You shouldn't be ungrateful, especially when you know that others have it much worse. At least that's what Nick thought as he sat down at the bar, feeling contrite. Many people were affected by this disaster. And every day, people all over the world fall victim to even worse disasters. He and his family had lived in a good place. A safe place. That all of this would happen in their neighborhood of all places, was truly unforeseeable. Just think of the Halls. They're all dead. Nick, his little brother, and his mother had survived. His father had died protecting them. His father's life insurance was paid, but the one in the house didn't. You can't prepare for sinkholes. It's not covered. But, well, he was able to continue school and even study at a university. (At least until now). His mom finally went back to work and was slowly recovering. After all, it had been over three years now. And Tom, he's so smart, he'll definitely make it to university even though his condition was unstable for a while. He might even be able to get a really good degree, a five-year program. All Nick would have to do is quit. And start working full-time. He loved his little brother, he really did, but he had a dream too. Economics was an important profession, too. Well, most people studying economics didn't become economists, of course, but the financial sector was still a big part of that society. Anyone could study it in the past. Today, there were aptitude tests. Constructing and building disaster-proof buildings, developing and maintaining environmentally friendly energy, caring for the sick and injured, reforestation, border policy, all these things were in the foreground, but economics was still a huge part of this system. In the end, it was very similar to the way it used to be. Capitalism was now called a social market economy, and mostly, only names and terms remained from the American way of life. However, from a European perspective, not too much has changed except for all the immigration, of course. Many countries with good geographical locations were now a mix of all kinds of ethnicities and cultures.

Ah, and some professions just became even more unattainable, especially artistic ones. And professional sports. You got the feeling there were almost as many actors, singers, bands, footballers, basketball players, authors, and so on as there used to be. But a lot fewer people dreamed of that. The path to get there was about as feasible as becoming an astronaut at NASA. Or a pilot. Anyone with glasses or red-green color blindness was out of the running. That doesn't leave much room for dreaming at least not in this day and age. The artistic professions were not needed. Only those who had the money could study in that direction. And as in every age of humanity, there were still enough people with enough money. His little brother was always a dreamer. But with anything that happened, his dreams became even more out of reach, not that they ever encouraged him to pursue something so far-fetched. Man, reality could really kill the sparkles in every kid's eye. 

"What'll you have?" The bartender looked him directly in his eyes. A little too intense for Nicks's taste. A dark guy with a broad smile. He was probably from a southeastern region. He paused for a moment. Nick noticed that his own expression must still look contrite. 'Something strong, then?' The bartender grinned broadly again. Nick examined the guy in front of him. He was a little too good-looking for the bar they were in. It wasn't even that busy. A mixed bunch of clients, but not too many of them. Well, it was during the week, after all. 'Yeah, sure. Something strong.' Nick hurried to answer before it got even weirder. The guy just nodded and turned around.

The drink Nick got was very strong. He couldn't make out exactly what it was. "Your face is still screwed up in a funny way. So," the bartender guy swung his towel casually over his shoulder. "What's bothering you?" Nick looked into the glass of unrecognizable liquid in front of him. The guy had an accent, and his English sounded kind of weird now that he thought about it. But that wasn't really a problem. "I'm just ungrateful." The words were spoken before he could think about them. "Aren't most people?" The bartender shrugged. "You really don't need to feel bad about that." "Hmm, what a problem." Nick couldn't tell from the tone of his counterpart whether he was being serious or sarcastic." I've heard a lot of stories from a lot of people. And I can tell you one thing, most of those who feel guilty because they feel bad actually have reason to feel bad. Sometimes life sucks. It's definitely not fair. And sometimes you should just let it all out." He pointed at Nick with two fingers, as if he was imitating a pistol. "Complaining is your right." Nick exhaled heavily. Why not, actually. He had nothing else to do and he could feel the alcohol slowly rising to his head. "It's just" He emptied the rest of his glass. "I had such a normal life. School, sports, university, a career aspiration." His eyes became contrite again. "And then the typical shit happened." "Love?" The bartenders' grin became a little more mischievous. "No." Nick sounded almost offended. What a stupid assumption. "A natural disaster, of course." "Ahhhh." The bartender grimaced. "That sucks, of course." He leaned over the counter a little. "And then?" Nick couldn't tell if he was really interested or just making fun of him. But he didn't really care anymore." And then... my father died. My mother was a single parent. The life insurance paid, the insurance for the house didn't. My brother was seriously injured. Mom couldn't work for the first few years. He was in the hospital for a long time, had to go to rehab. It's almost a miracle he can still walk." Nick pushed the empty glass towards the taps. The bartender filled it up. "The life insurance ran out, I went to university. I studied what I wanted, but we couldn't afford a new house anymore, the rents are high and my mom hadn't worked for a few years. We had put some money aside for Tom's studies. But not enough. He can't work on the side, it's not good for his health." Nick emptied his glass. "And besides, he wants to be an artist." The bartender looked like he was actually thinking hard about was Nick said. "Artist," he repeated. "Yeah, that's bullshit." But that wasn't the main problem. Nick's mother just didn't make enough money. Insurance, running costs and rent – especially the rent – were no longer covered by her salary. They started taking out loans a few years ago. The debts grew. And the money kept getting less and less. "I took a year off. And started university a year later. I'm 23, that doesn't sound so bad, but nowadays..." Nick's eyes grew more and more vacant. It wasn't like it used to be. You didn't have forever to do everything. Your time at University was limited. But Nicks' family was prepared for that. They worked so hard. But they lost almost everything. Even though they thought they were prepared. "Losing something you once had is worse than never having it in the first place." The bartender's voice became a little more serious. "No kidding." Studying had become a privilege again. One that Nick was sure of having for a long time in his life. But he lost it. Alongside many others. 

"I have a friend." Nick was almost slurring his words. 'He's perfect.' Saint grinned. They were sitting on one of the corner benches in the bar. Nick had no idea why Saint had just stopped working and, to be honest, he wasn't quite sure how many hours he had actually been there, but somehow everything was very hazy and Saint seemed just as dense as he was." You can always find friends like that." "His name is Sailo-om." His real name was Sailom. But Nick was too drunk to pronounce it correctly. "Man, Sailom's in a real mess. I mean," he waved around as if to shoo away a fly, "he's really got the worst luck. His father's debts, his mother's death, and his brother... He's such a loser.' He paused briefly." Sailom does everything alone. He goes to uni. He's so smart. And so nice." Saint nodded with each of these words as if he knew Sailom personally. 'He'll make it.' 'That's great.' 'But it was so hard for him.' 'That sucks.' Nick buried his head in his hands. 'I'm such a failure.'" Hey, hey, hey. You're not." Saint was now also flailing his arms in the air. "So much shit happens. And everyone deals with it differently. You're doing really well." He patted Nick on the back. "You just keep working a well-paid job, of course, finish university and then pay for your brother." He snapped his fingers. "Ah, Simple." Nick looked at him, annoyed, and shook his head. "What?" "Well, a well-paid job is the most important thing." He stood up and stretched. "And I think I have something for you." "What?" 

The next morning, Nick had a bad hangover. And the number of a bartender he'd never seen before, with the name of a car brand. He could only vaguely remember what had happened. But he must have written down his entire life story. Saint, the bartender, probably as well. But only fragments of that were left, too. His pants were on the floor, and the corner of a napkin stuck out of them. Probably the contact details of Mr. Car Make. He had offered him a job, but Nick still knew that much. But what was the job? Nick staggered into the bathroom and took a shower. After brushing his teeth, drinking coffee, and eating two dry slices of toast, the world seemed a bit less shaky. The napkin was in front of him, with a number scribbled on it in pen, with Saint written underneath and dollar signs next to it. The whole thing didn't look very legitimate. Nick rubbed his face with his hands. His current job at the university didn't pay well, but he managed to fit it around his lectures. He should think twice about accepting shady napkin offers. Determined, he stood up and made his way to campus. 

When the fresh air blew around his nose, the world seemed a lot less overwhelming. Being in debt was one thing, but as long as he worked and kept going, the situation wasn't dangerous. So why take a risk? Everything would turn out fine soon.

"It won't," Sailom frowned as he looked down at his friend with a small notepad in his hand. 'Debts don't just disappear into thin air. Being poor often just attracts more poverty.' He had listened to Nick's somewhat positive description of his situation and last night's story, even though he just wanted to take the order. After all, he worked in this cafe. Sailom exhaled audibly. "I've already told you that you should find a better-paying job. You can't put it off forever. Debts don't just go away just because you ignore them." Nick grimaced. 'But we didn't borrow shady loans from shady debt collectors. The money is from the bank and the PFH.' Sailom frowned even more. "The PFH are loan sharks, only with better suits and a legal business. Now, order something; I've been standing around your table for far too long. I have to get credit for this as my break." The PFH were Private Financial Help organizations that sprang up like mushrooms about 15 years ago after a change in the law. The Start and the banks simply couldn't provide any more help to support all the victims of the natural disaster, so they legalized private lending in the Bondage Zone. In fact, if you couldn't pay back the money right away, they wouldn't come at night and beat you and your family, and the interest rate would be capped, but it was still high. And the guys were pushy in a different way.

Nick leaned back and watched his friend. Sailom always reminded him that even really good people could be opportunistic. And looks were deceptive. His friend was almost as tall as he was and had a dark complexion, large, almond-shaped eyes, and a Roman nose. But it suited his otherwise boyish face. Sometimes he seemed almost innocent, smiling kindly at the guests and nodding when they gave him their orders. He was popular. The girls from one of Nick's classes called him the cute waiter at the Campus Cafe. Sailom was always friendly and respectful towards others. He never spoke badly of others, kept out of drama, and Nick had never heard him talk shit about women or sexual achievements. Sometimes, he thought it might be because he didn't have time for all that. But on the other hand, Sailom was still very close with his friends from school days and they were pretty decent too. Still, Nick was glad that Sailom wasn't an angel. He often brought him back down to earth. Sailom was one of the smartest people Nick knew. And he was both – book smart and street smart, as they said. He had helped him a lot. He wasn't necessarily the most optimistic person – a bit cynical, rather – but he did what he said. He didn't just talk; he did.

Nick sank deeper into his chair and let out a small groan. Another job with more money was exactly what he needed. And the napkin was at least a chance for that. He shouldn't let it pass him by. He had to contact the bartender. But first, he had to survive the lectures.