This morning, I sat in a chair in my living room, all ready to go in my coat and hat, unable to walk to the door, knowing that guy who hassled me yesterday will be there again today.
I called my temp agency. They claim they can do nothing to help me, and that I am free to end the assignment. I told them I don't have that choice, my need of income is too great. I also reminded them that I have been asking them to move me for two months, that I am now in a threatening situation due to the bad placement they assigned me, and I can't believe nobody else in the city of new york needs help. My freaked-out agent finally handed me over to someone else, who at least sounded like he was going to make a little effort to place me elsewhere.
I called in sick to my job.
I emailed an aquaintance of mine who just happens to work for the agency. I told her my predicament. I don't know if she'll be able to help, but its a shot.
I have been looking forward this evening to seeing my galpal perform on Broadway tonight, and go out for drinks afteward with her. She just called me and told me that after the show, she has decided to go out for drinks with my ex-husband instead. Because today is his birthday. I broke down. How could she do this to me. How could she do this to me. I can't believe she did this to me.
I have been trying to call other girlfriends, for days now, begging someone, anyone, PLEASE just come sit with me in my living room while I pack. I have a LOT of work to do getting ready for the movers on Saturday, and when I am alone here, I spiral downward into depression, crying, unable to pack or do anything. I have to get this done and I feel utterly paralyzed.
All of my so-called girlfriends are not returning my calls or emails. I sit here looking at my things in my apartment that I still can't believe I will never see again, and cry. The moving boxes sit there, flattened, waiting.
In depseration, I called my agency back. This time I did not identify myself. I asked, tearfully, for the phone number to the benefits office. I just got insurance, and dammit, I need to use it. The secretary gave me the number and told me to ask for Chris. She said she hoped I felt better soon.
I called the number. "Can I please speak with Chris?" I sobbed.
"Sure, hon," the secretary said, and put me through.
Voicemail. I hung up and called back. "I'm sorry," I said, "Chris isn't in, and I need to speak with someone right away."
The secretary was audibly concerned. "I'm sorry ma'am, there's nobody else here who can talk about benefits... but she will be in at four."
"Can you at least just tell me if we have an EAP?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't know what an EAP is."
"Employee Assistance Program," I sobbed. "Mental health. As I'm sure you can see, I really need to talk to someone."
"I'm sorry ma'am," she said, "I don't know if we have one or not. But if you leave Chris a voicemail..."
"Fine," I said. I left a voicemail.
I considered heading down to my church to talk to my minister, but she doesn't see anyone without an appointment.
Not knowing what else to do, I went down to my superintendant's apartment in the basement to see if he could come and fix the window that my old roommate left open and broken. It is sucking all the heat out of the apartment. I'm only living here for a few more nights, is it so much to ask that I don't freeze? I can't believe the bitch left it like that. Of course, the super is not home.
I called the landlord's office and spoke to their wonderful secretary, who said she would try and get the super to come by my place today.
Can I live in my apartent just one more year? NO!
Can I live somewhere else in Manhattan? NO!
Can I live anywhere that doesn't have 5 guys in puffy jackets hanging out on the street corners every night? NO!
Can I live anywhere that doesn't involve a long, expensive commute? NO!
In the meantime, Can I get the window fixed? NO!
Can I have a job where I don't have to be harassed? NO!
Can I have drinks and cry on my friend's shoulder tonight? NO!
Can I get cry on ANY of my girlfriend's shoulders this week? NO!
Can I jump out my window and die on impact, rather than just breaking a lot of bones and winding up an additional thousands of dollars in debt for healthcare? NO!
It's 12:15pm. I'm going to go get drunk.
I called my church anyway and spoke to the office gal. She seems to feel that my minister might make an exception to the appointment rule and see me due to my obvious distress. She's in a meeting right now but should call me in a half hour. I have no idea if she'll see me, but maybe she will.