To set up the situation:
First day of second temp gig ever, supposed to last for a month and I'll be working with 10 other temps pretty much all day every day:
Checklist for the day:
Appropriate business casual wear including nice straight hair? Check!
PB&J for lunch in case there's no fridge/time to go out and get something? Check!
Friendly, ready smile available to make friends with other temps? Check!
Having the bathroom stall door opened on me by another temp within 3 hours of being there?
CHECK!!!
Upon having the door opened on me, the fellow temp shouted "Lock the door!" Shouldn't I be the one annoyed that someone got to see my bare legs (among other bare things) for free? Did she think I was hoping someone would open the door and see me in all my "doing my business" glory? If so, I'm sure I would have had a more delighted look on my face as opposed to the shock and horror-filled expression I held instead. I guess she wasn't really looking at my face at that point. All I'm saying is, I would have preferred an apology, and as the month goes on, I'm still waiting.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
A Little Too Helpful
The other night as the Boyfriend and I are making our way back from outlet shopping, we drive by a fairly large Walmart. Realizing that we need a random assortment of things, we decide the Walmart is our best bet and venture in.
While I am a Target fan, I have to admit that the one by my house is nowhere NEAR the size of this Walmart. The Boyfriend and I are marveling at the wide variety and selection of items as we make our way through the labyrinth...I mean, store.
Our most exciting find comes at the back of the store near the Paper Goods section. But of course! Along with my paper towels and toilet paper, I almost forgot to buy my pet fish! Yes, they sell fish in acquariums in the back. As we're looking at the little guppies and goldfish in the tanks, we look over and realize there are several other fish, individually "packaged" in single tupperware containers. And, they're only $3 a piece! I start to joke that buying a fish would be worth it just for the tupperware as it'd be a good size for soup or sauces as well as the fact that these fish are coincidentally placed directly above a trashcan, so no one would know if someone "accidentally" threw one in.
As the Boyfriend and are giggling and joking away, a strange old man has suddenly appeared behind us and starts telling us all about these tupperwared fish, more properly known as Beta fish. Did you know they will eat other fish? Did you know they are good for children? This man knows! We politely listen and nod and try not to reveal that we were just previously joking about throwing one of these precious beings in the trash. As soon as it seemed appropriate, we part ways and continue on our journey throughout the store.
After about 30 minutes or so of seemingly aimless wandering, we make it to the drugstore section and I note the display of condoms (who doesn't notice the condoms? seriously!). Anyway, Boyfriend is trying to show me a new kind that he saw advertised on TV, and while we're standing there, starting at the condom section, OLD MAN appears again!
"You won't find Beta fish here!" he said with a chuckle.
He was standing closer to Boyfriend so I figured he had the response covered (I was trying to think of something clever and still appropriate) but ultimately we both just stood there with really guilty, ashamed looks on our faces and quickly turned and started walking away.
As we made it to the Home Goods section I shouted, "Sleeping bags! We were looking for Beta fish sleeping bags!" but OLD MAN was suddently nowhere to be seen and the closest store employee had a blank expression on his face as if to say, "You're on your own with that one."
While I am a Target fan, I have to admit that the one by my house is nowhere NEAR the size of this Walmart. The Boyfriend and I are marveling at the wide variety and selection of items as we make our way through the labyrinth...I mean, store.
Our most exciting find comes at the back of the store near the Paper Goods section. But of course! Along with my paper towels and toilet paper, I almost forgot to buy my pet fish! Yes, they sell fish in acquariums in the back. As we're looking at the little guppies and goldfish in the tanks, we look over and realize there are several other fish, individually "packaged" in single tupperware containers. And, they're only $3 a piece! I start to joke that buying a fish would be worth it just for the tupperware as it'd be a good size for soup or sauces as well as the fact that these fish are coincidentally placed directly above a trashcan, so no one would know if someone "accidentally" threw one in.
As the Boyfriend and are giggling and joking away, a strange old man has suddenly appeared behind us and starts telling us all about these tupperwared fish, more properly known as Beta fish. Did you know they will eat other fish? Did you know they are good for children? This man knows! We politely listen and nod and try not to reveal that we were just previously joking about throwing one of these precious beings in the trash. As soon as it seemed appropriate, we part ways and continue on our journey throughout the store.
After about 30 minutes or so of seemingly aimless wandering, we make it to the drugstore section and I note the display of condoms (who doesn't notice the condoms? seriously!). Anyway, Boyfriend is trying to show me a new kind that he saw advertised on TV, and while we're standing there, starting at the condom section, OLD MAN appears again!
"You won't find Beta fish here!" he said with a chuckle.
He was standing closer to Boyfriend so I figured he had the response covered (I was trying to think of something clever and still appropriate) but ultimately we both just stood there with really guilty, ashamed looks on our faces and quickly turned and started walking away.
As we made it to the Home Goods section I shouted, "Sleeping bags! We were looking for Beta fish sleeping bags!" but OLD MAN was suddently nowhere to be seen and the closest store employee had a blank expression on his face as if to say, "You're on your own with that one."
Friday, December 11, 2009
Enough For My Hands, Not For My Mouth
Yet another fun time in the bathroom at my temp job!
It's just me and this other woman in the bathroom, and we have both finished our business at roughly the same time. As we stand side-by-side at the two sinks, she keeps pumping the soap dispenser again and again. (I'm thinking 5 or 6 times total.) I shrug it off thinking she's just having trouble getting it out. I pump once, and it's fine, or so I think. She immediately looks over as I'm washing my hands and asks incredulously, "That's all the soap that you need?!"
I fumble with how to respond because I'm suddenly nervous that the hand washing instructions I've learned over a lifetime have somehow lead me down the wrong path. I want to give her a long explanation of the whole friction/sudsing concept, or maybe just tell her that I didn't touch anything super dirty, or maybe tell her how often I wash my hands in a day, but I honestly don't know what her main concern is and I'm wasting water with the more time I think of an explanation (and more importantly, the water was so hot it was scalding my hands).
"I...uh, wipe my hands...together."
And then I bolted. If I see her again I'll remember to keep my hands in my pocket so that she doesn't try to see if they're clean enough for her. I don't think I'd want to touch her anyway.
It's just me and this other woman in the bathroom, and we have both finished our business at roughly the same time. As we stand side-by-side at the two sinks, she keeps pumping the soap dispenser again and again. (I'm thinking 5 or 6 times total.) I shrug it off thinking she's just having trouble getting it out. I pump once, and it's fine, or so I think. She immediately looks over as I'm washing my hands and asks incredulously, "That's all the soap that you need?!"
I fumble with how to respond because I'm suddenly nervous that the hand washing instructions I've learned over a lifetime have somehow lead me down the wrong path. I want to give her a long explanation of the whole friction/sudsing concept, or maybe just tell her that I didn't touch anything super dirty, or maybe tell her how often I wash my hands in a day, but I honestly don't know what her main concern is and I'm wasting water with the more time I think of an explanation (and more importantly, the water was so hot it was scalding my hands).
"I...uh, wipe my hands...together."
And then I bolted. If I see her again I'll remember to keep my hands in my pocket so that she doesn't try to see if they're clean enough for her. I don't think I'd want to touch her anyway.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Are you in or out?
The other day, I was fortunate enough to have a job interview at a university that included a tour of the department. While walking around the different offices and cubicles, I noticed a full-size refrigerator. I immediately became excited because my last job had very awkward arrangements for lunch: a microwave in the copy room and a micro/fridge combo in my area with the technicality that we weren't really supposed to eat at our desks, otherwise we'd be expected to work during lunch. If not already obvious, the circumstances around any meal are very important to me, and these concerns take precedent above anything else, particularly when considering a new job.
I still long for the office I used to work in while in college which had a whole room devoted to my favorite past-time, lunch, and included a full size fridge, cabinets to keep your tupperware in, and a real table to sit at and enjoy your 30 minutes of unpaid time. In this special room, you could feel free to socialize and eat with no expectation of work and without fear of collecting an entire sandwich's contents within your keyboard. (Don't ask, it's disgusting.)
Anyway, so the other day on this tour, I notice the fridge, but don't see any table. While I understand that it's presumptuous to ask any questions on an interview tour related to what life would be like if I actually had the job and were able to call this tour guide my colleague, I couldn't help myself.
"So, um, do people here tend to go out for lunch or eat in?" (Look how smooth! I did not ask where the lunch table was, or if there was a policy on "no odoriferous foods allowed in the office" like the last place of employment. This question is open enough that plenty of valuable information can be included in the response.)
My tour guide looks back at me and says, "Well, those who are on Weight Watchers typically stay in, but those who really don't care, well, I guess they go out!"
We both share a nervous giggle about this, me trying to hide my "WTF face" and her, well, I honestly don't know. I could guess that she may stay in for lunch. I do hope they offer me the job though because I noticed later that there's a food court within walking distance. Cheap pizza, anyone?
I still long for the office I used to work in while in college which had a whole room devoted to my favorite past-time, lunch, and included a full size fridge, cabinets to keep your tupperware in, and a real table to sit at and enjoy your 30 minutes of unpaid time. In this special room, you could feel free to socialize and eat with no expectation of work and without fear of collecting an entire sandwich's contents within your keyboard. (Don't ask, it's disgusting.)
Anyway, so the other day on this tour, I notice the fridge, but don't see any table. While I understand that it's presumptuous to ask any questions on an interview tour related to what life would be like if I actually had the job and were able to call this tour guide my colleague, I couldn't help myself.
"So, um, do people here tend to go out for lunch or eat in?" (Look how smooth! I did not ask where the lunch table was, or if there was a policy on "no odoriferous foods allowed in the office" like the last place of employment. This question is open enough that plenty of valuable information can be included in the response.)
My tour guide looks back at me and says, "Well, those who are on Weight Watchers typically stay in, but those who really don't care, well, I guess they go out!"
We both share a nervous giggle about this, me trying to hide my "WTF face" and her, well, I honestly don't know. I could guess that she may stay in for lunch. I do hope they offer me the job though because I noticed later that there's a food court within walking distance. Cheap pizza, anyone?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Looking for My Better Half
"Be prepared." This is the Girl Scout motto. It should be "be prepared to be shut down." or "be prepared to want to quit after one year" At least these were my personal Girl Scout mottos.
When I first joined as a little 9-year-old, I was ready to go all-in. I knew of the delicious cookies and fun field trips, so I was willing to don the brown uniform, (brown was my LEAST favorite color at the time, just so you know) all for the exclusive club of fellow little girls.
I was not disappointed in the beginning. The field trips were exciting and had much better benefits than the standard school trips. The best field trip was by far our trip to a famous local bakery where we got to go behind the scenes into the kitchen. As we toured around, what do you know? We came upon a large table covered with the most beautiful, buttery danishes I'd ever seen! The head chef, our tour guide, grinned from ear to ear as he told us that we were all allowed to have half a danish. (Have I mentioned my love of free food?)
We (meaning me) squealed with glee as we all ran and grabbed a pre-cut half of a danish. I can taste it now: cherry flavored heaven. After our chomping pleasure was complete (maybe 30 seconds?) we looked to see that the chef had anticipated two or three more troops because the table was still covered with yummy-looking danishes. In just a minute of hesitation, he grinned again and told us we could all have another half.
Another half! Can we say BEST. DAY. EVER? Almost 10 years later, I still remember the fluttering in my chest. I'm pretty sure I made my joy clear to the other girls, to the mom volunteers, and especially to my beloved chef. As I finished my beloved cheese danish half, I noticed that although the table certainly had empty spots here and there, there were certainly some lonely danishes still left on the table. I looked around to see how much my fellow Girl Scouts had enjoyed our luck, and knew what I had to do.
I looked up to the nearest mom volunteer and asked, "Can we have a third piece?"
Silence. My cookie-selling peers looked at me with disgust, and the mom volunteers looked at me with pity. I apparently did not read the fine print in the Girl Scout code that says little girls NEVER ask for thirds. Sure we can sell cookies to people by the carton, but to consume more than one danish? Pure gluttony.
When I realized that it wasn't just the mom volunteers who were embarrassed for me, but the girls in the troop as well, I realized that the Girl Scouts suck. There, I've said it. I will always resent them for holding out that last half danish on me and making me feel like a pig. I can only hope that the chef was secretly thrilled that I couldn't get enough and that he is still waiting to marry me and bake me danishes every morning.
When I first joined as a little 9-year-old, I was ready to go all-in. I knew of the delicious cookies and fun field trips, so I was willing to don the brown uniform, (brown was my LEAST favorite color at the time, just so you know) all for the exclusive club of fellow little girls.
I was not disappointed in the beginning. The field trips were exciting and had much better benefits than the standard school trips. The best field trip was by far our trip to a famous local bakery where we got to go behind the scenes into the kitchen. As we toured around, what do you know? We came upon a large table covered with the most beautiful, buttery danishes I'd ever seen! The head chef, our tour guide, grinned from ear to ear as he told us that we were all allowed to have half a danish. (Have I mentioned my love of free food?)
We (meaning me) squealed with glee as we all ran and grabbed a pre-cut half of a danish. I can taste it now: cherry flavored heaven. After our chomping pleasure was complete (maybe 30 seconds?) we looked to see that the chef had anticipated two or three more troops because the table was still covered with yummy-looking danishes. In just a minute of hesitation, he grinned again and told us we could all have another half.
Another half! Can we say BEST. DAY. EVER? Almost 10 years later, I still remember the fluttering in my chest. I'm pretty sure I made my joy clear to the other girls, to the mom volunteers, and especially to my beloved chef. As I finished my beloved cheese danish half, I noticed that although the table certainly had empty spots here and there, there were certainly some lonely danishes still left on the table. I looked around to see how much my fellow Girl Scouts had enjoyed our luck, and knew what I had to do.
I looked up to the nearest mom volunteer and asked, "Can we have a third piece?"
Silence. My cookie-selling peers looked at me with disgust, and the mom volunteers looked at me with pity. I apparently did not read the fine print in the Girl Scout code that says little girls NEVER ask for thirds. Sure we can sell cookies to people by the carton, but to consume more than one danish? Pure gluttony.
When I realized that it wasn't just the mom volunteers who were embarrassed for me, but the girls in the troop as well, I realized that the Girl Scouts suck. There, I've said it. I will always resent them for holding out that last half danish on me and making me feel like a pig. I can only hope that the chef was secretly thrilled that I couldn't get enough and that he is still waiting to marry me and bake me danishes every morning.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Handy Manny goes to the Movies
Remember when the movie The Matrix came out, and most people went on and on about what a great movie it was? I was never one of those people. I couldn't understand why most people liked it, or even why I didn't. After describing my situation to some people, I realized I hadn't had the best theater-going experience.
I was 16 when I saw The Matrix at the local movie theater, and it was one of the first real dates I'd ever been on. My date was a very nice boy as well as a new friend of mine who was hoping o become a combination of the two. In my attempts to play it casual and cool, as we sat down in our seats, I tried to lean my head a little closer to him. I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought because he looked at me with this grin on his face and said, "Oh, is THAT how you want to play?"
I guess that was true because I was happy that he followed this up with putting his arm around my shoulders. Even though I thought the line was weird, this was basically what I thought was right for a date, so I went with it.
Not too long into the film, I raised my left hand up to meet his, and he held onto it. At first, I'll admit this was very exciting! This was a real date, hand-holding and all! Then he proceeded to massage my hand with his. I thought this was weird, but I could tell that he thought this was the way to my heart, which in itself seemed sweet. I will say that more than an hour's worth of rough massaging of the top of my hand is actually not the way to my heart. It's the way to a very sore hand.
I tried excusing myself to the bathroom, but when I came back he did the same thing, and I was too shy to push him away. Let me say that I knew at that point that this date was both a first and last with this handy guy.
The one thing I liked about that viewing of The Matrix? That it ended.
I was 16 when I saw The Matrix at the local movie theater, and it was one of the first real dates I'd ever been on. My date was a very nice boy as well as a new friend of mine who was hoping o become a combination of the two. In my attempts to play it casual and cool, as we sat down in our seats, I tried to lean my head a little closer to him. I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought because he looked at me with this grin on his face and said, "Oh, is THAT how you want to play?"
I guess that was true because I was happy that he followed this up with putting his arm around my shoulders. Even though I thought the line was weird, this was basically what I thought was right for a date, so I went with it.
Not too long into the film, I raised my left hand up to meet his, and he held onto it. At first, I'll admit this was very exciting! This was a real date, hand-holding and all! Then he proceeded to massage my hand with his. I thought this was weird, but I could tell that he thought this was the way to my heart, which in itself seemed sweet. I will say that more than an hour's worth of rough massaging of the top of my hand is actually not the way to my heart. It's the way to a very sore hand.
I tried excusing myself to the bathroom, but when I came back he did the same thing, and I was too shy to push him away. Let me say that I knew at that point that this date was both a first and last with this handy guy.
The one thing I liked about that viewing of The Matrix? That it ended.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Quit Looking at Me Like That
With the freezing weather we've had lately, my car has acted up in different ways. Today, the trunk wouldn't open even though the key turned in the lock easily. Because I was in a parking lot with someone waiting for my spot, I decided to forget the trunk, throw things in the back seat, and off I went.
It wasn't until I was on the highway that I looked to see a light on the dashboard. What's that, car of mine? The trunk is now open while I'm driving? I looked back and realized that with each bump, my trunk was waving hello to the car behind me.
I was hoping I could make it all the way home without being pulled over, and purposefully drove slowly to ease the effects of a bumpy road. As I pulled gently to a stop at a red light, I looked to see that my trunk was at full mast, displaying the contents of my trunk to anyone who'd like easy access. I jumped out of my car as quickly as I could and slammed down the trunk. As I jumped back into the drivers seat and happily noticed that the light was still red, I looked over and saw that the guy in the car next to me had been watching the whole thing with this amused stare. As soon as the light turned green I flew by without a wave goodbye...of any kind.
I have to say that this whole situation does remind me of a time in Vegas. (Now, now, get your mind out of the gutter, thanks).
I was in Vegas with my dad when I was 15 for one of his conventions and I had to entertain myself each morning while my dad was in meetings. As I walked up and down the strip, I realized that I needed a bathroom, and fast! I saw the nearest hotel and speed-walked towards the door. Well, I'll be the first to admit that when a bathroom is on the brain, I really can't focus on much else. I was so determined to make it into the hotel that I didn't realize just how good a job the staff had done of cleaning what I soon discovered -the hard way- was the wall of a revolving door. (Man, that's some good window cleaner!) As I felt the growing bump on my forehead, I felt grateful that at least I had experienced my embarrassment alone.
That's when I passed a group of about 4 or 5 middle-aged men laughing and pointing at me/the revolving door.
"Did you see that girl just walk into the door? She just walked right into it!"
Luckily I found the nearest bathroom very quickly. I was hoping I could put the story behind me, but when I got back, my dad immediately noticed the bulge on my forehead. When I told him the story, I had yet another middle-aged man laughing and pointing.
I spent the rest of the week's mornings by the pool.
It wasn't until I was on the highway that I looked to see a light on the dashboard. What's that, car of mine? The trunk is now open while I'm driving? I looked back and realized that with each bump, my trunk was waving hello to the car behind me.
I was hoping I could make it all the way home without being pulled over, and purposefully drove slowly to ease the effects of a bumpy road. As I pulled gently to a stop at a red light, I looked to see that my trunk was at full mast, displaying the contents of my trunk to anyone who'd like easy access. I jumped out of my car as quickly as I could and slammed down the trunk. As I jumped back into the drivers seat and happily noticed that the light was still red, I looked over and saw that the guy in the car next to me had been watching the whole thing with this amused stare. As soon as the light turned green I flew by without a wave goodbye...of any kind.
I have to say that this whole situation does remind me of a time in Vegas. (Now, now, get your mind out of the gutter, thanks).
I was in Vegas with my dad when I was 15 for one of his conventions and I had to entertain myself each morning while my dad was in meetings. As I walked up and down the strip, I realized that I needed a bathroom, and fast! I saw the nearest hotel and speed-walked towards the door. Well, I'll be the first to admit that when a bathroom is on the brain, I really can't focus on much else. I was so determined to make it into the hotel that I didn't realize just how good a job the staff had done of cleaning what I soon discovered -the hard way- was the wall of a revolving door. (Man, that's some good window cleaner!) As I felt the growing bump on my forehead, I felt grateful that at least I had experienced my embarrassment alone.
That's when I passed a group of about 4 or 5 middle-aged men laughing and pointing at me/the revolving door.
"Did you see that girl just walk into the door? She just walked right into it!"
Luckily I found the nearest bathroom very quickly. I was hoping I could put the story behind me, but when I got back, my dad immediately noticed the bulge on my forehead. When I told him the story, I had yet another middle-aged man laughing and pointing.
I spent the rest of the week's mornings by the pool.
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