shirenomad | Plans? What plans?

Timeline for August:

- Four weeks ago, recognizing my financial situation for what it was (and that my intended temporary income source was intent on welching out), I abandoned the pretense of searching for a long-term career and started applying to anything and everything with a Help Wanted sign out front. Never mind putting my degree to good use; all I needed to stay in the black was $8 an hour, 40 hours a week, and I'd take what they would give me.
- Somewhere around last Tuesday I realized that anyone I applied to as of this point wouldn't even respond before I was long gone. I notified my roommates that barring a miracle they were getting their living room back, then called home for moving preparations.
- By Sunday my parents had arranged for a UHaul and a hotel room and prepared to drive down (it's a day-long trip from their place to mine, so they'd be staying overnight). Had all gone according to plan, they would have been halfway here by now.
- Yesterday at 2pm I get a call from a local bookstore I had applied to. They want to meet me for an interview, Thursday at 3:30 (that is, about an hour ago). Yes, if they like what they see they can hire me on the spot. I tell them I'll be there for the interview, figuring I can always cancel later, and email home immediately for advice.
- About 6pm Mom calls and we start trading information. She and Dad agree this is worth pursuing. By 7pm we've cancelled their hotel reservations and the UHaul (the latter at a $50 penalty), since there's no way I can get a final answer, positive or negative, to them before they'd need to leave. By 8pm I've informed all my roommates that I will be around at least another week (the next time the folks can come down), hopefully much longer.
- An hour ago I show up at the bookstore, armed with resume, tie, and shaved face. I have by this point convinced myself that the miracle I had thought would never come was knocking on my door.
- Five minutes into the interview my manager-to-be brings up salary. She'd noted the high rates I had listed on my application for previous jobs (all of them $13 an hour and up; tech jobs may be in short supply but we can still charge well for them even at the intern stage) and figured she might as well mention up front that she couldn't match them. That was fine by me; I wasn't aiming to get rich, just stay alive and down here. Then she said what I could expect to receive.

$7 an hour. Tops.

I refer you back to the first bulleted point.

I was tempted to keep going with the interview anyway, but I had double-checked that number last night and I knew I couldn't go lower, not with a student loan and Irvine rent prices. I politely told her on the spot that I couldn't live on that, and when she revealed she couldn't budge on the figure either, I didn't have a choice. Sorry to waste your time, thanks for seeing me, good luck finding someone else.

I got as far as the car before my emotions went completely through the toilet. I don't think I realized how much hope I had put on this job before it was snatched away...