A Wedding to Remember: Switched at Marriage Part 1 by Gina Robinson Page A
Authors: Gina Robinson
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my senior year.
I took off my gorgeous pink raincoat, the one that perked me up on dreary Seattle days like this one. My splurge purchase—the coat had cost over five hundred dollars. But it was worth every penny. And I mean every one. When I walked down the street wearing it, men looked. And women eyed me with the question Where did you get that lovely thing? shining in their eyes. I hung it in the closet and kicked off my soaked shoes.
I'd gone to Reno on Thursday on business to deal with issues at the distribution center for the small apparel firm I kind of worked for. Not exactly the stuff of my fashion merchandizing dreams. And I say "kind of" because my hours kept getting cut. It was just a matter of time before they faded to zero.
I came down with a major case of food poisoning on Friday afternoon, tossed my cookies on the plant manager's shoes, and had to spend an extra day in Reno. Mostly sleeping in the bathtub so I could be near the toilet. Now, on top of everything else, I had a stiff neck. And food still wasn't completely my friend again yet. But I lost three pounds during the adventure. So there was that.
My boss was royally angry about the extra expense. I was mortified by the whole experience. And to top it all off, because, you know, things weren't bad enough, someone had stolen my phone and wallet. They were eventually retrieved from a potted plant in the hotel lobby. Minus my cash, of course. Fortunately, I'd only had one of my two credit cards with me at the time. I'd had to cancel it. But by the time I did, the thief had taken it for a spin and maxed it out. It had been a total pain in the butt trying to pay my hotel bill and get home.
And then Monday hit with a vengeance and the office was no better than Reno. Apparently, the hours-fading-to-zero thing was suddenly on the fast track. They cut my hours. Again .
No boyfriend. Barely enough hours to register on the paycheck scale. My life sucked. I figured I was just about at rock bottom. In a weird way, I liked rock bottom. It meant things had to get better. There was just no other way for them to go.
If my life had been a plucky romantic comedy, this was my hero's cue to make his entrance in some totally adorable way. Hero, where are you?
I stuck a cup of instant macaroni and cheese in the microwave—cooking for one sucked—and checked the balance of my remaining open credit card on my phone. I crossed my fingers, hoping I had enough credit left to charge my rent. Like everything else in my life, my bank account was pretty much running on empty. My credit card account numbers came up.
"What!" The balance swam before my eyes. "Credit limit exceeded!" I took another deep breath and bit my tongue to hold the curses in. "This can't be right." I blinked. Twice. But, not surprisingly, the numbers didn't change. No matter how hard I wished.
"You weren't even in Reno," I said as if the credit card could hear me, hoping my empty apartment might at least sympathize with the plight we were in. It owed me that much. I'd spent whole paychecks decorating it.
Hands shaking, I brought up my current list of charges.
"Crap!" There were dozens of purchases at shops and casinos in Reno. How had the thief gotten hold of this one, too? I needed one of those identity protection places. Fast. Would they take you after the fact? Why was I never prepared? Oh, yeah, because things like identity theft protection cost money. That I didn't have.
In a panic, I grabbed my purse and dug out my credit card. My hand shook as I held it in front of me and chastised it. "Baby, how could you go shopping without me?"
I sighed. Rock bottom, where are you?
I called the credit card company's fraud alert number and explained the situation. Despite my fantastic storytelling, the woman on the other end was not sympathetic. Or even a big believer in my story.
"We'll close the account and investigate the charges. Once we verify they're fraudulent, we'll reverse them and issue you a
I took off my gorgeous pink raincoat, the one that perked me up on dreary Seattle days like this one. My splurge purchase—the coat had cost over five hundred dollars. But it was worth every penny. And I mean every one. When I walked down the street wearing it, men looked. And women eyed me with the question Where did you get that lovely thing? shining in their eyes. I hung it in the closet and kicked off my soaked shoes.
I'd gone to Reno on Thursday on business to deal with issues at the distribution center for the small apparel firm I kind of worked for. Not exactly the stuff of my fashion merchandizing dreams. And I say "kind of" because my hours kept getting cut. It was just a matter of time before they faded to zero.
I came down with a major case of food poisoning on Friday afternoon, tossed my cookies on the plant manager's shoes, and had to spend an extra day in Reno. Mostly sleeping in the bathtub so I could be near the toilet. Now, on top of everything else, I had a stiff neck. And food still wasn't completely my friend again yet. But I lost three pounds during the adventure. So there was that.
My boss was royally angry about the extra expense. I was mortified by the whole experience. And to top it all off, because, you know, things weren't bad enough, someone had stolen my phone and wallet. They were eventually retrieved from a potted plant in the hotel lobby. Minus my cash, of course. Fortunately, I'd only had one of my two credit cards with me at the time. I'd had to cancel it. But by the time I did, the thief had taken it for a spin and maxed it out. It had been a total pain in the butt trying to pay my hotel bill and get home.
And then Monday hit with a vengeance and the office was no better than Reno. Apparently, the hours-fading-to-zero thing was suddenly on the fast track. They cut my hours. Again .
No boyfriend. Barely enough hours to register on the paycheck scale. My life sucked. I figured I was just about at rock bottom. In a weird way, I liked rock bottom. It meant things had to get better. There was just no other way for them to go.
If my life had been a plucky romantic comedy, this was my hero's cue to make his entrance in some totally adorable way. Hero, where are you?
I stuck a cup of instant macaroni and cheese in the microwave—cooking for one sucked—and checked the balance of my remaining open credit card on my phone. I crossed my fingers, hoping I had enough credit left to charge my rent. Like everything else in my life, my bank account was pretty much running on empty. My credit card account numbers came up.
"What!" The balance swam before my eyes. "Credit limit exceeded!" I took another deep breath and bit my tongue to hold the curses in. "This can't be right." I blinked. Twice. But, not surprisingly, the numbers didn't change. No matter how hard I wished.
"You weren't even in Reno," I said as if the credit card could hear me, hoping my empty apartment might at least sympathize with the plight we were in. It owed me that much. I'd spent whole paychecks decorating it.
Hands shaking, I brought up my current list of charges.
"Crap!" There were dozens of purchases at shops and casinos in Reno. How had the thief gotten hold of this one, too? I needed one of those identity protection places. Fast. Would they take you after the fact? Why was I never prepared? Oh, yeah, because things like identity theft protection cost money. That I didn't have.
In a panic, I grabbed my purse and dug out my credit card. My hand shook as I held it in front of me and chastised it. "Baby, how could you go shopping without me?"
I sighed. Rock bottom, where are you?
I called the credit card company's fraud alert number and explained the situation. Despite my fantastic storytelling, the woman on the other end was not sympathetic. Or even a big believer in my story.
"We'll close the account and investigate the charges. Once we verify they're fraudulent, we'll reverse them and issue you a
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