This will hopefully be my last "down and out" series article. Thanks to JoeUsers, things are looking up (we still have to get rent current, but I am honestly say I'm optimistic for the first time in awhile that we can do it!) I did, however, want to include my notes from today, as part of my archives, because, even when we are on our feet, the battle has only just begun. Ours is one story among many, and the stories are likely as diverse as the people themselves. I truly feel I can use the valuable insight this has given me in helping others in the same or similar situations. I even have a plan to do so, which I will give to JU in a blog after these next two that I post.
This article is actually three separate entries, at three separate times today. I wound up not staying the night at the truck stop (metro police frowned on it; more for my safety than anything), so I can't do day labor tomorrow (it requires getting up at 3 am to get there in time to get work, and I was working on 4 hours sleep today as it is). Again, I am in a decidedly better frame of mind at this writing, but I feel the notes are important:
Entry 1: I am writing this portion of today's entry in the parking lot of the Food 4 Less on the corner of Sahara and Eastern in Las Vegas. I finished 8 hours of day labor for a construction company building a new hotel for a prominent national hotel chain (think billionaire heiresses). The site foreman was incredibly nasty and demanding today, and when we were done, I had a grand total of $44.32 to show for it (these are typical day labor wages); $20 went to the gas to get me there and back. Still, I'm grateful to get it, but I do wish supervisors could be a tad more kind to employees that are working for little of nothing.
I had a rough moment while shopping for my supper, and almost broke down in the store. I had to remind myself
that there are countless millions in the world in equal, or worse circumstances.
I don't feel "brave" for dealing with whatever life throws at me, but neither do I feel inclined to read another blog presupposing that I am a bum or that I should have had our children aborted or sent to orphanages. Frankly, I'm glad I don't have internet access at this very moment.
Entry 2: I am writing this from Sunset Park, just east of McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. In athletic terms, I have "hit the wall"; I cannot go on but continue solely because I MUST. I have no drive remaining, no hope remaining, no energy remaining, no humor remaining. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually bankrupt.
I just finished the worst 8 hours of work I've ever worked in my life (and I've worked some bad jobs), and yet I go back tomorrow. Why? Because I can't risk them not having a job to send me out on and so accepted a "repeat" ticket (note: This changed. See above).
The further I go, though, the more determined I am to see this to the end. But I need the strength and support of my friends now more than ever. I ache to hold my wife and children right now, as I should be. They are going through the same frustrations right now; the separation makes it harder to bear.
I may write one more entry before sleeping tonight, as my options of things to do that I actually WANT to do is very limited right now.
Entry 3: I am writing this from the truck stop across from the Silverton on Blue Diamond Road in Las Vegas. It is my intent to spend the night here so that I can work the day labor ticket tomorrow. If I am forced to move on, I will have no choice but to head home and forfeit what I would make tomorrow ($44). I should be able to make that up in cans over the weekend.
I wanted desperately to head home, but realized I cannot. It's not just about the money at this point; it has become much more than that. I want to stay at this both for my family's sake and to insure that I remain fully aware of the plight of so many others (although the money's a major motivation).
I feel much better after my time at the park, but I still am frustrated, outraged, and upset about how badly the system can fail.
As I prepare to bunker down at the truck stop, though, I can't get over one interesting irony:
I have a great view of the strip.
Respectfully submitted,
Gideon MacLeish