Wearing Myself Out

Quitting a job without having another one lined up was beyond foolish. This is compounded by the fact that I still had several months left on a lease for a two bedroom apartment, that I really couldn't afford, even when I still had my job. Ah, the impulsive idiocy of youth. Fortunately, the Center For The Physically Limited was still looking out for me. 

The same job placement program (which closed its doors permanently due to lack of funding shortly after helping me one last time) knew of a job that could help me. Tulsa University was looking for someone to do basic data entry part time in the mornings. They sent me out to interview for the job and I got it. My experience in running the computer labs at Platt College would have made me over qualified for the job, but this was offset by the fact that aside from the art certificate that I had earned at Platt College, my highest level of education was still just a GED.

It was only a few hours each morning at minimum wage, but I was happy to be working. It wasn't enough, but I had been doing theater with the Center all this time and I was both known and liked there. The director of the Center hired me to work the phones part time in the afternoons. So, I worked the two part-time jobs. I ate once a day at the Center (a free meal) and kept my self satisfied the rest of the time by drinking complimentary coffee at both jobs that I loaded with sugar and powdered creamer.

I also helped Doug at the comic shop late (like 3 AM) Wednesday night / Thursday mornings. A truck would drop comics at the shop and we would sort them and put them on the shelves, ready for Thursday, which was, "comic book day." (The day the store got all the new comics.) Doug couldn't afford to pay me "officially", but I got free comics, and he always bought me dinner/breakfast out at Village Inn or Waffle House. I got by. I paid my rent, and I persevered, but I was wearing myself out fast. (I was still doing theater with the Center Stage Players as well.)

The lift program allowed me to ride a cab for a dollar, but I couldn't afford that. My lift card allowed me to ride the city bus for free. I used that to get from my apartment to my first job, and from my first job to my second job. After that, I would hang out at the Center until rehearsal, and then Cyndi would give me a ride home. I did this for quite awhile, but I couldn't keep up the pace.

  

  

Something had to give.