#in the same retail job i felt stuck in five years ago

[combeauferre]

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 3 - Ensnared [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns.

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Series Masterlist

Finding out that the target you had been assigned to seduce and manipulate for information was actually a good person had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, the biggest advantage was that now you could prepare a strategy based on his personality. After all, good people were easier to trick, it was the people like you that would’ve given you a hard time if the roles were reversed. You had been taught to approach everyone with suspicion and pinpoint their weak spots to use against them and as it turned out, Bucky didn’t adapt the same strategy when it came to other people.

The disadvantage? You had no idea how to deal with that.

For years and years you had been trained to kill, lie, manipulate and not look back or feel guilty about any of it because you were told that all your targets were the kind of people that would’ve harmed you or others if they had the chance; so Bucky not being evil was surprising at the very least.

The infamous Winter Soldier hadn’t tried to hurt you when he was under attack, hadn’t tried to use you as a leverage to get out of there unlike what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, you were confused as hell.

“I mean when you think about it, it’s not surprising that he’s a good guy,” Chloe said, resting her feet on the table in the empty conference room, “Didn’t he fight against Thanos with Steve Rogers and everyone else?”

“I would’ve fought in that war if I could as well, it doesn’t mean that I’m a good person.”

She pouted, “That’s debatable. I think you’re a great person.”

“No I’m not. I swear to you I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“If it were me, I would’ve pushed him into the line of fire without a second thought.”

“Exactly. We’re terrible people and we acknowledge that, Chloe.” Keith said as you tapped your pencil on the file,

“Back to the first impression strategy, guys. How do I meet Barnes?”

“Hold on, before we continue with the strategy you need to give me an answer about your cover job,” Chloe said, “We can’t have him suspect you’re hiding anything from him. Jobs are a huge part of someone’s life, it’ll come up.”

Keith raised his head, “What are the options?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Sales assistant, retail—“

“The last time you put me in retail for an undercover job, I ended up punching a customer.” he cut her off, “I vote no to the retail.”

“I’m sure they had it coming,” you deadpanned and Chloe hmmed.

“Fast food?”

“No, it makes my hair smell bad.”

“There’s a milkshake shop I can put you in, it doesn’t smell bad. It’s close to the coffee shop he and Wilson get their coffee from.”

“What’s the catch?”

A small grin pulled at her lips, “It’ll be good for the mission.”

You frowned as Keith sat up straighter, curiosity written all over his face. “Chloe? Share your devious plans with the class please?”

“It’s a retro milkshake shop and the uniforms are like….1940s pin up meets 1950s diner waitress.”

Keith started laughing and you stared at Chloe before letting out a groan, burying your face into your palms.

“I hate you so much.”

“Come on, it’s going to be Bucky Barnes’ wet dream, you know that!” Keith said, “On a completely unrelated note, can I see those uniforms?”

“No!” you snatched the phone from Chloe’s hand before Keith could take a look, “No you can’t!”

“I’m so going to take pictures, and when you become a handler I will use them to humble you.”

“I will shoot you if you do that, and can you please focus?” you insisted, “I have a meeting with General soon, and he will ask me about the strategy and I can’t go there with no ideas.”

“Just find something you and Barnes are interested in both, that never failed me,” Keith paused, “Well that, and my good looks.”

Chloe turned to look at him, “I gave her a huge file containing everything there is to know about him,” she said, “It will help her to make him fall in love, but meeting him is something else.”

“Guys,” he rolled his eyes “What are you, fifteen? It’s incredibly easy to meet people.”

“No, it’s incredibly easy to meet civilians,” you corrected him, “Or the bad guys. It’s not like Barnes goes to bars or anything, he’s not very social.”

“Yeah I get that but he has to do something.” he insisted, “Just hand me the file, are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“We didn’t—he does the same thing every superhero does,” Chloe threw her hands up, “He saves people if they’re in need, but how are we going to use that?”

You opened your mouth to answer but when the thought struck you, you took a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. A smile lit up your face, the plan slowly forming in your mind and Keith frowned at you over the file.

“Y/N you’re smiling,” he reminded you, “It’s creepy when you do it genuinely.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you asked as you turned to Chloe, “You’re right. Superheroes save people, and—and Barnes is not only a superhero, but he’s also a good guy right? He didn’t use me as a leverage while getting out of there, so he cares about people’s wellbeing, so to speak.”

“Yeah?”

You snapped your fingers, “I need to find someone to shoot me.”

“Same, you’re not special.”

Chloe gasped, “Keith!”

“Relax, she’s not serious.”

“No I’m very serious.”

He scowled, “Did you forget what happened when I accidentally shot you on a mission three years ago? It was just one time and you bitched at me for a whole month. You found me when I was working undercover in Brazil to show up at my apartment so that you could complain about it more, I don’t even know how you found my address, it was classified info.”

“I gave her your address.” Chloe held up a hand and Keith heaved a sigh.

“Thank you Brutus.”

“You had it coming,” you pointed out, “But forget about that for a second, okay? I think I just found our strategy. We’re going to use me as a bait.”

“What?”

“That’s how I’ll meet him. We will put me in a dangerous position and he will…” you tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “He will have to save me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “He will help you and you will use that to lure him, did I get that right?”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “What better way to manipulate a hero than to give him somebody to save?”

She blinked a couple of times, then turned to Keith.

“Honestly, in times like these I wonder why I’m friends with you guys,” she commented, “Do you have any idea why on earth I’m friends with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” he said, “Because we’re fun when we’re not diabolical?”

                                           ***

The plan was pretty simple, it would look like a robbery gone wrong. You would be accompanied by one of the lower ranking agents who would pose as a robber so that if he got caught while getting away, it would pose no threat to your cover afterwards, not to mention it couldn’t be traced back to you or the operation.

Of course, you had to make sure that Bucky would stay behind and meet you while Wilson chased the bad guy off. Based on your observations on Wilson, saving people always came first rather than punishing the other person, he put the safety of innocents before anything else, so you had to find a way for them to think Wilson was more suitable for the chase.

Motorcycle. The rookie agent would get away on a motorcycle, which would require Wilson to use his wings to gain speed on him.

But God, you just hated playing the damsel in distress.

“I just want to say I’m honored that you picked me for this mission,” the agent was almost buzzing with excitement in the back alley while you waited until Wilson and Barnes was anywhere within hearing distance. “I heard- I heard so much about you Shrike. Ma’am.”

You leaned your back to the wall, crossing your arms.

“Is it true that you once killed a target using just a pencil?” he asked, “Or that you took down five armed people with a dagger?”

You turned your head to look at him better, amusement making you smile.

“Or- or that you can get information out of someone in just five minutes?” he held his breath, “Or that your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father.” You cut him off, the harsh command leaving your lips almost too fast and you felt the slight guilt pulling at your heartstrings before you shook your head.

“You’re a good shot, right?” you asked, “I don’t want to get the bullet stuck in my arm, you’ll just graze me.”

“I’m a great shot ma’am, top of my class.”

“And you need to make it look believable. Remember, if Wilson catches you—“

“He will take me to the nearest police station, and I will stay there until an agent is sent to pick me up. But do you want me to get caught?”

“Try not to,” you shrugged your shoulders “But if he does, don’t worry about it. He has no reason to believe it’s anything more than some mugging.”

His phone beeped and he checked it, then took a deep breath, “Barnes and Wilson are within hearing distance. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” you said and he grabbed his gun, then pointed it at your arm. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder before you turned to him and let out a very high scream, probably enough to reach the people nearby. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed through the alley, a burning spreading all over your arm and making you fall to your knees.

“Are you okay?” he stepped closer to you and you tried to catch your breath.

“Go!” you hissed and he ran to the motorcycle before he rode away and as soon as he was out of your sight, Barnes and Wilson ran to the alley and you started sobbing, holding onto your arm which throbbed in pain.

Good news was he was a good shot, and he had managed to only graze you. But considering that your cover was a civilian, you doubted civilians were used to gunshot wounds, so you had to make it dramatic.

“Ma’am?” Wilson rushed to you with Barnes following him and you tried to breathe through sobs.

“Thank God, please help me—“ you sniffled and looked at the other side of the alley, breathing fast, “He took my wallet, and-and he had a motorcycle…”

“On it. Buck, stay with her.” Wilson said and ran out of the alley as Barnes crouched down to your level while you kept panting, your knees pulled to your chest, leaning back to the wall.

“Hi,” he smiled at you softly and you took a trembling breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello,” you managed to say as he stole a look at your arm before his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Can I look at your arm, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips together, pretending to consider it before you raised your hand so that he could see the graze on your upper arm. He furrowed his brows for a moment, and carefully lifted your arm to see it better under the street lights while you sniffled again.

“Am I—am I going to die?” you stammered and he let out a small chuckle.

“No,” he said, “No you won’t. It’s just a graze, it doesn’t even look like it’ll need stitches. I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of arm injuries.”

You tried to keep the look of confusion on your face before you slowly averted your gaze from him to his metal wrist and you gasped, your jaw dropping as if you were distracted from the pain.

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” you asked, “Wait, no. Right? Can’t be.”

A look of regret flashed over his face, apparently he thought that would scare you but lucky for you, you had seen it coming while coming up with a strategy.

“I heard about you!” you said, “You fought against Thanos!”

He was taken aback at the fact that you didn’t accuse him of anything his head was obviously swarming with, and that would be the one thing you could base your whole plan on.

In order to make him fall in love with you and trust you, you had to act like you trusted him, act like you had little to no knowledge of the dark side of his past. Naïve civilian girl with a soft heart was the perfect cover because as far as you could tell from his file, Bucky Barnes just wanted to come back home from war.

He had been looking for something he could call his home for decades now and you’d let him believe you were his home until your orders told you otherwise.

“That’s it?” he asked when you didn’t continue and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“That’s all you…all you wanted to say?”

“Right—” you took a deep breath, “Right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all you’ve done, for saving the world.”

“No no, I didn’t mean—“ he stopped himself, “That wasn’t what I meant. Trust me, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Well I am though,” you winced when you moved your arm before turning your head to check the dark alley “Bucky? Do you… do you think that robber would come back?”

“Sam’s got it covered.” he assured you, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away, and he’s definitely not coming back here.”

“Okay.” You murmured and wiped at your eye again with the back of your free hand before you clutched at your arm again, a sob tearing itself from your chest. “God, it just—it hurts so bad...”

He shushed you gently, “I know it does sweetheart. Let’s get you to the hospital so that it will stop hurting, alright?”

Ah.

Even by 40s standards, sweetheart was a good sign.

You shook your head, “But I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on a budget.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Come again?”

“I don’t have enough money for the hospital. I’m sure if I put a band aid on it or something it’d work, you said it wouldn’t need stitches and there’s a pharmacy right around the corner you see—”

“That’s not how bullet wounds work, let’s go.” He helped you up but you stumbled into him, letting him catch you as you looked up at him.

“I apologize, I just feel dizzy…” you said and he smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” his voice was soothing, “You think you can walk? I can carry you.”

“No I can—I can walk,” you stammered and let him lead you out of the alley, his arm wrapped around your waist tight before he looked down at you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured to himself, then he took off his jacket to put it over your shoulders. You pulled the oversized jacket tighter around you, brushing the sleeve over your forehead to push back your hair and only when he turned to stop a taxi you let a tiny smirk pull at your lips despite the throbbing on your arm.

Well, your superiors were going to be pleased. The first part of the mission was done.

Now all you had to do was make him fall in love with you.

                             Chapter 4

[sunkissedpages]

breaking curfew || th x reader [part six]

A/N: what it do babey ahaha

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, fear of heights

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter!!

Word Count: 2.5k (updated)

Series Masterlist

Tom gulped nervously like he was suddenly reconsidering having to spend an undisclosed amount of time stuck in a small space with you. 

“Tom,” you growled and he took a step back. “What did you say?”

“I was just kidding,” he tried, but you didn’t buy it.

“No you weren’t, asshole. Who told you that?”

“I- um I just overheard your campers talking at dinner the other night?”

“Bullshit, what does ‘overheard’ really mean?”

“I may or may not have talked to them in passing...”

“What? When?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You were preoccupied.” You still didn’t know what the fuck he meant. “With Ying,” he said like it should’ve been obvious. 

“So you think it’s okay to just take that opportunity to talk to my campers?” 

“They called me over!” 

You went on the offense. “What?! What did they want? What else did they say?”

“I don’t think I should-“

“Tom!”

“They were just asking about why you didn’t like me...”

Thunder crackled in the distance and you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if the flush on his face was from sunburn or nerves. “And? What did you say?”

“I just said I didn’t know! That you just haven’t liked me since we were kids.”

“Of course you made me look like the bad guy, Tom. Typical.”

Tom scowled, licking his lips. “What did you want me to say? That you’re still pissed about breaking curfew one time eleven years ago?”

“Fuck you, is that really all you remember from that night? From all those years?”

“Do you always live in the past?” He asked, seeming bored.

“Do you always use humor to compensate for your tiny dick?”

“You know what, y/n, maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, your campers might actually like you and wouldn’t be asking why you can’t be more like me!”

You watched his eyes grow wide with shock as yours did in turn. Your jaw went slack and your mouth fell into an o-shape. Whatever insult you had been about to hurl next dissolved on your tongue and turned bitter. It didn’t matter now. 

Tom was quiet, standing with his arms crossed in front of you, offering no apology. Your eyes burned and you didn’t even try to blink the tears away. It was your fault for pressing him into telling you what your kids really thought of you, it was your fault that they felt that way about you in the first place. But to compare you to Tom of all people, that cut deep. What had you done in a past life to deserve that blow?

“I’m requesting a transfer,” you decided simply and turned on your heel to leave.

“Wait-” Tom stuttered. You were surprised he was saying anything at all. “What do you mean transfer?”

“I mean I’m transferring to another daytime activity, if they’ll let me. I’m done with Arts and Crafts.”

“You mean you’re done with me.”

Your hand on the doorknob was the only answer you gave, but Tom reached out to stop you again, placing his hand over yours. 

“It’s still storming,” he said in a tone of annoyance tinged with concern. “The campus is locked down.”

“Are you going to stop me?” you challenged, sniffling.

He looked back down at your hands still touching and considered it, but ultimately let go, choosing to watch you run off into the rain instead. 

-

You tossed and turned in your bunk that night, unable to fall asleep. The camp beds were uncomfortable already, the added stress of the day was only making it more difficult to drift off. Tom’s words played on repeat in your head as you laid there in the dark. 

Your girls lay sleeping silently in their bunks around you, unaware of what you’d learned. In all honesty, you had thought about quitting. Packing your bags and driving home and spending the summer working retail in the city. As miserable as that sounded, you felt like you had let your campers down, and that they deserved better. Zendaya had quickly talked you out of that and insisted that even if the things Tom had said were true that there was still time to turn things around.

The summer wasn’t even close to being over, and it wasn’t that the girls didn’t like you, they just... “had a few critiques about your counseling style” as Z had put it gently.

“No first-time counselor’s perfect,” she had assured you. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve forgotten my campers names already.”

“Yeah, but have they said they wished you were more like Tom?!” you had groaned back, flopping back onto her twin-sized bed.

“Um, no. But they’re young, y/n. They probably just think he’s cute and meant it as a compliment- not an insult to you.”

“But what about when they said I’m no fun?”

Zendaya took a deep breath. “You have been a little distracted lately,” she admitted. You made a face. “Tom threw you off, I know. You weren’t expecting him to be here and he’s a dick, trust me, I get it. But at the end of the day you have to put that aside so you can do your job and be the best you can for these kids, you know? I think they probably just want you to be more engaged. Less focused on some boy, and more focused on them.”

You knew she was right, but it was still hard to hear. Zendaya wasn’t the kind of person to be brutally honest for no reason. No, she was kind and compassionate. But sometimes she would tell you what you needed to hear- always with your best interest in mind.

When your alarm went off from under your pillow the next morning you had barely slept three hours altogether. You considered snoozing it and getting up when your campers did, but you knew that the only time you had to get ready was right then so you pushed yourself up and out of bed like you were being played back in slow motion. 

You went through your routine on autopilot. Brush teeth, shower, awkward half-naked conversation with Fy, get dressed, wake kids up, help them get ready for the day. It was honestly a blur up until breakfast when you were standing in line with your cabin for pancakes. 

“Are you guys excited for the competition today?” you asked them. “It’s a lake day.”

“Yes!” Amalia exclaimed immediately. “I hope it’s a swimming race because I’ve been practicing at free time!”

From the corner of your eye you saw Grace shrink a little bit into herself and tried to smile reassuringly at her. 

“There will be some swimming,” you admitted, just so that they could all be prepared, “but not everyone will have to swim.”

You were ambushed with rapidfire questions next, but you stubbornly refused to tell them anything about the competition. Everyone else had to wait until the afternoon to learn what it was going to be, you weren’t going to give your campers an advantage by telling them what the activity was. Plus, it would ruin the fun. 

You smiled when the nagging subsided and they knew they weren’t going to get anything else out of you, but teased them with your superior knowledge about the activity all morning. 

By the time the actual event rolled around you were a little worried the hype wouldn’t live up to the actual activity. But as soon as your campers saw the pool inflatables they took off at a sprint down the hill towards the lake without warning, leaving you chasing after them with all of their backpacks and water bottles. 

For once you were early and had to wait for the rest of the camp to arrive before the competition could start, but your girls were already ready to go. It hadn’t even been explained yet, but there was a collection of fun pool floats down at the shore of the lake including, but not limited to: a flamingo, a popsicle, a watermelon slice, a shark, a pizza, a swan, a turtle, a unicorn, an iphone, a car, a rainbow, and a cat. 

They were scattered along the shore and were to be used in a partner race. Each camper would partner up with another and choose a float. One camper would get on the float and the other would be in charge of navigating it. The camper in the water was supposed to do all of the pushing and kicking while the one on top of the float could help with paddling. 

Since your cabin had five campers you teamed up with Grace. It was perfect because you knew how nervous she got around water events and could let her be the one on the float no problem. 

When Lorraine blew the whistle for the event to start chaos broke loose. You were going to let Grace pick your team’s float, but she was too slow so you grabbed the first one you could find- which just so happened to be an orange creamsicle with a bite taken out of it. 

Grace hopped onto the float and you pushed it out into the water, kicking as hard as you could. Three minutes in your stupid, ill-fitting swimsuit was riding down and your lungs were burning, but you still went as hard as you could until you reached the finish line. 

When you finally came up for air and rubbed the water from your eyes you saw Grace laughing along with the other campers who had finished around the same time. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips even though they couldn’t seem them under water. 

“You ran right into Theo and Amalia!” Grace snorted.

“I did?” You had absolutely no recollection of doing that, you must’ve truly been going buckwild if you didn’t even notice you had run into your own campers. You felt terrible until you saw them all giggling about it and decided to play along. “Well maybe you two shouldn’t have been in my way!”

“You’re the one who can’t swim straight!” Theo argued defensively. 

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that, I think we’re going to need to watch the replay to see who’s right.”

It wasn’t much, but they were laughing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to turn things around between you and your campers completely right away, but it was a start in the right direction. 

After everyone finished racing the winners were announced and then there was a little extra free time to spend at the lake before dinner. Cabin 11 ended up coming in third place which the girls were completely over the moon about, mostly because they beat a lot of high schoolers- which you thought was completely valid.

When event cleanup was finished and everyone was chilling by or in the water, a handful of counselors suggested cliff jumping from a wide ledge that overlooked the lake. You were going to decline the invitation when Harrison asked, but Tom said “nah, y/l/n won’t come she’s not a fun counselor”. The way he said it in front of your campers with his stupid smirk and stupid friends all watching made your blood boil.

Obviously that was a dare and obviously you had to take it, because you weren’t going to look like a pussy in front of all of your peers. And you weren’t about to let your campers down either. What’s the worst that could happen?

The cliff was a good bit higher than you were expecting, but you still told yourself you could do it. Everyone else up here was going to jump and they’d all be fine so you could too, right?

Wrong.

The ledge was probably only forty or fifty feet from the water’s surface, but once you were actually up there looking down it seemed miles away. Your campers looked like tiny dots bobbing in the water below, and you couldn’t even make out who was who. You gulped, and took a step back, pressing yourself up against the sturdy wall of the mountain for balance. 

You could hear Zendaya’s voice in the back of your mind, scolding you for giving in to peer pressure- from Tom of all people. You knew she was down there too, probably biting her nails ragged like she did when she was nervous. 

A cool breeze was making your wet swimsuit cling to your skin even more than it already was and you wrapped your arms around your shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to fend off the chill. 

Unaware of you cowering in the corner, Harrison volunteered himself to go first. Taking a leap of faith off of the cliff, he spread his arms out like a bird and flipped into the water, shouting and screaming the whole time. 

The rest of the counselors took turns jumping, running, and pushing each other off the edge before plunging into the murky lake while you hung back. There were only a handful of jumpers left when Tom finally noticed you hiding behind everyone else. 

“You look like you’re about to puke.”

“I might,” you admitted, but shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

Unexpectedly, his face softened and his eyes crinkled with worry. “You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, y/n.”

“Why, so you can make fun of me for chickening out later and hold it over my head for the rest of the summer?”

“I mean that would be a bonus, but-”

You took a shaky step forward towards the jumping point. “You’re the one who said I’m boring, okay? I know you wanted me up here just so you could get back at me for transferring and prove to yourself I’m a quitter or whatever you need to tell yourself. Don’t try and backpedal now.”

You were the only two up there now, and you could hear confused shouting from 

“So what if I didn’t think you would do it?” Tom argued. “It’s just not like you!”

“You don’t know anything about me, Tom!” you shouted back. “And you don’t even like me so why do you care?”

He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t.” 

You pushed past him to the rocky drop-off of the cliff, pausing to take a deep breath when your toes were dangling over edge. You heard Tom shout something as you fell, but it was lost in the wind whistling past your ears. 

The impact on the water knocked the air out of your lungs and made your vision go cloudy fast. You were still falling, deeper and deeper into the water, the glassy surface disappearing out of reach above you as you sunk. 

When you finally had the sense to try and swim towards the sunlight, pain tore its way up through your right arm and you tried to scream out in agony, but were suffocated by the water around you, pulling you deeper still. 

You were forced to use your left arm to try and claw your way to the surface, ignoring the way the pain from your other arm was making you feel lightheaded. Black spots danced in your vision and you were so far gone that you didn’t even notice someone swim up behind you and grab you by the waist to pull you to safety.

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[visambros]

For the sake of my future, I am leaving Tumblr.

I haven’t been very active on here, and I know I haven’t been particularly talkative either, but I’m making this post to let people know that I’m going. I may delete this blog in the future, but I’m keeping everything for now.

There is a long list of reasons why I’m doing this, but if you don’t want to read the entire post then the long story short version is: My life is a dumpster fire that will not change for the better unless I devote as much of my free time as possible into improving my craft so I can make a living through my art/writing.

Full details under the cut.

I’ve been planning on making this post for a while, but I didn’t want to abandon this account forever because despite not being as active on here as I used to be in the past, I’m still emotionally attached to my account and still wanted to use Tumblr as a means of entertainment when I wasn’t working. And I knew that if I made this post, I’d have to commit to staying away and I wanted to avoid that. But two things happened last Sunday that acted as a major wake up call for me.

1) There was a false alarm at a power plant not too far away from where I live. I don’t live in the same city as the power plant, but I live in what would be the danger zone should the power plant have a melt down. The false alarm for the power plant was issued in the morning. I don’t have a cell phone, but my sister (who I share a room with) does and received the alert for the “meltdown”. Since it woke her up, she was tired and accidentally exited the alert without reading it first. She then went back to sleep.

Now I don’t blame my sister for doing this. Hell, I probably would’ve done the same thing in her shoes.  My issue lies in the fact that, had there been an actual emergency, I would’ve a) slept through it or b) had no reliable way of getting out of the city.  I can’t drive, never learned how, so I couldn’t have driven myself to safety if my mom had decided not to leave the house (I know what you’re thinking; “why wouldn’t she leave the house?” and honestly she most likely would’ve left the city, but my mom has made enough stupid decisions throughout her life that her staying home isn’t outside the realm of possibility for me to believe).

Even though I know it was a false alarm, it’s still scary to think about how I could’ve died- or at least gotten very sick- had it been a real meltdown. I hate living in this city and I want to move, but I don’t have the means to do so at the moment.

2) My stepfather. For those who don’t know, my mom married a man she only knew for a few months and he is a horrible human being. He has threatened to kill me and my mom in the past, has been arrested multiple times since arriving to Canada (late last year he was arrested for possession of heroin), and is altogether an unpleasant and annoying man to be around.

So last Sunday night, I was doing the dishes when I heard a knock at the door. It was my stepfather, who had left the house for whatever reason and had returned. However, as I neared the door, I noticed that it was unlocked. He could’ve let himself in, but for whatever reason he was still knocking. I suddenly got it in my head that he wanted me to open the door so he could yank me outside without having to drag me through the house first.

I know that sounds paranoid, but the man is disturbed. I don’t think I’ve gone a week without at least worrying once that I was going to come home to my stepfather having murdered everyone else in the house while I was out. Added to the fact that he and I really hate each other and I was the one to call the police on him two times, and I think you could forgive me for thinking that he might try to hurt me if given the chance.

Despite my fears, I still opened the door for my stepfather. He didn’t attack me. He just went back inside and did whatever it was that he did. But even though nothing happened to me, I was still wound up for about five minutes and it felt like all the nerves in my body (especially my arms) were somehow taut and weak at the same time.

Aside from my sister, who is my only bright spot in this house, I don’t want to live with or have anything to do with this family anymore. I would’ve left years ago if I could. But again, I don’t have the means to do so at the moment.

This is why I’m leaving Tumblr.

I know that it’s super hard and almost impossible to make a decent living off the arts. I know I could try and try for the next decade and still not get anywhere I want to be. But I need to try, because I’m tired of my life being the way it is right now and I’m scared that things will never get better if I’m too passive.

I currently work at Walmart. I’m on my feet during the majority of my shift and my legs and knees hurt so bad I think I might be doing long lasting (but hopefully not permanent) damage to them. I work evenings, so I only have mornings and the weekends to get my art and writing done, but I’m so tired that my artistic productivity tends to drop off after Monday morning.

It’s too easy to spend my mornings and weekends procrastinating. It’s too easy for my life to turn into sleep>eat>Walmart>sleep>eat>Walmart until the day I die. The fact that it’d be so easy for me to be an old woman and still be at a similar stage in my life, even if I work my ass off trying to get my art/writing career going, fills me with so much existential dread I can hardly stand it.

But I’m tired of being so poor I could only visit my biological dad once while he was in the hospital for cancer. I’m tired of living with student loans that never seem to end. I’m tired of working at a job that demands so much of my time and energy. I’m tired of living in an area where people keep getting murdered in a less than a ten minute walk from my house. I’m tired of being afraid that I’ll come home from work and see police outside my house and body bags being taken into an ambulance. So I have to try, even if my chances of success are low.

I know I chose a bad career path for someone who wants to be financially comfortable. “Starving artist” is a stereotype that exists for a reason. But aside from it being my passion, I know I’m not good enough at anything else to make a proper living doing anything else. If I can’t make my dreams a reality, I’ll just be stuck in retail for the rest of my life, and I would honestly rather die than live like that. And I don’t want to die. Despite my anxiety and depression issues, despite the fact that I sometimes struggle with suicidal idealization, I don’t want to die. I just want my life to get better.

So when I say I’m leaving Tumblr, I don’t mean I’m just leaving Tumblr. I mean I’ll be using the internet as a whole for mainly a research/resource tool for my art and writing. Which means I’ll be spending very little time for leisure on the internet. It also means I won’t be socializing much anymore, which sucks because I like having internet friends (even though I’m bad at keeping in touch) but if I want my dreams to come true, I can’t be distracted by anything, even other people. From this point onward, I’ll essentially be working (almost) nonstop, only taking enough breaks so my brain doesn’t melt from the stress.

I know this is all very extreme, but I really haven’t fully expressed how absolutely desperate I am for my life to stop being so horrible. Maybe if I grind hard enough, things will be okay someday.

If you made it this far, thank you. And I’m sorry if I ever did anything to make you uncomfortable or hurt you in any way.

Goodbye everybody.

[swimmingnewsie]

Of Coffee and Cookies (Chapter 14)

...There was a reason I didn’t write fic in undergrad. But we keep pushing and keep going! Thank you for sticking with me and please enjoy this transitory chapter!

Link to AO3

---

Elsa’s head throbbed as she stared at her laptop. She knew there was work to be done, but the sight of her to-do list made her heart ache and stomach drop. Her mind was contorted with images and thoughts she didn’t want and certainly didn't need in this moment.

She took a deep breath, attempting to get some grasp on the anxiety that plagued her. Her worries came one after another after another. Anna was doing better than when they first arrived home, but Elsa couldn't help but be afraid she would regress any second. She knew that her sister didn't need her walking on eggshells; she knew that, but she couldn't help worrying anyway.

"She looks a lot more confident today."

Maren's words pulled her from her thoughts. They were working at the cafe, just like old times. Originally it was to help make Anna more comfortable going to work after the hearing; but if Elsa was honest with herself, it alleviated her own anxieties as well. Anna was safe, and no one was going to touch her on their watch. Even if it meant Elsa wasn't getting much of her own work done.

Elsa hummed in agreement. Talking was difficult today. It wasn't as bad as in her childhood when she would go silent for days or weeks at a time; but there was an old comfort in the silence. Words only cluttered her brain.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence was what let him destroy her. Silence kept her as his prisoner. Silence stopped anyone from helping.

"Elsa?"

Maren's voice brought her back again, releasing her from her thoughts. Elsa looked onward, desperately trying not to feel the anxiety coursing through her body. Her eyes squinted shut as if that were the key to shutting out her thoughts. Maren's hand was warm in here. A gentle squeeze helped center her, actually bringing herself back.

"I'm okay," she said hesitantly.

Maren gave her that look, the disbelieving look that Elsa was very familiar with. "You're not. You're shaking."

"Sorry." There wasn't anything else she could say. She hated worrying Maren like this, not when there were so many other things that she could be focusing on. "I'm okay, promise. We need to get our grading done."

"There's time for that later, snowflake. I'm more worried about you." Maren's expression softened, giving her another soft squeeze. "How many cups of coffee have you had today?"

Elsa groaned. Her caffeine habits had been a frequent argument lately. She knew it made her anxieties worse; she knew she should cut back. But it made her feel like there was some kind of control, some kind of power to get her work done. Even if it wasn't the healthiest manner.

She shook what was left of her americano- her standard with two extra shots. "Only number two," she admitted softly.

Maren sighed, looking at her. "That's still ten shots of espresso, Elsa. That's not healthy You know that." Elsa could practically see her girlfriend running the numbers in her head. "800 milligrams of caffeine is double what a healthy adult should have."

"Only 750," Elsa replied, giving a small shrug. "I ordered regular, not blonde."

"You aren't helping your case. When is the last time you slept properly?"

Elsa sighed. She knew it did her no good to lie, even if it left her pride in tact. "I'm still going to bed every night, I promise." It was the truth. She simply went to bed at midnight and was up by five the next morning. Sure, she was exhausted, but at least she had the semblance of getting something done in her long hours.

Maren gave her what Elsa affectionately referred to as her teacher look, soft yet firm. "You need to relax. I know the stress you're under but you don't have to bear it alone." Maren reached forward, taking the last of her coffee. "And we should probably switch you to decaf."

"Maren," she began to protest when her girlfriend threw away her coffee, but her resolve didn't last long. She wasn't sure if it was the caffeine, her exhaustion, or love, but Elsa's heart ached. And when Maren wrapped her arms around her, she was a goner. Tears of exhaustion and worry let themselves out without her consent.

And for once, Elsa didn't mind. Anna was busy with a customer, so she wouldn't see or worry. With Maren's arms wrapped around her, Elsa let her vulnerability bleed through. It was okay to let it go.

"Let's go home."

---

"You are insane."

"Oh come on! When's the last time you've climbed a tree?"

Kristoff shook his head with a smile. "When my knees didn't crack every time I bent down."

"That's far too long! Come on, old man! It'll be perfect."

"Old man?!" Before Kristoff could protest again, Ryder was off scrambling up the large oak. "You're an idiot!" he called up with a laugh, before following him up the tree.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," Ryder shouted down.

Climbing was harder than Kristoff remembered. Since he took the job at Mermaid's Siren all those years ago, he hadn't spent as much time out in the woods as he wanted. Walks with Sven were generally in city blocks these days compared to the winding fields he grew up on. This park, however, felt like home.

Ryder looked down at him, smile warm and eyes bright.

It felt like home in more ways than one.

Kristoff knew deep down that he and Ryder would not get back together. He knew that he needed to move on and continue to let Ryder grow in his own right. That their friendship, while deep, would never go back to those as lovers. He was getting there slowly, but some part of him still ached for the feeling of before.

"Come on, slowpoke!"

Kristoff laughed. "I'm coming! Not all of us are graced with your athletic gifts!"

Ryder laughed in return, settling on a study branch overlooking the large park. Soon enough Kristoff was beside him, taking in the warm sun. The view was enough to make him gasp. "Beautiful right?"

Kristoff nodded, relishing in the overwhelming feeling of peace. An orange glow cast over park, the sun preparing itself to set. It reminded him of being a kid, desperate to find where the sun went at night, chasing it until his mom called him and his brother in for the night. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Not as much as I used to. But when Dad took me and Mare to the park I always made a point to climb as high as I could. Helped me think sometimes," he shrugged. "And I figured we could both use a little help clearing our heads."

Kristoff scoffed. Of course Ryder could tell something was up. Then again, everything had been up since the trial. His mom called it a turning point in all of their lives, and that couldn't be more true.

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot, blondie," he teased.

The nickname made him smile. It wasn't too much, certainly not something he called him while they were dating, but it let Ryder be affectionate. And Kristoff would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

Kristoff sighed, swinging his legs back and forth. "Is this all that we're meant to be doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I've just felt stuck lately I guess. With everything that's happened, I feel like I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I don't want to be some stupid barista for the rest of my life you know? But I don't know what to be instead. I don't want to go back to school and I don't want to stay at Mermaid's and I don't know what a good option is anymore."

Working in retail wasn't thrilling for everyone if anyone, he knew that. The customers seemed to be getting worse and worse by the day, though. It was near impossible to put up with their new upper management, especially after all the crap they had given Anna over the hearing. But the benefits were good, and he was able to afford a crummy little apartment for himself. He couldn't throw it all away like it was nothing.

Kristoff picked at the bark. "I know it's stupid."

Suddenly Ryder's hand was on his. "It's not stupid. I understand. Not feeling where you're meant to be."

Kristoff raised his eyebrow. "You do?"

Ryder nodded, absentmindedly looking into the distance. "Especially with all this," he awkwardly motioned around his body, "I feel like there's somewhere... Something better for me."

Kristoff gave a nod, sighing. "I wish there was some easy fix for it all. Something to go by."

Ryder gave his hand a quick squeeze. "There may not be a guide to go by, but that doesn't mean you have to go it alone."

Kristoff gave a small huff of a laugh. "Yeah?"

He leaned in a bit, pressing forward. "Yeah. We'll both find out places."

Kristoff smiled leaning in himself. Was Ryder going to kiss him? Weren't they-

His balance fell out from under him, and with the help of quick reflexes, he was hanging upside down in the tree.

"Are you okay?!"

Ryder was hanging off the side of the tree reaching to give him a hand. Kristoff breathed in relief, panting from fear and embarrassment. Maybe he wasn't so good at reading the signs after all.

"...I'm good."

---

Anna rubbed at her eyes. It made sense to her that her nightmares had gotten worse, but it didn't make them any easier to manage. Nor was it any easier to go back to sleep after them. Hearing the sound of a clacking keyboard, she decided to get up and investigate.

Elsa was typing away feverishly on some report or other, her reading glasses practically falling off her face. A quick glance at the clock, told her it was time to intervene. They both needed sleep.

"Elsa?" she said quietly, trying not to spook her sister. Despite the efforts, her sister jumped. "Sorry, it's just me," she said softly.

Elsa's gaze softened as she turned to her. "It's okay. What are you doing up, sunshine?" she asked scooting over to give Anna some space on the couch.

Anna easily settled in, laying her head against Elsa's shoulder. "I should ask you the same thing," she said, pointing to the stacks of papers around them.

"I asked first," she said, taking her glasses off and resting against the couch.

"Same as always," Anna murmured, playing with the strings on her pajama pants. "Bad dreams about you-know-who."

"You want to talk about it? You know I'll listen."

Anna shook her head. Her sister had been a saint these last few weeks, but Anna didn't think it did her any good to ruminate on a dream she had already had three times this week. "Same one as last night. What's keeping you up?"

"Nothing really," Elsa shrugged. "A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Nothing important."

"Elsa..." She didn't believe her sister for a second. The day's makeup had worn off revealing dark baggy eyes. Not to mention it wasn't the first time she had heard Elsa typing late into the night. "Please don't hide this from me. We said no more secrets."

"First Maren, now you." Elsa sighed, giving Anna some relief. She wasn't going to hide this time. "I'm really behind on work is the issue. And my insomnia and anxiety seem to be conspiring against me," she mumbled.

Anna gave her own sad sigh. She couldn't help but feel like it was her fault. If all this hadn't happened, then her sister wouldn't be worrying her to sleeplessness. She wouldn't have been nearly as stressed or worried. She wouldn't-

"Hey," Elsa gave her hand a light squeeze, " don't blame yourself for my clerical errors."

"How did you-"

"I know that look, sunshine." Elsa poked her sister's nose, the same way their mama used to. Anna gave a small smile, enjoying the familiar comfort. "I promise, you don't need to worry about this. I can manage."

Anna's smile fell a bit. "You can, but you don't have to do it alone. You've done so much for me, how can I help you?"

"Anna, you really don't need to. I promise." Elsa gave a small yawn. "I'm okay."

Anna sighed, knowing this wasn't a battle she would win at the moment. But she could still help. "Will you lay down with me for a bit?" She saw the look of contemplation on her sister's face, weighing the pros of working versus sleeping. She couldn't help but feel happy when Elsa ultimately shut the laptop.

Soon they were both snuggled into Elsa's bed warm and content. Resting her head against Elsa's chest, Anna smiled. She had done something good, something right. And before she could even say her goodnight, she drifted off feeling better than she had in days.

[pensurfing]

Life Update(?) | What Is A “Job”?

**I can’t say I have a blog if I didn’t occasionally post things happening in my everyday life. Or even my thoughts for the matter. 

Plus, I would like to think that’s what the nice 50~60 something of you here follows me for (and others from other platforms who read these posts when I share them.)**

I left the job that kept me afloat for two years for another job that only kept me for five days. So I currently don’t have income coming in and that makes me paranoid to the core.

I guess why I’m back on my blog needing to map out my thought process is so that way I can soon see where I was and where I need to go. Where I guess I need to back up is the two and a half year struggle getting hired by someone and then that will help me (and you, whoever decides to skim this). Additionally, it’ll also explain why emotionally I am not here for Inktober anymore. It was a cute thought last month when I had time.

Let’s talk about the household: 

In the black community, it is unmistaken that unless you have a job that brings income to the house you stay in you are considered useless. As harsh as it is, it is prominent in an abundance of black households, especially in lower-income households. Click here to read a very mapped out explanation of ‘why this is as common as it is’ post by Brenton Mock. This is the statistics and history of why it’s a common thing and why kids (now young adults) who grew up in the same neighborhoods can sing the same song. Now mix this in with a generation of parents who guilted their children their entire lives with ‘I’m the reason you’re alive today and you should be on your knees thanking me’, it’s no wonder you have black teens with depression and this is just a small stem of where it originates. 

(See here about feeling like your life is one big IOU by Arah Iloabugichukwu) 

(See here about black teen and young adult suicide rates) And this link (at the time I posted it) is only H O U R S old. 

I posted these links here because: If you’re a black young adult like me, or even a teen, articles like these made me feel less alone in the world. It broke down “why I can’t seem to catch a break AND why I can’t seem to talk to my mother about it.” If I was depressed, I better go depress dem dishes and think about how lucky I am to have a roof over my head. I wasn’t allowed to have other emotions besides gratefulness and contentment. Those were ‘white’ emotions my house couldn’t afford. I wasn’t dying or being abused (at the time) so I had nothing to complain about, doing so made me “ungrateful” and selfish and having a good point in any “argument” (really discussion) was “disrespectful”. It also made communication nonexistent. It’s easier to just bottle it up than express your feelings and have it gaslit as something off-topic. See here for toxic parental traits and how to help yourself set boundaries. 

So now with all this provided to give a drop of retrospect to the home mentality of having a job, it’s a bit clearer as to why I’ve felt so useless and worthless the past couple of weeks. (A week and two days, but I swear it’s been two months with how time works now.) I’m not working at someone’s establishment and that has, therefore, made me the most worthless piece of filth. (God why am I still mean to me? Jesus.)

A bit over two years ago, I had to leave the retail job I held at the time because they told me and I quote: “You need to pick between your degree and job.” So I left. They even asked me in a somewhat “exit interview” was my two-week notice a joke? (Insert “I left them like it was funny” joke here.) Since getting hired by a company has been a long-held struggle I don’t like to admit to myself. Or even talk about it. So now I’m writing about it instead. I struggled to find another company that will allow me to put art as my second option. I’ve learned that it’s best to not let jobs know about your hobbies, interests, or dreams like they ask you in the interview. You can and will be let go because of them. And so far, letting my employers know I have dreams outside of selling their soaps and lotions, or just being the smiling face at the door or a hotel isn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life has cost me. I had dog walking with an app service that I stuck with for a couple years, but in recent months, seeing them changes their terms and agreements for walkers and cutting pay 40 - 60% isn’t something I can standby and agree to. I left for another job, and because they found this out, the found reasons to let me go. And they did. 

So back to the present:

So I’ve been at home. What does it feel like to be let go? 

In the beginning, shit. It felt like absolute shit. I questioned what I did wrong, what didn’t I see; I then saw flaws in both the job and people as well. I saw how I just drew the short straw in what happens when an employer hires too many. I was broken a bit because now I’m left wondering; where is money going to come from now? How can I eat? When will I be able to draw again if I don’t have a job to support at least paying for the program(s) I use? (F*%# Adobe Creative Cloud but that is an entirely different rant conversation.) 

Then there came peace. (Short-lived because my mom wants me to see “family” but to be extremely blunt, I sure as hell don’t want to see them.)

The peace came a few days later. I cleaned a bit more. Cooked food and had the time and energy to; I was able to clean my living spaces that I allowed to get very junkie very quickly. Now it’s just a matter of if I’m left alone entirely for another week and produce new pieces for my portfolio, would I be able to get more art work? For years, always needing to have a job otherwise I couldn’t pursue art has cost me more than help. Yeah, I can buy supplies and such. But because I couldn’t study and only did the bare minimum just so I can pass and have a degree. Now, I have a couple weeks to get something of my act together and draw some pieces so I can look for more illustration work and put that first. (If allowed, like in a prior link provided, with my mom it’s either “my way or the highway”. Becoming homeless is slowly not scaring me anymore because this threat is used so much now I’m numb to it.)

So this is the emotional ride I’ve had for like ten days. It’s been stressful. But also in a weird way, freeing. Hopefully, I’ll be left alone and will see my grandmother another time. Pray that I get a job that won’t hate me for being a boring clean slate. 

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[[TRD: I let go of a job and had one let go of me. All happened within a week's span. I write out why I think I’m in such a depression funk by evaluating the environment I have always been engulfed in, and trying to talk myself into wanting to make choices for me and not others.]]

[the-next-miss-american-trash]

Junior year of highschool, i remember seeing the top 50 of our school be introduced during the graduation ceremony. I saw my friends go up there, and i was suddenly hit with the grievance that i should have been up there. I would have been up there. With my friends, feeling some sort of pride. But depression killed me academically. So much so that i cried, and my mom thought it was out of fear that i wouldn't graduate.

Come my graduation, and as I'm sitting through the ceremony, through pictures, i felt absolutely empty. There was nothing special about it. It wasn't a celebration of me completing school and starting a new chapter of my future. I was hollow and empty. And eventually i swiftly made up my credits in summer school and got the stupid dingy diploma.

But i was angry with the education system and i was angry at myself. Disappointed in myself. Sad for myself. I couldn't fathom a college education, if i was still in a depressive funk, and would/could fail myself immediately because of my bad habits i formed. I lied, said I'd have a gap year then go. Then two years. Then my older sister semi-convinced, mostly enforced i go and enlisted me- because I'm a person who won't do anything until forced to do it.

I tried for two weeks. It felt good at first, and then i missed my first assignment. And then, i missed a class. And then outside stuff made me break down, and i missed more classes and more assignments. When i finally got encouraged by my sister again to try, i returned to a class to find that i was cut from it. The teacher was brutal and she meant it. This killed me. Eventually, i dropped my drama class as well. And i completely avoided anything dealing with school.

Then the problem with jobs. I couldn't dream of a career that was actually sustainable. I couldn't see a future for so long, just things i wished for. I couldn't get into tv, i wasted 1k on a stupid entrance fee, only to find out we couldn't do the follow up stages that would have me travel even farther, as a fucking kid of course i was stupid. Theater was frowned upon by my parents, you know, the kind of frowned upon where they were like "we support you, but is that really going to make you money? We really want you to follow your dreams, but our circumstances are leading us to homelessness and-" yadda yadda that's another story, but it's what my mind got stuck with. And all this experience i got in high school from devoting my passion to the arts doesn't really qualify me for anything "normal". At least, i never felt qualified.

When i was 15 i did a summer job. Just one summer. I was mentally well at the time. I did janitorial service, and did okay. Hated waking up early. Terrified me when the woman in charge of me began sending me to do stuff on my own, trying to get me to build initiative. I managed decently well. Being the baby of the group of volunteers. Then the summer was over. I don't remember anything about financial handlings, or realize that i should have kept records of me actually working. So unfortunately, i can't actually use it as reference or proof that i have experience working.

But anyways, i remember hating waking up early so much, the anxiety that i felt every. single. morning. doing my runs. That it instilled a fear of working in me. A fear of responsibility. Then come a few summers later, i try the program again. They had an option to look for jobs in theaters, only to tell me they meant to get rid of that ages ago. So i said just put me in butt fucking whatever. I get an interview for some desk secretary call answering person job- i don't know what the fuck it was- but the moment i learned that i would have to answer phones calls, and that i lied about some skills i had that invariably led me to landing the job and scheduling the Monday i was supposed to come in, i freaked out. Panicked, i pulled the same trick as always and just ghosted. Never showed for the job. Avoided any calls. And said i was no longer interested in the program. My social anxiety was peak at this time.

AND THEN, sprinkled about through the years i volunteered as a cabin leader for science camp (i think a total of four times?), and my friend started working there. They mentioned i work there too, and the idea actually appealed to me. I legitimately saw myself working there, I'm playful with children, i love nature, I'd be working with my friend so i wouldn't be alone. Did the interview, went really well, sometime after they sent a confirmation email! They just needed me to confirm when I'd like to start.

And then all my insecurities came crashing down on me.

I remembered that the only reason I wanted to be cabin leader was to go back to science camp and experience that magical feeling i had as a child when i looked up into the stars, when we'd sit around a candle in the dark, when we danced and sang and the wonderful food and games. I wanted to be the child. I remember my first group of girls were great, but then i remembered the anxiety of not knowing where to go sometimes, or the time i couldn't get a group of collective kids to calm down and i felt anger and a loss of control instead of patience. I remembered, in my final time being there and being in charge of boys- thinking i could handle it- that on the first night i couldn't get them to sleep so i slumped at my bed and dissociated until a guy showed up and they were quiet in an instance. And then later on when i was getting fed up because they wouldn't line up to go out for breakfast, i realized my screaming at the boys made one of them cry, and that i was doing this all wrong. I quickly switched it up to a softer tone, a more cooperative one, and they calmed down.

I came to understand that while I'm a playful person, and an understanding one when it comes to kids, i am by no means able to take care of them. So what would happen if i let my anger and impatience get the better of me? I don't want to scare the kids, or give them a bad experience.

And i also came to understand that i can't say no. When my friend reassured me that'd it'd be okay to decline- this one night we hung out at another friend's house- but i should at least respond to them, because i had gotten several emails by then asking for confirmation. And as i stared at that laptop screen, overwhelmed with the desire to want to be better, to take on responsibility, but overpowered by the fear of it, of not being good enough, of saying no, i broke down in tears.

My friends had never seen me break down before, so i think they were justifiably worried and scared, because i couldn't speak, i couldn't move, couldn't type, couldn't stop crying. We just left afterwards i think. And i think sometime after, i just answered as generically as i could and declined.

And since then, I've become terrified of doing the same damn thing. Because while my mental health has improved slightly, I'm still no better. In fact, I'm even worse when it comes to that stuff. I'm terrified of starting commissions because I'm terrified of what i don't know how to do. I'm terrified of getting retail or food jobs because of social anxiety. Im terrified of jobs with less social contact because I'm scared of having to only rely on myself and not seeking out help. My self esteem for even applying is below 0. I've lost my ability to even be a reliable person, the one thing i had going for me that i didn't want to be. I don't want to get a job because I'm the only person available to actually babysit my nephews, but i don't even want to do it anymore! And if i don't, my parents will have to, taking them away from looking around for places to live because we might have to leave again for the 3rd time in a row in the past five years! Because both my sister and her husband work, so they need someone. and then because we can't afford rent, we can't afford a house, my dad lost his job, I'm not working, my mom can't work, my little sister works food,my brother needs stuff for highschool, I'm fucking losing my mind being dead weight!

And STILL. Despite ALLLLL this. Despite ALL the motivational talks, the teary eyed talks, the serious talks. Nothing. Motivates me to work. To do school. To do something. Well, maybe only one, and i ruined that chance. To go see my boyfriend. The one good thing to happen to me. That i want nothing more than to get better for. And here am I am, still not doing anything.

I gave up years ago. How am I supposed to take back my life now.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

‘Tis the season to be jolly

Y/N works in a bookshop, and Christmas is getting closer, which means that the amount of idiot customers increase tenfold. Just a fluffy Sam x reader that popped into my head the other day.

All these customer situations are self-experienced. It’s a wonder I haven’t committed murder yet. Also, I wish I had a Sam to help me through the days sometimes (all right, all the time). Oh, the joys of working in retail.

Word count: 3649

“…and you should be ashamed of yourself for not having it in stock! It’s a bestseller! Everyone is talking about it.” The woman huffed as she finished her rant, and looked at me like I was hiding the book just to spite her: mistrust and condescension poured from her in huge waves.

Smiling as sweetly as I possibly could while swallowing every inappropriate answer I wanted to give, I simply shook my head lightly. “I’m sorry, ma’m, but the book really is out of print, as it’s no longer new –“ how I didn’t blurt out that it was old as balls was a mystery “– and didn’t sell as well as the publisher hoped.” It was the fourth time repeating my answer to her – she was persistent, and not a tiny bit stupid. I refrained from informing her in a shouty voice that it was almost as old as me, and in no way a bestseller – nor a classic. Not then, and certainly not now.

“This is an outrage!” the woman bellowed, eyes bulging and a vein threatening to burst on her forehead. “I will send an email to your boss about this!”

I breathed slowly in, then I repeated: “But you will get the same answer from her. It has been discontinued, and it is impossible for me to order it. Maybe you’ll find a used copy online? If you’re lucky,” I added with a friendly shrug.

She glared at me and left without another word.

“Have a nice day,” I shouted after her, but even I could hear the false layer coating my voice. She’d just wasted twenty minutes I could have used to help other customers.

“Hey, Y/N. What was that all about?” The soft voice behind me made me smile despite my horrible mood.

“Oh, heya, Sam.” He was my favourite customer, just about the only one who treated me with respect, and even kindness now just before Christmas. And we were friends, sorta. Or something like that – anyway, we were a bit beyond the employee/customer relationship, ever since I helped him find a book on ancient gods and goddesses, and it turned out he needed it to save my aunt from some stupid deal she’d made ages ago.

After that, we’d started talking whenever he stopped by my small shop, and every time he left I regretted not gathering enough courage to ask him out for a coffee – or beer; whatever, really. I desperately wanted to get to know him better.

And now he stood in front of me wearing that stupid beanie, and that stupid grin, making me all weak and gooey on the inside.

“So what’s up with Miss Grumpyface?”

I exhaled quickly through my nose. “Nothing much. She wanted a book she claimed is a bestseller, only it has been out of print for the last thirty years. What can I help you with today, Sam?”

He chuckled quietly. “Man, I’m glad I don’t have your job. She looked ready to kill a man.”

“They usually do,” I replied while pulling up the search engine on my computer. “Just in to keep me company, or after something special? Not that I’m complaining.”

His smile was mischievous, but he paused before saying anything. “Well… actually…” He paused again, and sniffed. “Uh, you know what? Can you check if there are any books on newer rituals of –“

“Excuse me!” A new woman slid in from the side, holding a large box.

“Just a moment,” I answered with a horribly fake smile – one day my face would be incapable of showing genuine joy, I was certain of it. “I’ll get to you once I’ve helped –“

She continued as if I’d never spoken. “What is this?”

Giving Sam an apology by way of a silent gaze, I turned to face the lady. She was holding up a box of chess. “Um, what do you mean?”

“What. Is. This?” she asked again, shaking the box with each word. The chess pieces rattled violently.

“It’s… uh, it’s a chess game.”

“Yes, I can see that. But is it the game?” she asked, completely serious, looking like she doubted I knew what I was talking about.

Frowning slightly, I nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“So what is in the box?”

My brain stopped for a moment, and I looked at her with despair in my eyes. “A chess board game.”

“So it’s the whole game?”

I swallowed my instinctive response in favour of a confused smile. “Yes. It is the whole game. Complete –

“But… what does it contain?”

Was she serious? I considered looking around for some laughing camera guy, but then I remembered what I’d learned from working in a shop for over ten years.

I took the box from her and turned it over so she could see the picture of a ready game. The pieces rattled loudly again. “Says here it contains one wooden board, thirty-two wooden pieces, and one clock –“

“Oh, so it does have a board too? It is complete?”

Resisting the urge to slam my face on the counter, or even slap her with the box, I just nodded again. “Yes. Yes it’s… complete.”

“Well, it should be clearly marked,” she replied, finally satisfied with my answer.

When she left, I found Sam staring at me with huge eyes. “Wow!” he mouthed.

“I know.” Rubbing my face, I leaned back and watched him through almost closed eyes. “I need a break. Preferably a long holiday.”

“Just a few days left and then it’s Christmas,” Sam said with a sheepish smile. “Weren’t you going to have a couple of days off then?”

“Five days, three hours, and…” I checked my watch. “Fourteen minutes.”

“Well, there you go. Well, I won’t keep you from your job any longer. See you around, Y/N.”

“Uh, see ya, Sam.” His sudden departure puzzled me. Something about his expression, and the hesitation about the book… it felt weird, but I couldn’t place my finger on just what. And I didn’t have time to ponder long – the shop was filled with customers, and just before lunch the Schenker man delivered four pallets with a wicked smile and a promise that he had three more on the car.

Before I knew it, the day had passed, and it was time to go home and collapse on my sofa. And just maybe dream a little bit about Sam while I was at it. Luckily for me, I had the late shift the next day, which meant a chance to catch up on a little sleep.

When I opened the back door and shook off the snow from my shoulders, Jamie grinned at me through his reheated pasta. “Good you’re here. Bea’s been scaring the new cashier again today.”

Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “Jeez. She’s here? But I’m already exhausted!”

“Sorry.” Jamie shrugged and didn’t look sorry at all. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, but not enough. Is that leftovers from yesterday’s leftovers?” I peered into his bowl with a frown.

He held it up, and the smell hit my nostrils with force. “Uh-huh. Want some?”

My stomach turned. “No thanks. I prefer to live through the day, thanks.” I pinched my nose and headed for the lockers.

“Ha ha. Very funny. Wait, Y/N, that tall dude was asking for you again.”

“Huh? Tall dud – oh. Sam.” I grinned widely. Everyone in the store knew I had a thing him. “Did he say what it was?”

“Nah. Said he’d come back later.”

I automatically checked my watch. It was later now, wasn’t it? Exhaling through my nose, I put away my coat and purse, cringing slightly over how pathetic I felt; drooling over a customer like that. But then again, the hope that Sam would come back later might just get me through the day.

The moment I closed the break room door behind me, a cold hand grabbed my arm and tugged. When I turned, I had to look down to see the owner: a grandfatherly looking old man with big glasses and a walking stick.

“I’m looking for a book,” he said, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but the book shop.

I gave him my best, helpful expression. “Wonderful. You’ve definitely come to the right place. What book are you –“

“It’s by a woman.”

I felt the will to live leave my body. It was too early for this shit. “Right. Do you remember her name?”

“She travels a lot.”

“Uh-huh. Um, then is it a travel book?” I asked, heading towards the travel section.

The man sighed and all but rolled his eyes. “No! It’s by a woman who travels a lot. Do you have it?”

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I answered: “Well, sir, I’m afraid I need a bit more information. Do you remember anything else? Parts of the title? Or her name?” I tried to wring my brain, but nothing stuck out. I had no idea who he was talking about.

“She travels. A lot,” he repeated, as if I was exceptionally slow.

“I am sorry,” I said, smiling to underline it, “but I need more if I’m going to find out what book you’re looking for.”

He looked around, as if what I was asking for was beyond reasonable; his eyes landed on Sam, and he nodded, wanting support for his outrage. When he got none, his face soured even more, and he huffed and turned to leave. “Well, you’ve been no help at all!” he growled, and swept out of the shop like a fairytale step-mom.

“Wow,” Sam laughed. “You really should have known what he was talking about.”

My heart leapt, but I managed a neutral expression when I turned to him. “Yeah. Actually, I did,” I replied with a wink. “But I like to send people out of my shop without buying anything.”

A woman tapped my hand. “Excuse me, can you help me find a book?”

I twirled on the spot. “Certainly. What are you after?”

“I’m looking for a birthday gift for my grandson,” she said with a wide smile.

I relaxed and smiled back, watching Sam raising an eyebrow over her shoulder.

“Physics book.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to buy a physics book for him.”

“Um, alright. I’m sure we can find something that…” I trailed off. Who gives physics books as birthday gifts? “How old is he? We’ve got, uh, some physics and geography books over here, but if you need something more… advanced, we’ve got a fair selection of science books back by the international shelves.” The woman looked a bit young to have adult grandchildren, but you never knew. She could be older than she looked.

“He’s only six,” she beamed, puffing her chest out like a rooster. “But he’s SO smart. I think, if you have a high school level one, that will do. He’s so clever, you know. And super interested in science. Yesterday he even talked about stuff I’ve never heard of.” Her whole body softened, and it looked like she was about to start crying. “My genius boy.”

Not knowing what to say, I grimaced and led her to the shelf with school books, where she picked out the most boring looking she could possibly find. After she paid for it, and I wrapped it, making sure to stick a return note inside, I whispered to my stunned co-worker: “That one’s coming back in a few hours. I just know it.” (And sure enough, just before closing time, an exasperated woman came charging through the doors, holding the book in front of her like a dead bird.

“My mother’s an idiot,” she said with an amused chuckle. “Is it possible for me to return this?”

I nodded and scanned the book. “Of course. Do you want a new book, or just store credit?”

“Do you have the new Wimpy Kid?”

“Of course. Let me find it for you.”)

Sam chuckled from the other side of the row of cardboard Christmas card displays. He really had the cutest little nose wrinkle. Oh jesus! I was in deep. I was just about to make my way back to him when a shrill voice interrupted my train of thoughts.

“Y/N! Darling, baby!”

I flinched from the sharp sound, but just managed to plaster a huge grin on my face before Bea stepped into my view. She’d scared all the employees so much that they scattered like terrified mice once they heard her footsteps – heels clicking over the tiles like drums of doom. But for some unknown reason, she liked me.

Over her shoulder, Sam mouthed: “I’ll be back later.”

I nodded, but felt my heart sink. It didn’t look like a kind of day where I was going to have time to talk to him at all.

Five hours later I just about had it… After unloading eight fucking pallets of board games all alone because my coworkers couldn’t be arsed to help me, I was absolutely exhausted. Kneeling to refill the lowest shelves, I heard someone cough behind me, and I looked up into the benign face of a smartly dressed man in his fifties.

Feeling too tired to get all the way to my feet, I just straightened my back and turned towards him. “What can I help you with?”

There was a sound like a giggle – muted, but definitely there, and I squinted.

“I just need the pen over there,” the man said politely, and then he added: “Wow, you’re just on the right level…” He let the statement fizzle out, but it was clear what he meant, and it made my head boil.

“Yeah, to stab you in the Achilles,” I thought, but instead I smiled sweetly. “Let me get out of your way.”

“Oh no, by all means. The view is nice,” he replied.

I almost lost it, and though me yelling at him wouldn’t cost me my job, it would definitely lead to unpleasantries with my boss, but someone beat me to it.

“Hey, back off, creep!”

Breathing a bit easier, I turned to see a furious Sam glare at the man. I’d never been happier to see him.

The customer puffed himself up, but deflated pretty fast when he noticed who was calling him out. He cleared his throat, grabbed the pen he wanted and hurried towards the register.

I got to my feet and shot a tired grimace after the man, before facing Sam again. “Thanks. You saved me from a few years in prison just there.”

“My pleasure,” he replied with a wink that almost made me sink to my knees again. “But seriously, do people really do shit like that?”

“More than you think. And that was pretty harmless too.”

He looked absolutely disgusted. “You mean this has happened before?”

His innocence made me giggle. “Of course. Several times. This week I’ve had to tell off creeps five times.”

Sam gaped.

I blew air through my nose and nodded. “It’s been a rough week. Probably because all the weirdoes crawl out from under their rocks now. Since it’s Christmas and all.”

“Yeah. Everybody has to come out into society now.” He paused. “Um, listen, Y/N, I –“

Just then, the bell rang. “Hold that thought,” I said, nodding towards the register. “I gotta go help out. But I’ll be back before you can finish that thought.”

The queue was longer than a hard year, and as if that wasn’t enough, the phone started ringing, and it just wouldn’t stop. Silently I cursed it – the earsplitting sound was beginning to give me a headache too – as if trudging over hard concrete and tiles every day and ruining my feet wasn’t enough.

As soon as the stream of customers paused, I snatched the wretched thing and pressed the green button with more force than strictly necessary. “The Little Bookshop, this is Y/N speaking. How may I help you?”

“About time!” a woman on the other end of the line spat. “I’ve been calling for ages!”

Scrunching my eyes closed, I mustered all I had of self-control. “I’m sorry, miss, but we’re very busy today. The queue wound all around the store just now. But I’m here now. What can I do for you?”

“Yeah, about that. I’ve been trying to reach the hardware store next door, but they seem to have switched off their phone. Can you go in there so I can talk to them?”

I actually looked at the phone in disbelief. Was she joking? “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t do that,” I began, steeling myself to explain how incredibly NOT okay it would be for me to leave the store right now.

“Well, can you at least tell them to switch their phone on again?”

Just then, one of the employees next door walked by, and I flagged him down and asked – hoping I looked very apologetic – “Having phone troubles today?”

He nodded. “Yeah. The phone isn’t working because it’s updating. It’s bliss!” He continued on his way, and I relayed his answer to the woman and hung up. By now the queue had grown to epic proportions again.

“Excuse me? Miss! Excuse me. My daughter spilled her milkshake over there.” She came in from the side, and normally I’d’ve asked her to wait, but the magic words “spilled” and “milkshake” were incompatible with my paper heart, and my head spun so fast I almost hurt my neck.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, and her was twisted in such embarrassment, that I felt bad for her as she held up two books that were dripping with pink strawberry shake.

These things happen occasionally, so I nodded and finished my last customer. “Don’t worry,” I replied. “Let me take those. Just be more careful next time.”

“Thank you. I will.”

One of my coworkers took over my register, and I took the books and went over to the table to inspect the damage while the woman left the store – without a daughter, I noticed.

The sight that met me brought an oath to my mouth. Two books wasn’t the entire damage. Oh no. A full milkshake had been emptied over the table, wrecking books for at least 200 dollars. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I went to fetch a bag and something to clean with.

“Need help?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I replied, handing the bag to Sam. “A woman just destroyed four stacks of books. A couple would’ve been okay,” I said after rescuing another stack threatened by the expanding puddle of sugary goop, “but if I’d known she’d killed this many, I’d’ve made her pay for them – or at least some of them.”

Sam nodded and reached for a cloth to help me. “I don’t understand why people drink inside shops anyway.”

“And eat,” I said with a grim look. “Did I ever tell you about that time I followed the trail of a customer by the chicken bones they’d dropped on the floor?” The memory made me wince. I remembered seeing him eat while he browsed, but assumed he put the bones back in the bag or something. I almost threw up when I found the remains later that evening; scattered on the floor as he’d wandered through the store.

“Ew,” Sam grimaced. “People are disgusting.”

“Tell me about it,” I said and threw another book into the garbage bag. “Speaking of disgusting: how’s business going?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” he replied, tilting his head. “Just finished a case up in Ohio last week. Got messy, but I’ve still got all my fingers. Dean does too. Was a close shave, though.”

I let out my breath as I realised I was staring. It dawned on me how scared I was that something was to happen to him. “Thank you,” I said, knowing he didn’t hear that nearly as often as he ought to. “Thank you for keeping us safe –“

“You’re in the army?” and older man interrupted, patting Sam on the arm. “Thank you for your service, sir.” Satisfied with his good deed of the day, the man scuttled off to pay for the treasures he’d found.

“Huh,” Sam chuckled. “That was a new one.” He swallowed hard. “Hey, I was… uh, wondering… you see, I really, ah, like you – you’ve probably noticed me hanging around. This is a bad time. Oh god, I probably look like one of those creeps –“

Shaking my head, I offered him my most sincere smile, the one reserved to friends, and never offered to customers. “You’re nothing like them.” I actually like having you around, I almost added, but thought better of it.

Sam breathed deeply and beamed at me. “’Cause… I’d love to… to take you out, to show you that not everyone is horrible. I mean, you deserve to have some fun before Christmas too. If, if you want to.”

My head spun. Here he was: the man of my dreams, awkwardly asking me out. I searched my brain for a suave and seductive reply, but what came out of my mouth sounded like burping frog followed by a too fast “What, like a date?” I mentally slammed my head on the counter.

“Yeah, like a date. If you want to. I would like to get to know you better.” Sam seemed to have rediscovered his confidence, and the aura around him almost made me tremble.

“Uh-huh. I mean, yes! I very much would like to better you too. I mean… oh screw it. Yes. Take me on a date,” I fumbled, but somewhere inside me a spark of courage rose, and before I could stop myself, I added: “handsome man.”

A flash of pale pink spread over his cheeks. “Awesome. How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up here around eight?”

“Perfect!” I grinned, already panicking over what I should wear.

Tagging my sweet friends:

@awesomeahwu @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @fandomismyspiritanimal @barneybrigade  @mogaruke @wstrumpel @whovianextrodinare @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @iamreadinginsecret

 For some reason there’s a few of you I can’t tag anymore. Sorry.

[cfleury315-blog]

I Have a Purpose. Just Tell Me What It Is.

I miss the provider role. I know that sounds misogynistic like the next few lines should say with a slight twang to my voice, “I feel less of a man because I don’t bring home the bacon. Instead, my wife brings it home, and I’m expected to fry it up.” No. I miss working. I miss making my own money. I miss the simplicity of going to the nine to five and contributing to the good old Canadian dream. I don’t miss what I did, working with blisters or burnt hands isn’t my kind of fun. Plus, I had to work with powdered lead, and really, nobody should have to take the risk with that stuff. Nevertheless, I guess what I am saying, I miss having a purpose.

The last time I had an economic sense of purpose was, I guess, about four years ago. I worked for a company named Activation Laboratories. They specialize in rock sampling. Basically, survey companies would go out and drill in various spots in the countryside looking for expensive, well, rocks. They would send us their samples, and we would process them. It isn’t as glamorous as I make it out to be. You stood in one spot feeding a machine all day. It crushes the core into pebbles; then another device turns it into dust. From there, it’s bagged, tagged, and sent to me. I take the sample and measure it, stick it in a cup full of lead, and set it on fire. After that, the fire melts everything into tiny sliver lead beads, and I put them into a test tube. I don’t know what happens after that; that kind of information was above my pay grade.

I assume you’re thinking, “Really, you miss being drenched in lead and sticking your hands into a hot molten furnace?” No. I miss the paycheck. Slightly above minimum wage, but, after taxes, all mine. You need to understand, I earned my money like all slavery-wagers do, with good old fashion blood, sweat, and tears. Yes, there were tears. You don’t suffer from second-degree burns and not shed squirts of salty sorrow. I may be masculine, but pain is pain, and second-degree burns are the worst.

The problem with low skill tertiary labour is the lack of job security. The work depended solely on supply and demand, so if there is no demand, employers don’t supply the work. Therefore, lay-off season was roughly every four to six months and lasted anywhere between two to four months. Employment insurance is dependent on the amount you pay into, and if you close out your EI claim from the last time you were laid-off, you must go through the entire process again. A six-week waiting period and all. I was foolish enough to close my claim because the EI benefit website does not tell you to keep your application open just in case you get lay-off again. With that realization, I felt this moment of sudden dread when my boss gave me a pink-slip. My mind kept running through moving pictures of the worst-case scenarios leading to the hardest question I had to answer, “What am I going to do now?” I was the sole provider. The fire that kept the pilot light burning. But without the oxygen compensating my flame, we were in cold water.  

At this point, I had been through a fist full of jobs since coming to Thunder Bay, and quite frankly, besides Act. Labs., the only thing I’m significantly qualified to perform is cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, and wiping tables. I didn’t want to go back to that again. Nevertheless, being the provider, I had no choice but to find something. Anything. So, I laced up my worn-out sneakers and hit the streets with a bag-pack full resume.

Guess what? Businesses don’t accept walk-ins anymore. They kept turning me away with the same explanation: “We can’t take your resume, you need to submit it online,” said the receptionist from the Public School Board. Skeptically my eyes narrowed as I looked passed her thick frames into her formal stare. I shook my head in disbelief and replied, “Really? But your ad says you are looking for someone right now. So here I am, with my resume in hand, and ready to work.” In hindsight, I should have kept my tone a little less snippy, but earlier that day, I had that same conversation with the customer service representative in Walmart. “Sorry sir, you have to submit your resume online,” the receptionist reiterated arrogantly. Her composure was like thick ice, cold and transparent. She was professional, and I was some fool off the street.

After a few anxious weeks with a cell phone stuck to my hand, I came to realize that the job market wasn’t going to give me a break. There was nothing out there for an uneducated labourer. The only interview I had was with the Econo Lodge Hotel. I walked in with ten years of experience cleaning up other people’s messes, so working for a two-bit drive-in Hotel, I’m not too proud to say, I was over-qualified for the housekeeping position. However, the interview lasted five minutes and I left feeling uneasy. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the manager was a pretty nice guy, but I got the impression he was trying to convince me that this position wasn’t for me. His exact words were, “You know this is a cleaning position. The work doesn’t involve any heavy lifting or fixing furniture.”  I thought, “Hey, that sounds awesome.” I replied, “I know, that’s why I’m here. I’m a cleaner.” The manager looked at me like I was from Venus. I went on to tell him, “I would be a great asset to your company. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and I’m no stranger to hard work.” (Cliché after cliché after cliché) “As you can see on my resume, I know how to use a carpet shampooer, plus, I’ve done minor floor covering, so I know how to fix wear and tear.” The manager just nodded and smiled without any attempt to feign interest. He finished the interview with a shake of my hand and an assurance I’d be hearing from him in the following week. However, a week later, I found out from an old colleague that she has gotten the job. I asked her how; she chuckled as she said, “I’m a woman. Companies don’t like to hire men to do housekeeping.” You’ve got to be kidding me. She laughed uncontrollably at my naivety, and tried to comfort me by saying, “You should try the school board or the restoration places. They have good wages and they have more labour intensive work for a strong guy like you.”

My mind raced with this old information. Why did the Econo Lodge even bother calling me in for an interview, if he was going to end up conforming to traditional gendered roles? Does having a male name on the interview log sheet give a perception of gender diversity? The difference between my friend and me is not our work ethic.

I had never thought about the differences between the sexes as being anything more than biological. There were the old schoolyard stereotypes, yet, as far as I knew, real life didn’t replicate recess. I was living in the real world. The adult world. The world my teachers explained we are all equal. We lived in a democratic society built upon principles of morality, liberty, and justice for all. I thought about any kinds of inequalities because I was living in the twenty-first century and gender-politics should be an archaic notion. My wife and I have always lived equally. We both worked. We both looked after the house. We both took part in the child-rearing responsibilities. Having been denied work because the job involves a male performing domestic chores is completely backward.

Somberly, I turned to my wife and said, “I give up.” At that moment, I knew what I was implying. She didn’t. She looked at me curiously, her eye rapidly blinking as she spoke, “What do you mean?” I wanted to tell her that I was giving up what society defines as a man. I officially cracked under pressure. I was handing in my provider card, and taking a vacation. Instead, I told her, “I think I’m going to have to try McDonald's.” Those words slide out of my mouth, which tasted like stale, salty french fries, and regression. We sat on the couch in silence for a long time before she finally answered the hard question: “Why don’t I look for a job?”

Shockingly, her statement made a lot of sense, and why didn’t we think about this before? The simple answer: We had, but the retail market has no set hours so we would be working at all hours of the day and had no one to look after our kids. Our two oldest children were in school, but our youngest child was three years old at the time, and he would need daycare. That’s the other problem; daycare costs are astronomical. A licensed daycare cost $40-$70 a day, and the waiting lists are long. However, unlicensed daycares charge $25-35 a day, and well let's say, you get what you pay. Either way, if both of us are working, one of us would be working to pay for the daycare, which doesn’t make economic sense.

Being the product of our generation, we both believed that she should stay home to look after the kids because mothers are naturally nurturing, and they need her more than me. I had to work because I was told it was my responsibility to support my family, and I failed miserably.  But, my wife’s idea of going back to work was our only choice. She was more qualified than me. She has a high school degree and is a certified Personal Support Worker.

Within a few weeks of our conversation on the couch, she was working in Respite care and making double what I was making at Activation Laboratories. I settled into a life of domesticity. One thing I’ll have to admit: I love every single minute of it. Cleaning up the house took me an hour on most days, (two to three if I felt constructive) the rest of the time I got to play around with my son. We went on long walks to the park and the library. We chased each other around, or we laid in the sun reading a book. When my other two children came home from school, we would sit at the dinner table and help each other with homework. Then, we all pitched in with some chores. Most of the time, my wife would come home and not have to lift a finger, but there would be days when she would take the kids off my hands while I made dinner. I would be chopping some lettuce and thinking about how beautiful everything turned out. The window in front of me had a perfect view of the strawberries my son, and I had planted together. I smiled at the western sun shining off the vibrant red fruit, and I thought, “Wow, I’m actually managing to keep them alive.”

Suddenly, I felt a sting on my right butt cheek, and I turned to meet my wife’s playful gaze. “Hey dear, your butt feels more jiggly than usual.” As my knife sliced through the cucumber, I turned my head with a jaw-dropping expression, “How could you say something like that to me?” Her comment stung, but not as much as the knife hitting my fingernail. Luckily it didn’t pierce the skin. I took a step back nursing my finger as she laughed hysterically at me. “What? I was only pointing out that your butt feels jiggly. You put on some weight since you stopped working.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I was quite offended by her comment. Sure, I gained a few extra pounds. Somedays, my son and I sat on the couch munching on goldfish crackers while I folded laundry. Not every day can be beautiful. On rainy days, I like to put my feet up. There is only so much housework I could do before I begin to look around and nitpick at the single piece of cat food that happened to fall out of the bowl as they were eating. In a matter of seconds, I lament all this information to her, and she continued to laugh at me as she replied, “You need a hobby.” I threw up my hands in frustration, “Oh, like I didn’t have enough to do around here.”

She was right; I did need a hobby. The biggest problem was that I was getting bored. I filled my time with chores, maintenance, and children. Once it was done, I sat around and ate. Domesticity was my new purpose, and I was bored. Increasingly, I found myself scanning the want ads and job banks looking for something, anything to find some relief from the monotony of domesticity. There was nothing out in the working world for a high school dropout. The demographics had changed, and the jobs requiring brawn over brain were gone.

One day, I received a text message from a friend of mine. She had gotten wind that the Catholic School Board was hiring custodians, and most importantly, I didn’t have to apply online. I raced at the opportunity and submitted my resume. The hours were causal and in the evening. I could be home during the day with my son and go to work after my wife came home. I could finally get back to some normalcy, reach back into the provider role, and feel a sense of purpose other than a housekeeper and a father.

Nervously, I filled out the application. I squirmed as I tried to remember how to spell the names of the various equipment I had been trained to operate over the years. When they called my name, I met a group of men dressed in expensive suits sitting around a boardroom table. It was quite intimidating. It didn’t feel like an interview. It felt like any second a big man in a red candy apple suit should spin around in his desk chair like a bond villain. Then, unravel a sixteenth-century scroll and tell me to, “please sign here,” in a malicious voice. Realistically, I wanted to ask them if I was applying for the right position. Maybe, I checked off the box that was labeled teacher, not the box marked: the guy who scrubs poop off toilet seats.

Overall, I nailed it. Every question the interviewers asked, I had a great answer. I knew the equipment. I knew the safety procedures. I knew the lockdown policy. I knew how to handle hazardous waste, which also told them I could pass the WHIMIS test (for the millionth time). They said to me, on the spot, that this job was mine, except for one question I couldn’t answer: “Can you provide us with a copy of your high school diploma?” Crap! I tried hard to hold my composure and keep myself sounding as sincere as possible when I said, “Yeah, I mean, I don’t have a copy with me, but I’m sure I could find one you.” They told me if I could get one to them as soon as possible I could start right away. I shook their hands with a fake smile and left feeling like a failure. I had achieved so much in my short time on this earth. I had rubbed up against barriers before, but this one was like fate slammed my face up against a brick wall and using it as a cheese grater. There was no walking around this barrier. I had to go over, what I needed was a ladder.

Lucky for me, I came home, and the house was empty. A friend took my son for the day, so I sat on the couch stewing in my own self-pity. My laptop was open on the coffee table, and I sat there watching Google’s scream at me with its daily graphic of a nineteenth-century schoolmarm lecturing her students. I typed my only option in the search bar: Adult Education. Scrolling through the results, I found myself wondering if it was possible for a guy my age even to tease the idea of going back to school. I mean, at this point, I felt like I had forgotten more than I have ever learned. If I did this, could I succeed? Or was my age another barrier?

Well, I went for it, and I did succeed. I found my ladder. Now that I think of it, it seems so simple. The ladder was in front of me the whole time. Instead of looking forward, I should have looked down. The stupid part was what I couldn’t do in four years of high school; I did in three months. I went once a week to the adult education center for four hours a day. They set me up for the GED exam. I paid my two cents and passed. I hit the average passing grade for every subject, except English, I passed with an eighty-seven percent in the writing category.

           I must have stared at the certificate for hours after receiving it in the mail. I was proud of myself, yet there I was, a high school graduate after ten years of being out of high school, with the hard question still on my mind: “What am I going to do?” I could reapply at the Catholic School Board. Run in there screaming, “I have it, here it is, let get started.” Or, I could tempt fate once more, do the unthinkable, and take it one step further.

           So, here is where I should say, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. The truth is, I had the idea when I was young, but the idea was usually attached to some adult questioning, “What do you want to be when you grow up young lad.” Yeah, I wanted to be a writer as much as I wanted to be an astronaut or a firefighter. I always thought of it as a childish dream, yet as I stumbled through the university website with my eyes closed pointing at random programs, I felt like I was sitting on the opportunity to do something I’ve always wanted to do. I just needed to pick.

The day I walked onto the Lakehead Administration Office grounds. I had the same adult voice echoing through my head. The sound was so intensely amplified, I thought blood was going to start leaking out my ears, “What are you going to do? What do you want to be?” I figured, if I picked something, eventually, I would figure out what I truly wanted. However, the only way I could make the voice stop was to answer the hard question with certain honesty. So, I closed my eyes, reached deep inside myself, grabbed on my inner child, and let him make the decision, “What do you want to do? What do you want to be?” The child’s voice overtook my own and shouted, “I want to be a writer.” I opened my eyes to find that the entire administration office was staring at me like I was a mental patient. I saw a tall, brawny man with his phone in his hand, in which I assumed was calling security. I took a step back and babbled, “Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to someone about registering for next year’s classes.”

So here I am at the end of my third year as an undergrad. Trying to stuff as much information in my head as possible before it explodes all over the blank page. I know that most of my papers come back to me with the words “awkward” printed all over them, which makes me begin to believe that this is a defining characteristic. However, I’m finally confident enough to break out of my shell. But just because I know what I want to do with my life, I am still longing to get out there. Beyond this desk. Beyond these walls. I still feel like my sense of purpose is unfulfilled. Time is moving too damn slow, and it needs to hurry up. I’m craving my purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, going to university is excellent, I found some purpose in being a student, but it’s not the same. In a way, being a student is artificial. I work just as hard, but I can’t reap the rewards right away. Although I should be finding some sense of self-satisfaction about gaining additional knowledge about the world around me, I can’t take complacency to the bank, cash it in for prestige, and feed my kids on nineteenth-century poetry. They have a hard enough time digesting twentieth-century poetry. (One fish, two fish, no fish, boohoo fish.) I know when I get out of here, I’ll have more walls to climb. The important thing is I’m not afraid of those heights anymore. So, I have to wait a few more years for a piece of paper that tells me I’m good enough to re-enter the workforce. Then, I’ll officially be certified. No more legwork. No more knuckle dragging. No more backbreaking labour for minimum wage. Right?

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/roaring-kitty-will-tell-congress-he-was-a-true-believer-in-gamestop-live-updates/

Roaring Kitty Will Tell Congress He Was a True Believer in GameStop: Live Updates

Here’s what you need to know:

“The idea that I used social media to promote GameStop stock to unwitting investors is preposterous,” Keith Gill said in a statement to a House committee that will hear testimony on Thursday.Credit…via Youtube

Keith Gill, the former MassMutual wellness education director who advocated for shares of GameStop in his free time, is prepared to tell a House committee on Thursday that he never provided investment advice for a fee and did not “solicit anyone to buy or sell the stock for my own profit.”

The statement made no mention of the fact that Mr. Gill was a registered securities broker and a chartered financial analyst while he was posting online about GameStop under the alias Roaring Kitty and another pseudonym that included a vulgarity.

In the five-page statement, Mr. Gill described himself as a true believer in the fortunes of GameStop, a video game retailer, and said his postings online about the company had nothing to do with his job at MassMutual. He portrayed himself as a one-person operation doing battle with wealthy hedge funds, some of which were shorting shares of GameStop and betting on its collapse.

“The idea that I used social media to promote GameStop stock to unwitting investors is preposterous,” Mr. Gill said in the statement, which his lawyer provided to the House Committee on Financial Services in advance of Thursday’s hearing into the speculative and aggressive trading last month in shares of GameStop. “I was abundantly clear that my channel was for educational purposes only, and that my aggressive style of investing was unlikely to be suitable for most folks checking out the channel.”

He said he had shared his investment ideas online because he “had reached a level where I felt sharing them publicly could help others.”

Mr. Gill described himself as an average guy who earned a modest income and was effectively out of work for two years before landing at MassMutual in April 2019. The statement skirted over how much money he had made trading shares of GameStop — though he said he had told his family at one point that “we were millionaires.” He also did not mention that Massachusetts securities regulators are investigating whether he violated any securities industry rules and regulations with his social media postings.

On Tuesday, Mr. Gill and his former employer were named as defendants in a proposed class-action lawsuit that claimed he misled retail investors who bought shares of GameStop during its 1,700 percent rally only to suffer losses when the stock quickly gave back most of those gains. The lawsuit contends that MassMutual and its brokerage arm did not properly supervise Mr. Gill, who was an employee until a few weeks ago.

Mr. Gill’s lawyer, William Taylor, declined to comment on the lawsuit. A spokeswoman for MassMutual said the company was reviewing the matter with Mr. Gill.

Mr. Gill is one of a half-dozen witnesses scheduled to testify at the hearing, which will focus on the impact of short selling, social media and hedge funds on retail investors and market speculation.

A stuck car in Austin, Texas, on Wednesday. A storm that brought snow, ice and plunging temperatures has slowed or halted auto production across the South and Midwest.Credit…Austin American-Statesman, via Associated Press

The winter storm that battered much of the United States over the holiday weekend continued to slow auto production across the Midwest on Wednesday.

On Tuesday, several automakers suspended or shut down production at plants from Texas to Indiana as rolling blackouts, natural gas shortages and extreme weather made operating difficult.

General Motors canceled day shifts on Wednesday at factories in Arlington, Texas, and Fort Wayne, Ind., but was back to normal schedules at its plants in Spring Hill, Tenn.; Wentzville, Mo.; and Bowling Green, Ky., a spokesman said.

Toyota canceled early shifts at plants in Tupelo, Miss., and San Antonio, the company said. Both plants were closed on Tuesday. The company’s factory in Georgetown, Ky., went back into operation Wednesday, although two hours later than usual. A plant in Princeton, Ind., that had been idle on Tuesday returned to its normal schedule on Wednesday.

Honda Motor said all of its plants were back to normal hours on Wednesday, a day after cold weather forced the cancellation of shifts at some factories.

The extreme weather has left millions without power and disrupted retail chains, delivery services and manufacturers across much of the South and Midwest. On Wednesday, Texas faced a new onslaught of sleet and freezing rain that the National Weather Service said could be “the worst of all the winter events over the past week.”

Businesses in Dallas cleaning up after this week’s storm. With demand high and production limited, natural gas prices continued to surge.Credit…Nitashia Johnson for The New York Times

Energy prices rose again on Wednesday, a reflection of surging energy demand and expectations of disruptions of Texas-based supply after winter storms hit Southern and central states.

Benchmark prices for American crude oil rose 1.8 percent, with a barrel of West Texas Intermediate crude oil settling at $61.14. The price topped $60 a barrel this week for the first time in 13 months.

Natural gas prices rose 2.9 percent, settling at $3.219 per million British thermal units. The rise followed a 7.5 percent surge in natural gas prices on Tuesday.

“A production rebound could potentially take more than a week or two for the majority of oil and gas wells, but it might take longer for production from nearly all wells to recover,” wrote commodities analysts from Citi Research in a note to clients published on Tuesday.

As of

Data delayed at least 15 minutes

Source: Factset

Stocks

On Wall Street, markets ended lower but recovered their steepest losses. The S&P 500 lost less than 0.1 percent. The tech-heavy Nasdaq composite index lost 0.6 percent, led by a 1.8 percent drop in Apple shares.

The Stoxx 600 Europe fell 0.7 percent, led by consumer and financial stocks.

Bonds

The 10-year Treasury yield was down slightly to about 1.29 percent. (It was not, as was previously stated here due to an editing error, down 15 basis points.) On Tuesday, the yield jumped 10 basis points, or 0.1 percentage point, the biggest one-day increase since March. Inflation expectations in U.S. financial markets are at multiyear highs, as investors anticipate that a large government spending package could stoke higher prices. In recent days, this had spurred a sharp sell-off in U.S. government bonds.

Federal Reserve officials were concerned about continuing threats to the economic recovery during their late January meeting and did not see a big risk that inflation would shoot higher in a lasting way, based on minutes from the gathering.

The 10-year break-even rate, one measure of inflation in markets, was at 2.24 percent, the highest since 2014.

Bond yields rose across Europe, reversing an earlier decline. The 10-year yield on British bonds rose slightly to 0.62 percent. Earlier data showed the annual inflation rate increased in January.

Facebook’s decision comes in response to a proposed law that requires tech companies to pay publishers for linking to articles.Credit…Richard Drew/Associated Press

Facebook said on Wednesday that it would restrict people and publishers from sharing links to news articles in Australia, in response to a proposed law in the country that requires tech companies to pay publishers for linking to articles across their platforms.

The decision came hours after Google announced it had reached an agreement to pay Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp to publish its news content in a three-year global deal, part of a string of deals it had struck with media companies in recent days to ensure that news would remain on its services.

“The proposed law fundamentally misunderstands the relationship between our platform and publishers who use it to share news content,” William Easton, managing director of Facebook Australia & New Zealand, said in a statement about Australia’s legislation. “It has left us facing a stark choice: attempt to comply with a law that ignores the realities of this relationship, or stop allowing news content on our services in Australia. With a heavy heart, we are choosing the latter.”

Facebook’s decision is an escalation of a long-term standoff between tech companies and news publishers, which have argued for years that they are not fairly compensated for articles and other content that generate ad revenue for the technology companies. The tech giants have pushed back, saying that they are merely conduits for the content, and that the proposed law in Australia is untenable.

Still, Facebook has continued to make investments in other areas of news, including expanding its Facebook News tab — a paid partnership program dedicated to showing curated news articles inside the mobile app — to more countries and paid partners. Last month, Facebook started its News Tab service in Britain, unveiling a slate of new partnerships with major British publishers.

Although Google reached an agreement with news publishers, Facebook has positioned itself as having a fundamentally different relationship with them. The social network has maintained that it has largely helped the media industry, and that publishers would not be able to increase their revenue in the same way without Facebook’s aid.

News Corp, the publisher of The Wall Street Journal and The Australian, has been a longtime critic of Google.Credit…Lucas Jackson/Reuters

News Corp said on Wednesday that Google had agreed to make “a significant payment” to publish the newspaper publisher’s news content, signaling a breakthrough in a dispute that has dated back to the earliest days of the search engine.

The three-year global deal comes as Australia prepared to pass groundbreaking legislation to force internet platforms to pay for news. In recent days, Google had struck deals with other media companies to ensure that news would remain on its services, but News Corp, a longtime critic of the search giant and publisher of The Wall Street Journal and The Australian, had held out.

Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp has been a vocal and determined critic about how news organizations are not fairly compensated for content that helps to bring in advertising revenue for Google.

Robert Thomson, chief executive of News Corp, said the deal would have “a positive impact on journalism around the globe.” The exact financial terms of the deal were not disclosed.

News Corp said the agreement also included the development of a subscription platform, the sharing of advertising revenue from Google’s technology services and investments into video journalism by YouTube, a Google subsidiary.

Don Harrison, president of global partnerships at Google, said the company had invested to help news organizations over the years. “We hope to announce even more partnerships soon,” he said.

Rush Limbaugh received the Presidential Medal of Freedom last February. Credit…Fox News

Fox News dedicated hours of coverage on Wednesday to praise for Rush Limbaugh, the right-wing talk radio star whose aggressive and often divisive rhetoric helped pave the way for the network’s prime time hosts.

With Harris Faulkner and Bill Hemmer at the anchor desk, conservative media and political figures called in to offer tributes to Mr. Limbaugh, who died on Wednesday at 70.

Sean Hannity said “there is no talk radio as we know it” without Mr. Limbaugh.

“It just doesn’t exist,” he said on Fox News. “And I’d even make the argument in many ways, there’s no Fox News or even some of these other opinionated cable networks.”

Tucker Carlson said Mr. Limbaugh came “out of nowhere” and became the voice of conservatism and the savior of AM radio. “Here was a guy who took the oldest of mass communication media and turned it into the most powerful force in American politics, and he did it purely out of talent,” he said.

Former President Donald J. Trump said in a call to Fox News that he had last spoken with Mr. Limbaugh three or four days ago. “People, whether they loved him or not, they respected him, they really did,” he said. Mr. Trump also repeated the baseless claim that he had won the election. “Rush thought we won, and so do I, by the way,” he said. “I think we won substantially.”

The broadcast included footage of Mr. Trump’s presenting Mr. Limbaugh with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor, during the State of the Union address last February. Former Vice President Mike Pence, himself a former talk radio host, also called in to say that Mr. Limbaugh “made conservatism fun.”

In his long career, Mr. Limbaugh often referred to feminists as “feminazis”; lost his commentary role on ESPN in 2003 after he said that Donovan McNabb, a Black quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles, had received too much credit for his team’s success because of his race; and hung up on callers to his radio show with something he called “caller abortions,” an audio montage of a vacuum cleaner sound and human screams. In 2012, he repeatedly attacked Sandra Fluke, a law student who testified at a congressional hearing on birth control, calling her a “slut” and a “prostitute” on his radio show.

When Barack Obama ran for president in 2008, Mr. Limbaugh promoted the falsehood that Mr. Obama had been born outside the United States and lent support to Mr. Trump’s recent claims of election fraud. On his Dec. 23 program, he acknowledged his influence on Fox News.

“And then I got some help starting in 1996,” he said, referring to the year the cable news channel started. “Here comes Fox! Proud of that.”

The White House on Wednesday nominated Jennifer Abruzzo, a prominent union lawyer, to be general counsel of the National Labor Relations Board, the country’s top enforcer of labor rights for private-sector employees.

Ms. Abruzzo’s nomination comes roughly a month after President Biden fired the Trump administration’s appointee to the job, Peter B. Robb, who was unpopular with organized labor. Mr. Robb’s term was not due to expire until November, but unions close to the new president urged his ouster.

The labor board’s general counsel, a Senate-confirmed position, has considerable authority over which cases the agency pursues — such as those in which employees are fired while trying to organize. Unions were frustrated that Mr. Robb had sought to settle a prominent case against McDonald’s that the agency had initiated during the Obama administration, among other decisions.

Before leaving the labor board in 2017, when Mr. Robb was confirmed, Ms. Abruzzo had spent more than two decades there, including a tour as deputy general counsel beginning in 2013.

Her nomination as general counsel drew praise from labor officials. Lynn Rhinehart, a former general counsel of the A.F.L.-C.I.O., called the appointment a “superb choice.”

Ms. Rhinehart, now a senior fellow at the liberal Economic Policy Institute, said Ms. Abruzzo “will hit the ground running and help restore the N.L.R.B.’s credibility as an agency that protects and promotes the right of workers to organize and bargain collectively for improvements at their workplace.”

“Many participants stressed the importance of distinguishing” between an anticipated temporary pop in prices later this year and a shift in inflation’s longer-term trend, minutes from the Fed’s January meeting showed.Credit…Ting Shen for The New York Times

Federal Reserve officials fretted about continuing threats to the economic recovery and noted financial stability concerns during their late January meeting, minutes from the gathering showed, but they did not see a big risk that inflation would shoot higher in a lasting way.

Fed officials left interest rates near zero at their Jan. 27 meeting and pledged to continue making huge bond purchases as they try to help the economy weather the pandemic. During a news conference following the meeting — and in remarks since — Jerome H. Powell, the Fed chair, has suggested that doing too little to stem the fallout of the crisis is a bigger risk than doing too much. Minutes released Wednesday echoed that watchful stance.

“Participants observed that the economy was far from achieving the committee’s broad-based and inclusive goal of maximum employment and that even with a brisk pace of improvement in the labor market, achieving this goal would take some time,” the minutes said.

The pandemic “continued to pose considerable risks to the economic outlook, including risks associated with new virus strains, potential public resistance to vaccination, and potential difficulties in the production and distribution of vaccines,” officials noted.

While several prominent economists have warned that the government might overdo its coronavirus crisis spending response and set off higher inflation, Fed policymakers have been less concerned. In fact, “many participants stressed the importance of distinguishing” between an anticipated temporary pop in prices later this year and a shift in inflation’s longer-term trend, the minutes showed.

Central bankers were alert to financial stability risks. The Fed’s late-January meeting came as GameStop’s stock rose rapidly, fueled in part by retail traders who had organized on social media. Fed officials discussed that and other concerns.

“Some participants commented that equity valuations had risen further, that initial public offering activity was elevated, or that valuations might have been affected by retail investors trading through electronic platforms,” the minutes showed.

Fed staff members — influential advisers to the policy-setting officials — characterized financial market vulnerabilities as “notable” and called asset valuations “elevated,” the minutes showed. Valuations were deemed “moderate” as recently as November.

The volume of new mortgages hit a record in the fourth quarter of 2020, according to a report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.Credit…Wilfredo Lee/Associated Press

A mortgage boom is underway as American families take advantage of historically low interest rates by refinancing or buying homes, based on a new report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

The volume of new mortgages hit a record in the fourth quarter of 2020, surpassing a 2003 high before adjusting for inflation, the New York Fed said in its latest household debt report and an accompanying blog post. That boom in the mid-2000s has since been blamed for leaving households heavily indebted and contributing to the pain of the 2007 housing bust. But the Fed’s researchers noted that today’s run-up looks different.

This time, both lenders and borrowers appear to be treading more carefully, and mainly households with pristine financial histories are borrowing or refinancing. More than 70 percent of originations in the fourth quarter of 2020 went to borrowers with credit scores over 760, the researchers said.

“Although these two bumps in mortgage originations are similar in magnitude, the composition is quite different,” they wrote. Plus, it’s hard to properly compare origination volumes exactly over time, because rising home prices mean that the increase isn’t apples to apples.

Still, “the trend was unmistakably increasing this year, and to a high level,” according to the post.

Mortgage originations for home purchases spiked in the fourth quarter of 2020, with first-time and repeat buyers borrowing to buy homes at a similar pace. The researchers note that even first-time borrowers look more financially stable now than during the mid-2000s housing boom.

Refinancing has also accelerated. That extends to “cash out” refinances, in which borrowers re-up their home loans and pocket some money against their home equity.

The practice jumped in 2020, with borrowers withdrawing $188 billion in home equity over the course of the year compared with just $119 billion the year before, though “cash-out refinance volume is still notably smaller than what was seen between 2003-06” and came mostly in tiny increments.

“At least half of the refinancers borrowed only enough additional funds to cover the closing costs on the new mortgage,” the researchers noted.

The data as a whole paints a picture in which the mortgage market is booming, the Fed researchers said, but with different — and seemingly more stable — underlying characteristics than the ones that led to the 2007 bust.

A container port in Shandong Province, China. American economic output would drop $190 billion annually if the United States imposed a 25 percent tariff on all trade with China, a new report says. Credit…Chinatopix, via Associated Press

Fracturing trade, investment and other economic ties between the United States and China would have significant costs for the American economy and for industry, and could ultimately lead to the United States being less competitive, according to a report published Wednesday by a consultancy, the Rhodium Group, and the U.S. Chamber of Commerce China Center.

The report attempts to quantify the economic costs of “decoupling” the American and Chinese economies through the fuller pursuit of policies like those adopted by the Trump administration, including tariffs and higher barriers to investment and immigration.

The report’s authors estimate that American economic output would fall by $190 billion annually if all U.S.-China trade was subject to the kind of 25 percent tariff that Mr. Trump put on more than half of Chinese exports.

On the investment front, the U.S. economy could face a one-time loss of up to $500 billion if policies led to the sale of half of U.S. foreign direct investments in China. And the United States could lose between $15 billion and $30 billion in service sector exports if Chinese tourism and education spending fell by half from its pre-pandemic levels, according to the report.

Daniel Rosen, a founding partner at Rhodium Group, said in a news conference on Wednesday that China had initiated the conflict by adopting practices that have raised national security concerns and violated economic norms. But as the United States responds to those challenges, he said policymakers needed to carefully analyze the cost of their own actions, which could be substantial.

Cutting off the “preponderance of our engagement with China would be so expensive that it would make everyone, even the most hawkish Americans and national security professionals, very uncomfortable. We’re going to have to pay for this stuff. Our choices are not going to be cheap,” Mr. Rosen said.

“It doesn’t mean we don’t act, but it does mean we need to do the accounting carefully so we understand the implications,” he said.

The report found significant costs from decoupling for several U.S. sectors, including aviation, chemicals, semiconductors and medical devices. Restrictions on American sales to the Chinese market would lead to lower revenue for American firms, less investment in factories, jobs and research in the United States, boosting foreign competitors and diminishing U.S. industry, the report said. In the case of semiconductors, it could also push foreign firms to cut American companies out of their supply chains.

In the aviation sector, where the United States records huge sales to China and faces no close Chinese competitor, decoupling would be “insane,” Scott Kennedy, a China expert at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, said during the news conference.

“The Trump administration did essentially no math on this,” he said. “It’s critical that we do the math and not make choices based on faith or ideology.”

The Trump administration embraced the perspective of the business community on some issues, like regulation and taxes, but it was often at odds over trade policy. In particular, trade officials in the Trump administration often derided officials from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce as corporate lobbyists, saying that the chamber’s pro-China policies had led to outsourcing and the loss of American manufacturing jobs.

The Biden administration has promised to take a more strategic approach to advancing American competitiveness, but it may also be under pressure from unions and progressive Democrats not to be seen as putting the concerns of corporations over economic or national security.

Ford Motor became the latest automaker to accelerate its transition to electric cars, saying Wednesday that its European division will soon begin to phase out vehicles powered by fossil fuels. By 2026, the company will offer only electric and plug-in hybrid models in Europe, and by 2030 all of its new passenger cars there will run solely on batteries.

The coronavirus crisis may have accomplished something that a decade of economic growth could not: It spurred a boom in U.S. entrepreneurship. According to a study released on Wednesday, researchers at the Peterson Institute for International Economics found that Americans started 4.4 million businesses last year, a 24 percent increase from the year before. It is by far the biggest increase on record.

The private equity firm Carlyle Group plans to create a $4.1 billion credit line for its portfolio companies that will tie the price of debt to the diversity of a company’s board, the DealBook newsletter reports. Carlyle did not disclose the rates associated with the loans. The three-year facility, which the firm says is the largest of its kind in the United States, is part of an “integrated approach to building better businesses,” said Carlyle’s chief executive, Kewsong Lee.

[fuck-customers]

Beyond the Pale

So two months ago I got an asst. management job at a brand new location of a well-known discount chain with a black and yellow color scheme trying out a new small format store concept specifically geared towards urban areas. It was two blocks from my apartment and I have 12+ years of retail management experience, so I was jazzed, I figured it would be easy. Ha! Out of five other managers, I was the only one of my race and gender and one of only two people on staff who hadn't grown up in the city. I got a nagging feeling that literally the only reason they had hired me was because of how close I lived-the manager had even asked if I planned on moving anytime soon. I was nervous from the get-go because I felt like the odd one out, but also because the work culture was like no other retail job I've ever worked. Everyone, including other managers, would constantly be on their cell phones on the sales floor or at the tills in front of customers, often having loud or inappropriate conversations. People would share their cashier login numbers rather than just start a new drawer, which meant it was a clusterf**k trying to figure out cash accountability if drawers were short/over, and the cash numbers on the back office computer were often way off from the reports you'd run on the register. You'd get trained more than once on the same thing by different people and all of them would do it different. The three managers who had worked for the company before were like a club, and the rest of us definitely weren't in it. The manager would post the auto-generated schedule without looking at it, so people would constantly be scheduled to clopen or work shifts outside their availability. Why the hell does anyone ever need to clopen with 6 managers on staff? Yet the GM's schedule was somehow always consistent. On every shift there would be at least two managers, sometimes more, but somehow I would always be the one who'd get stuck behind a till while the other MOD would literally sit on their ass in our cafe section and either watch TV or play on their phone almost the entire shift. Then, when I'd go to do recovery at the end of the night, shit would be destroyed. Like hey, maybe you should've been working on this instead of texting the whole damn time?! I would ask for training on specific tasks and be told not to worry about it. Then I'd get yelled at for not knowing a week later when the GM would ask me to do it and I'd tell them I didn't know how. They would schedule me to close 95% of the time, and then get mad when they'd have me clopen and I'd have no idea how to do morning tasks I'd never been trained on or couldn't remember how to do a complicated task I'd been shown once several weeks ago. In the two months I worked there I had a bunch of teens on bikes chuck cups of iced water at me when I told them they couldn't drag their bikes through the store while 4 of my male coworkers stood and watched and did nothing. I had a drunk man hit on me and touch my face. I endured countless casually bigoted and homophobic comments from the same manager, who didn't know I was queer but IDK if it would've mattered anyway. The final straw was about two weeks ago when a regular female customer who also worked in the same shopping center approached me and told me that her and her other female coworkers had been getting creeped out for a few weeks by a male associate behaving inappropriately-following them too closely in the aisles, checking their ID for too long and telling them he wanted to look them up on social media, opening the one person's cigarettes and asking if he could have one. I was appalled, apologized profusely, and told her I'd look into it and counsel the associate. She couldn't remember his name, but she did physically describe him. I knew right away who it was because I always closed and usually worked with them. After the customer left, the homophobe manager commented, "If it was such a big deal, why'd she wait to say something? That's like getting raped and waiting three weeks to say anything." I honestly almost threw down my keys and walked out right then, but I wanted to give the GM the chance to do the right thing. When I came in and talked to him about it the next day, he acted annoyed that I brought it up and wanted to know how it would be handled. Him and all the other male managers blew it off and acted like the story was either exaggerated or fabricated. I agonized over calling the anonymous HR line, or just calling the DM, but I knew I had to do something. Well come to this passed week, I was off Monday-Tuesday, scheduled a mid shift Wednesday, and scheduled to open Thursday. Close to 5pm, I get a text from one of the other ASMs asking if I could work the closing shift instead of the mid. When we close we don't get out until 11:30 and when we open we have to be in at 6:45. I assumed he wanted to switch shifts, so I said I couldn't because I had to open the next day. Two minutes later the GM calls and tells me he needs me to work the closing shift. I told him no, because that was less than 8 hours between when I would be clocking out and back in and that it really screwed with my medication schedule and that I'd get him a doctor's note if he wanted. He gave me a raft of shit about it was just one day and I lived right down the street. I begrudgingly agreed to work the shift, but told him not to expect me at my best because of my medication. He didn't say a word, just hung up, no thanks or anything. When I went back and looked at the schedule, I saw that he had to switch me because his dumb ass hadn't scheduled a manager to close with the lead key holder. Somehow, even though it was his fuck up and there were other managers whose schedules he could've tweaked without completely fucking over, it became my problem. So I went in that next day for the closing shift and my GM wouldn't even acknowledge me, no hello or nothing. All he did was tell me to get on a till (of f**king course). When he left for the day he didn't say a word to me either, even though I was MOD. I didn't know he had gone until the other key told me. Right about then was when I decided enough was enough-if none of the other managers could respect me, I certainly didn't owe them shit, but I did owe it to that customer to handle her complaint and treat it with the level of seriousness it deserved. I went into the office, called the DM, told him I was working out my shift but leaving my keys in the safe and not coming back because as a victim of prior sexual assault I wasn't comfortable working with a bunch of other managers who would just sweep that shit under the carpet. I didn't even tell him half the shit that was going down because I wasn't trying to ruin lives or get people fired but I was just so damn done and wanted him to know why I was walking without two weeks notice rather than let the GM spin some BS story. I'm just so glad I'm out of that shithole, my mental health over the last week alone has improved vastly.

[multipleservicelisting]

What 2020 Was Like for People in the Retail Industry

The retail industry was in the midst of a transformation before 2020. But the onset of the pandemic accelerated that change, fundamentally reordering how and where people shop, and rippling across the broader economy.

Many stores closed for good, as chains cut physical locations or filed for bankruptcy, displacing everyone from highly paid executives to hourly workers. Amazon grew even more powerful and unavoidable as millions of people bought goods online during lockdowns. The divide between essential businesses allowed to stay open and nonessential ones forced to close drove shoppers to big-box chains like Walmart, Target and Dick’s and worsened struggling department stores’ woes. The apparel industry and a slew of malls were battered as millions of Americans stayed home and a litany of dress-up events, from proms to weddings, were canceled or postponed.

This year’s civil unrest and its thorny issues for American society also hit retailers. Businesses closed because of protests over George Floyd’s killing by a white police officer, and they reckoned with their own failings when it came to race. The challenges faced by working parents, including the cost and availability of basic child care during the pandemic, were keenly felt by women working at stores from CVS to Bloomingdale’s. And there were questions about the treatment of workers, as retailers and their backers treated employees shoddily during bankruptcies or failed to offer hazard pay or adequate notifications about workplace Covid-19 outbreaks.

Many Americans felt the effects of the retail upheaval — the industry is the second-biggest private employment sector in the United States — and some shared their experiences this year with The New York Times.

‘That’s what I did my whole life’

Joyce Bonaime, a 63-year-old in Cabazon, Calif., has worked in retailing since the 1970s. In the past 14 months, she became one of many store employees whose lives were upended by bankruptcies — first at Barneys New York and more recently at Brooks Brothers.

Ms. Bonaime had spent about 10 years as a full-time stock coordinator for a Barneys outlet at Desert Hills Premium Outlets near her home, overseeing the shipping and receiving of designer wares, when the retailer filed for bankruptcy and liquidated late last year.

“Barneys treated people very badly at the end there,” Ms. Bonaime said. The retailer, she said, sent inconsistent messages about severance payments and the timing of store closures that limited people from finding other jobs just before the holiday shopping season.

After Barneys, Ms. Bonaime secured a full-time stockroom position at Brooks Brothers in the same outlet mall. But the pandemic forced the store to temporarily close in March, and she was furloughed. She anticipated returning once the store reopened this summer. But Ms. Bonaime’s job was terminated this month and she lost her health benefits. She is now collecting unemployment checks for the first time in her life.

When Ms. Bonaime started her career, working at shoe stores and completing a management training program at one chain, retailers had a different relationship with employees and communities, she said.

“We went through training on the bones in the foot and the muscles; we knew a lot about our industry,” she said. “We would reach out to local high schools and work with the cheerleading team and find a shoe they liked for outfits and give them a discount and make sure they had the right sizes.”

Ms. Bonaime, who is getting by right now, feels stuck. She had planned to work a few more years before retiring, but her options are limited. Businesses at the outlet mall are struggling — and it was already hard to interview last year as a woman in her 60s, she said. Amazon is hiring, but she is concerned about the risk of accidents in a warehouse.

“This pandemic just changes everything because I would have no problem getting a job otherwise,” she said. “I just don’t think there’s going to be anything in retail, and that’s what I did my whole life.”

‘I was collateral damage’

Soon after the pandemic hit, Nordstrom said it would permanently close its three high-end Jeffrey boutiques, which were founded by Jeffrey Kalinsky and acquired by the retailer in 2005. Mr. Kalinsky, a Nordstrom executive who had focused on bringing designer apparel to the retailer, retired as part of the move.

The Jeffrey stores, in New York, Atlanta and Palo Alto, Calif., had dressed the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow and even been lampooned on “Saturday Night Live.” The first location, in Atlanta, would have celebrated its 30th anniversary in August.

Mr. Kalinsky, 58, said in an interview that he was recovering from Covid-19 at the end of March when he became aware that the stores might remain shut after a temporary closure.

“It felt like I had a gun pointed at me,” he said. “The folks I always dealt with at Nordstrom were always very transparent, and I can only surmise that they were looking at how to position themselves to get through this period — and I was collateral damage.”

He had once told the Jeffrey staff that it was like the original cast in a Broadway musical, performing at an “amazing level” for customers every day. The hardest part of this year was telling employees about the closing, he said.

“That day was probably the most difficult, emotional day of my entire life,” he said. “I felt just gutted. It was indescribable.” Employees have told him that they “miss the merchandise, they miss the edit, they miss the specialness.”

His goal was for Jeffrey to carry the best merchandise but “sell it in an environment that was very democratic,” he said. “I wanted to showcase it all and wanted it all to be next to each other. I wanted the friction of Gucci next to Dries next to Comme des Garçons. I wanted to feel the tension in a good way because that, in my opinion, is how the perfect closet is.”

Mr. Kalinsky hopes to find a job designing for an American brand, saying he is not prepared to retire from retailing. He wonders if Jeffrey could have survived the pandemic by working with vendors and landlords.

“We had an impressive business, a wonderful clientele, and we would have been fine — but did we have a piggy bank for Covid? No,” he said.

A man with a van

Trent Griffin-Braaf started this year feeling more confident than ever. The transportation company he created to ferry guests from hotels in the Albany, N.Y., area to local attractions like the racetrack in Saratoga Springs was catching on.

But when the coronavirus shut down tourism, weddings and conferences, Mr. Griffin-Braaf’s passenger vans were idled and his business was in jeopardy. “We were really in a rough place,” he said.

In the late summer, his company became a carrier for Amazon and shifted to e-commerce deliveries. His team of 70 drivers and other staff include immigrants from Africa and India, workers laid off from restaurants, a struggling nail-salon owner and recent college grads “just trying to figure it out” during the pandemic.

His drivers cover a 150-mile radius around Albany, including many rural areas where the number of Amazon shoppers is increasing, he said. “All you see around here is Amazon,” he said. “Come work for Amazon.”

Many of his drivers were earning 10 hours of overtime a week during the peak holiday season. “I feel blessed to be busy, because so many people aren’t right now,” he said.

Mr. Griffin-Braaf, 36, has not given up on passenger vans. He has started driving workers living in parts of Albany with limited public transportation to their jobs at distribution centers and other businesses far from bus lines.

On the weekends, he volunteers the vans to drive families to visit loved ones in upstate prisons. Mr. Griffin-Braaf, who served time in prison years ago, said that long term, he hoped to have tractor-trailers to move e-commerce packages across the country, and to offer van service in other “transportation deserts” around the state so people could get to work.

“I know how hard it is to get a job if you don’t have a car, and I have seen how hard it is when you don’t get visits in prison,” he said. “I have lived these things.”

‘We are glad you are here’

Lauren Jackson and her two sisters inadvertently chose the wrong time to open the first Black-owned beauty supply store in their hometown, Buffalo: March 7, two weeks before the state ordered them to shut down.

So the sisters reopened it as an “essential business,” stocking hand sanitizers, masks and other pandemic necessities. Their store, the Hair Hive, reopened in early April, which helped them build a customer base while competitors stayed closed.

“Everything happens for a reason,” said Ms. Jackson, 28.

She and her sisters, Danielle Jackson and Brianna Lannie, had talked about opening the store for several years. It is five minutes from their childhood home on the east side of Buffalo, a predominantly Black neighborhood where their parents still live.

The sisters were initially intimidated about trying to break into the well-established industry.

“We didn’t want to tell anyone so they wouldn’t say, ‘You can’t compete with them,’” Ms. Jackson said. “We didn’t even tell our parents.”

The sisters got a loan from a family member and another from a Buffalo nonprofit. Lauren Jackson said she had watched other Black-owned businesses in her neighborhood come and go over the years, including salons, barbershops and restaurants that often closed because the younger generation didn’t want to take over after the founding family members retired. Ms. Jackson wants to break that trend.

“A lot of people come into the store because we are Black-owned,” she said. “They feel comfortable knowing we can relate with what’s going on with their hair. They tell us, ‘We are glad you are here.’”

‘Scared of what might be coming’

In June, as the first wave of the coronavirus was finally coming under control in New York, Feisal Ahmed got a call from his manager at Macy’s.

Would he like to return to his job selling luxury watches when the store in Herald Square reopened? “I am already there,” he told his boss. “Put me first in line.”

Mr. Ahmed was in his early 20s and a recent emigrant from Bangladesh when he started working at Macy’s in 1994. He met his wife in the store, was able to make a down payment on a house in Astoria, Queens, and saved up enough money to start his own laundry, which he eventually sold.

“I owe a lot to this job,” he said.

But after initial feelings of relief and excitement to return to work after four months of lockdowns, reality set in for Mr. Ahmed. He has gone some days without selling a single watch, for which he would earn a commission.

Last week, business picked up for a few days, driven by last-minute Christmas shopping, but it was nowhere near a normal holiday pace. “The pandemic, job security — people are scared to spend money,” he said.

Still, Mr. Ahmed feels lucky. In New York City, retail jobs make up 9 percent of private-sector employment, and many have been slow to return. At stores selling clothing and clothing accessories, employment is down more than 40 percent from a year ago, according to a recent report by the state comptroller’s office.

Mr. Ahmed said that as a member of the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union, he had certain job protections. But he worries about what the winter will bring, as the pandemic continues to keep many shoppers away.

“Employees are scared of what might be coming,” he said.

Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com

  from Multiple Service Listing https://ift.tt/35EywZB

[voner99]

Now what I'm going to say may shock everyone is our realtor back in May was the one who not only given me permission to film but it was his ideal to film all houses we look at and post on my YouTube channel. At first why I didn't want to film for my YouTube channel the houses that we looked at and bidded on was I was afraid of getting in trouble. He said back in May that I should film all our adventures with looking at these houses and have him in them but be on my YouTube channel. And I pretty much gave in going ok if you say so then I'll film and show everything of the house since that's what urban exploration is. We leave nothing and take nothing leave everything the way it was . Then when we looked at the brown house that was a couple of weeks ago he said the realtor association said not to film and post these houses for everyone to see, but I'm like I wonder what they'd think if they knew it was his idea not mine and yes I don't want to get in any trouble filming for my YouTube channel. Now I do wish that I years ago had hand written proof from my boss at my employer that I would never have to close but always work early and never past five in the afternoon they'd next week would've had to change my hours quickly. I don't have that hand written proof so it would be my word against their word and would do me no good to fight it. Believe me once we get a house I'm going to be looking for a different job in retail somewhere else since I need to be full time so I can get my medical insurance and vacation time, but once I get a full time job somewhere else I'm going to have to have my right shoulder checked on by a doctor since my shoulder was injured back in September 2018 and it never has been the same since then. So honestly I'm hoping that I don't get bad news when ever my shoulder gets checked on that I don't need surgery on it, cause from what I've read online it does sound like back then I torn my rotator cuff in my right shoulder and really shouldn't be lifting much. That's my fear if I need shoulder surgery and I just Started at a different retail store they may fire me over needing shoulder surgery right away. Now back in September 2018 my employer rushed me and all the shopping carts all have bad wheels and they stuck that day and I tried to push them out and I felt my muscle in my shoulder blade on my right side tear and it started to hurt very badly where I couldn't push no more than five carts in and I was in pain so bad that it was hard to do carry outs as well and after that I couldn't raise my right arm up as high as my left arm and that hasn't changed since then.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Accents, Language and Race: 5 People on Why They Code-Switch

http://fashion-trendin.com/accents-language-and-race-5-people-on-why-they-code-switch/

Accents, Language and Race: 5 People on Why They Code-Switch

The first time I actively noticed someone code-switch I was about 10. I told my mom (who is white) that she put on an accent around my dad’s relatives (who are black) at Christmas. “Please stop,” I said in the car one day. When you’re 10, everything is embarrassing, but I think there was something about that particular brand of code-switching that stuck out to me. It seemed so inauthentic, an attempt to belong in a way that just came off as awkward. So often when we talk about code-switching, we talk about a certain group shifting to meet the expectations of a dominant culture. I think watching that in reverse was what caused me to notice it, even though I had been code-switching for most of my life.

There’s the linguistic-focused dictionary definition of code-switching — “the practice of alternating between two or more languages or varieties of language in conversation” — and then there’s the more colloquial one that centers around changing one’s behavior, conversation topics and dress when around different groups of people. There’s a podcast, a Key & Peele sketch and a million memes about code-switching, and for Duality Month at Man Repeller, I wanted to hear from some other real-life, self-proclaimed code-switchers about their experiences. Below, five women talk about the hows and whys of their personal code-switching and how it feels to move between languages and identities.

Rachita Vasan, 24

I grew up not feeling at home in my own skin, feeling too Indian for Americans and too American for Indians. You internalize those judgements and value systems, not realizing that in doing so, you’re setting yourself up to fail because you consider yourself to be an inherent contradiction.

But you can’t sharpen a knife without a whetstone — as hard as my childhood was in a lot of ways, I credit it with so much of who I am today. Constantly having to reevaluate your audience and context can take a lot out of you when the entire world is trying to tell you who you’re supposed to be. So I developed a really strong internal radar for what felt authentic and honest to me — time spent understanding other people was also time spent nurturing my intuition and sense of self. Especially as an only child, I didn’t have anyone Indian-American to really model behavior off of other than myself, so I got really good at observing and learning from the people around me, even if they weren’t “hybrids” like I was.

When you code-switch, you get really fucking good at understanding the power of words

The practice of putting myself in other people’s shoes to delve into their state of mind is one that became critical to almost every skillset I’m proud of today, especially writing. When you code-switch, you get really fucking good at understanding the power of words, how to get people to take you seriously, how to override their lizard brains shouting stereotypes and misconceptions in the background of your conversation. I have an endless fascination with the nuances in language and communication because as far as I’m concerned, I am a nuance.

There’s a tension in code-switching, you know? But there’s also an energy and a power in that tension; eventually, I learned that being from two cultures didn’t have to mean I was excluded from both. It meant that, once I grew enough to feel secure about who I was and who I wanted to be, I could be greedy with my identity — I could have everything I wanted, I could be unpredictable, I could have all of the above instead of a, b or c. I might look like I’m caught between two cultures, but I am exactly who I am and where I belong. That hyphen in Indian-American could have been a shackle, but I turned it into a bridge.

Victoria

My brain subconsciously goes back and forth from thinking in Spanish to English. If I’m thinking in English, I’ll blurt something out in Spanish and vice-versa. I often find myself accidentally describing things using Spanish slang and being unable to explain to English speakers what exactly this slang word means.

Sometimes certain topics and emotions bring out the Spanish or English in me. It’s interesting because when I’m talking about love, joy and all things sweet, I tend to speak in Spanish. When I’m angry or annoyed or anything of that sort, I tend to speak in English. I think that has to do with how romantic Spanish sounds compared to harsh English.

Overall, it’s a blessing and a curse, but I consider it a huge part of my identity now.

Leslie Bartley, 26

I learned to code-switch from an early age. I watched as my mom, and our lineage of Kentucky women, find out that if we wanted access to jobs, mobility and respect, we better scrub our tongues clean and recognize that how we talk to our family is NOT how we talk in public. Put your shoes on and hang your banjoes up; it’s school time.

“I heard your accent. Thank god I got rid of mine years ago.”

A hellish CEO I met recently in an elevator in Bangkok asked me where I was from after a gregarious introduction from my end. After telling him Kentucky, he responded, “I heard your accent. Thank god I got rid of mine years ago.”

To create balance in spaces I own or feel responsible for, I draw on tropes of Southern women of yore, caricatures of my matriarchs who don’t sell used cars like my actual mom, but had the whole day to focus on buttermilk biscuits and receiving the boys for supper. If I want to make guests, new folks or students of mine comfortable, I’ll greet them with a plucky “Hay y’all,” clasp onto their forearms and ensure them that “I got you baby!” As I’m pushing into my late twenties, I’m starting to recognize the patterns of when I use my Kentucky accent outside of familial spaces, and every time it’s to create warmth.

Olha Kurenda, 18

As a native Ukrainian, I speak a whopping five languages: Russian, English, German, Polish and Ukrainian (naturally). In my country, code-switching is very common, since so many people speak both Russian and Ukrainian every day without realizing that they have changed languages.

I love code-switching with my mom. She doesn’t speak English and German fluently, so hearing her pick up the words I use when talking to my English friends, sometimes without knowing the meaning of them, is hilarious. All the languages I speak have allowed me to learn words which do not exist in other languages. German pick-up lines are amazing; you can compliment someone by telling them, “You look hot as a rat.” In Ukrainian, you can call someone a breadcrumb and they would feel flattered. In general, code-switching allows me to know so many idioms, and using them in other languages can be a lot of fun!

Code-switching really spices up my speech and makes people slightly confused. But sometimes you have to confuse people, right?

Jean Hall, 33

Code-switching is as much a part of growing up black as double-dutch and hot combs; you would be hard-pressed to find an educated black person who hasn’t mastered the art. I grew up in a predominantly white suburb of Washington, D.C., and commuted an hour each day to attend an all-black, African-centered private school in northwest D.C. I was labeled the “white girl” immediately. Not only did I live in white west bumfuck, but my mother is from Connecticut and my father is from New Jersey … I lacked that particular D.C. drawl, the one that pronounces crayon as crown, and so I “talked white,” too.

In kindergarten, I learned to minimize the parts of me that my black inner-city peers referred to as white. At school, it was “crown”; at home, it was “crayon” or my mother would pop me for talking [like that].” I spent kindergarten through high school switching between the codes of the streets and the codes of my mama’s house. In high school, I had more freedom and thus more access to the hood. My street code was solid, I dated boys who sold drugs, I had an adopted big brother from a hood that claimed me, I danced on speakers at go-gos (dangerous dance parties that usually ended with gunshots), I was all set! Then came college, where the hood persona became a bit less necessary. My mother was thrilled when she realized my D.C. accent was slowly fading away.

I learned that my underlying hood edge gave me a kind of cachet

I moved to New York after college, to Bed-Stuy, to be exact (not today’s Bed-Stuy, but the Bed-Stuy of 10 years ago when you could still get your purse snatched). I finally lived in the hood, and my years of practice served me well. If the little hoodlums came at me sideways on Nostrand Avenue, I knew exactly what to say to shut them all the way up. But at work as a visual merchandiser for Louis Vuitton, a different code was expected, and my education and upbringing prepared me to switch easily. I’d read the right books, visited the right countries, wore the right brands and pronounced them properly. While working in fashion — like magazine fashion, not retail — I learned that my underlying hood edge gave me a kind of cachet. I would find the white people I worked with picking up my slang that had now morphed into a weird amalgamation of Atlanta, D.C., New York and California hood.

Let’s fast forward 11 years … I’m 33, and Bed-Stuy isn’t the hood anymore. I’ve done enough soul-searching to know and love who I am: I’m a little bit country, a little rock and roll and even a little Soul II Soul. I’m educated, confident, well dressed and well travelled, but I prefer bodega coffee to espresso, consider “chicken and mumbo sauce with a jumbo mix” a delicacy and I am exactly the same everywhere I go.

Illustration by Emily Zirimis.

[venthouse]

I guess this is the sort of blog I update every so often just to throw in some perspective, maybe track my growth as a person or something.

Right now, as in this moment? I feel pretty bad. I’m tired, I can physically fall asleep, but I don’t feel content. So I thought I’d pay a visit to this blog and get some heavy shit out of my system.

First of all, my mum’s alcoholic partner. They’ve been together for 8 years, and he’s still a loud, emotionally unstable alcoholic. He doesn’t like me because I don’t do a ton of chores, which I could understand and respect if he wasn’t a raging cunt about it. Sorry about the curse, but I fucking can’t deal with this dude. He yells and rants in the back room about me, he got so bold as to call me a mummy’s boy and get mad at my mum for always defending me tonight. Not to me, mind you, just saying it out loud and to my mum as he walked around loudly like an asshole.

I’ve been doing stuff at a cinema since January; it’s April now. I’ve been learning a lot, but I’m not a great worker still. I get the order of certain tasks mixed up, sometimes I neglect duties out of forgetfulness and I work slowly. Just today I think the main admin person started getting to the end of her rope, because two other workers have been neglecting their shifts and me not working at a decent capacity has helped to aggravate the situation more. Their complaints are fair and valid, I’ve had like four months to get a handle on this and I still find it hard to keep up with - mentally and physically. I try my best, and I like to think that I do okay sometimes, at least better than I think sometimes. But other days I just fucking fail. I took way too long today and felt awful - I’ve been keeping away from fatty/overly decadent food and drinks lately, but I got home, ate a ton of chocolate and drank a 1.5 litre bottle of iced tea.

I feel like if I can’t make decent personal progress at this cinema, that doesn’t even pay me, then maybe I’m beyond employable. If I got a job at a retail place, I’d get chewed up and spit out and just fucking fail. I kind of resent working at the cinema, because every day is another reminder that I suck. I’m bad at ushering, I’m a slow mopper (though I’m thorough), and I get weird around people and apologize a lot - if I was getting paid for this, I’d be fired by now. I would have been fucking crucified by now.

I started to move away from social justice stuff a while ago now, because the constant guilt, endless obituaries and rebloggable fluff posts just kinda fucked me up. Since stepping away, I’ve started to feel a little anti-PC. I’ll see a show like Review, about a guy who reviews dangerous and messed up acts in his life and rate them out of five stars, like a movie critic, and when it gets super uncomfortable (the man divorcing his wife for the sake of a show segment, smuggling drugs to demonstrate risk), I kinda strawman a “PC” thing in my head like “There are people who would hate this and campaign to take it off of TV” and get a bit self-righteous. I don’t know where the fuck I am right now. Politically I’m a left-leaning moderate, I guess? I mean fuck Trump, what a crock - even if Hillary wasn’t a great choice either, Trump is a fucking joke. Aside from that, I don’t have anything. I feel like I’ve regressed. I don’t know what I want in life, or how I should think of things. I’ve always thought in a way of framing things through a separate lens, which is why I get pissy about TV shows I like sometimes - there’s always something that makes me think “you shouldn’t be enjoying this”, and I project that onto people and perceived movements. But aside from that, I don’t fucking know.

I actually did have a happy moment recently, I took a trip to Sydney to see a band play. I went for four days, by myself, and I had a blast. I was in vacation mode for a few days, but a few days on the drink and generally settling back into my sedentary, mediocre lifestyle brought me back into the same apathetic mold that I’ve been stuck in for the last five years. I want to say I’d feel better if I had some time with no-one in the house, but my mum’s partner is always at home being a shit lord and he had a friend of his move in. I feel stifled and trapped. That’s why I’m so apathetic, I’d rather rot in mediocrity and filth than have to confront that alcoholic bum on anything. I hate him so much. I hate my life here, and I’ve wanted to just fly away since he started living here. But I have shackles keeping me here, whether they be shackles I can appreciate like friends or shackles that make me want to jump into a river and drown, taking them with me.

That’s about it for now. Hopefully it’ll be a few years before I have to come back.

[fuck-customers]

Just a typical rant

Right okay, I just need to rant.

TLDR; typical 'work used to be cool and chilled out and then everything went upside fucking down'

From winter 2015 until around two months ago (May 2017) we had a pretty sturdy workforce. I

n 2016, only three people left. One was fired for being bigoted towards a customer which was good because he was an incompetent ass who had been working the job for over six months and didn't know what he was doing; someone left because they saved up enough pennies to travel the world and another left as they got a job in their degree field.

During this time we hired five people, too (excluding the bigot). We got a new supervisor, who, used to work for the company a few years ago in a senior sales role but quit to manage a concessions store. The pay at my work is phenomenal for retail and as a supervisor he earned more for doing less and because of previous experience with the company, he fitted right in. When we were first short my boss asked us if we knew if anyone needed a job, so, someone's cousin came to work for us, we then had three amazing seasonal who were so amazing we kept them on.

Work wasn't amazing, I mean, is it ever? However, I felt like myself and the other staff at my work were fortunate in that we had a great management team and that everyone got on reasonably well.

As someone who suffers from mental illness, which got "worse" at the beginning of 2016 resulting in my schedule being a bit upside down due to therapy sessions and doctors appointments - my work has been more than supportive. I can name people I have and will always dislike at work, people who have came and gone, and I'm sure there's people who dislike me, but, it's never been overly personal.

Work always felt like a place I could go and get stuck into something and somewhat switch my mind off - regardless if it would be serving a customer; tidying a section time and time again or compiling a weekly trade report - even during the horrors of sale and Christmas time things never felt too terrible as there was a great team to share the stress with.

I'd say issues started in the new year. Something changed with our manager and I still can't pinpoint what it is. The main thing was that scheduling got real sloppy. I was scheduled in on Monday mornings, when I go to therapy - I swapped it the first few times and told him it was because I was going to therapy yet he kept scheduling me in. The issue wasn't just related to me - it happened to a few of us. One guy can't work Saturday's because he volunteers in the morning and babysits in the evenings - guess who was scheduled Saturday's?

He then stopped briefing us on shifts - normally he opened whilst other managers came in for closing, so, it would take us until midday normally to find out our targets.

Our region shares a big Facebook group that they like people to be in but it's not mandatory, however, I'd say about two-thirds of us are in it. SO, our district manager will post stuff like: "Hey guys, check with your manager about the factsheet on this product you will be tested about it in brief." and we'll go in and the factsheet will be locked away in the office and brief will be absent and then someone will come in asking about this product that we have NO FUCKING CLUE about because we're missing training. 

We're also due 1-to-1's every three months. Everyone (apart from the seasonals for obvious reasons) got one in October - and was due one at the start of the year - it had now been four months and he hadn't even mentioned them. People asked the ASM about these, as sometimes he did them and he himself wasn't even sure as my manager hasn't even wrote out any profiles yet.

In all, things stop getting done due to the lack of strong management.

Everyone assumes our manager is slacking because he's gonna leave. At the time he used to help his mum with her business - a quirky 'lil handmade candle business that starting really lifting off, we just assumed he'd be wanting to go full time there now she established quite a lot of presence. Someone asked him about this and he flat out denies it, telling us he's not going and that he's just been a little bit stressed about x, y and z - the candle business included buuuut he's working on getting back on the right track. 

There's then the "staff night out" that I'll leave at that. I recall going home early because of how terrible it was. This was around mid-March. Due to all the shift swaps and lack of management I think everyone started to rub each other the wrong way. This, added in with alcohol, just lead to a lot of fights. My manager then held a meeting post-night-out and made us all "resolve our issues" - a lot of grinding him for obvious reasons. We made this cheesy-as strategy plan to get things back on track - I mean, by this point this were getting back on track but getting it in writing felt so good. 

Work goes back to normal, or at least for a month or so. 

Then, out of nowhere, one our supervisor leaves. She's offered a job as an ASM at the other end of town. Her replacement is meant to be someone in senior sales from the store just outside of town but this person is offered the same role at her own store and doesn't leave. We struggle with less management, however, most of us (at least those that have been there for over 12 months) know how to do everything - apart from cash up/down and to open and close but my manager trains the merchandiser in this so he can come in early on weekdays to set up and open. Somehow, this causes tension as another full-time staff member demands they get shown and given a set of keys and... my manager complies... this person becomes senior sales and basically takes on a supervisory role as we fill in the position. But, she SUCKS at it. The tills are never working, the lights are never on, AGAIN THERE'S NO BRIEF. This is brought up to our manager with a 'hey let the merchandiser do all this as he is actually competent' suggestion which is brushed off because my manager doesn't want to take the power away.

Meanwhile, this 'keyholder', has started cyberbullying one of our part-timers. A really good friend of mine, actually. She keeps it to herself at first, bless, but, after a while it gets too much. She confronts our ASM who kinda shrugs it off because he and the keyholder are really good friends. Suggestions like "block her:))))" are given - that, in theory work but in practice just make things more awkward for work. As you can imagine, this girl leaves because she has to, basically, for her own health. She contacts HR and shows me the email "we will tell management to keep an eye on ____, call (number) if things get more serious" HOWEVER this is after she's left. 

Working with our 'keyholder' becomes a problem for not only myself but other staff. This power trip or whatever, isn't good, and management don't understand why we hate it fully. 

Two other people leave - one of which is for a job in their degree field and another is because of them being generally unhappy with how things are ran. 

Then FUCK we're down so many staff and have to hire. We get new staff and they're TERRIBLE. Okay okay, I lie - one girl is good, if a bit shy, but, the others are just... bad? One guy keeps going on his phone and texting and the other called out sick for every shift but his opening (when he got his £50 uniform spend) and then quit. We then hire, again, and get someone whose okay - potential to improve, I guess. 

This then strikes this old v new mentality where older staff (12/18 months + although I try and stay out of this one) just go against the newer staff and blame then for all the fuckups. It becomes a problem and again, managers don't see it. They even encourage it as anytime bigger tasks need to be done they assign an "older" worker to make sure it gets done. THEN HOW WILL THINGS GET LEARNED? AND WHAT WHEN OTHER PEOPLE LEAVE?

This went on longer than expected buuuut that's basically been my 2017. I'd leave if I could but the pay is too good and I get full time hours that work around my mental health - something a lot of places will fail to offer.