Seriously.

today i walked into my favorite local art store. it's pretty new, but they had a few in tempe/phoenix when i lived there. a nice little independent store. with good supplies. and not craft shit. i love stores without craft shit (fuck you knitting/puff paints/scrap book supplies!!!).


and lo and behold. holy effing shit. bitching mother fucker. a handwritten note taped to the door. if desperation had a typeface, it was definitely printed in it.


HELP WANTED PART TIME

help wanted!!! and i want to help!!! i've been trying to help for a year! and in an art store!!! without a uniform!!! so i can wear jeans and tshirts and sneakers and be happy!!! and never would i have to begin a sentence with "would you like anything to drink?" "hey can everyone be quiet? i need to take attendance..."

and part time even! lord knows i don't like to fully commit to anything - but to partially commit?? oh i can do that. i've been doing that all my life!

GIVE ME AN APPLICATION!!!!

OH - AND LET ME MAKE A PURCHASE TOO CUZ I CAME HERE FOR THAT REASON SPECIFICALLY!

(i got a swweeeettt new sketchbook btw)


so i fill out the application. it looks good - save for kinda sloppy handwriting - but what did they expect when they hand me some old bic?? this bitch uses GEL PENS. get real, please. but come on - FINALLY an application where putting down "BFA isn't laughable! and maybe...is even PREFERRED!!


i hand it in and continue on my way. about twenty minutes later when i'm nearing my neighborhood i am reflecting on m day and i realize...

i didn't put my phone number on the application. anywhere. no where. not any place. no place. no line. no box. no nothing.

fucking. crap.

but see - this is how we know i've grown as a person over the last year. previously i would have just left it was it was. i would have continued home, maybe slightly bummed, or maybe slightly in good spirits because shit - that is so fucking retarded it's lame. here i have been, laid off for months, and job searching/being rejected from everything so much that i'm depressed and borderline miserable and i blow the opportunity of a lifetime! (and yes, sadly, this is just that for me.)

but no. I'VE GROWN. call it desperation or call it adulthood - but i picked up my phone, 411ed the shit out of that store and talked to the cashier.

"uuuh...hi. i just filled out an application there but i didn't put my phone number on it..."
"oh...haha, well, that's odd. let me fish it out for you!"
"okay, also, let's pretend this never happened and that i'm not an idiot."
"nooo problem..."

the irony? i gave them my phone number...and they will never, ever call.

twitter

ain't that the truth, steve! lolz!



but let's be honest, steve left out the part about getting your feelings hurt and feeling like the most useless person in the school!


substitute teaching, ftw!

things i text to kirsten while at work.

yes, i know i said i got laid off. and i did. but in substitute land, getting laid off means that instead of choosing your own jobs every day - and being able to choose from like, 15 of them EVERY DAY - you maybe get called for one specific job each month. so instead of making $90 a day, you're making $90 a month. yes. my life. anyway, here we go!

7:22am: Im subbing at the high school where i havent been in a couple months and a kid saw me in the parking lot and called me a dumb bitch!!
7:23: it wasn't very nice of him.
7:28: i'm so bored. i'm working a math class.
kirsten 7:30: perfect. your preferred subject!
7:31: i sure do love it. numbersnumbersnumbers!
7:36: this girl is making a fortune teller instead of doing her work. i want to play w it so badly when she's done!
7:56: thank god i found a magic eye calendar to keep me busy!
8:14: this girl i refer to as "cheeto fingers" is in my class
8:15: she is just staring at the floor
8:18: now she's putting on mascara.
8:21: now she's curling them.
8:23: now 20 minutes in she's opening her notebook. good for her!
kirsten 8:24: ahaha. i want to meet cheeto fingers.
8:27: i don't think you'd have much to talk about.
8:34: she closed her notebook. ten minutes is enough for math. i agree!
8:39: she's asleep on her backpack now.
8:44: still sleeping. she didn't even look up when the phone rang.
8:47: she's awake and looking around the room to see if anyone noticed. i did!!
9:52: aw, this girl failed her drivers exam :(
kirsten 11:02: poor thing
11:11: i can't see the magic eye!!!!!
kirsten 11:17: it's a pig
11:48: now i'm at the track meet. it's making me tired.
kirsten 11:50: there is a track meet?
11:50: yeah some all day meet. i'm subbing for a teacher who is working at it. so many running mexicans!
kirsten: what did they steel[sic]???
11:51: this shit is boring.

my priorities are right where they should be

i had a decent march/april money-wise.

despite not actually having a job, i managed to get one paycheck in the mail from the last time i actually got called in to work. i sold a couple paintings, a couple screen prints, house sat for a weekend, and finished up work on some commissioned items for a wedding.

i had some bank, yo!

and then i spent it all on 2nd row kelly clarkson tickets!



now i have to scour the house for change so i can buy some scratchers and make my money back!

Today I Took A Nap

i am unemployed. i am not in school. i live with my parents. i am wearing the clothes i wore yesterday.


and i took a nap.


i feel more worthless than i did before.


napping = wfi.




(by the way, i tag things as "college dropout", but i, in fact, did graduate from college. not even a community college. a real university! which, apparently, was a WFI, because everything has been downhill since...)

a legit wfi

RE: Gem's previous entry

well, obviously, changing the color scheme of the blog was apparently a WFI, as my one time partner in crime has now quit the blog!

i feel like a rejected spouse. i was only changing the blog colors so i could GET A LITTLE ATTENTION AROUND HERE. yeesh. i just wanted a little, "leave it alone, i'll fix it! i'll make it pretty!" but noooooo. i get an "i quit".


fewer syllables i guess.


i also got laid off and spent every last penny i had (both literally, as in, in the bank, and figuratively, as in, credit cards!) on getting everything i need to screen print from home. we'll see how that goes, as i fall further and further into debt. and thus, i shall become proof that finances and depression are directly related.

edited only 22 minutes later to add:



(i knew she'd be back...)

a-team application

love and marriage.

me: So, Nellie just got engaged and is getting married probably in September.
my mom: But she is so young! [she's my age btw]
me: Well, whatever.
my mom: So how does that make you feel?
me: Like I'm 24, live with my parents and can't keep a job.

job hunt: back on.

after a mildly successful experience as a substitute teacher (I actually will have only gone to work 29 times since my hire date back in October [but it was the end of October!!!]. but before you criticize me, my track record isn't even that bad!! considering thanksgiving break, christmas break, my whole "i'm in israel" thing, and my affinity for recreational drug use, i don't think i did thaaaat badly), i am now left without a job. if there is one thing republicans are good at, it's cutting education funding (amirite??). oh, arizona, you silly goose; welcome to your own personal WFI!

i guess it's time to work on that screen play i keep telling Gem and Christopher i'm writing.

OMG!

Sandra Bullock movie weekend on ABC family!!!

letters of rec update

i got my letter of rec from professor x.

the letter included a sentence along the lines of "i recommend Lewis for the position of substitute teacher", and then some typos.

i replied with:

dear x

typos? oh, and thanks for the inclusion of the words "substitute teacher" so that i can't use this to apply for any other "credible" positions.

-s

So I asked a professor for a letter of rec...

Either way though, she agreed to write it for me. Especially after I reminded her that I wasn't applying for a TEACHING position, but rather a SUBSTITUTE teaching position.

"Oh, well you're totally good at wielding power!" She said.

a bad egg. a very, very bad egg.

Dear Kevin,

RE: Your wall post on my Facebook

It was a BFI overall. However my response was a WFI, as it has left me regretful. You know that Seinfeld episode where George comes up with the "jerk store" comeback long after the insult, and then tries to recreate an opportunity to use it? It's like that. I would love to get fired all over again.

See, I have been working for this restaurant (a chain throughout Arizona) since the first week in January. I always preferred serving breakfast and lunch as opposed to dinner or cocktailing because I would rather go to work at 5am and be done at 2, then go to work at 4 and be done at 11. Or whatever. I like getting up early, and even more than that, I absolutely love having an excuse as to why I can't go out at night. You see, "Oh, I'd love to but I have to be up at 4 for work tomorrow! Oh shoot!" is not only easier [read: less embarrassing] to say to your alcoholic friends, but they also mock you less than with other truths made up excuses like, "Oh I'm not a big drinker...", or "But there's a Degrassi marathon on tonight!", or, the worst, "But they're rerunning Lisa Ling produced documentaries on PBS all evening! You remember Lisa Ling, right? She used to be on The View, that show with Barbara Walters and all those kooky women! I mean, I totally hate Elisabeth as much as the next Liberal Jew, but Rosie really brought that show alive, and I'm a huge Whoopi fan. No, I know neither of them were on the show when Lisa was but still - no thanks, I don't drink, but that's nice of you to offer. No, really, I'm driving anyway. What? You don't even know my mom. Okay, I mean, just one. Is this a double? What does that even mean - oh it doesn't have more alcohol? Are you sure? Really? Okay...But just this one..."... So, when I moved from Tempe back to Tucson to live with my parents - which is a whole separate WFI for another day - I decided to try my hand at transferring from the Scottsdale location to one of three Tucson locations.

I loved where I worked in Scottsdale. Not only was everyone awesome in their own way, but everyone there knew how important their job was: not at all important!!! The restaurant was a transition place for these servers; people were working there in order to get somewhere else. Saving up to travel, paying for college, buying pot (important!), opening up a private practice, etc. etc. etc. They didn't live to be waiters, they waited to live!!!!! ...Not to mention I was well respected and appreciated and people laughed at my jokes there... But this Tucson location! Oh Tucson! With your recovering meth addicts, ex cons, strippers, and community college drop outs. I mean, not that I hold anything against people who are recovering addicts - I mean, good for you! Awesome! Ex cons getting their life back in order? Great! High schoolers - hey, make money money! But...zero aspirations?? Shit! With the exception of a few servers, barely anyone talked to me and when they did they were telling me what I was doing wrong and how I needed to "smile more, SERIOUSLY, IT'S A BIG DEAL", or "walk faster or you'll never make it in this business!" or "blahblahblahstupidblah". Give me a fucking break... I used the wrong size kids cup once and had a serious talking to - that began with "what the hell are you doing!!?" - in the kitchen about it. This place was a nightmare. And I was planning to quit in a couple days anyway.

But the incident! I knew something was wrong when the
manager, a big man with a goatee who looked like he should be running a nightclub and not a family breakfast restaurant, was standing outside talking to one of my customers as they were leaving. Customers that left a shitty tip... I had no idea what the problem could be though. This man had been on my back constantly for my "lack of smiling", so I figured maybe she said something about that. [The irony behind that is that I would often go up to my table and joke around about how the manager doesn't think I smile enough and warn them about how if I looked crazy it was his fault! It was a home run of a joke!] Turns out, that wasn't the problem...

What this bitch of a lady harpie was saying was that she heard me tell another table that the restaurant was a "Shit hole" and how I couldn't wait to get out of there.


WOAH WOAH WOAH. Is that lady a mind reader or WHAT!!1 But seriously...


Why would I say that to a table??? Why wouldn't the table I said that to tell the manager?? This lady is just a tattle tale! But even worse, she is a maker-upper of things to tattle!!

I was taken out to the back parking lot where the manager proceeded to cuss at me and pull the little man's complex on me. "THIS IS MY FUCKING RESTAURANT HOW DARE YOU FUCKING SAY THAT. BLAHBLAH CURSING CURSING I AM UGLY BLAHBLAH TALK DOWN TO YOU TALK DOWN TO YOU. I CAN FIRE YOUR ASS WHENEVER. I OWN YOU BLAHBLAH." And all I could say back was... "But I didn't say that?!" or... "Yeah but still, I didn't say that?!" Seriously, with the inflection of a question. It was just such a ridiculous accusation. This woman had no reason to lie, he kept telling me. And I kept telling him that maybe she wasn't lying, but she definitely misheard me, or misread my lips or something because that is just out of the question! He didn't care. My argument about how I don't even use the word "shit hole" didn't go over well either. Which is true! But the REAL truth was that I was talking to an Indian guy I knew in high school who randomly came in and his name, seriously, from afar, when coming out of one's mouth, could be confused for the words "shit" and "hole"! I AM NOT KIDDING.

I should have walked out right there. That is what I regret the most. I should have called him a fucking loser, told him his restaurant was a shit hole, and gone home right there; after all we were in the rear parking lot. My car was twenty feet away. But I thought that that would all look quite silly when I had to walk back to restaurant and go inside to the front register to get my keys. And then come back a couple hours later at 2pm to get my paycheck. Things just didn't work in my favor in that regard. Then after I went back inside and WENT BACK TO WORK I thought...why am I not throwing a fit? I should have yelled at that man, gone back inside and made sure he was scolding me in front of customers. Or perhaps said something to which he would respond with "YOU'RE FIRED GET OUT NOW" and then gone back to a table, and told them that I had just been fired for saying something I didn't say, and point at the manager, who would inevitably be watching me with fiery eyes, and let them know that he had just cussed me out and yelled at me for something I didn't even do and that I was sorry I wouldn't finish up taking care of them and to please tip their server! That would have stuck it to the man! "See that guy? With the bad earrings and spiky hair?? He just fired me cuz some old harpie told him I called this place a shit hole! Can you believe that? A SHIT HOLE. Hey, also, he used to be in prison for dealing firearms and drugs! FUCKING GUNS AND DRUGS. SHIT HOLE SHIT HOLE!"

But I didn't. And I'm left wishing for one more shot at the establishment. At that man. It would have made a much bigger statement than the "no call no show" I pulled over the weekend.

So, the BFI = I don't ever have to go back. The WFI = I didn't stand up for myself and I let a man get away with treating me like shit.

But at least I have my paycheck. [And I didn't declare my tips for that day...!]


Job hunting soon omg byob bbq bff lolz!!111!!!!,

Lewis

friend emily: i purposely tell my boss wrong names of people on hold

friend emily: so she looks stupid when she is like "hii laura its sue"

friend emily: and her name is like lisa

Comment Card

Long story short, the restaurant closes at 2:30pm. Six, horrible twenty year olds walk through the door at 2:15 and sit in my section. They order complicated things with special requests and are rude about it and just overall ugly. The floors are being vacuumed, windows are being washed, servers are sitting at tables, there is trash on the floor that is in the process of being swept elsewhere etc and we are obviously, CLOSING, but they do not care. So, I make a few bad jokes, openly dislike them, and eventually bring out their food. I dislike them so much in fact, that I bring out a super duper hot plate and I hand it to the girl at the end of the table, whose birthday it was, and say nothing about the dangers of the hotness. DROPS IT. And I laugh. "Woops! Probably should have told you that was hot!" She = not amused.

Then of course they needed sides of this and extra that (all things that require me to go back into the freezer and re-open) and a bowl of this and the fruit is bad and the omelet is ROTTEN. Seriously, this loser guy sends back his omelet - containing nothing but mozzarella cheese - back. TWICE. The manager came over and tried it and said it was fine. He said it was rotten and smelled rotten. I said, "Weird, it's almost like you've never had mozzarella cheese before". He responded with, "If I get sick because you fed me rotten food then I will be back tomorrow and in your face!" Keep in mind - all the omelets are made from the same egg mix, which was being eaten by everyone else at the table, and they were not complaining...

Then one of the ugly girls says..."Can I borrow your pen..."

There are comment cards on all the tables, by the way.

"Sure, but just so you know, I bus my own tables, so I'm just going to throw your comment card away." And I gave her my pen.

It's amazing that I have a job at all, sometimes.

Here are some card highlights:

handwritten across the top: This was a bad experience. Our server was so rude!

Restaurants Overall Cleanliness: POOR
Your Server Was Well Groomed: FAIR


The manager ended up keeping the card...which makes me a little worried. But they were rude to him too, so it shouldn't end up being a big deal.

Anyway, that's the end of my story. I have to actually do homework now.

oh gmail, you slay me!

for those that don't know, gmail scans your emails, and according to the words in them, places some sort of ad at the top that probably might interest you a little bit based upon the content it has come across...

so this is just awesome.

WFI - my major.

gemathy: waitressing is going to be your only big moneymaker
gemathy: since you don't have a real career
gemathy: and shouldn't be a manager of anything

Roommate Tiffany: The End

Roommate Tiffany informed me last week, or perhaps even the week before, that she would be moving out before October. Her friend leased a house or some junk and Tiffany gets her own bathroom. That was the big seller. I guess I can't really blame her after the tampon incident. But damn. I will miss her sillyness.

Last weekend I asked her when she would be moving out. The conversation went a little like this...

Me: So when are you going to move out exactly?
Roommate Tiffany: Well, my friend said we could move in Friday, but I don't think I'll have all my stuff packed by then.
Me: ...sheets?

I'll miss that rainstick, maybe.

Besides that, I have had another handful of job interviews. Craigslist - either you are worthless or I am!! Because I am still unemployed. I even went to a Hallmark store for a job. Yes, Hallmark. Not such a bad idea IN THEORY though, because after all, I do want to illustrate children's books and greeting cards and I like big air conditioned rooms and having very few customers. So, you know, naturally it ended up being the worst fucking idea.

Yeah I didn't get it. There are a few reasons why. One being when I walked in, the manager told me I had "way too many piercings" for Hallmark's "very conservative environment". Whatever. Eight. All in my ears. They come out, you know. They do. I just unhook the back and they come right out! Sure, my ears are way uglier without them due to my susceptibility to keloids (ew!), but give a girl a break! But, it might also have way more to due with the personality test I had to take. Scantron style. I was told it would take at least forty minutes. Of course I pulled it off in 25-30. And I'm an honest gal. Not really. But sometimes. But when you hand me a bunch of questions essentially all boiling down to three basic ideas (1. Would I report a co-worker for stealing merchandise 2. Do I think it's okay to hire employees who "recreationally smoke marijuana" 3. Would I alert a manager if someone were drinking or doing drugs on the clock. Well, No - because I would be that employee, Yes, because I would be that employee, and lastly - No, because, I would be that employee!!!) I'm going to answer them the only way I know how. Honestly. It was actually very annoying, because it was the same basic four or five questions each repeated twenty different ways. Although the occasional random question made it quite entertaining. My favorites included, "Would it be a mistake to hire you?" (I hope they didn't notice the eraser residue on that bubble...) and "When you get angry do you break things and throw stuff?" I sure don't! But I curse a lot. Is that a problem?

Oh well. I also had to take a test for Borders. Actually the entire application is just an online personality test. Did I mention I've taken it at least four times before and never received a call back? What am I doing wrong!!! Oh well. And, this might infuriate Gem, but I applied at Whole Foods. I promise to save boxes though. ...if I get it. Which I wont. So no big deal, right?

Pigeon Poo

Recently, as in, last week, as in, like, Wednesday, I was searching craigslist for a job. Because I've been doing that every day since May (and I still don't have one BTW). I stumbled across an ad (which is no longer up or I'd screen cap it for sure) asking for someone to assist in the "cleaning and training" of their carrier/racer/homing pigeons.

No thanks!, right?? WRONG. Because it was only about three hours a week and twenty bucks an hour and it fit into my "ridiculously impossible to become employed" school schedule. So I was like, EFF YES MOTHER EFFER WOO! And I called them up and had an interview on Saturday morning.

Twenty bucks an hour is like heaven to me. The last time I was making twenty bucks an hour I was teaching an after school drawing program to elementary schoolers and I wanted to die. Cleaning pigeon poo would be a breeeeeze compared to monitoring fifteen eight year olds with markers and a sugar high.

(PS, has anyone noticed I've been punctuating this entry? CuhRazy.)

I assumed the interview would be me being taught what to do and walking away with a job. But, as it turned out, after walking through numerous "lofts" crammed with pigeons cooing in my ear and being asked silly questions like, "You aren't afraid of birds, are you?", I shook the man's hand and heard the horrible following words...

"Well I have a few more interviews today, but I will call you this evening."

What?? Other people responded to that ad?? Really?? I never would have come had I known that. Because if I have learned anything since losing my job in May it's that if there's another applicant I will not get the job and they will! I never get the job! They always get the job! God damn it!

The worst fucking idea of it all was to tell people that I was going in to apply for this job at all! Because now I have to tell them all that I didn't get it!

So does this mean I'm...really really overqualified??.... or really really underqualified...??


Oh. Fucking. Well.


Anyway, here are my two favorite haikus from yesterday. Also, I think Gem is way funnier than I am and makes way better posts than I do. Just thought I'd say that.