In a Round-About Way

Cash. That’s what I’m going to talk about for the next 5-10 minutes. Cash, where it fits in my life, where I’m going with it, how I’m strapped for it, looking for it, finding it, feeling it’s ever-present fury.

Somehow, I’ve managed to spend too much money in too little of a time frame. This could have been anticipated (e.g. feeling like I’m on “vacation” all the time) but alas, it’s pinching me more and more as the days advance. I have no job (I’ll get to that in a moment), no sugar daddy (yet), and no intentions of soliciting myself on Broadway to earn a dime. Shopping isn’t even fun anymore when you feel like you’re slitting your wrists to buy a secondhand sweater at “The Best Thrift Store in the World” (or so the sign said). Okay, I’m whining.

Here’s part of the story: When I arrived, I thought it was really cool to buy this $30 bag from American Apparel. I don’t even like American Apparel—they’re A) overpriced 2) overrated iii) over-trendy (really, there’s a point where the geek glasses are beyond ridiculous) and 4) you can’t walk into the store without seeing 12 ladybits poking out of short skirt/vinyl leggings/fishnets/questionable jumpsuit. Their ad campaigns make me sick, and I’m generally not bothered by that kind of thing. At the time I had $30 to blow…so I did. And now I don’t. Bottom line: Stupid.

So I had buyer’s remorse about the purse I purchased from AA. I felt like a tool carrying it around, it had an over-used typeface splattered all over it (read: Helvetica) and I felt like I had contributed to not only a repulsive company, but also a 17-year old AA employee’s paycheck that enabled her to buy (another) shiny rhomper. I’d already ripped the tag off and used the bag for an afternoon, but for my $30 back, there was definitely ways around that.

I got crafty. I affixed the pricetag back on the bag in a tactful way. Then I took the bag back into the store, slapped it on the counter with my receipt, and said “Refund, please.”

The kid that was helping me was, to say the least, ridiculous. I don’t want to judge anybody here—I’m certainly not one to judge—but in oversized yellow plastic “eyeglasses,” (prescription, no doubt) I couldn’t take him seriously. He told me my choices for the return were: EXCHANGE, or store credit.

I wanted to tell this kid—who was easily wearing $200 in AA purchases on his bony frame—that I didn’t want any more of the store’s exploited garbage, just my cash back that I paid for the item. That’s the reason why I was returning the bag in the first place: to buy things that I need, like toothpaste and food. Not to exhange it for some $26 deep v-neck crap. For crissake. He looked at me and asked if I wanted to shop around to exchange. I looked at him. And I felt like he should have felt silly at that moment, in his silly glasses—but it was me that felt downright foolish, and angry for good measure.

I lost. I walked out the door with store credit that I don’t know what I’ll do with. Still poor.

But there’s a happy ending. Yesterday I was walking up Union and craving a fresh peach, decided to cross the street and go to the market before heading home. After purchasing the fruit I continued up the hill, on the opposite side from where I usually trek. I looked down. There, right in my path, a crumpled $20 bill. Not a person in sight.

It was as though Jesus knew that American Apparel was going to screw me over today, and he wanted to prepare me for it.

In a round-about way, I win. And the AA store credit I received? It’s the last $30 I’ll ever spend there. The end.

And finally, I said I’d touch on my job situation. I’ve applied at a restaurant that will remain unnamed, shown up to the restaurant seeking employment five times, spoken with the General Manager twice, had three interviews with three different restaurant employees (they maintain I’ve only had two interviews, no one can figure out who the “Michael” is that interviewed me during my first “second” interview) wasted upwards of an hour of my time waiting for interviewers to show up/locate my application (only to find the interviewer is actually on vacation and not coming in to interview me) and finally, am now waiting for a phone call to have my second “third” interview (which will actually be my fourth interview). When they call—if they call—they’ll “let me know if they’re still hiring.” Needless to say, the whole place is bogus, but I’m broke and will put up with the place for a month and a half if it means redeeming myself financially. And if I don’t get the job? I’m going to lay into the GM. And I don’t do things like that.

Now that I’ve relayed more money talk than Suze Orman (minus the tan), I’ll leave you with this: I saw a tranny today.

Be well, friends.