I Started with Nothing...and Still Have Most of it Left.
Ah, so finally the horrific realities of post-graduation life set in. Outside of mom's homecooked food (that's right, screw you mac'n'cheese) and the joy of being able to brush one's teeth with a light on, being at home is sort of a "misery transfer." A cruel seductive image of a cozy pad and free food....in exchange for basically your soul.
Holy shit is it difficult to find a job. I've been home for 3 weeks and the only things I've accomplished are pissing off my mom atleast a couple times a day (sometimes more), falling off my new bed practically every night (I miss my futon so badly), and studying for the LSAT. Oh yeah...and having my parents fire people at Baskin Robbins at random because I'm around to pick up the slack. God...dammit. I knew this would happen.
Some observations from my daily shifts:
1. People take forever to pick out what they want...which I wouldn't really care about if it didn't mean I had to stand there and wait on them, as if my whole world depended on their choice of frozen dairy treat. "Um...chocolate..no wait, rocky ro-oh ooooh Vanilla..mmmm..wait wait, no water...with ice." I mean, really, how the fuck do these people even manage to get dressed in the morning?!
2. Los Gatos (where my parents store is located) is where diversity goes to die. In fact, case in point, yesterday this Filipino guy walked in looking confused. He explained to me that he was from San Jose and it had taken him a while to get here because he'd gotten lost. This conversation ensued.
LFG(Lost Filipino Guy...acronyms live on): "Wow, there sure are a lot of white people around here. Everywhere I look, there's white people. Not like that in San Jose. You think it's because they like ice cream?"
No, it's because they like torturing me.
I wanted to laugh at his innocent naivete, but was too busy focusing all my energy wrestling with a psychotic blender. He continued.
"So, like, you think they look down on us here because we're minorities?"
Loaded question. I decided to spare him an Atticus Finch-esque speech on the insulting treatment of anyone darker than a polar bear in this town.
"It really depends."
He gave me a look as if he didn't believe me at all, and left with a depressed nod.
But racial politics aside, the manners of the customers truly astounds. If they aren't grossly overbearing they make up for it by being petty and passive aggressive. Like the woman who order the no-sugar ice cream (even though it's common knowledge that anything without sugar will taste like ass.) After a bite, she informs me that she feels sick. Great, let me just call the hypochondriac hotline. Then she demands a free scoop for her pain and suffering. I decided laughing in her face would be too dramatic so I want with a cool, detached "Sorry, not possible." Her face scrunched up in shock, but she miraculously left the store with no further comment. Oh, if only this were the end of this protracted tale. Five minutes later, I leave a line of customers waiting, to take a call from...yes you guessed it, the No Sugar woman herself. Irate. Furious that her whining had gone unnoticed. Trust me, lady, I noticed. I just didn't care.
3. What truly baffles me is the constant stream of idiots that wander in, and their ability to make the simplest of exchanges an all round excruciating experience. Dumb question after dumb...dumb...dumb...question. I'm going to do a wikipedia search one day to find out if this town ever had a nuclear reactor explosion in its history to account for the widespread stupidity or if the gene pool was always that narrow.
My favorite question thus far: "Hey, this is an ice cream store! Why is it so hot in here?"
As I stand behind the counter, sweating bullets, I stare at the accursed customer in disbelief. Oh it's hot huh? And because we sell ice cream, the store is supposed to be cold? Is that how logic works in your world? I try to patiently explain that the dipping cabinets that store the ice cream run on ELECTRICITY not, as scientists previously thought, on Rocky Road, so naturally heat is given off....frying everyone unfortunate enough to be within five feet of it. So basically..just me.
4. Surly old people always want to tell you their life story. You don't even need to give them a prompt. They totter in and launch into some, no doubt fictitious, account of how when they were young, ice cream was FREE! People shined your shoes and whistled a merry tune! Coloreds were going to seperate schools! You know, the good old days.
Anyway, my only possible escape from letting this evil store take over, is to find a job. A real one. At this juncture, I don't give a damn if it puts my bio degree to use. My only requirements are that it keeps me away from my parents atleast 8 hours a day and that it pays 8 bucks... mas o menos. My desperation has lead me to stalking this woman at the temp agency that holds the keys to this really cushy job at Google. Okay, not exactly admirable behavior, but I want this job so badly! I love Google! Plus, they throw in a free lunch. Sweet huh?
The other prospect is this tutoring gig that appears to be run by a guy that has trouble returning phone calls. Or something. I think I could get it if I were to spam his cell phone demanding that he reschedule my interview.
Or I could really embarass my parents and work for McDonalds. Hahaha...okay no, I'm not that masochistic.
So, I'm just sending this fervent plea to my vague higher power (and all employed friends) that I NEED a job. My very career depends on it....I mean, how the hell am I supposed to be a human rights lawyer, when working at Baskin Robbins is making me hate people? So please, if you're out there, and you're employed...hook a sister up.
Quote of the Day:
Tobias Fünke: "Do you see me more as the respected dramatic actor or more of the beloved comic actor?"
Carl Weathers: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's still plenty of meat on that bone. Now you take this home, throw it in a pot, add some broth, a potato. Baby, you've got a stew going."
---Arrested Development
Holy shit is it difficult to find a job. I've been home for 3 weeks and the only things I've accomplished are pissing off my mom atleast a couple times a day (sometimes more), falling off my new bed practically every night (I miss my futon so badly), and studying for the LSAT. Oh yeah...and having my parents fire people at Baskin Robbins at random because I'm around to pick up the slack. God...dammit. I knew this would happen.
Some observations from my daily shifts:
1. People take forever to pick out what they want...which I wouldn't really care about if it didn't mean I had to stand there and wait on them, as if my whole world depended on their choice of frozen dairy treat. "Um...chocolate..no wait, rocky ro-oh ooooh Vanilla..mmmm..wait wait, no water...with ice." I mean, really, how the fuck do these people even manage to get dressed in the morning?!
2. Los Gatos (where my parents store is located) is where diversity goes to die. In fact, case in point, yesterday this Filipino guy walked in looking confused. He explained to me that he was from San Jose and it had taken him a while to get here because he'd gotten lost. This conversation ensued.
LFG(Lost Filipino Guy...acronyms live on): "Wow, there sure are a lot of white people around here. Everywhere I look, there's white people. Not like that in San Jose. You think it's because they like ice cream?"
No, it's because they like torturing me.
I wanted to laugh at his innocent naivete, but was too busy focusing all my energy wrestling with a psychotic blender. He continued.
"So, like, you think they look down on us here because we're minorities?"
Loaded question. I decided to spare him an Atticus Finch-esque speech on the insulting treatment of anyone darker than a polar bear in this town.
"It really depends."
He gave me a look as if he didn't believe me at all, and left with a depressed nod.
But racial politics aside, the manners of the customers truly astounds. If they aren't grossly overbearing they make up for it by being petty and passive aggressive. Like the woman who order the no-sugar ice cream (even though it's common knowledge that anything without sugar will taste like ass.) After a bite, she informs me that she feels sick. Great, let me just call the hypochondriac hotline. Then she demands a free scoop for her pain and suffering. I decided laughing in her face would be too dramatic so I want with a cool, detached "Sorry, not possible." Her face scrunched up in shock, but she miraculously left the store with no further comment. Oh, if only this were the end of this protracted tale. Five minutes later, I leave a line of customers waiting, to take a call from...yes you guessed it, the No Sugar woman herself. Irate. Furious that her whining had gone unnoticed. Trust me, lady, I noticed. I just didn't care.
3. What truly baffles me is the constant stream of idiots that wander in, and their ability to make the simplest of exchanges an all round excruciating experience. Dumb question after dumb...dumb...dumb...question. I'm going to do a wikipedia search one day to find out if this town ever had a nuclear reactor explosion in its history to account for the widespread stupidity or if the gene pool was always that narrow.
My favorite question thus far: "Hey, this is an ice cream store! Why is it so hot in here?"
As I stand behind the counter, sweating bullets, I stare at the accursed customer in disbelief. Oh it's hot huh? And because we sell ice cream, the store is supposed to be cold? Is that how logic works in your world? I try to patiently explain that the dipping cabinets that store the ice cream run on ELECTRICITY not, as scientists previously thought, on Rocky Road, so naturally heat is given off....frying everyone unfortunate enough to be within five feet of it. So basically..just me.
4. Surly old people always want to tell you their life story. You don't even need to give them a prompt. They totter in and launch into some, no doubt fictitious, account of how when they were young, ice cream was FREE! People shined your shoes and whistled a merry tune! Coloreds were going to seperate schools! You know, the good old days.
Anyway, my only possible escape from letting this evil store take over, is to find a job. A real one. At this juncture, I don't give a damn if it puts my bio degree to use. My only requirements are that it keeps me away from my parents atleast 8 hours a day and that it pays 8 bucks... mas o menos. My desperation has lead me to stalking this woman at the temp agency that holds the keys to this really cushy job at Google. Okay, not exactly admirable behavior, but I want this job so badly! I love Google! Plus, they throw in a free lunch. Sweet huh?
The other prospect is this tutoring gig that appears to be run by a guy that has trouble returning phone calls. Or something. I think I could get it if I were to spam his cell phone demanding that he reschedule my interview.
Or I could really embarass my parents and work for McDonalds. Hahaha...okay no, I'm not that masochistic.
So, I'm just sending this fervent plea to my vague higher power (and all employed friends) that I NEED a job. My very career depends on it....I mean, how the hell am I supposed to be a human rights lawyer, when working at Baskin Robbins is making me hate people? So please, if you're out there, and you're employed...hook a sister up.
Quote of the Day:
Tobias Fünke: "Do you see me more as the respected dramatic actor or more of the beloved comic actor?"
Carl Weathers: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's still plenty of meat on that bone. Now you take this home, throw it in a pot, add some broth, a potato. Baby, you've got a stew going."
---Arrested Development
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