For a few days this week, I felt alive. My daily pay advances were suddenly much larger than they usually are. I'm such a fucking idiot, I allowed myself to believe that they must've promoted me to Team Lead on the payroll side before they had officially declared me the new TL, maybe as a suprise or a fluke or something. Nope. Of course not. A 44 year old man should know better. For two or three days, I felt like a human being again for the first time in.. I really don't know how long. I was able to actually place the grocery order that my partner had prepared, without culling it down to pop-tarts and sandwiches. I was able to pay for our storage unit. I was able to fill up the gas tank in our car, all without having to beg for donations to survive. I was able to pay for the motel room without needing to pray we had enough to cover the additional hold fees for the visa charge. For those couple of days, I felt like I was actually getting paid what I was worth. It's also amazing how much more pleasant work can be when you seem to be getting paid enough to stay independently fed and housed. I hadn't realized the crushing stress of trying to survive on $16/hr. It isn't enough for one person to live on, let alone two. I'd become inured to the fear of not knowing if I could raise enough money to keep us housed. Turns out they bumped the minimum pay rate at my location by fifty cents, and since I've been here for more than two years I got a one-time "fuck you, the teenagers are now making as much as you" wage compression bonus. It's the one time in almost three years I've seen them make income other than hourly wages available through the pay advance. I also got a thirty-two cent raise, which taking inflation into account means another penny or so of actual income increase. Fortunately I somehow managed to resist going on a spending spree, and for good reason; since I had received advances that totaled more than my actual wages, they clawed back the pay for my entire shift on Wednesday. I spent my day off yesterday fuming because it felt like I had just worked an awful, miserable shift for *free*. I'll be lucky if I get anything for today's shift either. I calculated what my pay would've been if those pay advances had been wage income, and it equated to roughly $22 per hour - approximately six dollars more per hour than my current pay rate. Our Team Leads don't even make quite that much. That's all it would take for me to not spend the vast majority of my waking hours being irritated that I continue to wake up alive and breathing every morning. Six fucking dollars per hour. Amidst all of this, Wednesday night I was struck by an epiphany as I dove head-first into an emotional meltdown over being given contradictory instructions; I was overwhelmed with the realization that they will never *ever* let me be TL, because a) I can't handle criticism b) I can't handle conflicting or contradictory instructions, and c) I wilt in a crisis. Team Leads here might potentially be responsible for the safety of an entire store full of employees and customers, all for less than $22/hr. That's what it feels like I *should* be getting paid in my current position *now*. I shouldn't have to make potentially life or death decisions regarding dozens of people for a piddly $5/hr raise. Regardless of all of this, I realized I've reached my limit for surviving on starvation wages. I've had a taste of life without being on the edge of homelessness. I'm not doing it anymore. One way or another, I am not going back to that. I'm tired of going hungry on my lunch breaks. I'm tired of relying on charity to survive. I'm tired of seeing our dog age prematurely because we can't afford to get him vaccinated so that we can take him to places to exercise him. I'm tired of this goddamned fucking sore the size of a pencil eraser on my tongue because of another cracked tooth constantly rubbing it. All of these things seem like such luxuries, and compared to billions of people they truly *are* luxuries. I know I should just be grateful for living in suburbia instead of war-torn wastelands. But for fucking fuck's sakes, I just want to have enough money to eat and live. One way or another I am done with all of this. Except there *is* no other way. I am quite possibly in the best possible employment situation I will ever be able to obtain. I'm a middle-aged man with no skills. It's only downhill from here. This isn't an acceptable quality of life for me. It isn't worth it. Anyone know if Kevorkian is still alive? No? *sigh* I wonder if there's any sort of advance sign-up for Kilmeade's homeless reduction program. Six dollars an hour more is all the additional wages I would need to feel like a functional human being. Fml.