The Rich Poor
As poor people go, I am rich. I was once genuinely rich, with an excellent job, 2 homes, 3 cars and a beautiful family. Sales, and finance, is tailor-made for a drinker. No back went un-slapped, no joke missed a laugh, I never failed to pick up the check. I was truly one of the high rollers.
Until it turned. Every laugh I once got from booze turned into an awkward silence. That story that never failed, failed. Every shot that once gave me courage now gave me the mumbles. But I did not not give up on drinking. No, I gave it every chance I could, until I found myself in my current straits.
I am the rich poor. Through sheer oversight, I did not manage to blow through every single penny I had. It was not for lack of trying. My once mighty portfolio now generates exactly 749.00 every month. This is lot of money in many parts of the world. In the town I live in, it is barely a decent hotel.
I live in a garage. I am grateful to have it. I costs me 200.00 a month. The landlord, a friend if a friend, does not know I often sleep here. Are relic of the 30's, it has a very old toilet and a microscopic sink. I keep my clothes here - despite my penury, I still have some very nice suits. Perhaps some day I will need them again.
I have memorized every single Starbucks within 5 miles. If you are reasonably dressed and are carrying a Starbucks cup, no one questions you. I can always score a New York Times if I watch carefully. I am not above casually flicking it over a half-eaten breakfast or a bagel, though Starbucks is not the place for food. I prefer Quigley's, where it is crowded, the portions are huge, and it is easy to move in on a basket of un-eaten French fries, or even a burger. Women leave the most food. Men often feel compelled to finish.
I sub at a catering company as often as I can. While there is plenty of left-over food, I have no refrigerator, and it is impractical to take more than a day's worth. What it is good for is alcohol. While they watch the un opened bottles very carefully, once a bottle is opened, it's considered sold. I am a master at helpfully clearing the used bottles, empty, near empty, or half empty. I pour the wine into a 64 oz. canteen I keep in my backback. Between this, and whatever I guzzle on the job, I usually go home with a buzz.
Yet I am made for greater things. I have a degree in finance; I am, or was, a master at sales. I can stop drinking, and do, for weeks at a time. I got a job selling at the Kia dealership. I did well, until Rufus, the sales manager, took me out to celebrate my first sale. Only one of us made it to work the next day.
I am writing this at Starbucks - they close in 4 minutes. On the morrow, I will stay sober.
-GA