“Mom, Dad…I’m broke again.”

After a fun weekend out partying in Toronto — that consisted of many vodka crans, being accosted by bottle service girls, a couple of Minions and an expensive Uber to the club — the following Monday, I decided to check up on my bank account to see how she was doing.  When I did, my bank account was not okay, it was on the verge of death.  She needed a medic and STAT.

I could not remember the last time I had seen such a number so low in my bank account.  I did a double-take, but no, my money was gone, it had disappeared.  In my sheer denial, I decided to scroll through the transactions to see if I had been a victim of credit card fraud.


I check my chequing account to see if it had been tampered with.


I could already hear my mother yelling at me, as she had given me about $200 a couple of days ago when I visited home and I could hear my dad telling me for the umpteenth time to "get a job".  I knew I couldn't face them on the phone or having to say for at least 20 minutes "I know, I'm sorry" or "I don't know what happened" or my favourite "being a human in this economy is hard".

So instead of calling my parents respectively to give them the grave update of my fallen bank account, I created a group chat with the both of them and texted them that I was broke again.

They both left me on "read".

Maybe they've had enough of me?


“Surprise! We’re going out for dinner!”

This past week has been a stressful one.  I had to complete an economics assignment, participate in online discussion groups for a class I’ve never been to, complete a critical essay and readings I’ve never done, run around the city looking at places to rent, all while at the same time I had to manage to be a human being.

On a Friday after I had come home from an apartment viewing, I was getting ready to climb into bed and get ready for a night of bingeing on Netflix when I got a text from my friend that said, “I’m picking you up at 7:15, be ready.”

Me not being a huge fan of surprises began to panic because aforementioned, I was broke and I had about $22 to my name in the bank, so where could we possibly be going on a Friday night?

The club?



I was apprehensive in agreeing to this mysterious outing, but I had not seen these specific friends in a while so I agreed.

Low and behold it was dinner.

We went to this restaurant called LOCAL and immediately I started looking at the menu so I can see what I can get for under twenty dollars without letting myself starve because I hadn’t been eating well ever since I had gone broke.

I got the appetizer size quesadilla and an ice tea, I was anticipating to pay at least $16 because I had gotten at least three refills because I was super thirsty that day and I thought you had to pay for refills.

To my surprise I paid $13.

I won this battle…for now.

“I’ll take you out for your birthday, but it has to cost less than $50.”

In the preceding events, (where I declared myself broke once again), I had forgotten about something important that I had to do this week.

I had to take one of my oldest and dearest friends out for a birthday dinner.

All I had managed to save in this debacle was a fifty dollar bill, so I knew I had to make sure that the dinner for the both of us cost less than $50.  So the anxiety that I had over her picking which restaurant she wanted to go to (I had previously told her to choose where she wanted to eat).  She did pick one (3 Brewers), it was a cute laid-back restaurant in the middle of downtown Ottawa that had a huge selection of beer…yay.

Me being me, I went to the website and I downloaded a PDF of the menu and I studied (as I usually do before I eat at a new restaurant) and I calculated whether or not two meals would come up to $50.

When my friend ordered her food, I almost squeaked.  She ordered a pulled pork sandwich and a sample of 5 different beers, but you know, I kept my composure.  After I asked for the bills, I sat there in silence waiting for the waitress to bring me the bill.

It was $44.

Thank you God.

“Internships are jobs…but you don’t get paid.”

If you haven't already heard or read by now, I've never been employed.

Okay, scratch that.

I've been employed twice, but I've never worked a day in my life.  You may be asking yourself "how does that even work?"  Well, I'll tell you.  Firstly, you get hired at these super sketchy companies (one pushing sales for these "state-of-the-art" knives, the other going door-to-door begging unsuspecting homeowners to sign up to donate a part of their income to reputable charities).  Don't get me wrong, I respect those who actually do that for a living, but you know, it's just not for me.

Though, I have never worked a day in my short life, I will say that I do have an impressive résumé on LinkedIn, with relatively good experience in my field and a research position with a professor at my university.

Despite my pretty good credentials, I've never made any money.

"You know, S, when you actually get a job that makes you money, I'll be very proud."  I would like to quote my father on that.  Gee thanks, dad.

I've had internship after internship, but no money.  But in order to get a job you need experience and I am gaining experience.  So at least I am doing something right.

But hey, at least I signed up for LinkedIn Premium!

(How am I supposed to afford that if I have no money?)