For example, I once tried to make a meringue of sorts and was busily beating my egg whites to a frothy texture. The recipe said to use cream of tartar to "stabilize the egg" and give it a better, firmer texture (that's what she said). I didn't have any so I thought "cream of tartar, tartar sauce; po-tay-to po-tah-to".
The other day I saw a recipe for homemade macaroni and cheese. I was in the mood for something warm and comforting - like grilled cheese and tomato soup or mom's meatloaf or dad's chili. I went down to the store and bought all the required ingredients that I didn't already (think) I had at home.
The recipe for the sauce is basically melted butter, add flour and brown it, throw some evaporated milk, a ton of sharp cheddar, swiss etc., some mustard powder, salt and nutmeg. Sounds delicious, no? So here I am slaving away (not caring that the recipe apparently feeds an army).
The sauce tasted awesome, but there was something off about it that I just couldn't put my finger on. I threw the pasta in, mixed it all up and put it in the oven after topping it with some homemade bread crumbs (parmesan, crumbled bread and butter).
After it was done baking I helped myself to a bowl, trying to think of what the ingredient was that tasted a bit strange. Suddenly I realized that I had mixed up my container of flour for my container of...icing sugar.
Actually, there is a fire-breather employed with us, but he doesn't start until next week so ya.
It would be fun and awesome except for the fact that after working until 4 am I have to wake up and head to my other job in the morning. Oh and the fact that I'm not eighteen anymore so my body is all "what the shit are you doing to me?" and my wallet is all "hey remember those bills you still haven't paid?". See, I'm too busy working at making money so I don't have time to get to the bank to deposit that money so I can pay those bills.
It's a Catch-22
Speaking of wallets, have you ever lost something and completely freaked out only to realize that you actually had it the whole time? No? Me neither...
Ya, except yesterday when I got done work and went to put my tips in my wallet only to realize my wallet was not there. I had checked my wallet that morning to see how much money I had left over from the night before ($100 - pretty good) so I knew I hadn't left it somewhere random.
I proceeded to tear apart the staff room, cry my eyes out, ask "who would do something like this a WEEK before Christmas??" and say things like: "I just don't understand! I get along with everyone here, who would do this to me?"
After my manager bought me a glass of wine and some lunch, I headed home only to see my wallet sitting on my bed. Right where I left it after I checked my balance.
So I burnt my arm the other day at work and I very much wish I could upload pictures from my phone to this here blog but I can't figure it out for the life of me. My camera is still in the shop (seriously, what the hell is taking them so long). Instead I'll tell you that it's 2 inches across and 1.5 inches down, bright red and blistery. I didn't go to a doctor because I am a dumbass.
I think bright red is good - doesn't that mean it's healing? Any help anyone? I would Google it but we all know that turns into thinking you're going to die no matter the severity of the initial problem. I'm Polysporin-ing (it's a word) this SOB all week.
Ya, well enjoy this hungover rambling, I'm sure I'll come right home from work and delete it.
At the piano bar I've started working at, there's a group of Russians who come in to drink almost every night I've worked so far. They're pretty nice guys but a little intimidating. The girls they're with are always super nice, they all have thick accents and their English is rusty.
The first night they came in they were drinking until after 3 am (bars here close at 2 am). I brought them their bill and the one guy (who never smiles) says in his thick accent:
"We are not done drinking"
Dude, it's 3 am. I'm done serving.
They managed to talk the owner into staying and drinking, after they paid me their bill. Basically, it seems like they have a lot of clout in that place, if you know what I mean. Since that night though they've been fairly nice to me.
So Saturday night, who walks in but the Russians. They want Cognac, which we don't have so what does my boss do? Go to the liquor store, buy two bottles and put them on their table. So I bring over some shot glasses and who has joined them but my ex-boyfriend from high school.
This is an ex who I was with for a relatively long time considering it was high school, Dizzy you may remember the Russian?
The only reason we broke up was because my "friend" (she's another story entirely) liked him from the beginning and after we'd been together almost 8 months she told me he'd cheated on me. Then she told him I cheated on him with one of his friends.
At that point, none of it was true and neither of us knew she had lied to both of us. So in true high school fashion, he was hurt and really did cheat on me, with his ex.
We didn't talk until we accidentally ran into each other at a Valentines Day party (great, right?) he brought me into a room and told me I broke his heart. I laughed so I wouldn't cry and told him he was one to talk. I haven't seen him since. That was 7 years ago now.
He was so surprised, he immediately jumped up to give me a hug and a shot of Cognac. From then, every time I went over it was shots all around. He came outside for a cigarette with me and apologized for hurting me. He asked about my family and remembered what I had gotten for him for Christmas one year. He asked how his English was (way better then I remember although I kind of like the sexy accent).
Later in the night, due to about half a bottle of Cognac ingested by myself, I was getting to be pretty drunk. I walk over to the table and the Russian Ex says: "my friends bet me $20 I can't get you to dance with me. They don't believe me we dated". So of course, we danced while reminiscing. When we walked back over to the table there was a $20 bill with two shots resting on top.
So as if I don't have enough men to deal with right now, what with ADD calling me twice a day and Bro back in town, the Russian-ex got my phone number and wants to go for coffee this week.
And I may or may not have kissed him in the stairwell that night.
These are real actual dates. Not sure where this is coming from all of a sudden, but I'm not complaining.
I went on a date Wednesday night with this guy, (I'll call him ADD because he talks - a LOT). We had arranged to meet a week before (this was planned even before I met Bro) . See, I finally took the plunge and met a guy off that stupid dating website and you know what? He was really nice and very funny. It wasn't awkward at all and turned out we knew some of the same people.
He talked so much though and was really random with his attention span, I seriously think that boy needs some Riddlin. He was really funny, maybe because of the randomness?
I went out with him again, and his friend, last night. ADD realized he lost his wallet and started freaking out that he needed to cancel his credit cards ASAP (understandable) but was saying he can only do it from his home number or something because of the high limits on his cards, it's a protected account or something. I didn't really get it but he ended up leaving in a panic.
His friend was drinking so obviously couldn't drive but he lived across the street from where we were so he walked there and I was left stranded, I knew everyone at the bar so it wasn't a huge deal but I was still a bit pissed off.
ADD texted me half an hour later apologizing and I fully understand the freak-out about your wallet thing but at the same time, we had a blizzard here yesterday. It was absolutely impossible to get a cab. I tried for three hours (until 4 am); finally a girl from work drove me home.
I spoke with him today, he still hasn't found his wallet but he thinks it's in his friends car. He feels like an asshole for leaving me there but there were a bunch of people I knew there so it wasn't that bad I guess. Still, I can't decide if I want to even give him another chance?
Then there's Bro, who gets back to town tomorrow and I'm so excited to see him again. He's been texting me all week and called me Thursday afternoon just to say hi...we'll see how that one goes...
Friday night I went out with Party-Girl (karaoke naturally) and to this rocker bar on the Red Mile afterward. It was an awesome night but relatively tame for the two of us. We ended up back at her place, and crashed shortly after. The next day we went shopping for ugly sweaters for our other friends Ugly Christmas Sweater party.
Oddly enough I had two ugly sweater parties to attend that weekend. The one I found isn't bad though, long and brown with that tiny diamond print, it's a V-neck. I would even probably wear it again. The selection for ugly was limited, sadly.
I worked Saturday night and was planning on heading to the party as soon as I was done. One of my tables bought me a glass of wine so after I finished work, I sat down at the bar to drink it.
These two guys, as soon as I walked in the bar, started talking to me and bought us three tequila shots. I was laughing with them because they were just SO random and funny but we went outside for a cigarette and it turned out I knew the one guy's sister, very well (I used to work for her for a year) so I'll call him Bro.
They invited me out with them, it was the weirdest thing - we all got along as if we'd met years ago and been friends forever. Joking around, making fun of each other, it was great. I told them about the sweater party and they basically said "Let's go!" first they wanted to stop off and change.
Well the sweater party never happened for us. His sister was home so we were all doing shots of tequila, playing "strip poker" (in which the girls always had clothing on, while the guys were in their tighty whities - the game may or may not have been rigged) . Next, the three of us (minus his sister) headed out to the bar.
The first bar we went to, Bro's friend, I'll call him RedBull (RB) got in a fight outside because he lent his jacket to these two girls. Their boyfriends showed up and didn't like that very much. needless to say we were out of there pretty quickly.
Next we headed to this dance place that has a rave room downstairs and Top 40 and oldies upstairs. It was actually pretty fun but the best was those two guys. They were making me laugh the entire time. I don't even remember what we were laughing about but I do know my stomach hurt the next day.
After that bar, we headed back to Bro's house and all of us passed out on various couches within the hour.
When I woke up RedBull was gone, and it was snowing like crazy outside. Bro made the two of us breakfast (well, BBQ chicken and cheese & crackers - the breakfast of champions). We sat around watching TV and talking for a few hours until RB came back to dissect the nights events, apologize for the fight and rehash the finer points. Bro's sister also got a kick out of the events.
Later that afternoon, Bro drove me from way in the Northwest of the city all the way to the very, very South in the blizzard style snow so that I could go to my other friends Ugly Sweater Party. After meeting a few of my friends, sticking around for a drink and making fun of everyone's sweaters, he drove me back up to my place and dropped me off.
But not before giving me a fabulous goodnight kiss.
1. On a Blog
Any guy you meet on your or someone else' blog can obviously read
He's gotta have a sense of humor to be a blogger
He'll already know how you think and all your "secret" thoughts
He'll most likely live hundreds of miles away at the very least
You can't hide anything from him
2. At the Bar
He'll probably be just as drunk as you (thereby eliminating any embarrassing things you do)
He obviously likes to party and have a good time
You'll definitely get some action
3. Chamber of Commerce
Either owns his own business or is high enough up in his company that he makes important decisions
You get to go to all sorts of fun! networking events
Distinct possibility of being involved in some sort of tie choking accident
He's probably old enough to be your father
4. Culinary School
Can obviously whip up an awesome meal
Has the possibility of being on his own show (famous by association y'all)
Will forever be entertaining guests with endless deliciousness
Probably has dark brooding temper and moments of sheer rage
May be so tired from cooking all day he won't want to cook you food
Might earn less then the homeless man down the street
Alright, I'm off to test these theories out once again (for the good of all womankind). I'll be sure to let you know how it goes
(or: Why She Didn't Post 30 Times)
9. Momma's gotta pay the bills and with this economic crisis that could mean up to fourteen hours a day on that street corner
8. A pack of wild ex-suburban animals were on the loose and chased her into a tree where she was forced to exist solely off fruit and bark for days
7. Had to decide if her shoe racks looked better organized by color or by style. Organized and reorganized until satisfied with overall appearance of said racks
6. Hills Marathon. Need I say more?
5. Every package of chicken noodle soup in the house suddenly looked extremely appealing. She tested the theory by cooking and eating every last one
4. Her special friend got home from a business trip and they had some "special business" to take care of
3. Decided it was time to do laundry after realizing she had been sleeping three feet over from where her bed actually stands
2. She set half the clocks in her house ahead an hour and the other half back an hour for Daylight Savings and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum loop, reliving Sunday. She was able to exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly e*log(pi) clocks in the house. Accordingly, her post was too late, or early.
1. Her cat ate her mouse
Chicken noodle soup has never tasted so good my friends.
Here's a roundup of the latest goings-on in Average-Land:
Blondie got a boyfriend - her and one of the BPBBs hooked up and are now dating "exclusively" though I've yet to see her wearing his letter jacket. He's an awesome guy but he gets really jealous and I'm not liking that aspect of it. For example, after work there's a little pub we all hang out at for a drink to de-stress. Now her boy, Hyper, started a new job recently and has been training and stuff for it so he isn't out partying as much as he was a month or two ago.
When she calls him from this pub he acts mad that she's out. He knows everyone we work with so he should know there's no worries there but anyway, he even made her cry the other day because he said she obviously still wanted to go out partying all the time and didn't want a boyfriend.
We literally go to this pub for one or two drinks almost every night after work. No one is swinging from chandeliers, no one is having sex on the pool tables - it's pretty tame. It's relaxing, we hang out, everyone heads home.
We'll see how this works out. Maybe I kinda feel that way too because I hardly see her anymore. We work opposite schedules now (which is strange) and when she has a night off, she's usually with Hyper. Oh well, the honeymoon phase, right?
Also, I did it, I took the plunge and dyed my hair brown. My hairdresser was very excited, because it's different for me to have normal hair. She said "I love how you're getting so adventurous!" to which I laughed and replied: "funny that for me brunette is adventurous. Never mind all the shades of red, blonde and combinations I've had".
It's called Mediterranean or something and I think I like it. Not sure yet, but as soon as I have a picture (camera still not back from the shop, wtf?) I'll post it. It's something different anyway, right?
Alright, back to the couch to load up on soup and Vitamin C before heading off to work, at least I have tomorrow off
So since I've been having such great luck over on one dating site, I signed up for another. They emailed me about 6 times telling me I could have a free trial for the weekend (I guess I smell like desperation even through the internets). So I filled out the survey and jumped on in.
With the free trial I can review other peoples profiles but until I pay money I can't see their pictures. I can also start a "Guided Communication" with someone or answer questions that they've asked "potential matches".
So now, instead of being able to be judgmental and weed guys out based on if their picture is just their stomach taken by themselves in a mirror (WHY do guys feel like that's a good profile picture?) I have to actually go through the profile. And we all know how honest people are on those.
Why yes, in my spare time I enjoy dissecting Weber, or listening to Vivaldi while organizing my spice-rack alphabetically, maybe traveling around the world in a week and painting Dali-inspired masterpieces. Did I mention my love of children and small animals? Can I tell you how beautiful your eyes are?
Wait let me just grab my vom bucket.
So I've been filling out "communication surveys" for the last hour. It's actually kind of addicting in some sort of weird narcissistic way.
There does seem to be a lot more to go through when you pay to use a site but I can't wrap my head around paying a couple hundred bucks to get more "hey baby" emails. I'll just have to see how this free trial goes...
Sorry about all the snarky quotation marks. I can't seem to help myself.
He had been trying to kiss me all night. I had been pushing him away. It's hard to push a man that is ten years older, and a good hundred pounds heavier then you but I tried. My boyfriend was at home. Studying.
I tried to tell my friends I didn't want to come here, didn't care about impressing the older guys. I had snuck out, my parents don't know where I was or that I was even gone. We had gone to the bar, my friend had run into these guys her sister knew and now here we were at their house.
My friends conveniently disappeared with two guys, leaving me with the ex-bouncer. We played pool, I tried to be standoffish. I tried to tell him about my boyfriend. He didn't care, he thought it was all a game.
Now here I am in his room. I feebly ask if he's found me a sweater. The lights go out. I remember the bay window, the wooden slats letting in the faintest light. I remember wondering how it had ended up like this. I stood up. I tried to walk away.
He was too fast, he was too strong. I was nothing against him. Trying to pull my jeans up, trying to fend him off, tears rolling down my face but I couldn't bring myself to yell, to scream and hit him. He could have killed me with one hand.
Finally a knock at the door. I grabbed my clothes and wiped my eyes. I calmly went to the living room. I didn't say a word. I hated him. I hated them. I hated myself.
I was seventeen years old.
Rules: Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 46. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The closest book, not the coolest, or the one you think will sound the best. THE CLOSEST.
Luckily I keep a hefty novel next to my computer at all times*
"I tell you what," I said. "Do you give him all the books"
"Yes, all of them."
"As my own gift?"
"Yes, as your own gift?"
"As my gift alone?"
"Yes, as your gift alone."
Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to understand me.
From Fyodor Dostoevsky's Poor Folk
So I'm going to pass this on to:
*since being nominated
Luckily she can get to the back door from inside her place.
Unluckily she was out of town for the weekend.
Needless to say, I had an interesting day Saturday killing time before heading to a friends birthday that night. I ate lunch at one restaurant, got coffee and sat for two hours, ate supper at a different restaurant, went downtown and had a few drinks with some friends who happened to be at the pub and finally hopped the train down to my friends house.
My friend who does not have a computer at home. There went my NaBloPoMo dreams.
I stayed at her house last night and we all went for brunch this morning. We declared today as "slit-your-wrist Sunday" because every single song on the radio was emo-inspired. That and we were hung over from the piss water "champagne" graciously provided to us by the bar. The bar that is called Snatch.
They may as well just call the bar Vagina and stop with the clever euphemisms.
This is the type of place that when you're standing in line to use the ATM, some guy starts talking to you and when you reply, he says (verbatim) "sorry I uh...wasn't listening. I got distracted," while staring at your boobs. "So uh, can I buy you a drink?"
Oh gosh, really? So I can perpetuate every guys ideas of girls at bars? You know why don't I just take my dress off right now?
Ya, no thanks, I'll pass.
Pickup line FAIL
Anyway, this morning at brunch I ordered a Bailey's and coffee (a little hair of the dog). Blondie turns to the waitress and says:
"Ummm, I'll get a Baileys and coffee too...but can you hold the Baileys?"
In Calgary you can get your learners at 14 years old. I decided I didn't care about driving so I didn't take lessons or anything. I didn't even have my learners until I was 16 or maybe even 17. Finally in grade twelve I decided I should probably get a license. My parents enrolled me in AMA Drivers Ed and off I went to the classroom sessions.
Everything was all fine and good, I made a new friend from California who only ate dried seaweed and sesame seed crackers (true). I forget her name but we had an awesome time drawing posters and diagrams in class.
Then it was time to start the car training. The doorbell rings and I'm expecting this old guy with a mullet or something. Turns out it's this young, really cute guy. My dad called him the Backstreet Boy, as in:
"When's the Backstreet Boy coming for your lessons?"
"What can the Backstreet Boy possibly know about driving? He's barely 18 himself"
Turns out he was 19. His dad was high up in AMA and therefore he got the job (nepotism anyone?) I didn't mind, I thought he was cute. Plus he let me drink coffee in my training. Apparently you aren't supposed to do anything else but drive...boring!
Mostly my lessons were good, he was really random with the driving - for instance one day he said he forgot something at home so we drove to his place to grab whatever it was (I'll never know).
One day as we were just starting our lesson for the day, he had picked me up at school and I was turning left out of the parking lot.
** BAM **
Yup, I hit another car. A minivan to be exact, with a family of Chinese people who spoke absolutely no English whatsoever.
The police were called, the witnesses (my whole school - awesome) gave statements and the damage was eventually tallied.
$8,000 worth of damages to the Driver's Ed car and the van, one unsafe left turn ticket and 2 demerit points later...well seeing as how I had no license to put the points on and no insurance to charge the damage to, AMA had to pay the cost of the whole incident - ticket and everything. This is the only documented accident in all of AMA history for a Drivers Ed course.
I've been in one accident that was my fault in my life and apparently since the Backstreet Boy had his own brake it was technically his fault.
He was fired. I got my license three weeks later.
I got off work and decided taking a stupid cab home was a good idea since it's cold and I'm lazy. Normally a cab costs me $10 including a $2 tip, from anywhere downtown. I take cabs maybe 3 times a week - if I work late, if I go out or if I'm really lazy.
In my mind this is equivalent to owning a car, probably even a lot cheaper. Once you factor in gas, insurance and the price of parking downtown Calgary ($475 a month if you're lucky or $20-$30 a day in most parkades) I'm actually saving money.
I haven't taken a cab during rush hour before and now I know why:
Please note the road closure, buses, pedestrians and fucking cranes in the detour we had to take and the extra $7 not even including tip yet that I had to fork over today.
Okay so it's not a large amount of money but it's almost twice what I normally pay and it took an extra 20 minutes to get home! For three blocks detour! When it normally takes 5 minutes and you're sitting in a cab almost fifteen minutes later, three blocks from your departure point, I can tell you, you are kicking your own ass for being so stupid.
I think I'd rip my hair out if I lived in LA.
I'm supposed to go out for some beverages tonight and I can't decide if I'm too lazy. I just told my friend I would come meet her though, like 4 seconds ago, so my decision is made I guess.
Random Convo Change (RCC): I got this package in the mail from Lula Dahl
These slippers are so amazingly adorable. They fit perfectly and I love them so thanks a million! Check her stuff out, I want to get an apron for my niece - seriously cute stuff.
Okay, off to drink away my sorrows...this quarter-life crisis shit is tough
We ended up drinking three bottles between the three of us as well as a bottle (or two) of Smirnoff Mojitos. This is when we decided heading to the lounge where our old manager works would be a great idea. Blondie used to work at this particular place and as frequent visitors we know half the staff. I had been to a staff party in the summer and met a bouncer, we'll call him B, who was charming and sweet in that really shy way and as a bouncer he has great arms. I'm a total sucker for nice arms.
Not sure what's with me and the shy guys lately (speaking of which, Shy is back up North on the rigs so I won't be seeing him for a while) but anyway, we chatted a bit at this hot tub party and that was it. He added me on Facebook afterward and sent me an email which I never replied to because I was working two jobs and was a stressed out basket-case.
Maybe it was the booze or because I'm such a dork, but I wore my wig out. It is pretty realistic (which it should be - it was expensive!) so I wasn't really worried about people knowing it was fake. Sure enough I got a few "Wow! Great hair!" comments from some of the staff.
So we're sitting at a table when this really cute guy walks up to me and says: "Hey Alice! Long time no see, how are you?" and I'm basically stunned that he recognized me; in my wig, with different friends, in winter(ish) clothing when I had met him before for literally half an hour, four months ago.
Well, B wanted to chat so we went outside for a cigarette (me) and conversation (him) while I tried to apologize for being drunk as I stepped on his toes. Classy broad, party of one? Your table is ready.
Anyway I vaguely remember setting a date to go for coffee. Sure enough today he messaged me on Facebook asking how the rest of my night was. Thank god he didn't see how the rest of my night was because it involved me lighting a cigarette in the bar in one of those long beatnik cigarette holders and getting told off by a bouncer, singing a song to Blondie which she is still making fun of me for and sloppily eating Thai Tai at the end of the night.
Come to think of it, maybe a guy with a great memory isn't such a good thing? I guess I'll find out, if only I could remember when I'm supposed to meet him for coffee.
I tuck my feet up under myself and open my book. The guy beside me is engrossed in a copy of Orwell's 1984. He casually sips his Styrofoam-encased coffee while idly turning a page. With a gust of cold air the door opens and a young girl joins him at his table. Her enthusiasm is a deep contrast to his relaxed demeanor. She tells him of her band practice for church, her plans for her next years education including a semester abroad and maybe a mission in the summer, if she can find an internship first, to pay for all the incidentals. Her speech is peppered with interjections (such as "like"), making it hard to concentrate on the meaning of her sentences.
I smile and think of a recent conversation with a good friend, worrying about her vocabulary. "I need to work on my vernacular," she laughed, "I mean, I still say "like" and I'm doing my masters in Sociology. Maybe I should enroll in English 0130."
There's a man typing away on his laptop, barely audible over the coffee house music, a pacifying blend of piano chords and string instruments. His glasses are neatly folded and placed on a book beside him. Every so often he gets up for a cigarette, for a refill, for a bathroom break. The intensity with which he is concentrating on his screen reminds me of my boss filling his financial reports and I imagine this man is doing the same.
A girl heaves into a chair across the room, sighing loudly as she places her text book down. I recognize her as the girl who made my latte. She works here a few days a week while she's in University studying chemistry, economics or perhaps philosophy. The free coffee and quiet place to study almost make up for the endless parade of odd people she deals with on a daily basis.
I pull my gloves and jacket on, in preparation for the chill that awaits me outside. It's not yet snowing though there's the feeling of snow in the air. The quiet, crisp cold and lack of clouds almost guarantee the morning will bring the brightness of a new snow. I adjust my jacket and step outside, the soft chords following me as I make my way up the street, back home.
Yup, it'll be a carbon copy
I'm calling it [SIC]
Firstly thanks to everyone who commented yesterday. It actually makes me feel a hundred times better about everything. I can't believe I only recently discovered blogging, it's such a great outlet and it really is a way to get everything you're feeling out, have people non-judgmentally comment on it and relate to what you're saying. Thank you, I love you all!
I was thinking today about the reasons I started blogging. I've always liked writing but keeping a journal isn't really satisfactory. Don't get me wrong, I still have one, but it's more for the small things I think about, those times when you're having a quasi-emotional breakdown and need to just write and write even if later on it makes no sense.
I discovered how big blogs are when I was idly searching the internet for something to do with being an assistant (which I no longer am) and stumbled across this post. Before that I didn't really even realize that it was a whole huge community or that people read and commented like they do.
Obviously now I see that it's so much bigger then that, but that day in my office I literally sat and read from beginning to end. After clinking on links like crazy I realized that it was something I really wanted to try, and now I'm so glad I have!
I always wonder how everyone else got started...
It was my mother who was calling to discuss our dinner plans for the evening and also to inform me that she's filing for divorce from my dad. They've been married for 27 years. Now, we all have seen this coming for a long time.
Knowing somethings going to probably happen (for ten years) and it actually happening are different though. I actually wish they'd done it long ago so they could have both moved on by now. Word to the wise: there's no point staying in a loveless marriage for the sake of your kids. They can tell that's what you're doing.
Anyway, I got off the phone and headed to work. I went to get breakfast at this little store and realized I didn't have my cash on me and my debit card is being a little bitch (it'll only work in ATMs) so I told the guy I'd be right back for my BLT Bagel and Latte.
I ran to the Restaurant to grab cash but when I headed back over to the breakfast place, the guy told me someone had already paid for it for me. I guess someone felt the need to up their Karma and chose me to do it for.
Whoever you are, thank-you! I really needed that.
I started writing one story but then my characters started fighting, I got frustrated and ripped it up so I started again today and so far I have just under 1,000 words. Therefore I have 26 days to write 49,000 more. Good Lord.
I am plodding through, though I must apologize if the quality of my posts takes a drastic downward plunge for the month. Forgive me in advance (or I'll have to come after you).
Without further ado, here are some pictures of my Saturday night Halloween party - the girls I was with Friday night haven't uploaded any yet, when they finally do I'll have pictures of Blondie, Curly, Hiker and I.
So here's Frenchie and I. I was Alice in Wonderland (I'm so clever) and her and PA went as MarkAntony and Cleopatra. PA made their costumes and they were great. I have 8 layers of crinoline on so I was telling people I was Alice as she's falling down the rabbit hole.
Here's PA and I. He used an old suede jacket for the skirt and shin-pads. Those gold medallions are actually a gold plastic plate that he cut and glued and his helmet is a construction hat with the end of a broom attached. He's crafty like that.
We had a hula hooping contest (which I couldn't participate in due to the aforementioned layers of crinoline) but the lovely hostess was pretty amazing at it:
All in all the party was a ton of fun and exactly what I needed after the crazy Friday we had.
Clockwise from Alice: Safty [sic] Stud Earl, Pirate, Construction Girl, Mark Antony, Cleopatra, Safty Inspectir [sic] Cleatus
See, Frenchie, her husband PA, and I went to a Halloween party at a friends house who I haven't seen in over a year. She's this fabulous artsy girl who takes lessons in things like Hula Hooping and Salsa Dancing. She made her own costume, a unicorn, which consisted of a skintight leotard, a tail, horn etc. it was super cute.
We were having a good time once the initial awkwardness that you inevitably feel at a social gathering where you know exactly 4 people wore off. Everyone was really friendly and lots of people didn't know each other so it was nice.
One girl (she was dressed as a school girl so that's her name now) came and sat by Frenchie and I, chatting for about ten minutes. When she left Frenchie turned to me and said: "That chick had her boob pressed up against me that whole time," we giggled a little and forgot about it.
Later on, school-girl was sitting on James Bond's lap, holding his hand and everything so we figured they were a couple. That was until two seconds later she jumped up and grabbed the Mormon's hand and started slow dancing all sexy with him.
We were very confused but thought "maybe she's just friendly"
Outside Frenchie and PA were giving each other a hard time because PA is the one who cares about details - for their wedding he took care of figuring out decorations and food while she basically rolled her eyes at him. Someone called them dysfunctional and that's when it came out.
Bond says: "well, my wife is in there making out with the Mormon!"
Then the clincher: later on James Bond tells us he's gay. Okay guys, you win.
My camera is broken. It broke right before Blondie and I headed to PEI (of course) which was months ago now. I brought it into the store and they sent it into the shop after informing me it would be $75 even though I bought the stupid warranty.
Apparently it doesn't cover scratched lenses. What it does cover? It seems they aren't sure.
Anyway, my camera has mysteriously never returned from the "shop". I'll be calling tomorrow to give them a piece of my mind. If they aren't supremely helpful and apologetic I'll be writing a very stern letter and sharing it with the innernets in hopes of them sending me free stuff. Like a camera.
So in honor of my birthday (?) I'll post links to my favorite 100 posts
Just kidding, I'm far too lazy for that. I do have a ghost story though (yeah I know, Halloween is so yesterday - whatever).
My dad's dad died when my dad was only 19 years old. He was a train engineer and was involved in a crash when all the lights of the train went out and two trains collided. My parents met when my dad was 28 so obviously my mom never met his dad. My sister Dizzy was born June 2nd 1982. This is all relevant, swearsies.
My mom and dad had brought Dizzy home from the hospital and were soundly sleeping a few days later when the baby began crying. My mother threw on her robe and padded down the hall to soothe her. She decided to head downstairs and sit in the rocking chair while she nursed Dizzy.
Suddenly she heard a knock on the door. It was 2 in the morning in the middle of June but when she opened the door there was a man standing there dressed all in white and a blizzard raged on behind him. My mother said he looked like the Glad man. He told her he had come to see his grandaughter so she let him in.
She made them tea, let him hold the baby, all the while thinking she was in the middle of a very strange dream. Eventually she went back upstairs to bed.
In the morning she went downstairs to find the half empty teapot, two teacups in the sink and a layer of snow on the ground.*
* contrary to popular belief it is NOT normal for it to snow in June here. If you look at weather records however, there was a snowstorm in June 1982. When my mother described the man to my father, he said: "that's my dad!".
I've now been on the site for a few months and have yet to meet anyone decent or even semi-decent (I've actually yet to meet anyone at all in person). This may or may not be because of the running inner monologue I have that starts something like:
"Alright, let's see what poor sap messaged me today"
I'm not cruel. If someone says something interesting, I'll write them back. It's just that they can never hold my interest past two messages or if I eventually give them my msn name (2 guys so far).
So let's see what I've got in my in-box today:
Subject line: cuttie
Message: are you from calgary how long have you been
Well moron, how long have I been what? If I'm from Calgary then obviously I've "been" my whole freaking life. I'm not sure what cuttie means but let's just reiterate that I'm not Emo so no, no I don't.
Subject line: hi there
Message: i'm ****** and if age isn't an issue for u, i was wondering if i'd be someone of interest to you as i truely found ur profile and pic equally attractive...
Here's another Douchetastic winner. Hey Mister, if "ur" 43 you may want to learn how to spell because I found your use of the English language "truely" appalling.
Subject line: boo
Message: hey...well i was reading your profile...and i know movies are not for you on the first date...so what about the race track?...but it might be closed right now... so im good with a swim to the moon
Where to begin with this one...let's start with the over usage of the ellipsis. If you aren't sure how to punctuate, don't just fill in any empty spots with dots. It's called Grade Two - perhaps you should make your way back there? Also, what the hell is a swim to the moon? Is that what the kids are calling sex these days? Because if so, I'm not buying. Perv.
Now, I thought my costume was pretty scandalous, but then Blondie goes and buys a skirt at least as short as mine and a corset top. Which of course made me remember that there will be girls wearing only lingerie. So I can embrace my booty-short clad bum and the tiny skirt it's (barely) hidden under.
There were these douche bags on the train talking about human feces on one of the platforms. It was revolting and went something like this:
"Fuck man, there was this SHIT one time on the platform. Like real fucking human shit"
"Fuck off! Really? That's fucked"
"Fuck dude it was fucking shit, just a huge pile of fucking human shit"
and on...and on...and on
I nearly threw up. Now I don't give two shits if you swear around me (obviously) but the fact that there were old ladies and people on their way home from work? "Dude" watch your goddamn language.
Anyway after the mall fiasco, where I spent another $50 I DON'T HAVE on stockings, a corset and ribbons, we were back on the train when these three boys get on. One of them was obviously so drunk/high that he could barely stand but refused to sit.
As he swayed back and forth telling his friends about the "slut he got with" I thought of that New Haircut video and started laughing. Really, really loud. I could just see the kid "Brosky! Bitches love my new haircut - Fucking skanks!"*
Anyway, needless to say he wasn't very impressed and wouldn't stop glaring at us for the duration of the trip. I stopped laughing when he made a joke to his friends that he had protection and made his fingers into that gun shape.
Alice = Gangster Bait
*The best knock-off of this video by far is the Senior Citizens edition
Luckily I can cook, so I made some Beef Stroganoff which provides a hilarious platform for many stroking-off comments from you guys.
My younger sisters SL and SK have school in the mornings and my parents don't really drive at night - not because they're old but because they just don't really want to. So I watched 40 Year Old Virgin with my mom (awkward?! Yes) and crashed there.
This morning my dad came down and, as he does every morning, turned on the stock channel. I don't really get why you would want to start your day off all depressed and with thoughts of half your money basically burning in a fiery inferno (because it may as well be). Alas, he does.
Now I don't know how many of you have RSPs or stocks or whatever, but I do. I've seen the steady decrease of my RSP savings from over $20,000 down to $14,000 and now at a depressingly low $8,000.
I know my loss is ridiculously low compared to the hundreds of thousands that other people are losing but at the same time, I've had an RSP since I was 19 and this last year I finally was able to start putting a large chunk in every month. Now I kind of feel like maybe sending my money to that nice Nigerian guy who emailed me may have been more worth it.
On the upside, now is the best time to be putting more cash into that money-sucking, depression-inducing system. That's right; buy low, sell high - isn't that what all those crazy stockbrokers say? Since the Canadian dollar is now worth less then a collection of toenails I may as well throw it all into my gold stocks.
If I'm going to be a millionaire by the time I'm thirty I better get cracking.
Then again I could always just invest all my money in Zoloft.
While I was off strolling around Vancouver, Victoria and Sidney (which isn't where I live for anyone who was confused by the video. I was on vacation visiting Dizzy and her husband) I was tagged in two memes
The first is from Lydia at ...Down the Rabbit Hole... wherein* you give 6 random facts about yourself.
1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up
1. Okay so remember when I was all like wah-wah my life is going down the tubes? Poor me, I lost my job and all that stuff? Uh okay, so I've decided I'm going to write a book. I have all this free time now and the money from The Restaurant should keep me out of (in?) trouble and paying bills and stuff. Ben I'm volunteering you as my proof-reader and the book will be ready in about a year. I'm going to write a page a day as my goal and more if I feel like it. Kthxbai
2. I hate corn and water chestnuts. I got a water chestnut in my stir-fry the other day (stir-fry was fabulous Dizzy!!) and I had to spit it out. The texture makes me want to Vom. I also hate milk. We are the only animals that drink another species milk after infancy. Most people are born without the lipids to digest milk (hence all the lactose-intolerance's) plus the taste/texture is awful. Yuck. That being said; I love cheese, yogurt and lattes. I'm weird.
3. I set my alarm for 9 am now that I'm unemployed. This is 2 and a half hours later then I would get up for The Company so it's still sleeping in but I won't get into being super lazy and sleeping until noon. Which is what I did today because it's Saturday. Also, I got up at 5 am yesterday to drive 10 hours back home to Calgary - give me a break, holy fuck!
4. I'm sort of a "man-eater". I never really thought much about my dating habits until that Nelly Furtado song came out and one of my girl friends yelled across a busy bar - "Hey Alice! It's totally your song!" but I guess I sort of do get bored with men. Also, I don't like clingy guys, not being able to go out with my girlfriends, having to call the guy all the time (or them calling me all the time), having set date-nights, romantic candles, cheesy love songs, jealousy, planning around someone else' schedule...yuck and double yuck. I wonder why I'm still single...?
I have had my heart broken once and I did it to myself.
5. I have a stack of poker chips beside my computer. When I'm trying to get the right ideas out or just wondering what the hell I'm going to write about, I chip shuffle - it helps me think.
6. I organize my closets (I have two - one for dresses, one for skirts and blouses) by color. That way if I'm looking for a purple dress I know exactly where to go. Same with sweaters, skirts, tank tops and shirts. Yes I'm slightly anal-retentive and OCD runs in my family, thanks for asking!
I'm going to tag:
Dr. Zibbs (I need a professional opinion)
My sis, Dizzy
and my Imaginary Friend
Have a great weekend!
PS - I started a new blog about eating healthy and losing ten pounds so if anyone is trying to do the same check it out and we can encourage each other to be healthy by e-mailing pictures of pigs wearing dresses and hippopotamuses eating cheese curds to each other. Or something.
*I don't know the correct usage of that word exactly but it makes me sound smart so I'm using it
A bunch of super wicked awesome (enough adjectives for you?) bloggers got together and started a blog called Fire That Agency to deal with adverse advertisers, crappy commercials and morose marketers (I dunno what the fuck is wrong with me today, sorry).
Anyway check it out, and while you're there check out my contribution (which you may have already read way back in June if you were with me then).
But before you do that, enjoy this age-old question from SaN:
Hello Darlings, San here from Stilettos and Nostalgia filling in for Alice while she cavorts around....er.....where is she again?
Anyway, glad to be of service in this job-themed blog post week. My most recent job-related dilemma is one I'm currently facing: the trade-off between money and quality of life.
Observe: I, hardworking graduate student with a burning desire to move back to Europe, recently landed my dream job with a top 5 consulting firm across the pond. This is a position toward which I've geared my entire recruitment efforts, on which I spend way too many hours practice interviewing and combing job postings to see if there was a chance for me.
Then, in June, I had a breakthrough: the company with which I have only dreamed of working had an opening that matched my degrees and skills. Hooray! But then I saw the offer and had second thoughts.
Now, you're probably thinking to yourself: this woman is insanely shallow - who cares about the money? Get over it! But when you have the joyous burden of tens of thousands of dollars worth of student loan debt, you tend to look at the world a bit more.....um.....materialistically?
So now I am torn. The job comes with everything I want in terms of quality of life, including 30 paid vacation days and the chance (FINALLY!) to be living with Marco.
Yet I'm worried that my starting salary now will determine my earning potential in the future, and that if I do not start high enough I may never make up the difference - especially as a woman.
So I ask you now, dear faithful Alice followers, what do you think I should value?
I did what everyone tells you not to do, and I dipped my pen in the company ink. Translation: I banged my boss.
I dated my higher-up. As the relationship got serious, we decided to move in together. As we were looking at apartments, I realized that I couldn't do it. I couldn't move in with him. I couldn't even be with him any longer. All he did was whine about every place we looked at, every town we visited, every restaurant we ate at, every thing, all the time. The final straw was when he got drunk and accused me of sleeping with another co-worker! Geez, I'm not that big of a whore...
After I dumped his ass, I had to see him at work. Our offices were right across from each other, and to top it off we had window walls. Yes, we could see each other from our desks. Well, this mutherfucker put up a poster on his window. Not that I wanted to see him, but I guess I was just mad that I hadn't thought of putting something up to block the view before he did.
It was kind of weird taking my assignments into him for review, but I sucked it up, walked into his office, and got the job done. Yet he refused to work with me like well; he didn't make eye contact; he kept it very short, and I felt that it compromised the team work and communication of our staff.
My favorite example of his immaturity and unprofessionalism was when he started leaving post-it notes on my desk every time I was out of my office. This a-hole would wait until I left my office and then run in and put a post-it note with a task or assignment on it for me. These little notes were detailed too, so he obviously took the time to write everything down and wait for the few minutes that I would leave my desk to sneak in and tape it up to my monitor.
After our project was complete, we both moved onto other job sites within the company. I heard that the other men would ask him questions about how I was in bed.
Here it is:
Sorry about the shitty quality - this is my first foray into the world of Video-Blogging
Oh yes, I'm also supposed to answer some questions:
Hypothetically, if I wrote a book about my life so far, I would call the first Chapter:
"You Did What?!" Pretty self explanatory
As for the most recent Chapter it would be called "Quarter Life Crisis' and Other Fun Times"
Aaaand for a story about me: see the post below!!
Does anyone know how I get the actual video on here instead of the stupid linky-thingy?
Update: Mmmkay so my sisters fabulous husband showed me how to upload it to my blog, holy hell was this a lot of work - so next time I'll be a pro...or sit in a corner crying while all the other kids point and laugh. Either way.
The first job I ever had was as a cook in a restaurant (actually as a paper-girl but I try to block that painful memory. Anything that happened before 6 am when I wasn't drunk doesn't count). I was designated as a Flat-top cook meaning I made quesadillas and pasta. Also, Fajita Roll-ups - we were a tex-mex restaurant.
On my first day of training I had my color guard (flag twirling) practice right afterwards. I went to practice still wearing my name tag:
is what it said. Of course, my mom told everyone I had applied at Hooters and wasn't "busty" enough to get the job so they put me in the kitchen. Funny mom.
No really, I wasn't emotionally scarred for life or anything.
Anyhow, I worked as a Flat-top cook for a few months and then was promoted to Trainer. I was only 15 when I got the job - this either says something about how great I am or how poorly the restaurant was doing. After another few months I was promoted to Broil Cook (one of the top positions). Again, they may or may not have been close to bankruptcy at this point.
This restaurant was drama after drama. If they had a reality series starring crazy cooks, stressed waitresses, sex, drugs and whipping cream this would be the heart of it all.
There was one girl "Vana" who really loved starting the drama. She had a boyfriend, let's call him A-Rod, who was a possesive, kind of crazy guy. Our kitchen manager was a young guy (though also crazy - he once drank oven cleaner just to prove he'd do it. His lung collapsed and we had to call 911).
Vana tried to seduce our manager in the walk-in cooler (the site of many dramatic happenings), he pushed her away, she freaked out and told A-Rod that our manager was hitting on her.
One night A-Rod and 19 of his friends, the Yankees, showed up at our work. Vana wasn't working that night but I was, as well as our manager. We were innocently taking out the trash at 1 am, almost done our shift and ready for a cold beer. Luckily I had made friends with the guys at the place next door, so they never asked for ID.
Well, A-Rod and the Yankees came over, surrounding us: 20 to 2. Before I knew what was happening there were 4 guys on our manager; punching him, kicking him - I had never seen anything like it in my life.
I ran inside to grab our huge bartender but of course even a huge guy is not really a match against 16. He did however manage to get the 4 off of our manager right before they were going to curb-stomp him, and as intimidating as he was, I thought the fight was over.
Meanwhile manager went inside, grabbed a butcher knife and came back out. The guys decided they had proven their point and got in their cars to drive away.
Manager ran after them screaming like a maniac and I of course chased him a) to make sure he didn't kill anyone and b) to see if his cuts and bruises needed ice. When we got back to the restaurant our boss, the front of house manager, had locked all the doors.
I knocked on the doors crying (my purse was in there and dammit it was expensive! Also, my house keys, all my money etc.) then ended up going next door where a woman saw that I was panicking, pretended to be my mother and yelled at the front house manager for half an hour.
She finally let us back in to get our stuff. I'd like to say I wasn't sobbing but that would be a lie. We were called in the next day and fired for walking out on our shift.
Apparently they were trying to make an example out of us.
During my first few months of my first "real" post-college job (in other words, not flipping burgers), I was trying very hard to exhibit a good work ethic and go "above and beyond" in order to make a good impression. (That has changed a bit, as evidenced by the fact that I'm typing this while I'm at work.)
On a Thursday, I'd been given instructions that a very important person (a friend of the boss) was coming in to pick up a thousand or so pieces of paperwork that he absolutely, positively needed by Saturday. Naturally, he never showed up.
Well, VIFOTB quickly decided that it was MY responsibility to get him the paperwork that he hadn't bothered to pick up, and after brain-storming for a few minutes, provided me with the name of a skeazy dive bar where he insisted that I should drop off the paperwork so he could come get it later.
After I made him promise that they'd be expecting me and the paperwork at said dive bar, I grabbed several pounds of paper and hit the road. I soon found myself standing at a dirty bar in my grown-up stiletto heels and a skirt, being leered at by drunken old men in stained overalls, while trying to convince a skeptical and very annoyed bartender that she needed to take this huge pile of paperwork, because VIFOTB would be in to pick it up.
Of course, she'd never heard of VIFOTB, nor had the bar owner or any of the patrons, and she (much like myself) didn't get paid to act as a secretary to a creepy old guy who took delivery of important documents in a seedy bar. It took me a good 15 minutes to convince someone, anyone to take the paperwork off my hands, which they only did after I told them that I didn't care what they did with it, that they could burn it for all I cared, I just wanted to get out of there minus several reams of paper and without being molested.
As soon as the papers left my hands, I practically ran out the door to the sounds of whistles and cat-calls.
This great advice given by Ashley from Encounters of the Human Kind
As a college senior living in Michigan, I was nervous about finding a job in a rocky economy. Luckily for me, I was willing to go anywhere. What was even more convenient is that I was highly connected through a student organization that led me to another highly connected individual in the public relations world.
Within days of meeting her I was inquiring about job opportunities within her firm. Being a global company and having dozens of offices around the world, I was hopeful that someone, somewhere was looking for an entry level employee. Contact information was exchanged and a phone call made where a second ask was thrown on the table:
"I will be in town during my spring break, will you interview me?"
Sure enough, an invitation to be interviewed was extended, followed shortly thereafter by a job offer to start after graduation.
Was it risky, flying across the country for an interview that may never pan out into full-time employment? Sure. Did it suck having to give up my last spring break ever to interview with a potential employer? Of course. But in the end – well worth it.
I had remembered the best piece of advice that anyone has ever given me: you don't receive what you don't ask for.
And this is the one piece of advice I give everyone – it applies to all aspects of life – because what's the worst that can happen? They say no. So you're right back where you started. No harm done. And now you know.
You can't be afraid to hear the word 'no.'
Be personable, friendly, and honest – and make the ask. You never know what might happen.
I sit here in my cube.
My life sucking cube.
I love my cube.
I embrace my cube.
The most creativity I have had all day is the moment I decided to hit the return key after each line to start this post. Yep, that's it. My biggest decision of the day. Paragraph or one liners....aaaaarrrgh....
What to do, what to do? It is a tough life of a cuber, and the lowest cuber of em all..... I almost can't say it--i am, a Saturday morning cuber. Oh yeah, its out there. I cube on Saturdays! Hunched over at my desk typing away on my crackberry... Hitting my new addiction, blogging. Blogging from the cube on a sat am. BANG.
Actually, it is afternoon by now, I am just in my own little cuberfog* that sets in on Saturdays... It is thick and knocks your senses askew. I shake my head, and say ' come on pj get in the game '. The cuberfog has over taken me. I think it is sat?!?!
The fog is thick, and makes it hard to think. The phones ring constantly and I talk without really being involved in the conversation, on autopilot as they say. People ask questions and I answer them, yet have no idea what is really going on. I can only see heads popping up above the cubicals, no bodies, just little heads bumping up and down as they talk. It seems so busy in here, lots of hustle and bustle, yet it just doesn't seem like much gets done.
I hope someone tells me when it is time to leave.
Well, enjoy your day out there. I can see you running on the grass, having your picnics, eating ice cream, frolicking (sp), playing games and having fun-- I see you. I am watching. I am not bitter by any means.... I laughed at myself as I wrote that - I AM BITTER REALLY REALLY BITTER.
Go cubers go!! Who cubes on Sat, I cube on Saturdays!! Put your hands in the air and raise em like you just don't care... Currently, I am raising the roof in my cube- that is how I do it. I am going to start a cube wave in a half hour, it is going to be cuberriffic!
Maybe I will start a cubnoxious chain e-mail-- those are always fun. If you don't send this to 8,000 people you will have bad luck. As you can see spending too much time in your cube has a negative effect on your sanity.
* you know when you are physically at work, but mentally you just haven't punched in yet.
My binder cover happened to land resting on keyboard but it wasn't less than five minutes before I moved it. It reminded me of a time I wouldn't mind forgetting... Lost in thought, stranded helplessly in a mind trip to the past…
It was my fourth day on the job (from hell) and I was overwhelmed with things to learn and under whelmed with assistance or, God forbid, anyone to train me. I was lost in a sea of paperwork trying to figure out how the hell the fool who worked in this position (before I did) survived.
I can't lie… I guess *technically* I heard the beeping... In the background. Honestly, it wasn't even an option, in my eyes, that I would be getting up from my desk to seek out who or what was creating this indefatigable noise.
My boss, Dick, comes tearing through the office in a mad rush. Papers fall to the floor as he passes; even they tremble in fear with the possibility of what he could do to their fate. Turbulence erupts as he started yelling and screaming at everyone in the office, despite many of them talking on phones to their clients.
He demands that someone must do something about this incessant noise… Now!
Practically everyone ducks their heads, dodging his fiery eyes, trying to bury their heads in their work deep enough that maybe he will have pity on them and torture someone else. Employees, with the exception of a few ogling eyes, continue working.
Dick stomps his foot down and slams his hand on his desk. When still no one comes to running to his rescue, he doesn't throw things or pout like a five year old… he stands right where he is and yells through the office for the entire building to hear;
"MAAAAHHH-LIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSA!!! GET! IN! HERE! NOW!"
I scurried in to his office, my hands clammy and my throat dry, my stilettos click-clack click-clacking on the hardwood floors. I could hardly speak, for his stature as well as his arrogance intimidated me.
"Yes… hi… Did you call me? I thought I heard my name" I lied, of course, because everyone in the building KNEW he called my name.
"DON'T YOU HEAR THAT?!?" He barks. What am I stupid?
"Yes, I do hear that. What is it, do you think? Can I help you?"
"YEAH, YOU CAN HELP ME BY GETTING IT TO STOP BEEPING."Now, if you've kept up with my job history you will know that I am currently in the IT field, but at this time I had absolutely no IT experience. Not even the experience of answering the phones at an IT firm, so I knew nothing but what the average novice knows.
"Hmm… well, it sounds like it's coming from your computer…Can I…?"
"I DON'T NEED YOU TO TELL ME WHERE IT'S COMING FROM. I NEED YOU TO GET IT TO STOP. AND IF YOU CAN'T GET IT TO STOP… FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN! I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT… JUST DO IT!"
"Ok, well I'll just the need the number for our IT company, then I will give them a call and have someone look into it right away for you, Mr. Dick, sir! Oh, wait… it appears that there is… a binder…"It stops.
Absolute silence breaks out across the entire office.
A sense of calmness comes over everybody as they realize the "new girl" has just solved Dick's problem (and therefore, all of ours too).
"WHAT THE HELL? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?!?" He barks.
"I just removed that binder that was resting all of its weight on your keyboard spacebar. Can I do anything else for you, Dick? Ok, greeeaaat…. I'll just get back to work then."
And that was the day that I knew...
I lasted 33 more days.
When I decided to become a teacher, I figured that this decision would be met by my entering a world where all things were fair in love and landing a job.
Little did I know, teaching wasn't void of the harsh realities of the working world where it all had to do with the people you knew, not the skills you had. I learned about this fast though. Thank God because if I hadn't, I'd still be waiting in the line for "permanent hire."
I worked for two years covering for maternity leaves thinking that I should land a job no problem with my principal. What I didn't know was that his friends daughter had just graduated and it was more important for her to get a permanent position in the school board before I did. Me ... the person who had been working there for longer than she had.
Needless to say, this pissed me off in a big fucking way. I was so livid. The inner brat in me wanted to bang my fists on my desk and throw the mother of all temper tantrums. But instead, I learned how to play the game. I learned that I could be the most talented teacher out there who was loved by all her students and their parents ... but that it wouldn't mean shit if I didn't have a personal connection with the man who held my professional fate in his hands. My principal.
So I did what any girl hungry for a secure job would do. I went on vacation with my boss. And wouldn't you know? I got a permanent job just one month later!
Now it wasn't that kind of vacation. There were no extra-marital ANYTHING involved. In fact, his wife and daughter came too. Along with about 10 other people. It was a tour in southern Italy which he planned and guided. It was a no brainer for me. It was like killing two birds with one stone: Me taking a much needed vacation and me landing a much needed permanent job.
Unfortunately, the land of the time-sheets is not a pleasant one. And it's almost like a mirage ... something you're pretty sure you see but once you reach out to try and take hold of it, it disappears.
I knew what I had to do. And I went for it. As sad as it sounds (Hi, my name is EM and I got a job because I went on vacation with my boss!), I don't care because I did what I had to do. And no sexual favours were needed.
Hey all, I’m the Imaginary Reviewer, guest posting for Alice today. Normally I only write reviews of things, but as Alice is currently seeking employment I thought I’d relate a cautionary tale that stems from the fact that I started a new job last month.
It was a split second decision on my part, really, and I had no idea of the consequences at the time. I must implore Alice (and anyone else about to embark upon a new career) to bear this in mind when sitting, as I was, in the office of the Human Resources Manager. She showed me a piece of paper with the headline “Coffee Club”, and offhandedly asked if I wished to pay a monthly amount for unlimited use of the canteen coffee machines. I figured that I could bring my own coffee from home, and declined.
This decision would have larger consequences than I could ever imagine.
In my office of around 100 people, the Coffee Club makes up about a fifth of the employees. On my second day working here I looked at the list posted in the canteen, saying which people can use the coffee machines, and saw them: the company bourgeoisie, the haves, the fat cats. All of them were managers, VPs and their assistants, the type of people who have their own names written on their office doors.
I picked up one of the packets of coffee to see what kind of blends the Club had access to, and one of the secretaries came in and batted it out of my hands. “Look with your eyes, not with your hands!” she shrieked, and I became aware of the vast gulf between those in the Club and those out of it.
As my time here went on, I became more and more aware of the mutual distrust. Members of the Coffee Club would eye me suspiciously as I filled my mug with water in the canteen, keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn’t surreptitiously steal a few illicit drops of Colombian Dark Roast. A bottle of salad dressing that I’d left in the staff refrigerator was unceremoniously smashed on the floor by a Club member after I’d put it in the space reserved for their cartons of milk. And then things started getting out of hand.
The flashpoint came when a new employee, ignorant of the rules, had a cup of Brazilian Rich Blend in full view of several Club members. This poor, unfortunate recent graduate was locked in the janitor’s closet for three days with nothing to drink but the sweat from his own shirt. In retaliation, a group of non-Club revolutionaries found the leader of those responsible and killed him with a Swingline 405 Stapler. His repeatedly-punctured body was left by the coffee machines as a warning to others.
Thrilled by the prospect of adventure, and maddened by the inequities of the office, I joined these brave men and women, the network engineers, the finance assistants and risk analysts fighting against the oppressive Coffee Club regime. I engaged in guerrilla tactics, pouring laxatives in the water section of the coffee machines and pissing in the milk.
Our last sortie ended in tragedy two days ago, when three non-Club members were found substituting the regular coffee with decaf by the Finance Manager and his PA. Retribution was swift and brutal. Their lifeless bodies, drained of blood by countless paper cuts, were delivered to the leaders of the revolution by a weeping mail boy.
By yesterday morning a memorial in their honour had been erected in place of the broken photocopier in the marketing section. Their deaths will not be in vain.
I write this now from my cubicle, where I have barricaded myself for the last 24 hours as I make my preparations. I was selected to lead a suicide mission on the coffee machines, and I hope my death – and the destruction of the infernal beverage makers – will bring about a utopia, a new Eden and a new beginning for the staff of DPO Hughes Office Supplies.