This adult thing leaves little to be desired.
According to my calculations, I have been an adult for about 19 years or so. I did this by taking my age now and subtracting it by 21. I am rounding it off as well, jumping ahead a bit to 40.
I know, so confusing.
From the age of 18-21, I was still a woman child.
Here is my list of things that stink about being an adult.
Believe it or not, I have excellent table manners and can be a lady when I have to be. Many years back, I went on a Royal Caribbean cruise with my immediate family. We had to dress up for a fancy dinner with the captain. I wore a skirt, and heels. Sadly, when we had been lunching on St. Thomas, I ate some curried beef stew. This did not set well with me, and while they were serving appetizers at dinner, my stomach started doing the La Cucaracha. I hurried away, my heels click clacking on the marble floor. I made it just in time, thankfully, but tweaked my ankle in the process. This is why I hate heels.
I’m tall enough, anyways. Yes, my family did make fun of me. They continue to do so. We still think poop is funny. Not mature in the least.
Getting a job
Because I was never a great student, my guidance counselor recommended that I take a vocational program, and since Cosmetology wasn’t an interest of mine, I took Child/Elder care. I liked both kids and older people, and I excelled. It got me through high school. I snagged a part-time job at a local daycare the last few months of my senior year.
I was excited and made a whopping $4.25. I was serving snack when this delightful little imp told me to fuck off when I asked her to sit down in her chair. I was taken aback, and told the head teacher what had happened. She said, and I quote, “What until you see her mother.”
My second job was at Burger King, which I hated, because I lacked coordination and speed. (And give a shit.) I got a call from a nursery school offering me a job as a teacher’s aide after my first shift at BK, and it didn’t hurt me one bit to tell them to take their Whopper’s and shove it.
Makes you miss Kindergarten, doesn’t it?
Dear Electric company,
I am poor, and have little finances to work with. I hope you don’t mind that I pay this months bill with pocket lint. Otherwise, it’s gonna be awfully dark in my house in three days.
Thank you in advance,
P.S. If the pocket lint doesn’t work, I have an old Magic Bullet.
Finding a place to live
I have yet to ever receive my security deposit back.
Every single damn one of my landlords has been a jackass. The winner goes to my last one, though, who wouldn’t fix our furnace. We had a guy come out to check it out finally, because I had an inkling that it was not indeed “fine” like he said it was. The furnace guy flagged it because it was throwing out dangerous levels of carbon monoxide. He still denied that there was anything wrong with it, and I went off on him. He was putting my family at risk, and we had to use portable heaters to warm our tiny rented house. We started taking pictures of all of the things he wouldn’t fix, like the live wire that was hanging in the garage. My sister-in-law reported him to the city.
We shopped for our own home in a frenzy that was stressful, because we had to get out of there. It was literally a matter of life or death. Our landlord actually had the nerve to demand his last 2 months of rent. We threatened to get a lawyer, and he shut the hell up. I have to ask, has anyone actually gotten their security deposit back?