It is bloody agonizing to exist in this city without a phone.

So, I dropped my cell phone in a friend’s car last night — the car of a friend of a friend, actually. And, this is the absolute WORST time to lose my cell phone. My funds are dwindling, and I’m deep into the hunt for a new job. I have an interview tomorrow, as a matter of fact. And, wouldn’t you know, when I used a pay phone to check my messages, I noticed a message about another interview. But, I need to contact these people! I need to confirm my interview AND schedule my other one.

I have been using a pay phone all day (I don’t have a home phone). I’ll have to use one tomorrow, or find an available friend to use for an hour, in order to contact the interviewers. You know why? Because if you’re a Sprint customer, you have to call an insurance company and have a phone mailed to you. Isn’t that insane? What kind of system is that? And the asshat at the Sprint Store (and, I’ll be specific: It was at 86th and 3rd Ave.) didn’t seem remotely interested in trying to help me. He didn’t make eye contact or bother to ask if I wanted to turn off my other phone to keep it from being used. But, I bet he’ll be able to pay his rent next week. Fucker.

But, no worries. My phone won’t be used. The battery died — as it is an old ass phone, it tends to do that rather quickly. But, this sucks because I can’t just keep calling my phone, or have someone else do it, and hope someone picks up.

The one person I know who knows of this friend and friend of a friend was asked to contact them for me. I pleaded with her, gave her a script, tried to explain to her how important this was. But, in the end, she felt too nervous and awkward to help me out. Yeah.

I think a force of nature is trying to tell me I’m doomed.