Got a call at 11:30 from son. He went to the job fair. I know because I GPS’d him. His friends (2) both got hired on the spot. He didn’t, because he couldn’t finish the application. Why? Because he lost his driver’s license who knows when, and had not told us, could not find his college ID and so did not have a photo ID at all. He ended up driving his friends back and forth twice (says one of them had forgotten his wallet and they say they’ll pay him) so he used up most of the 4 gallons of gas he put in the car (on my dime) and he was, as usual, in a panic. I told him to go get a duplicate license. I’d pay for it. Then go back to the job fair, which doesn’t end until 6 p.m. He couldn’t find any mail with his name on it (required for a license) so I go home. He’s, of course, in a state. He’s afraid he won’t pass the drug test although he thinks it’s been long enough it won’t show. I tell him, “Worst case, you fail. At least you won’t have to ever put that down on an application later. You’ll be no worse off than you are now.” It goes on and on. “I’ve wasted six hours (it was 3). I’ve wasted the whole day (it was noon). I didn’t tell you because I was afraid.” Of WHAT? Afraid I’d be mad because he lost a license? I told him, “Which do you think I would be mad about? ‘I’ve been lying to you about everything, not looking for work at all.’ Or ‘I need a duplicate driver’s license in order to get a job.’” He “didn’t want to keep borrowing money” – I said “Borrowing means you have to pay it back. I said I’d buy you work clothes – do you really think $20 for a license was going to phase me?” Oh yes…he’s put is zero – ZERO- Job applications. You were all right and I was wrong. He did go to the career center – but didn’t finish the two on-line applications. He did try kmart.com, but it glitched. He has done nothing else besides, apparently, spend our gas money running around. There was a lot of shouting (mostly – but not all – him). There was a lot of crocodile tears (his) and a few real tears (mine). He went on and on about how he’s been so scared. BS. He’s so unhappy and he can’t look for work when he’s not even happy for one second. I told him I’d make him an appointment today with a psychiatrist. I was quite calm and occasionally sarcastic. He accused me of not caring. I advised him I’d cared about him from the day he was conceived…but I’m tired of the BS. He said, “I’m a failure.” I told him, “You haven’t failed at a thing – because you haven’t tried. I’d prefer failure.” So in the end, I gave him money for the license (on his debit card where I can see where it was spent) and found the necessary documents. I told him to go back to the job fair or not, I don’t care. I told him to man up and quit being a baby about this carp and get a freaking job. He doesn’t want to do on-line applications? Go to the stores and fill out paper ones. He said, “How could I ever prove I did that?” I said, “Hand them the application and say, May I have a copy of that for my records?’” That never occured to him. I’m sick of him apologizing and told him so. Don’t apologize – FIX IT! I showed him the door he put his fist through and said, “See this? This is ‘I lied to you.’ You can splash some spackle on it, but that won’t fix it. It can be patched up…but it requires real effort. It’s time you made that effort.” What I didn’t say – probably for the best – is that when there’s enough holes it can never be repaired. Talked with my husband. We will stick with what we said. We are not kicking him out, but he gets not one more penny in money from us. We will continue to allow use of the car and gas money (which will run through his debit card so I can tell where it is spent and that he is NOT going to a place that gives cash back) until Friday. Then the car is parked. Period. He kept going on about “just this week” is all he has. I said, “No. You have just this week with the car. You can walk. You can ride a bike. I’ll buy you a bus pass (pretty sure there was an adjective before the words “bus pass”) but you CAN continue to look for work without a car. People do it every day. You have your feet and a bike and a computer. Live with it.” I’m done. Not one more penny no matter how he begs. He can man up and start living like an adult, or he can live elsewhere. I don’t care if, he’s “a 19 year old guy who needs to be able to do stuff.” Not my d**m problem. I am done being patient. I am done being kind. I am done. I’m sitting back at my desk, where I deal with people all day long telling me how THEY don’t have any money, drinking coffee for lunch because I didn’t get to eat. My last words to him -after yet another "I'm so sorry"-was "I don't want any more apolgies. I want action." I’m just done.