Day Eight (continued)
Ted's Thirty Day Awakening
Ted had plenty of time to think, on the fifty-mile drive home from the lawyer’s office.
“Well, at least this lawyer only wants $500 to get started. That’s better than the $1,500 quote from .”
Of course, the $500 was just to get started on Ted’s “case.”
Ted was just under $700,000 in debt.
Over the past two and a half years, Ted’s income had dropped from a little over $200,000 a year to . And now, to “fix” his financial implosion, not only did he need to pay the lawyer to get started, he would be paying $298 an hour for all “case” activity going forward.
It was enough to ruin Ted’s day.
Luckily, the scenery on the drive home was simply amazing. So much green with the occasional waterfall and the magnificent blue of the ocean. It was paradise—provided you could afford it.
By the time Ted pulled into the condo parking lot, he had convinced himself that he would just have to continue on as he had to this point. Not that he had a choice. His bank account balance currently stood at $1.75.
Legal counsel was a luxury he could not afford right now.
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you,” Ted said with the same deadpan delivery as an actor in a made for TV detective story. For the briefest of moments, a slight smile flashed across his face.
“So glad Deb’s not here having to deal with all of this,” Ted thought as he closed the car door.
Ted took the long route to his condo, so he could check his mailbox. An activity that had become as gut-wrenching as answering the phone. These days, he tried not to do either, preferring “not knowing” to the stress one simple letter could induce.
Bill … junk … something from the condo association … a . — “Why are they writing me?” A quick slit of the envelope from his pocketknife and Ted had the answer. Someone had told his parents about his financial situation. The letter did not say who, nor did it mention the pending loss of the condo, but in with the letter was a check for $450. And in the memo section of the check (in his mom’s hand) were the words, “let’s go shopping!”
Ted closed the mailbox, wiped a tear from his eye, and headed back to the car. What remained of the afternoon was going to be spent shopping—right after he deposited the check of course.