My last paycheck had something totally awesome included... Under the regular hours there was a column that said 'other' and then a dollar amount that corresponded. 'Other' as it turns out is synonymous with 'summer bonus' in this instance. I have never ever worked a job in which you get a summer bonus! I like this working for a small company that is doing well thing. It's nice.
It almost makes up for the god-awful demanding parents who either a. forgot their kid/s need a monthly or yearly checkup and then get mad at me when i tell them that we are booked through most of july, yes... all three doctors (one doctor is booked through ALL of July so you can suck it-dickwad), and no, we do not have a stash of prime appointments for bad parents set aside. b. get mad at me when I tell them that their precious Hudson/Zoe/Marlena/Chloe/Timothy/Chasen/isnert-name-here can not have a camp form filled out unless they've had a physical in the past 12 months and I don't care that they haven't had one in 2 years, and again, we're booked through till precious is meant to LEAVE for camp and no there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, they can't go to the art farm this year? Whatever will they do? c. slowly explain to me about their going to their 'country houses' soon and that they need an appointment for whatever reason before they go ALL THE WAY out to Long Island because it's SO far away. and d. the stupid travel appointment-makers who have just realized that they are going to the jungles of Africa in 2 days and need to get a series of shots including the Yellow Fever vaccine. We can not help you for 3 reasons - one- the yellow fever vaccine needs to be in your system for 10 days before you go to a yellow-fever-infested place in order to be effective. two- the one doctor in the practice that does travel medicine is not in the office for the next two days and three- you're stupid.
Luckily I do not have to care about most of these people. If you are nice I will call you if we have a cancellation, if you are a cunt and demand I put your child at the top of the list for cancellations I will do as you ask and put his name on the list with three stars (seriously this woman asked me to put 3 stars next to his name). In this case the stars mean, never call this woman for anything she is an awful human being and that she can go fuck herself. She also called late in the season for his flu shot appt, and bitched me out on the phone when i was still new to the job for not being able to find him a suitable appt. Whatever, lady.
I'm allowed to tell my bosses (the doctors) that so-and-so's mom is CRAZY! and MEAN! and they may well agree with me. It's awesome.
I'll write more about the wackiness of downtown NYC parents soon, their AMEX black cards, and thousand dollar strollers, and the caretakers or nannies of the trilingual toddlers. It's an insane world, and these are some insane parents. And they have no idea I know who they are.
As it turns out, time flies when you're not miserable and bored and trolling the internet regularly for your entertainment. Weird, right? I know. I thought the same thing. But it must be true. I can't just make brash statements up and say they're true. Well, I guess I could, but whatever. For me time has flown these past 6 months.
I'm still content in my new job. It's way easy, the money's good, and hey, I get free medical advice whenever I need it. Yesterday I think I got the easiest and possibly largest raise I'd ever gotten in my history of employment. In passing I said to the doctor in charge of payroll, "Hey, do I really get a raise after 6 months?", which is apparently standard practice. He asked when that 6 month mark is. I told him when (April 5th) and he nodded and told me that beginning this pay period (the first after my anniversary) I'd be making an extra dollar an hour. I looked at him as if partly confused.
"What? I don't have to write an essay?" I asked. Now he was the confused one. I told him that at the Container Store you have to write short essays and fill out a five page booklet for your yearly review (if you're complacent enough to stay at a part time retail job that long) after which you discuss your inevitably too-poor performance and all of the areas you need to 'grow and challenge yourself' and the 'opportunities" you have. If you suck up and have no other life you may merit a 7-8% payraise. However you have to be TRULY exceptional to rate that. Most people fall within the 3-4% raise bracket, and I assure you 3-4% (and even 7-8%) of $10 an hour isn't enough to make the physical pain and emotional anguish of never being 'ON' enough for a part time job worth it. (Did I just disclose my starting salary at TCS. FOR SHAME! Doing such a thing was the one verboten thing in their culture [along with gum chewing, and saying or even thinking 'that is not my job'. Believe me, they know when you're thinking it. And you're wrong. It IS your job. Now get off the register and clean up the bathroom before tying that perfectly able-bodied woman's shoe in the gift packaging section])
Why did I stay at a job like that for years? See the previous brief mention about complacency and keep in mind that I have no real drive to do anything. So I was a perfect workhorse. Plus I have the protestant work ethic. I had to do something, I needed some money and I always think myself lucky to have any job. Also, reading over my 2006 performance review- damn, I could rephrase and reuse the accepted and desired terminology/vocabulary! It was money. It was a job. And somehow it was less soul-deadening than denying people health insurance (a previous gig for many years).
So anyway, the doctor looked at me and laughed. He said that no there was no essay portion of this conversation. There was no 'you should do x or y, or maybe x and y, and maybe we'll appreciate you more'. He looked at me, laughed about the idea of detailed essays regarding selling plastic boxes, and then said, "We're happy to have you.". Fer reals.
time's completely flying. i keep forgetting to update this, though i spend so little time these days on the internet that it's truly of little consequence. the job is still going well, and i'm amazed at exactly how fast i can spend my new and improved paycheck. for instance today i went to dean and deluca and spent 30 dollars on candy. hello violet marshmallows and triple chocolate toffee. i'm trying to pretend that i didn't buy an orange-blossom marshmallow because it's yucky-gross (blame the fancy-pants french).
i'm getting hella into analog photography. on my unfinished uber-list is 'shoot one roll of film a week' and so far so good. i'm having a lot of fun with my diana+ and holga cameras, and then some.
i'm boring and fat and happy. huzzah.
i'm going to go primp and preen. maybe moisturize and do my nails while watching the colbert report. i hope you're all doing as well.
So I've been at my new job for almost two months now and I figure it's time to let the internets know how I'm doing. The quick answer is: MUCH BETTER. No, ferreals.
I feel like I work nowhere near as hard, and yet I am paid much better. I have more responsibility, and not that fake empowerment my previous job was so fond of bestowing upon people. They expect me to do the work of one person, and pay me well for it. They have also given me keys to the office, I am sometimes the last or first in there. I could steal computers, prescription pads, money and medical records if I wanted to. I mean, I don't... but I could.
I love working with Casey. We grew up across the street from each other in suburbia and now live about 10 blocks from each other in Brooklyn, and yet we rarely saw one another. Now we work together 4 days a week and I oddly miss her on the fifth. The doctors I work for are good, each has their own style and distinct needs. I feel I'm getting to understand the rhythm of the office and am learning to work around my hatred of phones and my bad hearing.
Things are going well. The little germ incubators (ie: the children who come to the office) have gotten me sick, but other than that, all is well. I love having my weekends again. Two days off in a row without haggling with anyone is an indulgent treat that I'm still not over. I love working in SoHo, though the office is nestled between an H&M and a Banana Republic, with Sephora, Anne Taylor and Uniqlo all within eye-shot so I don't think my credit cards will forgive me. Though the damage is nowhere near as bad as I imagine because I'm still not used to a real paycheck. It's taking me some time to adjust. I do not mean to imply that I am now rolling around in money, as I am not, I am just so unused to a full time job at a respectable wage that I am a bit in shock. I haven't been a part of the white-collar world in such a long time.
In other news, I'm half done with my Christmas shopping. I'm really just stuck on the in-laws. Speaking of which, Todd's mother will be spending Christmas with us. I'm excited and stressed at the same time. What has been good enough for my friends to sleep on suddenly seems woefully inadequate for a sweet special-ed teacher from Kentucky. I like to think I keep a tidy house, but now I'm concerned about dust and cat hair (two things I often overlook when it's just Todd and I). And her visit is so short, I worry about how we'll fit the tourist-y things in, as I'm sure her first time in NYC on the holidays she'll expect to see the tree at Rockefeller Center, even if she doesn't say as much. I mean... What else is Christmas in NYC?
Oh, before I forget or don't talk to you personally... Happy Thanksgiving, yo.
Just over three years ago I began working at the Container Store. It was a job, and I needed a job. It worked out well that way. I fell in love with a stapler that was sold in the office department, and despite getting a lovely 40% discount on purchases, I couldn't justify buying it, as I already had a perfectly serviceable stapler at home.
I knew I wasn't going to spend forever at my job. I knew it wasn't my calling, I wasn't going to make it my career. I considered attempting to 'go full time', the pay was alright- they offered benefits- and I had no other real calling in life. But that isn't enough to get a full time job there. They want your life, they want your soul. You have to eat, breathe, sleep and dream the store, products, and 'store philosophy'. I couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself jump through the required hoops, nor would I celebrate the rewarding challenge of selling an idea. Mostly because I didn't actually find it to be rewarding.
So that stapler, I knew it'd be the last thing I would ever buy at the store with my discount. I knew that I'd continue to wile away my days and bide my time until I figured out which direction I should move on to.
A few days ago a friend of mine who works at a doctor's office called to let me know that they might be hiring. I was standing in the middle of an apple orchard upstate when she rang. It was a gorgeous day. I was surrounded by family. There were apples and presents and my niece and I sat in the sunshine and shared our birthdays. I suspected I'd get a pair of plain gold hoop ear rings from my parents, as I'd gone beyond hinting and flatly asked for them. Instead I got gold clover shaped hoops and a matching necklace. It wasn't what I asked for, but they were lovely and sweet. Also, they are apparently Heidi Klum's lucky charm.
I scrambled to an interview on Monday morning before my regularly schedule shift at the store. I managed to pull myself together enough that I actually looked a little cute, mostly professional and of course, I wore the new-lucky jewelry. Monday night Lorna came to visit for a few days. While we were eating at Superfine in DUMBO on Tuesday I got the call. "I want you to give notice" he said. I'd give him a confirmed end date and we'd set a start date on Wednesday. Lorna and I took a water taxi, wandered the village, stopped in lovely shops, shared a cupcake at Magnolia bakery, picked up a few baubles at Marc Jacobs, and made our way over to the Container Store. It was time.
I thought I had a list of other things I wanted to buy, a last list of things to take advantage of my employee discount. But as I walked the aisles I realized that I just didn't want to waste my money on any more of that crap. I was ready. I picked out my stapler and waited on line. I made nice with my coworkers, paid for the shiny thing and flagged down the manager to give my notice.
It's silly the things you think about in the middle of major life changes. I'll miss the friends I made during my three years at the store. Some I grew very close to. Brian, Qincy, Brandon... I'm sad just thinking about it. I once had an awful temp job on a graveyard shift in an office somewhere on long island. I befriended a girl who told me straight up that she didn't want to make friends with people who weren't going to be in her life once she stopped working there. I don't remember her name. I remember the feeling of driving away from her house after dropping her off one morning thinking to myself that I'd never see her again.
I have my stapler and my memories. Thank you to my coworkers at the Container Store who kept me sane when everything else in the environment was leading me elsewhere. I'm already forgetting the 9 hour shifts, the insane overnights with a 1980s soundtrack, and the HOT teams. When I get to my new job tomorrow, I'll sit down for you all. That's right, SIT! on my ass! And get paid for it.
When I was in highschool I had painted some Cure lyrics on the wall of my bedroom.... And the way the rain comes down hard is the way I feel inside.
Not to long after my last post my mother gave me a rang. I wasn't expecting to hear from her till Thursday, when we'd discuss apple-picking travel arrangements and possibly how my root canal went. And much to my disappointment she called to let me know that our family trip was postponed/possibly canceled.
I was looking forward to a day of doing little, but as the sky became dark and the rain began to just drop out of the sky in buckets and I realized that the house was missing staples like coffee and milk and try as I might to avoid it, I was going to have to go out.
This morning I was roused from my good-dream-filled sleep by my phone. I missed the call because I am certainly not spry enough to leap from bed, shake the dreams from my memory and begin carrying a conversation with a fully functioning person. I checked my messages and it was my dentist's receptionist. She called to let me know that today's appointment had been canceled. The dentist wasn't feeling well. I could come in tomorrow morning at 9:30 to get the last of my root canal taken care of. I called her back and scheduled that appointment.
Here's where I whine just a bit (ok, a bit MORE)... In order to get to a 9:30 appointment at my dentist's I will have to leave home at 8am. I know, many of my real-job-having friends are NOT shocked by this at all, However, I usually wake up at 9am. I leave for work around 10:30. So for me to leave home at 8AM is kinda huge.
Also, I had postponed the Burlesque at the Beach gig last week due to actual pain, and I am afraid that making it to a show at Coney Island that begins at 10pm, after I'd been up and out since 8am was going to be nearly impossible. Will it be postponed again due to exhaustion? Usually day-jobbers get off of work at 5pm, giving them time to eat, relax, or do whatever it is they do. But me, no, I will be hours away from the end of my workday at 5, getting off just in time to head straight out to Coney.
None of my super-awesome-funtime city friends were going to come to the burlesque show anyway. Too mature? Too late? Too tired? Man, they have more excuses than I do (and reading above, this is impressive). Though my friend from the suburbs is always up for boobs, and was planning on coming out. 2 weeks in a row.... ready to come hang out with me. And now I have to dick him around and reschedule again. Next weekend is the last Burlesque at the Beach performance of the year. Who knows what it will be like next year. What with the developers threatening to take down astro-land and everything up in the air....
I can't shake this feeling of disappointment. I mean, I guess I usually experience this sort of thing around my birthday and Christmas. Try as I might to not have expectations, I always seem to be let down. I am not stupid. I am lucky. I know this. I have an amazing husband, a wonderful family, and somewhere, I actually have friends that would want to do things with me. I have a home, a job, and despite some dental problems, I do have my health. But sometimes, I think I also have a touch of depression.
September is usually my favorite month of the year. I tend to mash together memories of birthday parties, presents, and the delicious turn of the seasons from the dreadful sticky heat of August to the perfect sunny dry days that September almost always is. Except this one. I don't ever recall a hotter, stickier, more awful September than this. Sure I've been more miserable than normal with dental pain, but still, waiting for trains on the underground subway platforms have been near unbearable. Just standing there sweating in the sweltering stagnant air, feeling clothing dampen and cling, any trace of makeup applied before leaving home drips and pools with the beads of sweat that form and threaten to wash away my glasses.
What I'm getting at (and poorly) is it's hot and sticky. It's gross. And it usually isn't.
My tooth still almost hurts, but now it's mostly just mild swelling and discomfort. I did get in to see the dentist last Thursday. He began a root canal and gave me a prescription for both penicillin and tylenol3. As the novocaine wore off Thursday night at home the full extent of the pain really set in. I had another appointment made for the following Thursday when hopefully the infection in my jaw will be gone.
I spent Thursday night and all of Friday in the worst pain I've known in my life. Incredible and constant I could hardly even focus on anything around me or sit still. I took my tylenol3 which hardly took the edge off, though did allow me to sleep for maybe an hour after each dose. To help with the painkilling I began taking regular tylenol every 2 hours, which was oddly what seemed to be the length of the dulling effects. I didn't even make it into work on Friday because I didn't think sobbing in pain was a good sales technique, ya know?
Saturday morning the constant pain subsided to a dull ache and I was able to eat more than mushy foods and liquids. However, I was graced with a gorgeously swollen jaw, making it look as if Todd had had a bit of fun and used me as a punching bag.
I made it into work on Sunday, was exhausted and relatively miserable, but Sunday night was the first night I slept the whole night through without waking up in pain even once. The swelling is down more and now it's really mild discomfort and lingering soreness.
My birthday was spent at work, uneventful and maybe one of my worst ever, if only due to working and the surrounding dental shenanigans. Next weekend I'm getting together with the family to go apple picking upstate and I'm hoping for dry and cool weather. We'll be celebrating both my and my niece's birthdays as well as the harvest.
Exciting. Yes. I am going to try to do as little as possible today, and enjoy it.
Tooth aches are a special kind of pain. I like to think I have a high tolerance to pain, but a few days of throbbing pain in my tooth, moving up to my jaw- and really, I start to wish myself dead. Bastard dentist is out of town till Monday, so that means I'll be spending my birthday with this lovely ache. It brings back memories of sending new years eve alone in a ball gown sucking on a bottle of whiskey trying to make a toothache go away. It didn't work. The root canal I got a few days later did though.
So has anyone else seen ladies out shopping sporting one of these? Vogue told me they were from a French designer and such a hit that there was a waiting list for the expensive social statement. Needless to say that working at the expensive plastic box store in NYC I have in fact seen gals wandering about with that as their purse, oblivious to the concept of global warming and/or environmental conservation. I have on a number of occasions witnessed them getting plastic boxes double bagged, in plastic. In the immortal words of that Canadian songstress I love to hate: Ironic, dontcha think?
Did I mention my birthday this weekend? I think I did, above, back when I was whining about the toothache? Yah. My birthday. WEEEE! Todd's already bought me the pair of brown boots that I'd been coveting. Brown leather riding boots, simple, classic, and totally walkable. I was thrilled to try them on in the store to find out that they fit over my big fat calves without having to move into the dreaded 'extended calf' sizes Now I just can't wait till the weather gets a little cooler.
I dropped into Urban Outfitters yesterday after work and was kind of disgusted overall with the clothing. However, they had a big display of LOMO cameras, the fisheye, the disposable ones with colored flashes, the Holga box with collectors book, and other things. It took all of my self rerstraint not to whip out a credit card and buy one of everything. Can it be that I am addicted to cameras of all kinds? Plastic toy cameras, expensive digital ones, polaroids and 35mm. You name it, I want it.
I guess now would be a convenient time to remind the readers at home that my birthday is on Sunday, right?
Oh, I kid. Well, Sorta. I would never stop anyone from gifting me with anything.
Although good enough would be your ability to attend Burlesque at the Beach on Friday night with Todd and myself out in Coney Island. Don't worry if you can't make it though, It looks like no one can. My toothache though, I bet it'll be there.
Weee, I love getting older.
