It’s about lunch time and I’m racing to serve customers at the diner. I hate it.

I said that I wouldn’t work waitressing after getting my real estate license but I need to make money so I keep taking shifts. I mean I need money to buy gas, my tank is on empty. I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it to the gas station. I’ll use $5 of my tip money. I mean I need $ for my son’s lunches and I mean I need money to pay the electric bill. And I have a credit card bill for $125, and that’s the minimum payment. If I’m late, I know the rate will go to 30% and the bill is due on Wednesday. Shall I go on? No, it’s too depressing.

And I’m so tired after standing (running) for 10 hours that I don’t even think about real estate. And I have to work as many shifts as I can because even that money is not enough. I’m on one of those contraptions the mice run around on.

I’ve got a minute, maybe two, and I go to the back of the stockroom where no one can see me. I get down on my knees and close my eyes and bring my hands together, “Dear God, if you will help me find a way out of this. If you will just give me a chance to work as a real estate agent, I promise that I’ll work so hard that I’ll be successful. I will work my ass off. And I promise that when I’m successful, I’ll turn around and help other girls that are in the same hopeless mess that I’m in now. So help me God.”

Will praying to God help? Probably not. But for some strange reason, I feel a hell of a lot better.