Sure, I'll Be A Role Model

 Today was day one of my eight-week session of being a role model. A professional organization I belong to needed volunteers to help with a weekend workshop they were doing with high school students and I agreed to participate. Sure, it takes a commitment of getting up early on Saturday mornings and spending a full day with teenagers, but the opportunity intrigued me. And let's be honest, I'm always looking for new things to put on my resume.

This was an orientation day, so the coordinator introduced everyone and a keynote speaker addressed the audience. I also spoke to a few students and parents who were curious about what I did for a living. I only felt old twice - once when I had to explain who Maria Schriver was ( long story) and another time when a high school girl told me that she was so overwhelmed with career possibilities that she'd likely push back having children until she was at least 30. And then she gasped. And then I side eyed.

Naturally, I found an adorable boy I would have loved to have in my group. He had that nerdy teenage awkwardness, but he was so smart and so sweet that he made me think "awww" at least 9858457454545748 times. And then there was another boy I immediately didn't want in my group. He also had that same nerdy teenage awkwardness, but he seemed to think it was swagger. He made me think "shut up" at least 9858457454545748. Then we separated into our groups. Guess who was in mine? I'll give you a hint - I won't be saying aww for the next eight weeks.

Anyway, that's the evolution of my Saturday. As soon as I finish this post, I have to get caught up on my own writing which I've neglected all week. And later tonight, my real weekend will start! That's my hope, anyway.

Let Me Be Your Motivation

There have been several workplace changes over the last few months. In short, a lot of folks have gotten the heck on out. The company's finances are questionable, since we are sent misleading notes about how well things are going, then hit with a surprise furlough day. As I told my coworker, we're like the orchestra on the Titanic.

Never fear, I'm coping as best I can. I have two ways to handle the psychological prostitution that has become my Monday-Friday gig. One way is to wrap my resume up in sexy lingerie and prop it up on every street corner I know. The other is through my insane filing system. (I've come along way from how my desk used to look)

I started my filing system as a way to get better organized, and a way to stay sane. One of my critical folders is a file I've labeled “Goodies.” But honestly, the file's true name is “Things That Keep Me From Going the Fuck Off.” This folder was assembled in a moment of panic, when my Least Favorite Coworker Ever began tweeting EVERYTHING, when the higher ups began calling me by the other black person's name, when payroll 'accidentally' misplaced my mileage check, and when – now THIS was my final straw – some crazy MoFu walked by and tossed his ish in MY trash can! But I kept my cool. I grabbed a folder, some scissors, and I got to work.

Hence the birth of the Goodies folder. It contains various forms of inspiration, be it motivational quotes, obituaries of folks who overcame the odds and even fortune cookies that made me feel real good.

From this picture, you'll see glances of my good stuff – a sweet note that came with my Valentine's Day bouquet, an obituary of a blind man who ran an office supply store, a fortune cookie that says “Not Having a goal is more to be feared than not reaching one” and favorite quotes like “I am not afraid of storms for I am learning to sail my ship” - Louisa May Alcott and “Follow your passion and success will follow you” -Arthur Buddhold, which are from my Live Love Dream Desk calendar. Because I'm a handwriting geek, it also contains a few handwritten notes from people telling me I did a good job on various things. I keep those notes partly for inspiration, but partly because I like their penmanship so much that I dream of imitating it.

Anyway, these are the things that keep me from going homicidal. Everyone needs a coping mechanism!

They're trying to tell me something

Recently, my crutty but charming gym got bought out by a larger franchise. My spinning buddies and I mourned, until we realized nothing would change with our 6 a.m. workouts, they're still on the schedule under M, W and F. There were some benefits too. Our new memberships allowed us to visit larger, nicer gyms. I'm talking about stationary bikes that are equipped with fans. A room with boxing gloves and punching bags. A locker room that came with dressing rooms, vanities and suitable showers. It was heaven.

And then there was the downside this week. As we returned to the crutty gym, things were cruttier than we'd imagined. There are no paper towels in the ladies room, and barely any toilet paper. Our regular instructor is traveling for his job, and they can't find anyone to sub his classes. "No one wants to come out here," I heard an instructor say. So when I complained about the lack of paper towels, I also learned that the entire crutty gym was lacking supplies. The front desk attendant told me this, but what I heard was "they're going to be closing this gym soon. So be prepared." Bummer.

At work, the building is so cold, we never take our coats off. My method of warmth has been to bundle up in my American Red Cross blanket and warm my hands on a mug of hot water. I also have a space heater beside my desk, which has succeeded in keeping the right half of my body warm. But my space heater trend has caught on, and others are following suit, causing us to blow a fuse at the worse possible time. But I can't work when I'm locked in a meat locker, so something is going to have to change. The big boss told us that the system is antiquated and they've been having heat problems, plus it wasn't built to accommodate space heaters. What I really heard was "the company is broke as hell and heat is the last thing on our mind. furloughs are coming again, and we're struggling to stay afloat. Best be sending out those resumes, cause we're not going to be around much longer either." Double bummer, but point taken.

On Noise

My workplace is quiet. Too quiet. That’s not to say there isn’t a lot of talking going on. My coworkers and I talk constantly, from the minute we get in to the minute we leave. But this is the 21st century. Our communication is centered over email and the company’s i.m. system. When you’re in a silent environment, you don’t want to disrupt it with useless noise. So I’ll send Coworker A a note where I compliment her shoes; I’ll get a message from Coworker B that there are doughnuts in the back of the room and Coworker C will electronically ask me about my lunch plans.

There are times when the quiet gives me a headache. I have a lot of cds downloaded on my computer, so there are times when I put my headphones on and zone out. But sometimes this is problematic. My musical tastes go from gospel to gangsta, so catch me at the wrong moment and I’ll either pray for you or bust a cap in your ass.

This week, I tried to cut down on my musical tug of war. One day, I streamed NPR on my computer. It was cool, but the constant conversations had me so interested in what the hosts were saying, that I couldn’t concentrate on my work. Then I decided to stream NPR’s classical music station. Maybe listening to Mozart would not only motivate me, but it would simultaneously make me a genius. Well, I had the same problem as I did with my own musical selection. One song would have my heart beating out of my chest, and the very next one would depress me.

Today, it is quiet again. I’m going to talk to my plants. If that doesn’t work, I may just start talking aloud to my coworkers. We’ll see how they like that.

Here's a Personal Story: Bring Your Friends!

I mentioned before that I got a part-time job to help cope with the furloughs and other cutbacks my full-time gig had implemented. The second job is retail, so that means I would spend portions of my time going into this store and transforming myself into the bubbly aggressive salesperson that everyone ‘loves.’ Yes, this was very difficult for me.

I’d been leading the dual-job life for nearly three years now. We have secret shoppers who come in and evaluate us. It’s all very easy to get a 100 percent. And you’ll definitely get accolades if a customer complains that you were bothering them, because that just shows that we value customer service. So imagine my surprise when I got my secret shopper evaluation. My evaluator gave me a 91 percent. I didn’t get a perfect score because I didn’t tell her a personal story (i.e. “I love these pants because they make my butt look cute”) and I didn’t end our conversation with the company mantra: “Next time, bring your friends!” So here’s a personal story from me to her:

Dearest Secret Shopper:

Thank you so much for submitting your opinion about my customer service. Because we see hundreds (ok, dozens) of women a day, it is hard for me to remember exactly who you are. Could you be the shopper who came in pushing a stroller. I rushed over to give your child a sticker, only to realize you were not pushing a child, but a dog. Or could you be the shopper who came in wearing M-sized pants, but then only wanted to be fitted in XS? And after each pair of XS’s wouldn’t do, you’d look at yourself in the mirror and screech “MY LITTLE GIRL PARTS ARE SHOWING!”

So after struggles like that, you an imagine why I may have neglected to share a personal story with you. You don’t want to hear about the acrobatics I have to pull in my main job’s bathroom stall when it’s time to change into my job #2 uniform. Surely you don’t want to hear about those times I’ve hidden myself in the fitting room, closed the curtains and took a cat nap. Or maybe you’d like to know that working in a store full of women has made me ravenous for practically every man that walks by. (See UPS Man, water cooler man, light fixture man, shoppers’ husbands, etc etc etc)

See, I knew all of that would bore you. Never the less, you asked and I answered. And it is because of silly demands like that that today will be my last day at the store. I’m going to catch up on two things I value in life -- Sleep and Sanity. But don’t let that stop you from coming in the store. I’m sure my (former) coworkers would love to entertain you and your retail values. But as for me.... I’m gone.

Next time, bring your friends!

Best,

S/C/W

Soc(k)rates Saved My Life

A sock puppet saved my life

I’m sitting at work with a sock puppet on my neck and I am NOT ashamed. I have named the puppet Soc(k)rates, and it has saved my life.

Previously, I mentioned that I was out of town, on vacation. I mentioned the beautiful beaches, the wedding and the scenery. But I did not mention The Pain. You see, I am not as young as I once was. That means I can still hold a drank while dropping it like it’s hot, but I can’t do it as easily as I once did. So after a weekend of electric slidin’, wave ridin’, and old man hidin’, I was in PAIN. The left side of my neck felt like somebody had been beating it with a hammer. The only way I could get relief was by popping pills, applying hot compresses and cocking my head to the side in a not so sophisticated gangsta lean. I just hope I don't have this.

So I did what most people do. Go to the doctor? Nope. I googled my symptoms and whined about my pain until someone gave me a solution. A trusted friend suggested I take a sock, fill it with uncooked rice, warm it up in the microwave, and place it on my pained neck. I did it and by golly it worked. But then I’d go to sleep, and wake up in pain again. So I had to start breakfast with my new sock puppet on my neck, get dressed and drive to work that way. Heck, once I arrived at work, I warmed Socrates up again and placed him back on my neck. Most folks looked at me and just shook their heads. Of course, one person asked me about it and when I explained Socrates’ function, she said ‘don’t you know they sell real heating pads nowadays?’ Point taken, but I enjoy the level of comfort Socrates and I have reached.

In my crazier thoughts -- and my ongoing efforts to get sent home for Mental Health Day -- I’ve drawn eyes and a mouth on Soc(k)rates. I’ve propped him up right beside my morning cup of tea and asked him about his goals and aspirations. I’d gossip with him about coworkers, all within earshot. I’d dance with him in the middle of the day. But no, I didn’t do any of those things. I do keep Socrates perched on my neck. And I do warm him up in the microwave a few times a day. Whenever anyone inquires about him, I say “This is Soc(k)rates. And he makes me feel good.” Then they march away quietly.

I Don't Wanna Play

I’ve matured over the years. I’m a woman, ok? I’m no longer that bespectacled little girl who screamed “I don’t wanna play!” whenever I was forced to join my Lego's with the Boy Who Eats Paste, or asked to make room in my sandbox for the Girl With the Orthodontic Headgear. You see, when you’re already uncool, there is nothing that knocks you further down the popularity scale than being teamed with someone who is even less cool.

Those years are long behind me, but I’ve found myself in an adult version of this scenario in the workplace. As an adult, how do you tell someone that you don’t want to be their friend? How do you tell someone that their good intentions are coming across as stalkerish and insane? This is my problem.

Several weeks ago, I met Pat while washing my hands in the restroom.(Red flag #1) She introduced herself and noted that we were among the .5 percent of black folks in the building. We shared a few “No, I don’t eat watermelon” and “Yes, the president is very articulate” stories and went our separate ways. I was fine with that, I’m always open to seeing a friendly face in the building, especially one of color.

But, I began to see Pat everywhere. And everywhere I see Pat, she wants to TALK. If I’m entering the building while she’s outside smoking, Pat will put out her cigarette to ask me about the weather. If I’m reading and eating in the lunchroom, Pat will come in to ask me what I’m reading. If Pat is on her cell phone when I walk by, she’ll end her conversation to ask me about something on television. Or to gossip about another coworker. Or a popular song.

She leaves books on my desk, with promises of sending more. She interrupts my conversations with other people to ask if I’ve read said book. Once, I found Pat in the restroom and I swear she was waiting by the sink for me to finish up in the stall. I had to fake a bowel movement – lots of grunting, ya’ll – to get her to leave.

Pat is making me a prisoner at my own job. I have no desire to go to the vending machine, to my car, or even to the bathroom. I’m tired of being caught up in the web of her one-sided conversations that go nowhere. Yes, she may be a lonely person who is just hungry for a friend. But she needs to realize that I’m a loud, ticking time bomb of an introvert with raging bouts of pms and my dance card is full, thank you very much. So the next time she comes at me with some of her gibberish, I may just throw my hands up and shout: I DON'T WANNA PLAY!

Photo from http://witchnextdoor.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/sandbox_boy1.gif

Hey, Mr (Computer) Man, there's something wrong with my line ....

(week 1)

Dear Dan The Computer Man:

I appreciate all the rearranging you've done to my work area and giving me a new computer monitor. With all the cutbacks at the company, I'm glad you were able to fit my technical needs into your additional tasks of custodian/payroll supervisor/carpenter. When I saw you leveling that desk the other day, you were less than pleased when I told you about my blank computer screen. Nevertheless, I'm glad you got to it.

That being said, you should know that I keep a variety of items at my desk as a source of inspiration. That Method Man picture you saw, taped to the bottom of my screen? Yeah, I'mmma need that back. There is nothing like a gorgeous, thuggish man staring at me with those possessed eyes, silently encouraging me to represent Wu. Yes, I know he wouldn't want me in all my natural glory, but let me have my fantasy. I'll patiently await my picture to be returned.

Best,

Strength

(week 2)

Dear Dan The Computer Man:

First off, I want to apologize for interrupting you while you were plunging that toilet. Apparently, the unisex bathroom isn't enough for us anymore. And poor you, having to fill in for Craig n dem who rolled out on the company earlier this month. I mean, he could've at least left a uniform behind for you to wear. You look so out of place in your suit and tie, fiercely wielding a plunger.

So it breaks my heart to have to share another computer problem with you. I'm not able to retrieve pertinent documents from my hard drive. Now, I can understand the confusion. When you saw a document saved as 'FUCK YA'LL', you probably thought it was nonsense. Actually, that 12-page document is my letter of resignation. Whenever the Powers That Be give me unneeded stress, I whip out this treaty and add to it. When I leave this company, I want them to know each and every reason for my departure. At least count, I reached reason #274. Please locate my document so I can add reasons #275-#312. Yes, it's been that kind of week. I'll wait for you to work your magic.

Peace and blessings,

Strength

(week 3)

Hey Dan:

Fine, I'll stop calling you at home. But what else am I supposed to do when you don't return my emails or work IMs? I know I scared you when I was sitting at your desk yesterday morning, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If you hadn't called security on me, I would've explained this.

Anyway, my latest computer problem is with my music. In the nearly six years I've been here, I've taken the time to load inspirational music onto my computer. But ever since you did your extreme makeover, I can't find any of my old tunes. I'm a woman who needs to be fed with copious amounts of Eminem/Jay-Z/Me'shell N'degeoHoweverYouSpellIt/Amel Larrieux. And I'm talking DAILY. If I seemed especially aggressive, that was because I didn't get my dose of 'Dead Nigga Boulevard' or 'Way I Am' or 'Kill You.' These are my lullabyes. Once the security guards let me go, I hope to return to a musical computer.

Thanks,

Strength

(week 4)

Hi Dan:

Fine, leave if you want to. You should know that the rumor mill is blazing with tales of your departure. Did you really just erupt when you learned that my latest computer monitor had failed me, and you'd have to get me another one? Did you really storm out of the building shrieking 'FUCK YA'LL!!'? If so, that's copyright infringement, and I hope my check is in the mail.

You'll be happy to know that your replacement is handling my needs. Leo is not disturbed by my bobbleheads, or my Avenging Unicorns. He also has the same musical interests as me. Just the other night at karaoke, we entertained the audience with our duet of 'Renegade.' He did Jay-Z's verses, and I did Eminem's. It was a great time. But I do believe I scared the audience when I jumped up on the table and shrieked 'What did I do (huh)/I'm just a kid from the gutter/makin this butter off these bloodsuckers/cuz I'm a muh'fuckin RENEGADE.' I can't begin to emphasize the sexiness of a man who is strong enough to carry his drunken/deranged colleague off the table, yet gentle enough to hand her another beer and tell her to get back on that stage. I do believe I'm in love.

Anyway, it was great working with you Dan. I heard that a going away party is being planned. Expect Leo and I to be there, carrying microphones and a karaoke machine.

Best wishes,

MC Strength

(Photo from www.digitaljournal.com/img/5/6/48/9/8/i/4/6/2/o/love.jpg

Scribbles

I have to go to a ton of meetings for work, and at times, I get a little bored. In times when it's tough for me to avoid falling asleep, I tend to write my signature over and over again in my notebook, then give a pensive look to the speaker. This time, I just decided to do some freewriting in my notebook and it led to a bit of craziness that I'll share here.

This is all from a county budget hearing I had to attend about a month ago:

-Time to google new hairstyles -- A 'fro? twists? cornrows? Find some Dominicans to straighten it when need be?
-Hungry, tired and generally in a bad mood. Evil is more like it
-I am parked in level 3 of gotts parking garage
-Feeling like I should've bought a book
-But of course, I'd get caught and that wouldn't be a good look..
-not for me, not for anyone
-(Muscular government official) isn't here. Sad that I can't stare at the muscles in his back
-Does (female government official) look like Rachael Ray or am I nutso?
-Strength/Courage/Wisdom is cold and tired
-I wonder what her office looks like -- either pristine, or really dirty. Probably pristine
-Oh JOY TO THE WORLD!! His Hotness has arrived.


Certifiably insane rant #1
Meetings
long and boring
nothing accomplished
endless talk
yet you blame me
for sleeping?
You'd be lucky to join in
Call the Sandman.
He's missed you.


Certifiably insane rant #2
Why must I endure this
Boredom?
You drone on and on
No one's riveted
Or even amused
Budget hearings
SUCK.
It had to be said.
I ain't the first
or the last
to want outta this damn place

Certifiably insane rant #3
End this meeting
I beg you.
Your words are dribble
My energy has fizzled
For the love of God
Shut up!
I shake my fist
At bureacracy
racism
anti semitism
and now you
Because you won't shut up.

Certifiably insane rant #4
I'm dying
And no one cares
I'm cold
And they turned on the air
I'm suffering
Yet the meeting continues.
All I can do
is stay awake
And hope no one
ABSOLUTELY no one
looks at my notebook.


And my mission was accomplished. I did NOT fall asleep. Hooray!

Yes, They've Finally Made Me Bonkers

To All of My Coworkers:

I sit near the printer
I do not fix jams
Nor do I replace toner
If your document didn’t print
Take it up with management.
Again, I only sit near the printer

How is your paper jam my problem?
You think I know the right way to hit it
The divine secret behind making it spit
Newsflash: I DON’T
So I’ll keep giving you a blank stare
Or my frown, my terrible thug mug
Until you get a clue
And go away.

I sit next to the printer
So when you print your credit report
Your elaborate expenses
Your fudged time sheets
Your receipts for your mistress
Guess who has the first peek?
That would be me.
Let’s work together, shall we?

Photo from http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/funny-pictures-your-printer-has-a-kitten-in-it.jpg

The Phone Booth

It always amazed me how innocent looking Clark Kent could jump into a phone booth (you know, those extinct buildings that once held phones?) and come out as the Man of Steel, a.k.a. Superman.

But for awhile now, I’ve been doing my own Phone Booth routine. By day, I sit at a desk, answer phones, write and do all kinds of other stuff that comes with my responbilities for the X Company. And at quitting time, I go into our handicapped bathroom stall (my version of the phone booth) and transform into Retail Woman.

These are the changes I had to make when I started a part time job at a retail establishment eight months ago. It took me awhile to get adjusted to my new life. For example, Corporate Me can wear whatever she wants in terms of business attire. It’s a loose environment, so she can either chat loudly (about work matters, of course!) or have her head buried in work and no one will raise a brow. As long as the job is done, that’s all that matters. The most horrible thing she can do here is spell a person’s name wrong.

Corporate Me can be quiet. She can be loud. She can be comedic. She can be shy. She can be introverted. She can be disgruntled.

Things are different for Retail Woman, who has to dress up in the gear that her Retail Job sells. She can’t wear earrings that are larger than a dime (I’m still cursing over that one), can only wear sneakers and flip flops and must always have a smile plastered on her face. It’s a small store, so whenever a customer enters, it’s Retail Woman’s job to greet her immediately. She must quickly highlight the current sales, usher her into the fitting room with no less than a dozen items and make sure she buys at least three. At checkout, Retail Woman absolutely MUST remind customers of her name, as well as the store’s upcoming promotions. The most horrible thing she can do at the store is not say “tell your friends” at the end of every single transaction.

Retail Woman is perky. She is a people person. She can dress a headless mannequin in record time. (I can’t, though) She is fluent in Small Talk and takes frequent trips to Extrovert Isle and Too Hyper country.

So now I finally understand how difficult it was for old Superman to switch his personalities at any given time. It is truly a study in mental illness. Luckily, this switcheroo only happens about 10-15 hours a week. I’m slowly getting adjusted.

The Isle of Me

I've had some vacation time to burn by the end of the year, so I'm getting in one week now. Where am I going? To the enchanting exotic Isle of Me. From the comfort of my couch, I'll be mentally taking in the sunshine, waves and fattening food that comes with being on a real vacation destination. Actually, I've already reached one of those goals, so a big fat RIP to my Thanksgiving leftovers. =)

So far, I've been semi productive on my vacation. I've reached the 50,000 word mark in draft 2 of novel #2 and I'm still plugging away. Today I woke up early, did a work out and ran a few errands. Now I'm about to take a nap before I head into Job #2. That's the unfortunate thing about these part time gigs, they don't come with paid vacation!

'Some days you’re the dog. Some days you’re the hydrant.'

I use the above phrase every now and again to deal with the times when I’m having a bad day. Which can happen to me every now and again. Hey, I’m only human.

A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.

That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’

It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.

Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.

There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.

This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)

I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.

Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.

Photo from http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1242/548558715_c2b3c4e992.jpg?v=0

The Paper Route

To this day, the best job I ever had in my life was working at Blockbuster Video. Decent pay that went to double time if you worked a holiday and there was the extra benefit of all those free movie rentals. My best times were spent closing up that store after midnight, blasting that Best of Bob Marley cd and goofing off with my coworkers as we cleaned up. Good times.

Of course, it probably wasn’t that fun for the Grown Folks. I was in college then and using the job to keep me afloat. But we had quite a few Grown Folks working there – full fledged adults with full time jobs who worked here as well. My favorite was Clover. She was in her forites and had that sweet, mothering thing going for her. I just couldn’t wrap my mind about why she needed a part time gig. She had a husband and what seemed like a good full-time job, and I judged that based on the fact that she dressed up to go to work and had a secretary. I never understood why she’d need extra money. I didn’t ask her, but once she mentioned how her credit card debt got out of control and she’d indulged her children with gifts when they were younger. She was using this job to help pay for that.

Fast forward a few years and I’m in a similar situation. I wouldn’t say my credit card debt is out of control, but it is definitely above the zero mark. And I do want to buy a house, so any additional money I can gain will be a huge benefit. So recently I started working at my own part time gig, which I call The Paper Route or Job Deux.

On the surface, things at The Paper Route seem easy enough. It’s a women’s retail establishment, so ideally all I’d have to do is greet folks and ring stuff up. Right? Hah! I went to training the other day and was somewhat overwhelmed by my responsibilities. I have a packet of information to study so that I know certain things about the store’s specialty, their fancy pants. I’m not paid on commission, but folks will take note of my average daily sale. There is also a strategic way to put the clothes out just so, so that it attracts the customer’s eye. Sigh.

Training Part Deux of Job Deux starts this weekend. I hope I get used to it fairly soon. I’m a smart woman, I should be able to handle this. And I’ve already told myself that I’ll do the part time thing for no more than six months. That should give me enough time to have a big enough financial cushion. At least, I hope so!

Photo from http://img.tfd.com/wn/D6/6794D-paper-round.gif

Contagious

I got a facebook note from my friend H, and without opening it, I already knew what it said. I presumed that H, who once worked at the place where I’m currently employed, had heard about the layoffs/furloughs/other drama that we’re experiencing. It was an easy assumption, since after our company woes have been announced, countless people have come up to me and offered condolences, as soon as they realize where I work. It’s always weird to have a complete stranger try to get all up in your job situation, but I handle it. Things are different with H. We go way back, back to when I was an undergrad and she was a grad student. We both worked at the same internship, where our robotic (but charming) supervisor whipped all of us – grad and undergrad students alike – into shape.

But when I called H, she had some bad news of her own. She got laid off from her company and wanted to know if they were doing any hirings at my place of business. Bummer. I had the unfortunate task of telling her about how things have changed here and how the company has its own troubles keeping us on the payroll. Bummer. Then we commiserated about the State of Things and complained and complained and complained. Then we picked each other up and exchanged suggestions for coping. She got a part time gig, may return to school, may even start teaching.

I hope things work out well for H, since she has much more experience in this industry than I do. I’ve been trying to leave this industry for years, but she loves it. Unfortunately, lay offs are contagious. Hopefully, the rest of the year won’t be so sour, employment wise. And I’m talking for the entire country, not just my little space in the universe. Either way, I’ll be thinking positive thoughts and praying for the best.

Goals

So, it's early February and I'm already tackling my monthly to-do list like a fiend. See, my February list mainly contains holdover tasks that I planned to complete in January, December, and maybe even November and October. That's sad, I know. But I plan to do better this time.

The two tasks I'm most anxious to complete is sending out at least three resumes and at least three short stories to various publications. So far, I've sent out one resume for a position that may be worth my while, and two short stories. I've mentioned before how job security is a new worry of mine, so I shouldn't have to explain why I'm trying to get the heck out of there. I'm also toying with the idea of getting a part time job to help with expenses. *Sigh*

On the short story front, I'm going through my box that holds my rejection letters and sending them some new material. The more stories I have circulating, the better my changes are of publication, right? My mom said this will make me a little like Prince. You know how he has 9679454958 unreleased songs, and he releases some at his concerts? Yeah, that'll be me by the time my book gets published. One complete novel and 95475948 short stories. Hah! We'll see how that goes.

(Photo from http://www.idratherbewriting.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/goals.png)

The Fallout

This week, my company truly laid down the gauntlet with a mandatory meeting. We all sat around wondering what it could be -- a. layoffs? b. furloughs? c. job changes? Well, our answer was d., all of the above.

It was a terrible feeling to listen to the bosses announce to the entire workforce that they would have to let some people go. It was even worse when they gave us all lists of the laid off folks, and we were asked not to look at them as they packed their desks, and give them a moment of privacy. It hurt to see my Partner In Crime given a brown paper bag to put his stuff in, then ushered out the back door. Two of my supervisors were also given the heave ho. I was in shock until Bill, a sweet guy who'd been working there 28 years, came around to say goodbye to all of us. I gave him a big hug and we all started crying. Ugh. Sometimes, work sucks.

We later learned that we were getting five furlough days this year, the first one starting on Presidents Day. The others are to occur once a month after that. It's truly been a miserable work week. But while my colleagues have been gathering at the bar to commiserate, I've been going straight home to make sure my resume is on point, then searching for whatever jobs there are out there. The problem? There aren't too many.

In the meantime, my new supervisor is a grizzled Vietnam Vet who is rumored to carry a knife in his cowboy boots. He works 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and no one has ever seen him do regular human functions, i.e. eat and drink. So these next few months will be interesting.

Furloughs? Lay Offs? Pay Cuts?

I try not to write too much about the job on this here blog. Overall, I enjoy my workplace, but if I were to write about it here, it would only send me into a neverending cycle of complain-dom. And who wants to read about all that?

But today, my colleagues and I got an email from the Man In Charge requesting that we all make ourselves available tomorrow for a mandatory, companywide meeting at 1 p.m. *UGH* So, being the nosy investigators we are, some of us googled our company's name and came up with some dire news. The other subsidiaries that fall under us have announced to employees that they'll have to take five days off without pay because the company has been doing so poorly on the financial level. Each subsidiary under our company has been handling the financial situation differently. Some are shutting down for five Mondays in a row, in addition to administering 2 percent pay cuts and not granting raises. Some are keeping employees from using their birthdays as paid holiday leave. (Of course, that's a luxury my place of business hadn't afforded us) We've already been told that no raises would be granted this year.

So we're all sort of antsy about the Big Scary Meeting that awaits us tomorrow. One of my coworkers emailed the Man In Charge and asked him if the furloughs would affect us. He said "I cannot confirm or deny that." Great, just great.

But I will keep my head up and look at the bright side of things, until we learn our fate. On a positive note, I would enjoy not having to go into work on a weekday. I could happily use that time to do some writing or better yet, head to a job interview.


Photo from http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj297/mrjayz0930/Motivational%20Posters/unemployment.jpg

Partay Time!

My job isn’t giving us a real holiday party this year, other than the Potluck Bash, which is basically a eat-while-you-work-cause-we-don’t-want-to-spend-any-real-money-on you event. Folks in my department are holding a renegade happy hour sometime soon, so that should be a lot of fun.

But I’ve been hearing about some interesting holiday parties as of late. It seems as though this is the time to see your coworkers wind up and act a fool. I should know. Back in the day when my job did throw a holiday party – I’m talking about free alcohol and everything – some of the supervisors made quite a drunken scene at the restaurant. They requested so much alcohol that the bartender had to come out and say he was concerned about them driving home. Scandalous!

My parents went to my stepfather’s annual holiday party recently. They always have a good time, since his company shells out the big bucks. I mean they go to this EXPENSIVE restaurant, open bar and give gifts to employees who win raffles or are either loved by the big bosses. Mom told me how she went last year and my stepfather won an Xbox and they became friends with a married couple (Mr. & Mrs. Officer) who lived in their area. Dude was a retired cop who was now working with my stepfather and wifey was still a police officer. They had a couple of kids, in addition to caring for her nephew, whom they adopted.

Fast forward to this year. My parents go to the party and Mom is all eager to see Mrs. Officer. Instead, she sees Mr. Officer there, with another woman on his arm. He and wifey are still together, but I guess he started having a thing on the side with a younger woman he works with. It was quite interesting, since everyone knows and loves Mrs. Officer and had no clue why he would do something so public when everyone knows his marital status. And it is well known that he and Mrs. Officer have heated arguments, one where they both pull their guns out. Yikes! Everyone needs to leave the job once Mrs. Officer learns about this Other Woman.

And in a tradition my family could only start, my stepfather won an Xbox 360 for the second year in arow. But they are not game-playing people (But I am!). So they promptly took the gift back to the store and exchanged it for a gift card, which they used to buy Christmas gifts. Sigh. They’re so tacky. I can’t even be mad at that hussle though. There's nothing wrong with breaking the system.

(Photo from http://www.herecomestheguide.com/images/articles/KohlMansion5.jpg)

!!! DONE !!!!

Well, I did what I said I was going to do. I called out of work so I could spend today finishing my paper, as well as doing my take home exam for my class. And you know what? It took the ENTIRE day. But ... I'm done!

I literally sat at this computer all day trying to make this 12 page paper meet the 15-20 pages my professor required. I was able to stretch it to 14 pages, but really, that's all I can get. The professor had mentioned before she wouldn't take off for length if the papers were strong enough to keep from going further. Well, I hope my paper falls into that category.

The take home exam I had to do was just as mentally exhausting as the paper. I ate nothing but bananas and granola bars all day, because making anything substantive would have taken me away from the test. But slowly but surely, I finished.

After I was done, I took the gazillion articles I had to read over the semester and tossed them in the trash. Then I treated myself to a real meal and a little bit of fingerpainting, which was a fun mess. It is such a joy to put all this behind me. Now I have to begin the long journey of regaining my sanity.