Where My Burger At?

The past year has been one of financial hardship for me. Even to most people who know me well, this revelation will come as a surprise. I am not much of a talker; especially when it pertains to those parts of my life with which I am not thrilled.

At times, I wonder what has become of my life. I invested 7 years and $70,000 into my schooling, only to find myself – 15 years into the legal game – suffering money woes. I have always had champagne taste. For much of my working life, though, I have managed to have – at least – top shelf liquor wallet. This past year, however, my wallet has been decidedly beer, maybe even soda.

It started with the discrimination lawsuit against Zurich Insurance Company. The EEOC issued their finding that Zurich had discriminated against me; instead of offering at least an apology and the back pay to which the EEOC held I was entitled, Zurich offered a portion of the back-pay and a heaping serving of “eff you.” I could have walked away from the situation with my head held high; after all, I had already been vindicated by the EEOC’s determination. Instead, I allowed my injured pride and anger at the company and the situation to get the better of me and I proceeded to file a lawsuit against them. The situation has been dragging on for the better part of 5 years, but the litigation really heated up last year. In addition to paying my attorney out-of-pocket, I’ve had to shoulder the burden of countless depositions and their associated costs. Zurich has now filed a motion for summary judgment, to which we have had to respond and pay fees for. Turns out my pride and anger came at a very steep price.

Then, Brendan was at the age to start pre-school. And it so happens that our school district did not offer a free pre-school program. So, into private school he went – at $13,000 a year (which was one of the cheapest private schools I could find). This year, he’s ready for kindergarten, but the county doesn’t offer full-day kindergarten. So, that’s another $13,000.

Coming from the family I come from, this past year has been horrific for me. It was the first time in my adult life where the ends were not meeting. Heck, they weren’t even close enough to wave to each other. Each month found me liquidating assets to try to bridge the gap. And the financial bloodbath shows no signs of letting up: as I have written before, my company did not issue bonuses this year and has no plans of issuing any the coming year. Now, there is talk of a salary freeze. I am afraid. Very afraid. I don’t want to use up what I’ve worked so hard to save.

As always, in times of fear, I – like most folks – look for someone to blame. I was at a Bar Association event this past week where I met up with one of my good friends from law school. She confessed that she, too, was struggling. She married into an identical situation as mine; her husband has the same job as Big Bren and also has two children from a prior marriage. There were attorneys we knew there who married other attorneys. They seemed to be doing well, so invariably, the conversation turned to whether we had settled for “hamburger,” instead of waiting a little longer for filet mignon. We reasoned that, without the money flowing out to support other children, we’d have more to work with at home. And with the higher earning potential of our ideal partners, money wouldn’t be an issue.

I can tell you from personal experience that regret and resentment are horrible things; they will practically eat you alive. In just the past week after my friend and I had that conversation, I have been looking at everything through poop-colored glasses. School is starting in a few weeks, so I have had to shell out big bucks for Brendan’s uniforms, supplies, etc. And I have done so with such resentment that I cannot even describe it in words. I don’t resent Brendan; despite my financial shortcomings, I still want him to have the best I can possibly provide. I resent his father. Suddenly, the poor man is not “enough”; he doesn’t do enough; he doesn’t provide enough.

Today, he went to buy back-to-school clothes for the two other kids and I could barely swallow the bile that rose in my throat and threatened to choke me. “That’s money that should go towards Brendan’s uniforms!” my brain screamed. He wrote a check to the Psycho for child support and my mind went, “That should go towards tuition!” Then I stop to think about the wonderful things about him: how every day, at least once a day, he makes me laugh so hard, my sides hurt; how when he's holding my son, I feel like I'm seeing double; the time that I complained about one of the bathrooms and came back from work to find it completely gutted and him already working on the renovations; how he can fix anything -- yes, anything -- in the house and has saved us tons of money because of his handiness; how he makes my toes curl in the bedroom; how he sends me flowers at work "just because"; and how he goes with me to all of my Bar Association events because I just don't like people all that much.

At the end of the day, this is the life that I chose. For better or worse; for richer or poorer. It goes in cycles. And maybe people aren't just hamburger OR filet mignon; maybe they can be different things in different areas of their lives. In any event, having a good hamburger can sometimes be more satisfying than an ill-prepared filet mignon.