To say that I’m upset, will be an understatement. I am raging. Like this black bull my grandmother used to own when I was 6 years old. That bull was and still is the most terrifying cow I ever came across. And believe me, I have interacted with a number of cows. Both literal and figurative. But that is beside the point. I am literally sharpening my teeth in readiness to bite off the head of whoever this is that is hell bent on messing up my financial life right now.
Backstory: A few minutes ago, I noticed that payroll has not scheduled my payment for the month of July, even after it failed to do so at the end of July itself. They say that my paperwork got stuck during its voyage to the HR office. That I should not worry. That they are terribly sorry. (oh , so am I!) And that they will look into it ASAP. But all my mind keeps doing is reminding me of the way I busted my ass throughout the month (mostly on my feet), went back home each evening with a hurting back and then they happen to forget to pay me again 2 months later? Devil, is that you I hear working overtime to ruin me?
I’m mad and exhausted from having to write polite emails asking them what the issue is when in reality I am a raging bag of madness. I am 10 angry lions packed in a suitcase. Does that even make sense? I especially feel upset that in this particular case I cannot point at one person in particular and say that they are the one having it in for me. Seriously, wouldn’t it feel nice to have a specific person that I can point a finger at and say’ so, you’re the bitch that is ruining my life, huh?’ Yet, look at me and my bags of anger. All we have to blame here are those dumb computers that keep skipping my payment paperwork.
But do you know what is even worse about it all? It coincides with the very day on which I just quit my second job. A job that has been making my life a dance in the burning flames of hell. A job that has been sucking the life out of my bones and the joy out of my heart like a tick on the back of a fat cow. So, let’s give my sadness a moment of silence.
I keep finding myself asking what it is that I am doing wrong. I mean, I pay my taxes, exercise, and heck, I even manage to complete my prayers without sleeping midway through. As if that is not enough, nowadays, I eat hard food without smudging my lipstick. So as you can see, I am really trying here. Really trying. You heard that? It was the sound of me going up and beyond to be at least worthy of this world’s mercy.
But suddenly, feel like I do not want to try anymore. Why should I? Then they come gushing. Stupid tears, why they always on standby? They start out silent. And then escalates by the minute. Oh those stupid tears brought their hiccup-y sisters with them.
He that is seated next to me hugs me and says it’s all going to be okay. What was that? I shake my head hard enough for him to know that I do not believe his words right now. I almost turn to tell him these words, ‘Sir, how exactly is it going to be okay when God isn’t even moving a finger to help me?’ But I hesitate. Instead, I simply nod and rise to go to the bathroom. That sacred bathroom where I released my first imaginary song album. That sacred bathroom where I perform songs before virtual audiences each morning. That is where I’m headed to do one thing. To howl in God’s ears until He gets uncomfortable enough with my hoarse voice and finally decides to do something about my situation.
I get to the bathroom. Gosh, why are some bathrooms so small? My edge-control gel is still open as I left it this morning… Wait. What’s that quote again? ‘May they always pay you enough so that your edges stay laid?’ Only it sounded better in my mind. I’m pretty sure that my tired ass just paraphrased a serious quote. Stupid people need to pay me, anyway.
I look in the mirror. She is staring right back at me. Her eyes hold mine. They’re are puffy and red. I want to laugh at her, but I realize too quickly who she is. And why she looks strangely familiar. She is me. I am that girl with puffy red eyes and a sore heart. I am that girl with a quivering lower lip this evening.
And so I close my eyes and whisper into space. ‘God. Dear God, could you please meet me halfway at least? I mean, I’m trying here. And crumbling under the weight of it while at it. Can’t you see that? Why don’t you send me whoever you can to help my situation? Even Nebuchadnezzar, really. I am picky today. I can even make do with Esau if that is what is available today. Just send me some help. Please.’