So many people in this economic environment are finding themselves unable to retire well into their golden years, if at all. The pensions and benefits that past generations relied on to see them through their post-employment lives simply aren’t available anymore. I also hope to raise awareness in younger people about the importance of financial responsibility and saving for retirement early. There is still so much shame associated with accepting financial help in this country, even for our older citizens. It’s my hope that CrowdedNest.com will eliminate some of that shame, make it easier for all people to talk about money, and enable more and more to live comfortably and with dignity into old age.
At the core of the business model is the ability for any friend or family member to be able to quickly and easily setup a trust account for someone, and then make micro-donations into the account, which the person cannot access until retirement age. The money in the trust will be invested in a hedge-fund or Vanguard target retirement fund. This way, someone who is unwilling or unable to invest in their own retirement can receive assistance from friends and loved ones and not be able to withdraw the funds early.
I’m an extremely industrious person, and have maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout my entire undergraduate and graduate career. I can assure you that this opportunity would not be wasted on me. I truly believe that CrowdedNest.com would be a valuable investment for you to make not only for yourself but for the world, and I hope that you’ll consider taking me on.
I’ve attached a recent photo and my social media information, so that you can get a better sense of who I am. Please let me know if we can set up an interview.
All the best,
Kassenia Bennett.
P.S. As far as Eastern-European descent goes, I’m half Croatian on my mother’s side and speak Croatian and Russian quite fluently. Just thought I’d let you know!
“Looks good to me,” Kelly says, reading over my shoulder.
“Should I send it?” I ask nervously.
“If you don’t, I will,” she says.
I slowly drag the cursor across the screen and finally hit “send.”
“It’s out of my hands now!” I sigh.
“That’s right!” Kelly grins, offering me a glass, “Let’s drink to your whirlwind adventure to come!”
“We can’t toast to that yet,” I laugh, “We still don’t even know if it’s real. Or if I’m going to get an interview, much less the job.”
“No,” Kelly says, shaking her head, “This internship is yours. I can feel it. Remember, I said that something big was coming your way? I think this is it, Kassenia. I really do.”
“Whatever you say, Kel,” I smile, taking a sip of booze.
“Now that you’ve got the ball rolling on your future success, will you please come out with me?” she asks, producing a slender joint from her purse.
“I think I’ve just been persuaded,” I smile.
We share the modest joint, nursing our drinks and talking excitedly about the job. The more we go on about it, the more I hope to God that it isn’t just a dead end. I need something huge to shake up my life, to start me off on a new chapter of this existence. Lord knows, these last few chapters have been less-than-ideal.
Hand in hand, Kelly and I head out into the warm June night. For the first time in weeks, my heart feels just a little bit hopeful. It seems like there’s something to look forward to again. Is all this just because of some Craigslist ad?
The night passes in mellow, contented waves. We find ourselves a little club off campus where a Bossa Nova band is playing for the night. We sway and swivel to the loose, sexy music, enjoying our easy high and each other’s company. By the end of the night, I’m actually feeling happy. Comfortable. I almost don’t know what to do with it. I pour myself into bed just before the sun comes up, looking forward to peaceful, slightly-stoned dreams.
But unfortunately, that’s not what I get.
The second my slumbering mind is let off its leash, it drags me back to the dark, familiar nightmares I’ve come to know so well. But in the moment, of course, they feel as real as anything. I cower before my own visions, wishing that I knew how to wake myself up again. All of the fear, the resentment, the rage that I keep bottled up inside of me comes spilling through every corner of my mind as I sleep.
In my dream, I’m back at my parents’ house in Fairfield, standing on the usually lush green lawn. But the grass beneath my feet is black, burned. Dead and crumbling. I make my way toward the house, wincing as the tiny stalks break beneath my feet like bones. I know exactly what I’ll find inside, but I can’t keep from moving forward. A wretched smell billows out from the open front door, suffocating me. And against every bit of will I have, I find myself walking into the house once more.
“Mom?” I call, “Rosie? Where are you?”
I know the answer, of course. But every time I hope for a different ending. I search the ground floor, noting the caked, dirty dishes in the sink, the TV that’s still playing some muted tacky sitcom. Everything is still. Everything is silent. And I know what has to happen next.
With my heart in my throat, I start to climb the stairs, past dozens of school pictures featuring me and my sister. In the most recent photo, Rosalie is only sixteen years old. I wonder what she would have looked like at twenty-one? Forty? Ninety? But of course, I’ll never know. Because the only way I’ll ever be able to picture her again is in this next moment.
I pad down the hallway toward Rosie’s room, ghostly tears streaming down my cheeks already. I don’t want to look. I can’t stand to. But I don’t have a choice. I nudge open her bedroom door, looking around at all of her things. A half-finished self portrait sits on her easel, by the bay window. Volumes of poetry and dozens of journals litter her writing desk. And there, on the far side of the room, is her wrought iron daybed.
“Rosie?” I whisper, edging forward, “Rosie, please be awake—”
My sister lays on her side, facing the wall. Her raven hair is splayed gorgeously across her pillow. I look desperately for the rise and fall of her sleeping breath, but she is perfectly, irrevocably still. Fingers trembling, I reach for her. I lay my hand on her slender shoulder, pulling it away at once as if burned. My disturbance nudges her just enough, and she shifts just a hair, rolling onto her back. My eyes fall on that face I know as well as my own—