Yesterday I received not one, not two but three letters from a bankruptcy court. Two days after laying off almost 80% of its workforce, the company I used to work for filed for Chapter 11.

So why am I getting notices about this, you may ask. I and my former coworkers have not been compensated for our last two and half weeks of pay. Since we are no longer employees of the company, our payroll is now classified as part of the company's debt. Therefore the court gets to decide when, if and how much we will get paid our final wages.

It's the most, wonderful time of the year...

I completely understand that the owners have to do what's best for their business to stay afloat. I get that. I really do. But let me be completely clear about this one thing: not paying us before they filed for bankruptcy was dishonorable and deceitful. When we were laid off, the word bankruptcy never came up. If it had, someone would have probably said, "Uh, hey! I want my money now dammit." Instead we were told we would be on payroll for one more week and would receive our final paycheck plus vacation pay two days after.

Lies.

Being out of work at the end of the year — a time typically known for being very slow month for hiring except temporary retail help (which I would guess has been light this year) — is stressful enough. Add in the recession and it's worse. Sprinkle on top some "OMG! I have no savings because I've spent the last five years paying off all my debt," and for good measure let's just Paula Deen it and sandwich it between a big helping of no final paycheck... you can see how this is recipe for buckling over in pain and needing to take medication.

So, last week I made a very difficult, but necessary decision. I cashed out my small, emphasis on small, retirement fund so I could pay for rent, utilities and groceries. It was either that or join the homeless Native American tranny hookers who stay in the alley behind my apartment. Sadly, I don't look that good in heels.

Of course, I would never be truly homeless. I have plenty of friends who would welcome me into their homes if I needed a place to crash. That is what I'm referring to currently as PLAN B because it's still a very possible outcome. This money coupled with unemployment (which I still haven't received yet because the government is SOFA KING AWESOME in its speed and organization) will only last so long.

But for now, thankfully, I am able to breathe a little easier.

The job hunt has been understandably slow. There just isn't a lot out there. I've had a couple interviews that didn't (most likely for the best) pan out, and one scheduled for this Friday that looks like it could be interesting. I have a feeling that January will pick up when the new quarter starts.

In the meantime, I've been working on some correspondence of my own. I wrote a letter to Santa Claus today, asking him to bring the owners of this company a terminal case of pubic lice and painful anal fissures. Hopefully my letter won't get lost in the sea of similar requests from other good boys and girls who are out of a job this holiday season.