There’s nothing left in the liquor cabinet but orange bitters and banana schnapps, you’ve smoked down all the butts in the ashtray, and your car is still parked where it ran out of gas, halfway to the office, three days ago.
We understand. Journalists don’t have much of a reputation for fiscal maturity, and it doesn’t help that our compensation consists mostly of Popchips and Big Town Hero coupons. Like you, Willamette Week writers have stooped to humiliation to earn a buck, pulling invasive weeds in poison oak-infested fields; cleaning cat shit, garbage and dead iguanas out of downmarket rental units; drinking a bottle of Tabasco for $100; and even attempting to work for FedEx as a Christmas delivery man, lasting through 10 minutes of job training before quitting in a profanity-laced tirade.
It doesn’t have to be
this way. Maybe you can’t get a better-paying job right now, but you
can escape the boom-bust cycle of living paycheck to paycheck. It ain’t
easy, but it can be done. The stories in this issue will help you get
started—hopefully before you have to start on the schnapps.