Jake Stone · 24 · six weeks unemployed
Can I ask you for three dollars?
You don't owe me anything. You could close this right now and never think about me again. So let me try to earn it.
0 have said yes — progress to 2,000
These numbers aren't automatic. I update them by hand every day or two, so your donation may take a little while to show.
The urgent number is $6,000. That's what the first dollars do.
Card. No account. About twenty seconds.
The urgent number is $6,000. That's what the first dollars do.
Who I am
My name is Jake Stone. I'm 24, I live here, and the face at the top of this page is mine.
| Name | Jake Stone |
|---|---|
| Where | Not shared yet |
| Profile link | My Facebook page |
| Ledger | Not linked yet |
| Updates | Facebook updates — every day or two |
I haven't really been on Facebook before. I've usually had my head down, working — and lately, looking for something steadier. I'm using it now so you can see and hear from me: video updates, how the job hunt is going, what your help has paid for, and the ordinary bits in between. I'll post every day or two.
The coffee
Two weeks ago my card declined over $3.80.
Eleven at night, self-checkout, the cheapest basket I could build. Pasta, bread, yellow-sticker stuff. The machine said PLEASE SEE ASSISTANT and I stood there, twenty-four years old, with a degree and a car that starts, and put something back.
I chose the coffee. Four dollars. It was the only thing in the basket that wasn't strictly food.
Not dramatic. Just small, and constant, and exhausting.
That's the ask, by the way. Three dollars. Roughly the price of the thing I put back.
The part I haven't told anyone
I stopped replying to my friends. Because they'd ask how the hunt was going and I'd have to say 'still nothing' for the fourth time. There's a group chat I've been in since I was fifteen with eleven messages in it I haven't opened.
And I haven't told my mum. Partly pride. Mostly because she's broke too right now — worse than me. She'd help if she could. There's just nothing to help with.
Half my friends are in the same hole. One of them asked me for $20 last month and I said yes, because saying no would have been worse for both of us.
It isn't that I'm too proud to ask the people close to me. It's that everyone close to me is in the same boat. Which leaves you.
The car
Ten days ago I sold it. It was the last thing I owned that was worth anything.
I owed $8,900 on it. I sold it for $6,000 — cars lose value faster than the loan does, which is how car finance works and nobody tells you. The $6,000 came to me and went on overdue rent, food and the phone bill. The last $2,900 stayed with the finance company, and I'm still paying it monthly for a car that isn't mine.
And yes, I know it looks mad to sell a car and then ask for a car. But I needed cash ten days ago and I need wheels this week. Those are two different problems.
I sold the thing that got me to interviews, in order to survive long enough to go to interviews.
I handed the keys over in a car park on a Tuesday and didn't cry, which I was proud of. Then I cried on the bus home, which was less dignified.
The actual problem
I can get a job by Friday. Warehouse, bar, delivery — I've done all of them, and they're the reason anything runs. I'm not calling them bad.
Right now, though, I'm still unemployed. I take whatever odd jobs come along: helping around someone's house, gardening, walking a dog. I do the work, earn what I can, and keep looking. It helps, but it isn't enough to support even myself.
There's no regular wage to plan around. An odd job might cover something today without telling me how I'll pay for next week. And taking a regular job means fitting interviews around a rota, when I already need every paid hour I can get.
That's the gap I'm trying to get across: from whatever I can earn today to a job that lets me support myself. Some breathing room would let me stay housed, get to interviews and keep looking while I take the work that comes along.
I'm not asking for a rescue. I'm asking for a bridge.
The ask
So. Three dollars.
Not 'any amount helps.' Not 'every little bit counts.' Three dollars.
Not because three dollars is nothing — it's a real thing. But because three dollars doesn't have to be a decision. And if you do want to make one, everything you'd need is below.
If you want to give more, you can. But it doesn't need it. Three dollars was the whole ask.
What the money does, in order
Nothing gets paid out of order. If I raise less than the first stage, the first stage is all that happens.
First — $6,000 — stay housed, get mobile.
- Two months' rent, stops the immediate threat
- $2,000
- A car that starts. Nothing fancy
- $3,000
- Food, fuel, phone, two months
- $1,000
Then — $19,400 — clear what's hanging over me.
None of this is urgent.
- Car loan, on a car I no longer own
- $2,900
- Credit card
- $5,200
- Student loan arrears
- $11,300
Then — $3,000 — a cushion.
Two more months of rent, so one bad month doesn't undo everything.
Full picture: $28,400.
If I raise $300 it goes on rent. If I raise $3,000 it goes on rent and the car. That's the order.
The wall
Send three dollars, get your first name here. All of them, in order, as they come.
Fair questions
Who are you, and how do I check this is really you?
My name is Jake Stone. I'm 24. The face at the top is mine. I've linked my Facebook page above, and I'll share video updates there so you can see and hear from me. The ledger is for checking the money. You shouldn't have to decide from a sad paragraph alone.
What happened to your income, and what are you applying for?
I've been unemployed for six weeks. I pick up whatever gigs come along — helping around people's houses, gardening, dog walking. There's no regular wage, and what I earn isn't enough to cover my basic living costs. I've done warehouse, bar and delivery work before. I'm looking for a regular job I can live on, while taking the odd jobs that help me get through the week.
Where did the $6,000 from the car actually go?
Overdue rent, food and the phone bill. It kept me going when what I was earning wasn't covering the bills. It wasn't a spare $6,000 sitting next to this page. The breakdown belongs in the ledger, where you can check it.
How does the remaining car debt work if you sold the car?
Selling the car didn't end the monthly payments. There's $2,900 left, and I'm still paying it. It's in stage two, after the urgent $6,000. I'm not putting it ahead of rent, a basic car and food.
How much do you need immediately?
$6,000. Two months' rent, a car that starts, and food, fuel and phone for those two months. That's the first stage. The other numbers don't get to jump the queue.
Why does the student loan need funding now?
It doesn't. It's in stage two. Staying housed and getting to interviews come first. If I only raise the first stage, nothing goes to the student loan.
What if you raise $300? Or $3,000? Or more than the target?
$300 goes on rent. $3,000 goes on rent and towards the car. The order stays the same, whatever comes in.
If it goes beyond the full $28,400, I'll post an update on the public sheet explaining what the extra would do before spending it. No quietly inventing a fourth stage.
Will you post updates?
Yes. Every day or two. I'll share video updates on my Facebook page: how the job hunt is going, what your help has paid for, and the ordinary bits in between. I haven't really used Facebook before because I've always had my head down, working. I'm making time for it now. Even when the update is just 'still looking.'
Money in and money out will be on the public sheet. The counter and meter aren't automatic — I update them myself every day or two. If you've sent something and it hasn't appeared yet, it may just be waiting for the next update.
Is it tax-deductible?
No. That's the price of doing it my way.
Should I send more than three dollars?
Only if you want to. Three dollars was the whole ask. If that feels like a stretch, keep it. This isn't a test of how much you care.
So. Three dollars. From you.
If you've ever stood at a self-checkout at 11pm with your card in your hand, you already know how this feels. And you already know that a dollar from a stranger, on a bad night, was never really about the dollar.
Send $3If you're broke too — skip it. Put it in your own coffee fund. Half the people I know are, so you're in good company.
But if you've got three spare dollars and you read all of this — you're exactly the person I wrote it for.
P.S. Every dollar in and out is on one public sheet. You'll see exactly where it goes.