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I'll find it somewhere, but it's not like our budget has 'clothing' or 'vacation' categories from which to borrow. We've got transportation, food, rent and utilities, and that's all the money there is.
I'm going to try to convince the PITA client I fired that he does need to accept the fact that he reneged on his end of the contract, and the moneys paid out to the designer do NOT have to be reimbursed... but he's going to insist, and I don't want to fight with him. He's tenacious. He's needy. He will not let it go.
I'll have to ask my parents to give him dinner, and he'll be eating too many PB&J's at school, but we'll get through it somehow. All the huge work I did in September won't get paid out until November. We'll be okay, then.
Today looked to be a continuation of yesterday's endless pile of suck. I got up, got the kid to school, came back for a short conference call... that lasted TWO HOURS. Hurry up, get down to the metro, where I need to stop for cash, because lunch with Mine is cash only at our favorite Pho. I go up to the bank machine and look at it for a sec, then attempt to dip my card into the slot. Rather than sliding my card in and then out, the machine ate it.
Without hope, I went to the booth and told the station master what had happened, and he kindly came out and stuck his eyeball to the slot. "Yeah, I can see it, it's right there."
He went back to his booth with scissors, his multitool, and some masking tape and went to work, fishing for plastic. The time ticked by. I called Mine to explain to her why I'd be late. More time went by. We went to the little convenience store, but he didn't have any tweezers. I kept an eye on the book in case anyone needed him. I try to thank him for his time, but he won't stop working on the machine. "Hey, if this is a matter of man versus machine..." I started to say.
"Oh, yeah, now it's personal," said he, and I resigned myself to letting him rummage about as long as his stubborn ol' curious self needed to do, but I was convinced my bank card was toast. Mind you, this is my only card. I don't have a credit card.
Finally, the man starts to mutter, 'what's stickier than masking tape? what do I got that's sticker than masking tape...' and DING! Off he goes back to the booth. Comes back with some Scotch tape. Sticks it to the blade of his knife... and within thirty seconds is hauling my card out of the dag-nabbed machine.
I gave him a big hug, which I think startled him, and thanked him and thanked him, and caught a train for a later than expected lunch with Mine.
I'm going to try to convince the PITA client I fired that he does need to accept the fact that he reneged on his end of the contract, and the moneys paid out to the designer do NOT have to be reimbursed... but he's going to insist, and I don't want to fight with him. He's tenacious. He's needy. He will not let it go.
I'll have to ask my parents to give him dinner, and he'll be eating too many PB&J's at school, but we'll get through it somehow. All the huge work I did in September won't get paid out until November. We'll be okay, then.
Today looked to be a continuation of yesterday's endless pile of suck. I got up, got the kid to school, came back for a short conference call... that lasted TWO HOURS. Hurry up, get down to the metro, where I need to stop for cash, because lunch with Mine is cash only at our favorite Pho. I go up to the bank machine and look at it for a sec, then attempt to dip my card into the slot. Rather than sliding my card in and then out, the machine ate it.
Without hope, I went to the booth and told the station master what had happened, and he kindly came out and stuck his eyeball to the slot. "Yeah, I can see it, it's right there."
He went back to his booth with scissors, his multitool, and some masking tape and went to work, fishing for plastic. The time ticked by. I called Mine to explain to her why I'd be late. More time went by. We went to the little convenience store, but he didn't have any tweezers. I kept an eye on the book in case anyone needed him. I try to thank him for his time, but he won't stop working on the machine. "Hey, if this is a matter of man versus machine..." I started to say.
"Oh, yeah, now it's personal," said he, and I resigned myself to letting him rummage about as long as his stubborn ol' curious self needed to do, but I was convinced my bank card was toast. Mind you, this is my only card. I don't have a credit card.
Finally, the man starts to mutter, 'what's stickier than masking tape? what do I got that's sticker than masking tape...' and DING! Off he goes back to the booth. Comes back with some Scotch tape. Sticks it to the blade of his knife... and within thirty seconds is hauling my card out of the dag-nabbed machine.
I gave him a big hug, which I think startled him, and thanked him and thanked him, and caught a train for a later than expected lunch with Mine.