I Feel Lucky Today...

“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.”
- Sir Mick Jagger and Mr. Keith Richards

 What does good luck look like? A winning lottery ticket? Getting a parking space up front on Black Friday (a day on which I won’t go near any store)? Finding a folded $20 bill in your jeans pocket (always a major score)?

Thursday night, after a really great Thanksgiving dinner, I was headed home and notice the battery warning light was lit on my car’s dashboard. I’m not completely ignorant about cars, but I thought I just needed to restart the car and it would stop. I didn’t associate with the belt squealing that had become just so much background noise (I still need to get the AC and the heater fixed).
My car saw fit to educate me while I was on the 101 (It’s a California thing: ALL of our major highways are “The (fill in the blank),” “The 110.” “The 5 (Seriously, the ugliest, most frustrating stretch of highway in Southern California. It is FUGLY).” “The 101.”  Now, I know there is a perfectly good 101 running through New Hampshire. But, since it’s not in L.A., it’s not THE 101.) The lights dimmed (and it’s night), the radio died and the fuel injectors started choking and coughing like 5 pack a day smokers. Yeah, this is bad.

Now, you would think that good luck would have been that nothing had happened. No. That would have been nothing extraordinary.

This is why I say I am LUCKY:

1) Rather than dying on the main highway and becoming a hazard, there was enough momentum and slope that I was able to coast off at the Lankershim exit. Not enough to  get down to Cahuenga and turn into the Arco station next to the exit, but I was able to guide the car off the shoulder.

2) I have AAA (and I’m irritated that I won’t be able to upgrade back to my old Premium status because of this. Shoot) and a cell phone. Help was a phone call away. (If you don’t have AAA, GET IT)

3) As I was on the phone with AAA, a California Highway Patrol car pulled up behind me. While I was telling him what was going on, a second CHiP (Not Erik Estrada and Larry Wilcox) pulled up behind him. And they stayed to make sure I was okay.

4) The first AAA guy tested the battery and his gizmos said it was probably the alternator. Alternators are expensive. Wicked expensive. Luck? My paycheck had hit my account Thanksgiving morning. I had the means to deal with the problem. His portable charger gave my car enough juice to get to the Arco station.

5) The second AAA guy, the one with the flatbed, put his head together with the first guy and they found an AAA approved garage within the 7 miles allowed for a  free tow (to bring the car back down to where I live now…$234).

6) One of my friends from Thanksgiving dinner lived within 6 blocks of the garage and gave me a place to sleep for the night. Complete with kitties (including a kitten).

7) It wasn’t the alternator (beaucoup mega big bucks). It was the serpentine alternator BELT. And I got a discount because it was an approved garage. I had enough cash in my wallet to cover the bill.

8) I didn’t get to work on Friday; my job is “you don’t work, you don’t get paid”. But while I was waiting for the car to be finished, I got to see Ken Burns’ “The Dust Bowl” which I couldn’t find on the PBS stations down here. (It’s excellent and eye opening about one of the major factors of the Great Depression).

9) And finally, I was able to go in on Saturday and make up the 8 hours I’d missed the day before. AND, due to all the hours I’ve been putting in, I qualified for holiday pay on Thanksgiving. I didn’t miss any base hours.

 I didn’t hit the lottery (I did find 10 bucks in my pants pocket, though), but I hit the motherlode on luck. And I will be adding jumper cables to my trunk.

So, in the words of Mick and Keith, I didn’t get what I wanted (winning lottery ticket and George Clooney nibbling my earlobes). But, by God, I got what I needed and when I needed it.

Now that’s something to be thankful for.

Genug

Warning: beyond this point, there’s going to be a LOT of bitching.

Yesterday, chasing down a new job, I drove 170 miles round trip for an “interview” that lasted less than 10 minutes. I was dropping off paperwork at a staffing agency so I could be considered for employment by another company which may be ANOTHER 3 digit round trip. The people were nice enough and the pay rate discussed was adequate, but (if you read my Facebook page, you’ve seen this complaint) that was 5 gallons of gas for which I had paid $4.05 for each gallon (and thought that was a bargain. This is California). My car is a very good boy, but he’s a very good boy with 127,000 miles on his engine, in need of some love from a mechanic for which I don’t have money.

My phone crapped out this morning. This is my sole means of being reached by potential employers. I’ll be on my way to see what (if anything) I can do about it in 2.5 hours. Oh yeah, my phone bill is due, too. So is my storage bill. And my car insurance.  And my housing. What do I have for food? One chicken breast, ground flax seed and some almond butter.
And since I probably have to replace the phone (HTC Evo. When it’s good, it’s very, very good. When it goes down, it goes down HARD), housing myself after Friday is going to be a challenge. I live in a hotel (not a fancy one) because I fucked up years ago, my credit has sucked for years and California landlords are picky about credit, down payments, etc. unless one is willing to live in Cockroach Central or let the landlord climb on top of her (seriously. Read the ads on Craigslist sometime). Hotels, so long as you can pay the freight, are not. Well, from tomorrow forward, if I have to shell out for a new phone today, I can’t.
I can’t file for unemployment until Sunday night and it won’t be in until Monday. I’m educated. I have skills and experience. I have to go through this bullshit. You know, I’ve gone through similar bullshit a few times. Remember my rant about Samantha Brick and her means of getting ahead (find the alpha male and play up to him)? A woman with whom I used to work whose chief skill was sucking dick (literally) and the rest of us had to pick up her slack while she was busy employing that skill is still working. She’s at the same company that told me how much they liked me, but I haven’t gotten them to return a phone call in 2 years.

The last straw has been added to this camel’s back. Keep reading.

Meanwhile in America, where, theoretically, if you have the training and willingness to work hard, you can get and stay ahead, Nadya Suleman (the “Octomom”), a woman who’s claim to fame is having 14 children she will never be able to support (her house in La Habra is now saved from foreclosure because she’s filed for bankruptcy. Ms. Suleman: have you considered moving into a shoe?), boo-hooed her way into tens of thousands of dollars worth of cleaning, help with her army of test tube babies and training for a real job (but she’d rather have endorsement deals). And of course, we have my favorite family, the Whoredashians, whose empire rests on one daughter’s big ass, fame addiction and internationally  known sex tape. They’re thriving. I doubt any of them could spell cat if you spotted them the “c”, but I guess pretty people don’t have to work.

And one of Mitt Romney’s Bain Capital cronies, Edward Conrad,  has a book coming out that says “At base, having a small elite with vast wealth is good for the poor and middle class.” (I shit you not) Really? Vulture capitalism that throws the middle class out of their jobs is good for us?  We know you benefitted, Douchebag and you’re probably planning to help your buddy, Mitt,  rape American taxpayers even further. You’ve been giving millions to his campaign.  Thanks, Supreme Court and Citizens United. Way to level the fucking playing field for the middle class.

I’m not so sure I want to do this anymore. I am too old to pump out 14 test tube babies. I can’t tan, so a reality show like “The Jersey Shore” is out of the question and there is no way in hell I make a sex tape (Unless it was with Uggie the Dog, it wouldn’t get that much play anyway).

Donations gladly accepted.

O Glorious St. Joseph, thou who hast power to render possible even things which are considered impossible, come to our aid in our present trouble and distress. Take this important and difficult affair under thy particular protection, that it may end happily.