The Bitchin’ Ensues

August 13 will mark the second month since I left my job. That means, it’ll be two months since I haven’t received my back pay. People in poverty such as myself, could afford not earning anything for a limited time only, and right now, when the payment for my eyeglasses are due, I could use that forsaken sum of money to settle my bill. For all I know it’ll be no greater than Php * * but heck, I have to wait forever, for a miracle that may take forever.

Now the bank through which my “salary/backpay” should be wired for some annoying reason, deactivated my phone banking privileges. I could manage my finances by myself if only the phone banking works. To hell if I have to use my phonecard which I am better off using to call my family! Without any warning the bank—the bank I hate the most which I may name as soon as I hear their explanation—joined the conspiracy in pissing me off.

Given no other choice, I was reduced to asking favors to which I received an awful bitching. Grrr! It’s frustrating!

But wait there’s more! One of my credit cards, the one I am keen on keeping, screwed up its online abilities. I enrolled it long before—you know for convenience, when I’m away I could just log in elsewhere to manage it. But what do I discover? The online banking ceased working! I had to email certain managers and later use my precious call card to contact their customer service who’d hopefully attend to my concern.

Then there’s this other credit card, which had to have a problem. The savings account which I am maintaining wouldn’t accept that other credit card. Meaning, I couldn’t well transfer payments from my savings account to that other credit card from here because the card and the savings account are not in good relations with each other. How about that?

And to begin with, I ran out of funds to transfer thanks to the impossible backpay.

I am caught in this web of financial misfortunes I could have used extra understanding. But I guess I have to kneel for asking favors and swallow the uncalled for bitching.

I hate bitches. Given a chance, I’d slap them. Just to wake them up and put them in their proper place.

It’s morning, I shouldn’t be this negative. But I have to let it out, especially after my false hope has just been popped after discovering that the phonecall from a headhunter I received a few minutes ago was for another Mary living in this house. Obviously the "Mary" the headhunter is looking for is not me.

The sadist who finds entertainment in this should die laughing right about now.