still broke…
Mark called Foxtons….he finally left the studio, with the calling card I bought and called up the realtor. He promised to refund my account.
That was five hours ago.
For some reason, it takes these people a few days before they figure out how to conduct a transaction. Maybe it’s the time change. But it’s difficult for me to believe this allegedly reputable company conducts business with business professionals and other rich people. Especially when they go and fuck up my bank account.
I can’t ask my parents for a loan…they’ve already handed over so much to me, as it is.
My last-ditch plan: I’ll call Northwestern and beg for a cash advance on my fall financial aid. What bites about this whole situation – I saved all the dough from the last few quarters for this European experience. Now it’s gone, thanks to some god-damn fool from the UK who couldn’t grasp the concept of Central Standard Time and banking credit limits. Fucking-A. So, I was a good girl. I saved money. And now that effort was for shit.
Damn it.
But I do have a plan. A bad one, but at least it’s something. Especially since Mark still has blind faith in Foxtons. Can’t he see we’re getting screwed.
Had half a bottle of bordereau….working on some Smirnoff Ice. Only 3 Euros for that tasty drink. Maybe I can numb myself into sleep.
I’m terrified of being broke in Europe. I really am. This company…the last time we tried to conduct a transaction, the realtor left the office before I could get my bank to approve my withdrawal increase. He went home before sealing the deal. Is this professional? Is this responsible? Can I trust this asshole?
At least I can drink.