Roscoe Can't Do It

Update 1/5/20: Unfortunately, after a 675$ visit to the mechanic, my car remains broken in exactly the same way it was before. I need to see another mechanic and things are going to be much more expensive than I expected as a result. I absolutely hate that this is still even open, let alone that I'm asking for more if you have it- I'm so so sorry for putting this back on your feed. I really was not expecting this.

Hi, I'm Roscoe. If you're reading this, you probably know that. You probably also know that I've been through a lot and consider myself pretty tough; that I like to help people I share communities with; that I like to keep my life as simple as I can and to focus on the things I really like, like art and music. 

I have detailed my situation in full to prevent any obfuscation of details. For a TLDR, please skip to the bolded text at the end of this description. 

You might also know that in August I moved out completely on my own this year for the first time, to Southern California, 3000 miles away from my home state of New York. You might even know that I tried to secure a full-time position with my previous employer, the Sherwin-Williams Company, and in fact believed I had succeeded, only to discover once I landed in California that I'd been led to believe that the job I had been led to believe was a promotion was actually 20 hours a week, 13 dollars an hour. This was quite literally not enough money to live on. This meant I found myself jobless and carless in an entirely new area, this deception leading me to believe I wouldn't need to search for work and therefore meaning I didn't have the ability to seek before moving. This, while a bad situation, was something I could ultimately live with. 

My desperation to do things like "buy food" and "pay rent" meant that when I was offered a seasonal position with the Wal-Mart Company, I took it. Unsure about the viability of this job in the longterm, I asked around repeatedly and was told that being signed on fulltime if I only weathered the busy season was virtually a guarantee, so miserable was the turnover rate (something I really should have thought about.) My schedule immediately was ramped up to 60-65 hour workweeks, 10.5-11 hours a day 6 days a week of intensive physical labour that bedrid me, a schedule of ridesharing that left me out of the house more than I was in it, routinely too exhausted to cook for myself. When my beloved great-grandfather passed away in November and I repeatedly requestied time off to attend his services back in New York, I was treated like a criminal, and threatened with firing for my THREE DAY ABSENCE. Communication issues between my managers routinely resulted in us, the workers, being punished and threatened. Our breaks were truncated to a point we may as well have not had them. My personal belongings were stolen twice from my locked locker and security couldn't even be bothered to give me a new one. All of this I was willing to put up with with the promise of steady full-time work until, antsy at lack of further information, I asked once more two weeks out from the end of our seasonal work period about my future with the company and was met with confusion and derision, told we'd all be let go despite the absolute skeleton crew left willing to tolerate these conditions. Realising how much of my life and health I'd had sucked away by a company of liars for a second time since moving, I had a massive mental breakdown and quit on the spot to prevent the self destructive relapse I felt myself careening towards. This, too, I could tolerate. Barely, but I was still standing. 

Finding myself catfished by employers for the second time in 4 months, I came to the resolution that to find work I'd need a car. My loving parents were incredibly generous in this, making my Christmas gift a 2000$ purchase of a 2003 Ford Taurus SES- as a family who has struggled desperately with unemployment, abject poverty, and repeated personal tragedy, the impact of this gift was not lost on me. The car, called "Dubs" for short, showed no issues during our test drive, and in fact seemed to be in such remarkable condition I was almost suspicious. Even so, everything was completely fine until about the tenth hour of driving, when Dubs unceremoniously gave a massive thump and stalled out at a red light, barely limping to a curb. After my own admittedly borderline useless inspection and inquiring with several gearhead friends, all I could think of was keeping an eye on it, unable to afford anything more on my rapidly dwindling funds. And indeed, Dubs was fine for another 60-mile trip to see a friend for the holiday. However, today on my way to a job interview, he stalled out so much harder. Which brings me to where I am now, sitting in the front of the most expensive piece of junk in my life, waiting for a tow truck I can't afford to an inspection I can't afford, officially unable to go it alone anymore. 

If you know me, you probably know I really, REALLY hate receiving gifts or asking for help. I've hated every second of typing this stupid sob story. But I don't know what to do anymore. Every time I donated to someone else's fundraiser, I did so hoping I'd never be in that situation, yet knowing I probably would be. 

I'll be honest with you: my mental health is tanking hard. Frankly, I don't want to kill myself, especially when I've dreamed of moving here for half a decade and finally done it. But when all of this happens to me despite my very, very best efforts, it's becoming increasingly difficult to justify to my illness why I shouldn't. Please help me keep myself alive. 

1500$ is honestly pretty arbitrary as a sum, as everything helps. Here's a breakdown of my thinking, with barely enough money to make it through January: 
Rent: 850
Utilities: never upwards of 100
Food: around 150
Recurring payments: around 150
Everything else: softening paying for whatever needs to happen to Dubs 

As I said, I'm actively looking for work and really hope I'll have an income again by February. 

TLDR: I moved to California thinking I had job security, but had been lied to. After being pressed into an abusive position, I fled my job in order to prevent myself from relapsing or worse. Now my new car is busted and I can't get a new job without it. I hate asking for help, but at this point, I need it. 

Thank you for reading this far. Whether you know me from being codgery on Facebook, buzzing in and out of Strudel Cafe, scribbling for Jabroni Mike, or whatever, old friend or new, I love you.


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Ros Vox 
Ontario, CA
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