asking. I stopped doing. Now even the small victories I was using to keep myself sane are punishments to feel guilty over.
My mother was fired from a corporation she worked at for over 20 years. Now shes losing the house. The place I escaped from because of unresolved issues in our relationship. I dont even have that to go back on now.
I cant survive on my own with 600 dollars a month. Not when I am already -3000$ in debt trying to keep this place up. Not when rent for a one bedroom is 1000-1500 dollars a month. Internet is 75-150$, phone is minimum 40$ after hours of negotiation with a corporation and complaints to the ombudsman. Subsidized housing is a waiting list just as long as for a doctor. Groceries are 200-300 a month, plus the cab fair of 20$ there and another 20 back. And with a bad back I cant get them any other way. Delivery for such things is a huge markup, itd be more efficient to call SkipTheDishes every day and refund half my orders.
And these things that I cant attain, are somehow “rights?” My housing, food, transportation, even my clothes are all the same from high school, my one suit I own, my mom bought for me, for my interview 8+ years ago. I cant afford 20-40$ jeans, or a 200$ suit like Im supposed to. I cant get around to thrift stores and find hidden frugal gems. Most are gone after COVID anyway. The city is not walkable, its a mess of no-sidewalk through ways built over 1800's cow pastures of 40 degree hills in -20*C weather half the year. Itd be 40 minutes for me to walk anywhere useful if I was fully functional, now? Id be crawling in agony.
And I think back to my interview at the call center, I was so hopeful. I was happy to be out of the kitchen, to have a career, to have a life worth living, that was my own. Where I could focus on what makes me “me”, so I could learn to love myself and then show that worth and love someone else. Start a family. Be happy. Stop drinking. Become stronger. Put some away to retire and maybe travel to Europe.
“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”
Here, master. I see myself here in the cubicle. My only concerns are the wealth of others, and how I can help them secure and maximize those assets. Those unattainable assets I will never have, like a multi story home, 3 cars, 2 kids. My life is meaningless without the client. Because between my undiagnosed mental health issues, my misdiagnosed physical disabilities and the place I live, joy is not real anymore. When all hobbies are escapes, it makes you feel like you are living life ironically. Its a system of clockwork depression. And now I have no choice but to come crawling back.
With no plan, no help, no choice. The machine wins, every time.
I dont know what I am going to tell my boss. “Hi, its me, nothing got better. No Ill be able to work. I mean Ill be in pain the whole time, but Ill smile dont worry. Ill lie to myself, my whole life, for you.”
If this is how the world works I dont know how the next generation is going to cope. Maybe well download our children into a metaverse and use AI/algorithms to make them seem real before throwing them down the mineshafts for rare earth minerals.
I just dont know anymore. And I dont want to know where Ill be in 5 years.