The Art Of Sacrifice

(Originally August 5, 2005)

Time to bite it. I'm taking my paycheck, and dividing it between my internet bill and my phone bill. I'm doing it by buying another weekly train card, and picking up my check from Starb's, then walking blocks up to a check-cashing joint, then walking over to the cable company to pay cash. Why cash, you ask? Because my bank stole 31 x 3 dollars from me and I decided to punish them by closing out the account. They had been so nice to me up until then, too. They recognized me and flirted with me and made me feel valued. Then their system let me make 5 purchases over a weekend with my Available Funds, but when a higher cost amount came for payment on that Monday, they pretended that my weekend purchase weren't actually REAL, and they took out the higher cost item (A Con Edison bill) first, thus making all those payments withdrawn from a negative balance. Well, after much crying and cursing (not really, but I sure thought them) they decided to reverse two of those overdrafts from the five they levvied against me. so they kept 31 dollars times three purchases.

Finance.

And as I walk through Manhattan on my several ways to and fro, I see the young, the pretty, the rich people of the world and I feel only slightly less ful against them than I normally do. 1) Because I'm at peace more with my life, and 2) Because I still believe that I will become one of these moneymakers one day.

Why should I blame Buffy for being born into money? Why should I blame Chip for having good genes and white skin? Why should I blame Mr. Rittendorf for learning the lessons of finance when he was a lad, and his father and uncle sacrificed all they had to build up the hardware store they had in the Bronx?

Why?

Because life's not fair and those opportunities weren't mine, that's why.

But what will it get me? What will bitterness and hatred accomplish?

Nothing, and may God damn my unbelief.