When I was 5 years old, Mom sent me first just to store. Doña local Cinda, Bolivian, was around. My mom asked me bread, cheese, onions, I do not remember, but I was feeling a little bigger because I was going to buy one. Cinda gives me things and when to charge, I remember perfectly, says, "missing 5 pesos". I felt like a stab in the chest. Something ran down my back, it went to his head and settled in the throat. Anguish.
It was just a little kid and I was already feeling the discomfort caused by the system. "Do not reach ... Well, then I bring it," he said. I guess that was reflected in my face that strange feeling. I grabbed the bag. "I trust you" ran off with a chuckle. For the first time in my life I was going to buy something alone and was in debt. Mom miscalculated and that gave me a lesson. The system sends you have things, for that you need money, money never reaches you. That generates anxiety. I ran to my house and asked the 5 pesos to my mother. She said, "then I take" and I felt horrible. Mrs. trusted me What if mom forgot? How to play if all occupied my head was that debt? I insisted so much that mom gave me the money and I ran to pay the storekeeper. The relief was a beautiful feeling.
My 18 revenue were few. My old fletero and my old housewife. My brothers, smaller, studying. Not enough to hack around drinking beer in the corner. So I went into the jungle, beardless and inexperienced, to seek some employment propinara I needed to keep adolescents vices. Beer and cigarettes, books, magazines and pirated cassettes. 95 summer and the Rolling Stones were coming.
My first experience was make hamburgers. I resigned two months.
Then I went to a private mail. 8 hours a day handing out envelopes until they closed the office and left. They changed their name and address owe us 6 months' salary. A very common type in 90.
Later I worked with a lawyer. I got up at 5.30am in Villa Diamante to hit me a shower, take three dunks and reach 7.30 to courts. Many have not the slightest idea what is take a bus at 6 am in the conurbation. Or when the micro goes long and you know you will be late, with all that that it implies. And if it is in winter, you can feel how you are freezing fingers slowly when you cling to the pipe glaring at those who are seated. Small pleasures of life. The chick screaming for issues that I cared little. I paid a pittance, of course, black. One day I was late and I threw. He said: "Do not engage lose things ..." and closed the door.
Then I went barrepisos dealer and a bar Retirement named "Manolo". I was forced to wear trousers yellow jogging, yellow shirt with the inscription "Manolo Delivery" on the chest and a cap visor tone, along with two fanny packs filled with packets of salt and mayonnaise to leave with orders food to the hungry inhabiting office towers Bajo. One year of that humiliation, distribute food to slaves office withstand the wiles of the head, take orders, sweep and listen to the bikers and other passersby shout me down the street, "What DELIVERIES, Manolo?".
At that time also I entered laburar in a law firm. Then I was 22, 2 works and a rock band neighborhood. I exhausted but I was Gardel. I was at my best. "I had money," as he slowly came the black cloud of the crisis. Friday afternoon bought a bottle of cheap champagne and ate at Plaza San Martin with a friend who commanded a hot dog cart in the area. At that time I also tried with other substances that helped to be awake. I hit a little bad bipolarity. Strolling through courts morning suit and yellow teddy walk at noon. That double life took me to hospital, I grabbed a peak stress and had to give away one of the works. I left the bar. They reduced revenues but was at least quieter.
It was the second menemato. Success was Videomatch and had to be a god of summer, in the summer of 98. My boss was a fat pony lawyer. Nervous and abusive. He smoked nozzle and passed screaming. I had the post of cadet, attorney, factotum. Five years passed and one day I cracked. Clear out the street. I protested and I paid a hefty compensation. The salary for a month. The day I went to look I got a bag with four peso coins. It was in February 2002. Full crisis. Painted 1 to 1 cardboard had fallen.
I was no fixed job, as many. I managed to read new things, but I never stole a book. I started writing fiction delusional as a way to escape the economic and social reality. I helped my old freight loading. I was dating a girl. Given the absolute lack of money I got to go out looking for copper wire, brass horns, old iron bars and bottles to sell in a yard. I gathered some mangoes and managed to invite her to drink a few times. At home the atmosphere was put thick. The family mandate is, was and will be: "You earn your bread by the sweat of your brow."
They spent a few months garroneo relatives and friends. I did odd jobs, until I entered as a receptionist at a Center for Psychiatric Research. I was hired for the reception, attend and answer phones mails. A week ago I absolutely everything. Sweeping, serving coffee, go to the supermarket, pay bills boss and forge signatures of some doctors (forced by themselves) when they came asking patients prescriptions. Center Recoleta ladies who were quite ropes and only came to fight depression, which no longer attending a bourgeois luxury. Lower class workers have almost no time to think of becoming depressed. First you have to eat, get ceiling and bathe with hot water, then if you have time to be sad, it talks with quinielero or sodero or hairdressing.
The fauna was varied. Between doctors and patients, he could not distinguish the sane from the insane. The head revoleaba things besides shouting. Agendas, telephones, coffee cups. Every time a discussion ended with a flying object exploding against the wall began. The guy was a kind of guru of modern psychology and defender of Fukuyama. I was always nervous. I arrived at 8 in the morning and opened the day center. About ten patients came and were dedicated to wander around their existence.
The Center was a Pandora's Box. But nothing surprised me. My desk was in a strategic corner from which one could see all offices and lounge. My right window overlooking the courtyard of hotel accommodation. Every now and then heard the moans of happiness of others or saw the employees raise the blinds, aerate the room, change the channel porn novel afternoon and put new sheets with a hellish boredom. The front window overlooking the lung block. Just at the height of my sight it was a balcony where tied to a German shepherd who spent barking all day. In the apartment above the dog had a couple with a baby crying all the time and they argued relentlessly. Moaning, barking, screaming, crying child, telephone, patient, moaning, crying, shouting, barking, patients, forging signatures, barking ...
Furthermore should pay attention to my work. In the morning there was a psychiatrist if anything happened. And "something" could be to have a psychotic break and started to break everything. The doctor called me to warn every so often he would not go and left me in charge. Once, a Falklands veteran who kept touching, fought a discussion with an old and went to the hands. I pulled away and immediately called the doctor holder. He said: "Quiet, nothing happens, you poneles few drops of Halopidol in the mate ...". That day I quit. I left having to pay. The chief, in his private practice attending to the mother of my girlfriend. For those corridors I crossed many times when I gave up and called me to invite me to work with an NGO.
That's how in April 2004 I started kicking courts again and I learned to defend users and consumers. Ten years of my life were there. I quickly went from cadet to (again) factotum. I was secretary and treasurer. I met nearly every major law firms in Buenos Aires. In the commercial courts of Capital Federal I knew even the rats eat the records. I met many officials. The first years were all very lung, but we knew we had tailwind. The NGO started operating. We grew, and we were winning the trials. Among all that batifondo I married. My girlfriend became my wife. But the relationship with my boss, who was also my mother, was complicated.
The idyll could not last. And it did not last. One day I cried and could not stand. This time it was I who began to shout louder and revolear things. By the time I was doing therapy to hold the responsibilities of my job and her cries. And I think it was the therapy that made me react and send everything to hell. I hit the door and never returned.
I also divorced and I left home. I lived with a friend. I was a few months trying to remake. To pick up the pieces and rebuild something. Since then I do not have a steady job. The point is that at that time I had two large structures that clung to me, a secure job and a marriage. The work lasted ten years. The partner eleven. Releasing the lead pack that brought on the back, I felt lost me. But once I got an inner peace that not experienced in years.
In my 37 I finished high school and started the teaching of literature.
We do not live in copyright, so I work nearby, workshops or commissioned writing. Not reached, then do gardening with the same friend who hosted me when I left home. I promised not to lock myself in an office. I am working since I was 18 years old. And the actual reality is that no cash. But it does not affect me much.
Eventually I managed to overcome that anxiety and understood that the welfare passes away. I give myself a chance to mourn occasionally and that helps.
After the total crisis, I found my companion for this trip. I found love after love and happiness with her. It was a look, doing a play. That love gave fruit, Lucia, a beautiful baby. Now I spend many hours caring for my daughter because my wife works more than me. I am a parent present. And I choose that time. I prefer to keep trying freelance life although the home economy accrues by winding roads. Every smile from my daughter is worth it.