Monday, January 31, 2011

Someone Call PETA

Normally we at the Job Snob (there's no 'we', just me) are all about the light hearted. But today there is no lightheartedness. Today there is only disgust that something like this could happen in my backyard.

I don't know how far this story has made it actually. I know that this morning it was a local story and this afternoon it had made it to national level, with over a thousand people commenting. Which doesn't seem like a lot, and in the grand scheme of things isn't. But what struck me about the 1,000 and counting who took a moment to comment on the story was the likemindedness. For once, people were of the same mind: this was disgusting and something needs to be done.

For those of you that didn't click on the link, this is the gist.

There was a company in Whistler (you know? Whistler? The majestic winter playground that was featured in 2010 Olympic wins?), Outdoor Adventures Whistler, that was running dogsledding tours. And after the Olympics, bookings were down. They had a bunch of dogs. Too many for demand in fact. And what does one do when one has too many dogs and not enough tourists? Apparently one gets their manager to kill the dogs. Not in any humane, gentle way, befitting of man's best friend. But in the most horrific ways possible: with a shotgun. And when that didn't work, by slicing their throats. Over 2 days this guy did it.

And then?

He filed for compensation saying he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I would too if I had slaughtered 100 dogs.

This happened 10 months ago. We heard about it today because someone over the course of all the legalities required to actually claim compensation for Work related 'injury' decided to leave a journalist an anonymous tip.

Canada's animal cruelty laws aren't stiff enough. Something has to be done. I'd say bankruptcy for this company (operational licenses have been suspended so far, a good start I guess) is as good a place as any to start. I can't believe that this guy got any kind of compensation. I'm so sorry that you can't sleep in the aftermath of the senseless slaughter of 100 dogs. Life can be so cruel can't it? One minute you're just following orders and the next you're climbing into a mass grave, ensuring that the dogs are well and truly dead.

I'm disgusted. I'm sick to my stomach. I'm incredulous that this happened in my own backyard. This blog is small, but word of mouth spreads. Please, please don't let the Canadian government sweep this under the rug. Be outraged, be vocal. Call PETA. Call Whistler Outdoor Adventure (604 932 0647) and tell them what you think of them.

I don't know what else to do. The whole thing makes me sick.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Rage Stroke Kind Of Day

Friday can just not come fast enough this week! Thursday, normally such a great day because we are so close to the weekend, has been a total car wreck of a day.
It started off wrong when Starbucks forgot to add the all-important vanilla to my tea and it was just downhill from there. Starbucks is definitely not allowed to remind me anymore that tea lattes already have vanilla in them because if I had a nickel for every time they haven't added it when I have specifically asked for it...well I'd have a lot of friggin' nickels. And I don't really even have any use for nickels. They don't work in vending machines or parking meters, or any other change receptacle. Really, unless you are counting out your change when paying for things, do you use nickels? Maybe you roll them and then you have all much is in a roll of nickels? $5? Whoa, crazy money.
Yeah, I just went on a nickel tangent. One time I gave a guy a nickel as change and he was all "oh I got a nickel back! Did you know that that's how Nickelback got their name? Because that was the change that they got from something?" and I was all buddy you better move along because I'm about to rage stroke right the f*ck out.
Moving on.
I haven't told you about Jaxon yet. I'm calling him Jaxon (with an X because that's so much cooler) because I can't stand the name and I feel like someone needs to bring attention to the fact that people are calling their kids some f*cked up shit. Like Jackson is so offensive? If you have to go with the last name first name, you can't at least give your kid a chance with a normal spelling?
Anyway, I'm calling the coffee delivery guy Jaxon because the name offends me and Jaxon's presence offends me also.
Once a week Jaxon arrives in the office to go around to all the different kitchens on all the different floors and make sure that we are stocked up on essentials like milk, cream, coffee, tea etc. All vital things if you want your employees to be awake when they are here and not kill each other by the end of the day. If I have the misfortune of being at my desk when he arrives there are at least 5 minutes of banter that I have to endure. I try to get him moving along as quickly as possible but its not always possible because people like Jaxon are not too adept at taking a hint. Anyway, once he gets his pass to go through all the kitchens and make sure we have everything I don't have to see him for more than an hour.
But at some point we're all stocked up and he has to come back so that I can sign his invoices.
The first time he made some comments about how smart I was because I was able to sign 4 sheets of paper in the space of 30 seconds. Apparently the fine art of initialling, flipping the page and initialling some more takes some folks quite a while to master.
Since then he has made it a point to let me know that this coffee delivery gig is just a day job, that his real passion lies in his graphic design abilities. At first I didn't really realize how creepy he can be, I just assumed that he had some kind of learning disability. I have trouble being a real a-hole to people that I don't actually know. And its my job to be nice. Really. I know, how did I get that kind of job? I don't know. People like my energy.
The last couple of weeks I have noticed a definite creep factor in our interactions. This week he crossed over into full on creep show. I accidentally ripped one of the pages out of his invoice book. I apologized and went to tape the page back in. He came over, stood right close to me and was like "whoa, you don't have to be so rough! You can be gentle but still firm!" He carried on in this way for a while. I wish that someone had been here with me so that a) I didn't feel so violated and b) someone else could have witnessed this creep show carrying on.

I asked Debbie about it (she's the girl that I replaced and has been all manner of helpful to me in the past several weeks. And also, she's pretty awesome) and she said that she also gets the creep vibe from him. That he still comes over to her now that she's not sitting at the front desk and will have conversations with her when she's clearly got work to do.
Before he leaves, he helps himself to a cup of coffee. What is that about? You don't have access to your own coffee in your role? You deliver coffee? Why are you taking ours?
Luckily he's only here once a week. Just happens to be on the day that I also have to order supplies for 4 different floors keeping in mind the needs of all the employees while dealing with the Dinosaur's stingy nature.
Oh Friday my Friday. I'm ready for you!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Long Day

You know when you stop for a moment and think back to something that you did/happened earlier in the day and you get that feeling like you can't believe that that happened today? How it feels like it should have been days ago?
That is the kind of day I have been having.
The Squirrel decided to book an appointment for herself in the middle of a work day (even though she has every other Friday off) so she tells me first thing this morning that I am taking my lunch at 11:30 (asking is so overrated. So is planning ahead) so that she can leave (she has to cover my breaks). Also, because my first break will be so close to my lunch, I can just take 10 minutes for that (as if). And she hasn't done anything about getting my afternoon break covered. When I asked her about that last part she said that the Dinosaur isn't really concerned about getting my afternoon break covered.
Weird. Because I am.
When you are stuck at your desk all day, with no chance to even go to the bathroom should the need arise unless someone comes over to relieve you (ha!) you kind of look forward to the few opportunities you have in a day to walk away and let someone else deal with the idiosyncrasies that come with manning the front desk.
So I survived all of that. And then near the end of the day (when for the first time in weeks it seemed like it took decades to just hit 4pm [and I don't even get to leave until 5]) my email decided to just give out on me. I was right in the middle of something too. Because otherwise it just wouldn't be as much fun.
The email crash came right after my attempt at retrieving print outs from the printer down the hall. The printer that I have to use all the time but am not allowed to leave my desk to visit when I print things. So what happens? What do you think happens? My print outs get relegated to the recycling. I didn't have time to rifle through the recycling on my afternoon break (what's wrong with that picture? If you guessed "you're working on your break!" you get a prize. But not a real prize. Sorry) because the girl that was covering me (just long enough for a bathroom sprint and some scanning-stop, I'm making you jealous right?) needed to leg it out of the office as soon as possible too.
I've just been told to go take a look at something on the other side of the office to see if its something that I should order tomorrow. Let me just magically clone myself to watch the desk while I float over there to have a look at this set of drawers that needs to be inspected right now. The Dinosaur needs to get a grip.
Today was the first day in a while that I entertained myself with job searching at work. I was doing it half heartedly a couple of weeks ago (because I found myself really liking my co-workers and reveling in the foreignness of such warm, fuzzy feelings) but today was a little more serious. Figures that today is the day that I don't really find anything.
It would be great to work here if my team didn't consist of Squirrel and Dinosaur. (Do you kind of wish we had christened the Dinosaur the Moose too? Would have made for better titles and such.) But it does and so I find it hard to imagine what it would be like to actually work here long term.
As intellectually stimulating as laminating, updating phone lists, answering phones and placing lunch orders has been, I don't think that I can handle this long term (that does make me sound like an a-hole doesn't it? Its not like you didn't already know that I am one). Its a lot of work to be nice and smile at people all day while they look through you as though you weren't there and speak to you using their best grown up voice.
So I hope that you were nice to your Receptionist today because s/he's probably putting up with a lot of sh*t from different people. And I doubt its their life's ambition.
Its definitely not mine. But I guess for now, it will do?
Two more sleeps til Friday!

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Rubber Mallet

How was my meeting you ask?
Well you know that feeling when you have a headache? And your brain feels like its rolling around in your head, bumping against your skull?
OK, now imagine feeling like that, and then handing someone a rubber mallet. Now this person uses the rubber mallet to hit you in the head. Repeatedly.
Now give them some white hot needles. To stab in your eyes.
And have them pluck out your fingernails.
One. By. One.
That's kind of what it was like. If I was also forced to watch episodes of Barney (which I hated even as a child).
Fun right? Oodles and oodles of fun.
Nothing got done. We talked around in circles for an hour. I think in the end the Squirrel was left with no responsibilities and my role may have doubled. So if you are the Squirrel this afternoon, you feel like you accomplished quite a bit.
I only got one day of training when I started because a) its a Reception gig, not rocket science and I'm not an idiot and b) the girl that I replaced already had a million things to do in her new role and couldn't spare the time to show me everything. So I have been muddling through on my own (and doing a damn fine job). Part of the reason for the meeting today was so that the Dinosaur, 6 weeks after I started, could go over my role and responsibilities with me. So she finally paid attention to all the things I have been telling her that I need to learn.
Now all afternoon I have been getting emails from her with things like "please don't hesitate to let me know if you have questions when you're not sure about something" and "please ask me any time you need any clarification". Which would have been super helpful 6 weeks ago, but now is just kind of condescending. I like how they are surprised that I haven't been putting New Hire kits together- I have definitely mentioned at least once a week how I don't know what these New Hire kits are and could someone please show me what is involved in this? And no one has.
Anyway, I guess that stupidity (blissful, blissful ignorance) is part of what makes the world go round. If people like the Squirrel and the Dinosaur didn't have jobs, what would happen to them? Let's brainstorm-what do you think would happen to them?
So that's what kind of day I had. At least the Oscar nominations came out today so that I could distract myself with reading a myriad of articles about snubs, sure-things and the Canadian connections. I have some movie watching to do in my future!

Monday, January 24, 2011

Dinosaur and Squirrel

I told you weeks ago that I would introduce you to some of the new characters that I work with. And then I didn't. I wanted to take some time to observe before jumping the gun and labeling people. You know, try my best not to be so judgmental?

Or at least delay the judge-iness.

The 2 characters that I will be introducing you to today shall go by the monikers, Dinosaur and Squirrel.

The Dinosaur is so named (not by me, this is what the office refers to her as) because she has been here forever. Twenty-six years in fact (for those of you not in the know, that's longer than I have been alive). She's a proper English lady and when I interviewed with her she seemed like a pretty nice woman. She is technically my boss inasmuch as I report to her and she controls me. But she never has any answers for anything and never does what she says she will do when she says she will do it. Which doesn't make her all that much use to be honest. And also, she is lacking any semblance of a personality. At our Christmas lunch she didn't have anything to talk about with us so she printed off some Christmas themed quizzes and handed them out with pencils.

The Dinosaur hates to spend money. So if you want a pen, you have to ask her. If someone in another department wants me to help them out with something (which honestly so far has included such challenges as label making, and laminating) she wants to know about it. And she can't say my name properly. Even though I say my name to her at least 10 times a day, she always says it back to me incorrectly.

I'm still not going to tell you my real name. But let's say my name was Stefan (its not. I'm not a man). But it was spelled like Stephan. People would probably call me Steven even though it was actually Stefan. Maybe you think that's pretentious (my name isn't Ahn-drea, spelled Andrea so its not that bad, its a European spelling problem) but its my name and I prefer the correct pronunciation. And the Dinosaur can't say my name right to save her life. Which drives me bananas.

(Not that she is the only one with this affliction, but since she is the one that hired me, I feel like she should know how to say my name.)

I don't know how people like the Squirrel get and keep jobs to be honest. Well in this case I do know how she got a job. They advertised for a Receptionist, she was the only applicant. For 2 months, they waited for anyone else to apply and when no one did, they had to hire her. Nothing against her, she's a nice older woman, but working and English are not her strong suit. So having her answer phones and page people became problematic when no one could understand her. They tried having her help in accounting, but she was in the way after a day so they tried something else. They tried lots of something elses. She's now responsible for library and archiving. Which sounds too complicated for her in my opinion but I'm sure she doesn't really do a lot of that since she mostly floats around talking to people and delivering mail.

And stealing food.

Lunches get ordered a lot around here. Sometimes we pay, sometimes clients pay. But the Squirrel used to be the one in charge of ordering. And she always ordered too much so that she could take the extra for herself. One time someone found her standing talking to a client, plate in hand, ready to take some pizza for herself. She was banned from that floor soon after. That's why they call her the Squirrel-its like she's storing up for winter. They joke that her pockets are lined with cellophane so that she's always prepared if food comes in.

I probably wouldn't have any issue with her at all if she didn't try and get me to do her work for her. I've been here for 6 weeks and already she is pushing her work onto me. I'm not sure how she's having time management issues since, as far as I can tell, she doesn't actually do anything.

If you haven't already figured it out, the Squirrel is kind of a pet of the Dinosaur. I can't quite figure out why-when I first met the Dinosaur, I assumed that above all she would prize efficiency in her staff. Apparently she likes the exact opposite of efficiency.

The scary part is that the 3 of us basically make up the front line. If I'm on a break, the Squirrel covers me.

Tomorrow, I have a meeting with the Squirrel and the Dinosaur. I do not have high hopes of accomplishing anything in said meeting but I know that I have a whole department behind me if sh*t should hit the fan. Which is a different feeling for sure.

Dinosaur and Squirrel. Office stars.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Awesome By Association

Lots to catch up on today peoples.

Let's start with the most important: today I got a cookie.

The IT department had lunch ordered in and they got cookies. One of the IT guys came up to me after the meeting, with a chocolate chunk cookie (which everyone knows are so much better than chocolate chip cookies) wrapped in a napkin, accompanied by a bottle of apple juice.

To know me is to know that I love cookies. They are starting to know me (not in the Biblical sense, ew). Progress has been made.

Next: how crappy were those Golden Globes? Are you really telling me that Glee is better than 30 Rock and Modern Family? That Burlesque is somehow good enough to be nominated? That The Tourist, ripped by the critics, is worthy of acting and picture nods? I think not. And while I'm normally a huge fan of Ricky Gervais and his brand of comedy, last night he probably went too far. He got off on the wrong foot and I blame him for all the ensuing cringe-inducing awkwardness including Robert DeNiro's self-deprecating speech crowned with a joke about deporting waiters. Awkwardness abounded, but unfortunately for everyone, it wasn't the funny kind.

Now for some very encouraging news on the job front. Not for me. But its still exciting. My friend Niki, of A Haute Mess started her own PR company, Social Chair. And! She was featured in an article in String Magazine! Which you can find here. Although she thinks she sounds like an old man, I think she has some excellent advice and I particularly like the final quote. Way to go Niki!

And yes, you will have to read the article to find out what she says about finding the perfect job.

Obviously this makes me extra awesome by association.

In other news, I fell down today. Not that this is totally unexpected or unusual. I have fallen in all manner of shoes, in all manner of places but I pretty much always injure my ankle. The shoes that I chose to wear today are missing what turns out to be kind of a vital piece of the sole (the little bit that goes on the end of the heel?) and I have been fighting gravity all day as a result. We have a marble lobby in the building which is not conducive to walking sans balance-helping piece of shoe. I nearly fell twice, both times I saved myself with my natural poise and grace.

The third time, not so much.

The third time saw me, bags on shoulder, mail in one hand (a pile, to be dropped in the mailbox in the lobby), rainboots in the other (it wasn't raining and I had a ride home, no need for weather proof foot wear) when I put my foot down on the wrong part of the shoe and went careening towards the wall. I managed to hold onto the mail, but the boots went flying and there were plenty of witnesses this time.

Credit to the Vancouverites who saw this go down and didn't walk away pretending not to notice though. One gentlemen even stayed longer than was strictly necessary to make sure that I really was OK. I'm sure his family is having a concerned chuckle over dinner right now.

Anyway I didn't hurt my ankle, which was different. But I seem to have messed up my hand. Naturally typing up a blog post seemed like the best therapy.

Finally, did you know that today is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year? It is. Today is Blue Monday. Some combination of weather, post-Christmas bills, and the lack of follow through on New Year's resolutions make today the most depressing day. Oh and its Monday. For once though, for me, it wasn't that bad. Did you make it through OK?

I did also have some points to make about moustaches but this has already been so informative and long running that I feel like I should save that for some other time.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Heroin Addiction Demystified

I love it when what I'm reading is relatable to my every day life and leads to topics for blog posts. It makes everything come together in such a nice, neat package type thing.

The Boyfriend's dad dropped off some reading material a few weeks ago and I'm just finishing them off now. Titles included Life by Keith Richards and My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs and Stand-Up by Russell Brand. The last time I saw this latter title, it was clutched in the sweaty hands of Veronica as she screwed up her face trying hard to make sense of all the black dots on the pages (otherwise known as words). I know I shouldn't have let Veronica's taste in anything influence my reading choices but back when she was struggling to read it, I must have put that title on some sort of mental reading black list because when it appeared in my house I thought that maybe I would just skip that one.

But then I didn't because a) The Boyfriend's dad thought that I would enjoy it and b) Veronica can't even read anyway so she was probably just looking at the pictures. 

Turns out Russell brand is a deep, eloquent, wise kind of person with a wicked vocabulary.

And a penchant for heroin and prostitutes.


Actually, being nearly finished the book now, I can't even imagine what The Boyfriend's dad was thinking while he was reading this book because its pretty insane. Especially the parts involving jerking off other men. I can't even believe that Russell Brand is still alive to be honest. 

But he is and he's brilliant and there is this one part in the book that really stands out and I promise that I'm finally getting to that now. 

So Russell Brand has this love of heroin and he attempts to describe what heroin does for junkies for the benefit of those of us that have possibly never been seduced by this particular drug. He says that heroin fills the need for something. Like how when a child says I want something and the parent is like what? A candy? A toy? A drink? What? And the kid doesn't know, just that s/he wants something. Brand says that we all have the desire for something, not necessarily knowing what that something is. And heroin filled that for him.

For Keith Richards, heroin was all about maintenance, but that's a whole other story. Literally. Its called Life by Keith Richards.

I totally relate to this idea. I definitely have a hankering for something. But I have no idea what that something is. I'm assuming that its something career-related, but I still can't seem to nail down exactly what that career-related something is.

Conclusion: I'm going to become a heroin addict.

Probably not. Obviously in Russell Brand's case there were some other things that led him down the path to heroin (narcissism, molestation, dad issues, narcissism, sex addiction, narcissism) but I definitely get what he's going on about. Like really get it. Bizarre. 

Anyway, you should just read the book. Because aside from all the deep, thought provoking stuff, there are also some excellent stories involving homeless people, strip clubs, boarding school and public nudity. Sold you on it didn't I?

PS Despite spending the past day and a half reading the word 'heroin' over and over again, I still used the word 'heroinE' throughout this post. Then realized it was wrong and changed them all lest I really confuse those readers that CAN tell the difference.

Monday, January 10, 2011

New Haircuts

Today it seemed like everyone had made a pact to get their hair cut over the weekend. Is that a new years thing? Or a cyclical thing? Like its been 6 weeks or 3 months or whatever since everyone last got their hair done so they all got it done at the same time again this week.

Whatever the reason, it was pretty amusing (at first) to compliment everyone on their new do's. Until it became tiring and I started pretending that I didn't notice.


Because I'm an a-hole like that.

I got really sick last week. So I called it in on Thursday. And then again on Friday. And I was fully preparing myself for some employers' guilt about the fact that I dared to get sick on a week day. Well I'm sure it was always less about actually getting sick and more about the fact that I actually had the nerve to take a sick day and take the time to rest and get better instead of stuffing myself full of medication and heading out the door to brave the outside world and prolong the misery that is the seasonal cold.

Anyway, I'm not sure how much help I would have been had I decided to suck it up and go to work anyway. I was basically delirious from fever. I probably would have passed out at my desk. Remember when the woman at my old job passed out at her desk from a walking pneumonia and Amy, who was sitting right beside her, didn't even notice until Maurice walked by and told her?

God, I never miss that place.

So yeah. Understandably (see above) I was a little nervous about coming back after 2 days' illness.

And you know what? Nothing was left for me to do when I came in this morning. Nothing was deemed my responsibility and left for my return. If anything, there was less on my desk than there was when I left it. People just wanted to make sure that I was feeling better.


Today was a Monday and honestly, I didn't even really feel like it was a Monday. I mean, obviously there is the week still stretched out ahead of me, plenty of opportunity for sh*t to hit the fan. But I'm still in the habit of comparing everything at my new job to the way things were at the old job and when you look at it that way...well I can pretty much handle anything Monday in the new job throws at me.

In fact, there was actually a sense of camaraderie with my co-workers about the slow-like-molasses-ness of certain parts of this Monday. We're all trapped in Monday, but its all good. Its Monday now but its Tuesday tomorrow and once you can get over Tuesday, well its all downhill to Friday. Plus there is always booze to help you through the rough spots.

I'm still not totally 100% that this place is for me. Like I said, past Reception I don't know what I would do there. But for now, I will take the paycheque with this newfound workplace peace. Because while you readers might be disappointed that my post is lacking its usual bite, I'm kind of OK with it. For now. It means that I'm not fighting through every single work day. Which is kind of a nice feeling.

Love and light... I'm kidding about that last part. In fact to show you how much I'm kidding about that love and light (no I didn't pick that up from the Real Housewives of New Jersey. No I didn't! Fine. I did) let me just tell you that last week some co-workers and I watched the aftermath of a pedestrian getting hit by a postal truck. A comment may or may not have been made about watching social Darwinism in action (survival of the fittest) and this blogger may or may not have laughed. Obviously we wish the pedestrian a speedy recovery but if you're going to be an idiot and jaywalk across a slick, foggy, rainy Vancouver street...well maybe you deserve to get hit by a postal truck.

Just sayin'.

Here's to Tuesday.

Monday, January 3, 2011

A Peaceful Night Awaits. I Hope.

After all that hard work yesterday I probably should have made an effort to go outside and get some fresh air. The weather has been spectacular and an evening walk admiring the sunset would have gone a long way towards getting a restful night's sleep.

Instead I spent a restless night pleading with the Universe, sleep Gods, the baby Jesus etc to please, please PLEASE let me fall asleep.

Not so much. My brain would just not shut the hell up. I was forced to listen to my inner monologue, which, if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, can get annoying. Quickly.

It was about 10.30 when I first decided that it was a reasonable time to go to bed (I can hear the gentle stirrings of the martini shaker in The Boyfriend's capable hands and am momentarily distracted by the possibility of weekday alcohol...sorry. I'm back) so I washed my face, brushed my teeth and got under the covers. Oddly enough, where 5 minutes before I was practically falling asleep I was now wide awake. Easy remedy: more reading to tire out the eyes. Except that it seemed to wake my brain (probably not helpful to be reading a good book. I should have grabbed the Hitler biography which lies unfinished on the bedside table. Do you think that's a bad idea? Hitler's life story lying so close to my bed?) and I was even further from restful slumber than before.

I tossed and I turned, I threw the covers off, I buried deeper in the duvet...I was fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked.

The Boyfriend stayed up later than me, so 2 hours after I was supposed to have drifted off into peaceful slumber he tiptoed into the room so as not to 'wake' me. Twenty minutes after that we were both lying there wide awake, cursing our inability to get some shuteye.

My inner monologue? Would seriously not shut up. Thoughts about what it would be like to go to work tomorrow, how nice it would be to still be unemployed, but not really be nice because having money again is nice, how my 6am wake up call was creeping ever closer and can it really already be 2am?


Along those lines, over and over again. There was also some completely nonsensical stuff that was running through there too but I can't remember it now and it wouldn't matter if I could wouldn't make any sense anyway.

Sometime after 3 I finally dropped off only to have my sleep rudely interrupted by my alarm clock. I wanted to cry but I dutifully got up and showered and all I can say is thank God for concealer. With burny eyes and a massive tea I showed up to work and totally rocked my Monday.

Can we just take a moment to recognize how far I've come from my old job? No way I would have still gone to work if I'd been up all night before. So to the anonymous commenter from a few days ago, yes I know that happiness is a state of mind. I'm working on it. But I'm also still somewhat wounded from the last work experience and every once in a while the fear that I'm settling (again) professionally creeps in and threatens to undo all the work I've put in trying to make the most of it.

Four hours til I can go to sleep!!

Sunday, January 2, 2011

The Day After My Hangover

Well! That was some hangover! The kind that starts out gently, just a little thirst, a little off balance, a little sluggish. Gradually getting worse until you can't even stand up for more than 2 minutes without getting dizzy. My skin felt like paper from a lack of hydration, a situation I sought to remedy by drinking buckets of wonderful, ice cold water.

There was a lot of eating involved in my hangover yesterday. Like anything that I saw that looked remotely appetizing, I had to eat. There are no cupcakes left, my emergency supply of KD took a hit, and the Pot of Gold was also called up to service.

By the time I rolled into bed at 9.45 last night (don't worry, I didn't go to sleep right away. I sat up and read until the ungodly hour of 10.30) I felt like I'd destroyed the promise of 2011. Less than 24 hours in, it was ruined. Disgusting.

I attempted to remedy the situation today. Yes, I slept late. But that's only because at first I really couldn't face the remnants of my ravenous hangover day. When I was finally able to crack the door it was only to skim my eyes over the bowl of leftover Doritos, various glasses containing varying amounts of water, wrappers from a Lindt chocolate frenzy (I wasn't alone on that one- The Boyfriend totally started it). Action had to be taken.

But first, I had to finish my book. I don't think that I could have chosen a better book to start the new year with. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is exactly what I needed to read to start the new year. Come on- if Francie Nolan's family is able to hack it going hungry for days than surely I can clean my apartment.

I finished my book over a bowl of cereal (I accidentally glanced at the milk's expiration date and decided that Dec 31st wasn't that long ago that having some would kill me) and then? We got to work. All traces of my hangover eat-a-palooza were removed, the dishwasher emptied and reloaded, the counters wiped and scrubbed. If you could have smelled my kitchen when I was done- well with the delicious scent of 'green' cleaners and winter sunlight streaming in through the was a little bit of heaven.

We de-Christmas'd the apartment today too. De-NYE'd as well. We took down the NYE banners and packed away the hats and noisemakers for another year. We removed the lights and garlands, put away the ornaments and card holders. We took everything out of the spare room closet and condensed what we had. We resolution-ed the hell out of this place (even though I don't do resolutions strictly speaking).

A more auspicious start to a new year I have never experienced. My apartment is clean, I'm no longer hungover, junk was removed, and I'm off to work again tomorrow. All in all, I'm thinking good things will happen in 2011.