I Heard the Truth From Lenny Bruce Is Not Afraid

I'm angry tonight. I've been very concerned about my job, because I'm not in a great place financially (I do not need help as badly as a lot of other people, but the next year is going to be less than ideal), but I got word today that as long as there IS work, I will be OK. The rest of our part time staff can't work past Thursday, so they get two weeks of pay at 60% of the total average of their last four paychecks, and after that they're fucked. As most of them work multiple jobs and ours is the only one offering them anything, that's barely enough money to make a difference. My diabetic ex, and roommate for twelve more days, was trying to stave off depression yesterday when the owner of his part time job basically said that she doesn't believe in taking measures to keep anyone safe. And he fell in. He's convinced he's going to get the virus and die, and if that doesn't happen he's going to be out of work and get evicted and then the only option is to kill himself, because he has decided that this will be going on for six months.

So, this makes me the bad guy, because every night for the past four, I've been going out to pick up food and as soon as I get home get told something else I was supposed to magically anticipate him needing. I told him multiple times to let me know today what he needed, and I came home and that's when he told me half a dozen things we don't have, with the stores closing in an hour. In spite of my messaging him while I was at the store. Like, dude, I am doing this FOR YOU, and I come home and you freak out at me? I can't keep putting up with that. In 12 days there is a very good possibility that I am going to lock the door of my studio apartment and ignore when he knocks. His brand new, diagnosed-with-anxiety girlfriend can deal with him and find out what she got herself into.

I don't believe that, not exactly. I do right now, in exactly the same way he believes he's gonna die. He believed fervently for over a month that he was going to die from cancer and when he found out he DIDN'T have cancer, didn't bother to tell me about it for a week. I get that he isn't OK, but I don't know what to do with him. It's not just him, it's everybody like us. It's everybody who works a collection of jobs barely keeping them afloat. What's going to happen to all of us?