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From the Archives: A Stress-Free Way To Pay Bills And Get Instant Cash!

In my meandering (I call it meandering, some call it procrastination) through the overlord Google, I came across my old blog on the supreme entity Google’s blogspot. While I continue plodding away on a short story that is causing me to question everything I thought I was, please enjoy this timeless entry. Note the 2012 date. Yours, cb

Friday, November 23, 2012

A Stress-Free Way To Pay Bills And Get Instant Cash!

I still anticipate the arrival of daily mail. Not the electronic kind, but the kind where a guy in uniform walks up to your house and drops letters off in a thing called a mailbox. Some mailboxes are attached to the exterior of a house, some houses have slots in their doors for letters to be inserted, and in apartment buildings, residents have little individual mail slots or boxes where they collect mail. Mail. Coming home to mail. Maybe a postcard from a friend vacationing in the Swiss Alps, or a card acknowledging a milestone or a holiday.  Mail. From Canada Post!

Ah, the romance.

Today I received this gem from my credit union.

Dear Carolyn,

Imagine you have $511.28 in your chequing account.

Now imagine writing a cheque for $1000 … $1500 … or even $5000 without any concern that it will “bounce”. This is the straightforward, honest benefit of having an Advantage Line Of Credit.

By using your Advantage Line Of Credit, you increase the balance in your chequing account so you can pay unexpected bills …cover vacation expenses …or other occasional blips in your cash flow … (I stopped reading after this).

Now, I could be wrong, and please correct me if I am, but isn't this sort of marketing and/or economic policy what created the U.S. government calls the “fiscal cliff”. But – how could it be? The benefit of having an Advantage Line Of Credit is straightforward and honest!

I mean, like, hey, I gotta go to Aruba. That’s an occasional blip in my lifestyle.  Fer sure. But my cash flow is trickling. It might be an infection, I dunno. Hey - I’ll write a cheque for $5000 – that should take care of the yuck, like, ya.

Fiscal Cliff: Hey, cheque! I wanna see you bounce! Toss yourself off me!

Cheque: But I can’t bounce. It says so in the direct mail campaign.

Fiscal Cliff: I don’t believe it. Show me! First rule of storytelling – show, don’t tell!

Cheque: Okay, Cliff. Watch me soar muthafecker!

SFX: Weeping and gnashing of teeth.

THIS AD BROUGHT TO YOU BY 

FRIENDLY GUYS BANKRUPTCY TRUSTEES

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And people ask me why I get headaches.

Whoever conceived, wrote and approved the copy for the Advantage Line Of Credit should be forced to take out an Advantage Line Of Credit, rack it up without any enjoyment, and suffer the torment of financial insecurity. And when they cried for mercy, all they’d hear is a ‘blip’ sound.

It’s stuff like this that’s causing the middle class to collapse.

Me, I’m still waiting for a postcard from the Swiss Alps.

Bright Lit Big City returns Saturday, September 30, 4pm

Make sure that you attend Bright Lit Big City on Saturday September 30, 4pm at Hirut Cafe 2050 Danforth Ave Toronto. There will be injera. And authors reading their work. Probably in that order.

Letters from a Community Non-Profit Worker

January 13, 2020. Dear Mother. You've been dead for almost two years and now I can finally get a word in edgewise. It feels strange not hearing your criticism and sarcasm. I have a reservoir of your greatest hits to drawn upon though, so I'll continue being hard on myself in your absence.

You may be pleased to know I've been hired by a non-profit where I've been volunteering. The non-profit is a community support service that helps seniors and persons living with disabilities. I have no kids and have had a good run in the arts, so the lousy pay is not a deterrent. I have enormous respect for the staff, so if I keep my mouth shut and do as I'm told, I should be able to hold down this job for a month or two. A tall order, I am aware. Cautiously yours, Carolyn.

January 31, 2020. Dear Mother: I'm being trained on a client management computer system. The Meals on Wheels (MOW) Supervisor instructs me orally, and I write down every word. I compiled all the information she's given so far and wrote up a procedure manual, which I presented to her. She sniffed and gave me a curious look. Am I odd to do this? Why can't I trust my memory? Oh yeah -- all the pot smoking I did as a teenager. Riighhhtttt.

February 3, 2020.  Dear Mother: I overheard a video coming from the desk of C., the PSW Supervisor with whom I share an office. One of her PSW's brought the video to C.'s attention. The video sounded the alarm about the novel coronavirus that's due to spread globally. "The World Health Organization doesn't have a clue and isn't equipped to deal with this," insisted a woman's voice. "This virus is spread through the nose, mouth and eyes. Governments are doing nothing. They're carrying on like it's business as usual. Millions of people are going to die."  When the PSW left the office, I went over to C's cubicle and questioned the news source. A virus transmitted through the eyes? Sounds like science fiction to me.

          This job is far more stressful than I ever imagined. The title of Office Administrator was false and misleading advertising. It's more like Lackey for Every Department Chronically Understaffed.

February 11, 2020. Hello Mother: I am home sick with a cough, headache and fatigue. Just taking the day off, mind you. How were you a nurse in a hospital oncology ward all those years and never call in sick? Maybe it's because you lived with six teenagers and a husband in a small house and work was your escape. Now your devotion makes more sense.

          I've been on this job for a month, and it's killing me. If I'm not scrambling to find enough volunteers to deliver meals to the community's most vulnerable, I'm desperately trying to update ancient files for an upcoming accreditation, clearing dishes and mopping floors at our community dining events, and booking clients for an income tax clinic. I feel like I'm not doing any one job well. Doing stand-up comedy to a roomful of drunken and hostile yahoos is a walk in the park compared to this. A walk in the park -- that would be nice. Yes Mother, stiff upper lip. I hear you.

February 28, 2020. Mother: One of the managers sent an email to the staff today, informing us that masks and gloves are available. She asked if I wanted a mask. "Why would I need one, I'm in the office," I said. She handed it to me. "You might as well take it." I accepted it. She's just doing her job.

You know who need these masks? The volunteers. The poor souls that schlep meals out to the community. They need masks and gloves. No volunteer has asked for one yet, and I have been told not to offer any.

March 2, 2020: Dear Mother: This place could not run without volunteers. The ranks are sparse and dwindling. The Meals on Wheels Supervisor and I deliver meals more often than not because there aren't enough volunteers to cover our area. The ones we do have are loyal. Some are over 65, some live with disabilities. Most have been with us for over 10 years. Every day I tell them how great they are. Why do they volunteer? Why did I volunteer? To serve others, with no strings attached. It's as simple as that.

March 6, 2020: Mother: The stress is getting to veterans on staff. I hear C. reprimanding her charges now and then and letting out a loud "help me Jesus!" when the CEO bustles in unannounced. At first I chuckled at C.'s cries, but soon realized she wasn't being ironic. Every now and then I'll hear gospel music or Christian hip hop and rap coming from her cubicle. I am surrounded by people of faith.

I admire them for their reliance on a higher power. My higher power these days are the PM, the Premier and the Mayor.

March 19, 2020. Dear Mother: The community dining and wellness programs are shut down. Once busy dining areas for seniors are empty. Volunteers now have disposal gloves to wear when delivering meals. Masks are still not available. The only programming still going is Meals on Wheels and Personal Support. Covid-19 is closing in on us. Paradoxically, the job has never been easier. I am on my own now; the MOW Supervisor is home with her kids. My little MOW computer procedure manual has come in very handy. Life is being whittled to the basics.

March 26, 2020. Dear Mother: How did you face death while on the job? How did you face your own death? I speak with frightened, lonely seniors on the phone, assuring them that they'll receive their meals, that our service will not stop. I think about the dear faces who answer the door when I knock, and how they might be gone in an instant. Now I leave the meals at their doors, knock, and hear myself say 'have a nice day' from a hollow distance.

          The Christian rap plays at a steady rate from over the cubicle divide these days. I never thought I'd say this, but help us Jesus.