My mother has a facebook. In fact, so does my grandfather.
This fact used to annoy me greatly - is NOTHING sacred?!
I spent over a month on heightened alert, watching my profile like a hawk until I realized I could set my privacy settings to do the job for me - Now, Mum & Granddad are free to peruse my page without any danger of discovering my sarcastic status about only having rum in my fridge. (Which is a lie, there's orange juice in there too.)
It's every child's nightmare to have their parents enter into the digital age, but recently I've begun to realize the perks. My mother is famous for hour long phone conversations. and some days, those phone convo's are just what I need. But other days I don't need to hear a 15-minute ramble on what kind of bread she bought at the grocery store.
And that's where facebook comes in. Even better - that's where AIM comes in. (Yep, remember that from Jr. High. Love it. Use it. Really.) Now, instead of countless phone calls throughout the day (including at all hours during work) Mum can hop on the computer to shoot me a quick facebook post, or a quick IM, and whats done is done.
Oh the wonders of the digital age.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
What Retail Has Taught Me
The one thing that working in retail these past 3 months is patience.
I have learned patience in many different facets. Starting with customers. I know this is the obvious answer. Any job working with the public will lead you to the "customer" who is always right. I have asked a customer if they need help finding a size, they answer no, then proceed to tear apart the stack of shirts I just folded. That part irks me the most. I literally just offered to help but American consumers need help but won't ask for it. So I find myself offering help and rarely getting a response. It honestly makes my day when a customer actually asks for help. My job is much more joyous when I don't have to size pencil skirts every minute of my shift.
The next aspect of patience is learned by my co-workers. I never thought I would find myself in clothing retail. Most of the girls I work with are the stereotype of what I always suspected in woman's retail. Many women who love to talk about the other co-workers and spend a good chunk of their paycheck every week. On the other hand, I have to look at the tempting clothes on sale without purchasing a single item. I am saving every penny just for food and bills. I get frustrated hearing my lovely co-workers whine about how they are so broke but leave their shift with a bulging bag of new merchandise.
And finally, I learn patience because it is just a job I do not truly enjoy. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I like being on my feet and interacting with customers (minus the aforementioned issue). But I want to be doing something interesting. I want to feel like I'm contributing to my future. Working in retail pales in comparison to how I would like to feel in my job.
On a separate exciting note, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a week and a half to start a film program. I can't wait to start my internship. Maybe then, even while I'm making copies and answering the phone, I'll feel like I'm contributing to something bigger. We shall see.
I have learned patience in many different facets. Starting with customers. I know this is the obvious answer. Any job working with the public will lead you to the "customer" who is always right. I have asked a customer if they need help finding a size, they answer no, then proceed to tear apart the stack of shirts I just folded. That part irks me the most. I literally just offered to help but American consumers need help but won't ask for it. So I find myself offering help and rarely getting a response. It honestly makes my day when a customer actually asks for help. My job is much more joyous when I don't have to size pencil skirts every minute of my shift.
The next aspect of patience is learned by my co-workers. I never thought I would find myself in clothing retail. Most of the girls I work with are the stereotype of what I always suspected in woman's retail. Many women who love to talk about the other co-workers and spend a good chunk of their paycheck every week. On the other hand, I have to look at the tempting clothes on sale without purchasing a single item. I am saving every penny just for food and bills. I get frustrated hearing my lovely co-workers whine about how they are so broke but leave their shift with a bulging bag of new merchandise.
And finally, I learn patience because it is just a job I do not truly enjoy. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I like being on my feet and interacting with customers (minus the aforementioned issue). But I want to be doing something interesting. I want to feel like I'm contributing to my future. Working in retail pales in comparison to how I would like to feel in my job.
On a separate exciting note, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a week and a half to start a film program. I can't wait to start my internship. Maybe then, even while I'm making copies and answering the phone, I'll feel like I'm contributing to something bigger. We shall see.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Home - Sweet - Home
It's been two weeks since I've moved into my new apartment, and I am absolutely delighted with the place. It's the luxury that I could never afford in college, including having my own room AND bathroom.
Somewhere around my junior year I had resigned to the fact that I would never have my own room again. I'd move straight from the cramped student dorms, to a cramped post-college apartment, to eventually getting married. All of which required sharing a room and shutter a closet with an unsuspecting stranger. After spending 17-years of my life having my own room, I mourned the loss of my privacy and uninterrupted closet space.
So, even though I may be spoiling myself a bit too much, I was delighted when I realized I could not only have my OWN room, but also my OWN bathroom at the new place. Now I can scatter makeup and brushes and cotton balls from one end to the other without my roommate ever uttering a sound. (Not that my current roommate, "the Actress" would even care).
Yet, as wonderful as it is to have my own place, I came to a quick realization just how much everything COSTS after the first weekend of settling in ended. Little things I took for granted - like the floor lamp that went home with my roommate, or my university-provided standard college desk, suddenly became "luxury items" after realizing that almost half my "impressive salary" went straight to my rent check.
I've always been a good manager of money, and paid for all of my college bills off of my minuscule part-time student worker paycheck. But I always had the benefit of relying on my student loans to give me one lump sum to pay off my subsidized University housing each semester. Now that I can't put rent on my already overburdened credit card, the necessity of a desk or lighting goes WAY down on the priority list.
Needless to say, I was delighted to find a gem of a desk on Craigslist for only $10! I'd looked at the desk not two weeks before at Ikea, but for a whopping $110 +tax, there was NO WAY I'd be getting it. But with a couple of screws, a little bit of nail glue, and homemade dinner as a bribe, my boyfriend put together my very first desk of my own. WoooHoo!
Now the apartment is almost settled, minus the fact that we have zero decorations and are slipping back into the 1800s and surviving on candlelight. (hey, it cuts the energy bill too - right?) It feels good to finally have a place to call "home" after over 4 years of a slightly flexible definition of "home." Somehow, I'm starting to feel like a grown up - especially with my rent check due in less than 2 weeks.
Somewhere around my junior year I had resigned to the fact that I would never have my own room again. I'd move straight from the cramped student dorms, to a cramped post-college apartment, to eventually getting married. All of which required sharing a room and shutter a closet with an unsuspecting stranger. After spending 17-years of my life having my own room, I mourned the loss of my privacy and uninterrupted closet space.
So, even though I may be spoiling myself a bit too much, I was delighted when I realized I could not only have my OWN room, but also my OWN bathroom at the new place. Now I can scatter makeup and brushes and cotton balls from one end to the other without my roommate ever uttering a sound. (Not that my current roommate, "the Actress" would even care).
Yet, as wonderful as it is to have my own place, I came to a quick realization just how much everything COSTS after the first weekend of settling in ended. Little things I took for granted - like the floor lamp that went home with my roommate, or my university-provided standard college desk, suddenly became "luxury items" after realizing that almost half my "impressive salary" went straight to my rent check.
I've always been a good manager of money, and paid for all of my college bills off of my minuscule part-time student worker paycheck. But I always had the benefit of relying on my student loans to give me one lump sum to pay off my subsidized University housing each semester. Now that I can't put rent on my already overburdened credit card, the necessity of a desk or lighting goes WAY down on the priority list.
Needless to say, I was delighted to find a gem of a desk on Craigslist for only $10! I'd looked at the desk not two weeks before at Ikea, but for a whopping $110 +tax, there was NO WAY I'd be getting it. But with a couple of screws, a little bit of nail glue, and homemade dinner as a bribe, my boyfriend put together my very first desk of my own. WoooHoo!
Now the apartment is almost settled, minus the fact that we have zero decorations and are slipping back into the 1800s and surviving on candlelight. (hey, it cuts the energy bill too - right?) It feels good to finally have a place to call "home" after over 4 years of a slightly flexible definition of "home." Somehow, I'm starting to feel like a grown up - especially with my rent check due in less than 2 weeks.