Despite a long list of qualifications and experience on my resume, I've had surprisingly few real jobs. I mean, I count being a magazine editor-in-chief as a job--but since I didn't receive a salary, few others do (am I the only one wanting to protest that?). My first job was at 19 but quit 6 months later since it was affected my school work, and I didn't work again until graduating college. I was incredibly lucky to be given (Literally. My friend had to leave her job and actually gave it to me.) a job related to the field I was looking to work in only six days after graduation. On July 6, 2009, two weeks after getting a BA in my hands, I began as an Account & Content Manager at a small web design and marketing business specializing in working with health care professionals. In simpler terms, I maintained the websites of dentists and plastic surgeons around the world. While it wasn't quite the way I wanted to do my design and editing work, I found it relatively enjoyable and liked learning something new. Then again, getting $12/hr ($4.50 more than my first job) would make me like a lot of things--even if it was the lowest salary of all my friends.
On August 11, 2009, the company downsized. Last hired, first "fired." 36 days into my blissful, "I'm an adult, I make my own money" haze, it was all taken away.
And I haven't been able to find work since.
Even when I had the job, it was tough making ends meet. I lived in Orange County, which we all know to be upscale (thank you, The OC and Real Housewives of OC for that reputation). Between a 1-bedroom apartment that was $1700/mo, utility bills that usually ended around $200, car payments, gas money, and food to feed me, I was stretched pretty thin. Bare minimum, and I was still asking my parents to help out with the rent at the very least.
Imagine when my income was taken away.
With all my friends, I'm known as the flake. And I admit to that being a terrible trait that I do unfortunately possess. I rarely pay attention to my phone, I take years to respond to texts, I never respond to e-mails if it's not work related, and I am guilty on several occasions of simply calling to say "I don't feel like going anymore" half a day before we're supposed to go somewhere.
Part of it is that I'm actually that flaky.
But a lot of it is because I simply can't plan my bank account.
Something you may be able to tell from the post is that I'm incredibly meticulous about numbers. I recall dates really well, I keep strict records of everything, and I know, down to the decimal, what my bank account is at any given moment of any day. Being a control-freak, all of this fits me.
But I can't control what happens to my bank account.
Obviously I can control how many times I go out to eat, or how much I'll spend on a new book. And even though I wish with all my heart I didn't have to control it, I know exactly how much I'll have to spend on my student loan payments every month. But I can't control the sudden car repairs, gas prices, insurance costs, or anything like that.
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