Re-launched, but still slightly under construction. :-)

Monday, November 17, 2003

Advantage: Taken

I'm an intern at a state agency. They aren't paying me even though I'm covering shifts for a person they fired, doing general office duties, and basic accounting procedures. I know I'm just an intern, but I'm a marketing intern with actual responsibilities and projects, not a secretary.

Executive Director: Stacey, when you get done with that, could you do something for me?
Me (seeing an opportunity to suck up to the head guy, I set my telephone list aside): Sure! This can wait.
Executive Director (leading into his office and to the conference table, where he motions me to sit down): Okay. I need you to rewrite this letter to the state board of licenses to help my wife get her teaching license renewed and up-to-date. This is really a crappy letter she's written.
Me (smile beginning to fade, but looking over the letter. It IS bad. It's in all caps, she doesn't list her job experience chronologically, and her request isn't clear. I don't want to rewrite this thing): Ookay. Isn't there a simple application to the state that takes care of this?
ED (looking a little confused): Um, I don't think so. They told us to just write a letter.
Me: Who told you that? I'm only asking because when my mother looked into renewing her teaching license, I'm pretty sure there was an application.
ED (looking over the letter): Uh, well, that's what they told us.

How did he get this job?

Me: Why don't I make a few calls?
ED (looking doubtful): Okay.
...

Three hours later, I'm rewriting the letter. I've found out that the wife never even had a license in the state. She has to go through the application process from the beginning, there IS an application process, and this letter is just begging them to backdate the license - 40 YEARS. The kicker: They're going to use it partially to apply for state retirement in a couple of years, if they will backdate it. What a scam! Regardless, I wrote the damn letter.

This is a misappropriation of state resources and I thought the point is that I was going to college so that I wouldn't have to work as a secretary.

Monday, November 10, 2003

Holiday Heyday

I walked into my marketing internship at 9 a.m. sharp on a bank holiday. No one told me that my boss wouldn't be coming in, and without her, there's not much I can do. I worked on an individual project that I assigned myself, then decided to pick up a shift.

Walking in the door a few minutes after opening, I am greeted with the following scene:
  • To my right, a waitress is leaning over the silverware bin, crying.
  • To my left, one of our regulars is sitting at the bar. Judging from the empty glasses in front of him, he's already pounded two Roadhouse Teas, our signature drink that is effectively a Long Island Iced Tea with GRAIN ALCOHOL and a flavored liquor added.
  • In front of me, two of the cooks are shouting at each other behind the glass barrier.
  • To my right, one of the hostesses is standing at the hostess stand - actually, I think she may have been sleeping.
  • Behind me, two dishwashers carry in huge plastic containers of ice from another restaurant because our ice machines are still broken.
  • A manager shoots by the door at a dead run.
This does not bode well. I freeze, and reconsider the idea. I realize that if I stand around too long, one of the managers is going to put me to work. But, suddenly, I am spotted. Three servers rush up to me. The scent of desperation hits me like a punch to the stomach.

All at once: Are you picking up?!
Me (starting to back away): No, I'm just checking the schedule.
Girl I hate anyway because she's a drama queen (tears welling up in her eyes): Are you sure?
When I nod, she runs off, sobbing
Me: Yeah. But you guys have a good time.
Guy: You know you need the money! It's going to be slammed today.
Me (laughing): I don't need the money this badly.
Guy (stomping off): Dammit!
Girl I adore (smirking): If you're just checking your schedule, why are you wearing your uniform?
Me (laughing): Man, this is insane. Last night was bad enough. I don't want any part of this.
Girl (glancing around): Yep. It's looking pretty bad. It seems we didn't make enough bread yesterday, so they're rationing bread today.

Just then, a manager spots me, and starts toward me.

Manager: Hey, Stacey! Are you picking up?

The other server grins at me. I grin back, then turn and sprint out the door. I don't look back.

I have a dream. This isn't part of it.

Sunday, November 02, 2003

Breaking Up Is Not So Hard To Do

Boyfriend and I broke up (which is why I haven't posted in a while, because he reads this blog) over what he thinks is sex but is really his lack of physicality. I'm not really attracted to him anyway - not physically. The problem is that the mental attraction was strong enough to override the lack.

Reed:
Have you talked to (ex-boyfriend)?
Me (scoffing): No way.
Reed: I thought you were cool with this. You've only dated half of Augusta since you broke up.
Me (laughing): I'm fine with it. It's not as though I hadn't been thinking about breaking up with him for a while.
Reed: So what's wrong?
Me: He wrote me this e-mail detailing how I should conduct myself now that we're not dating.
Reed (incredulous): What?!
Me: I know! About how I can't talk about certain things with him, and how I shouldn't do certain things...
Reed: That's stupid.
Me: I know. He tried to make some joke in the middle about President Bush and a spelling bee, but the whole thing was tense and weird and pissed me off. He said not to write back if I was in the mood to fight - which is apparently only his prerogative - but I wasn't until he wrote that shit.
Reed: Was he always that way?
Me: What way?
Reed: Immature.
Me: I don't think he'd see it that way, but sort of. I think he lived with his parents for too long, and he's still figuring out how to be an adult. He's kind of a big crybaby.
Reed: And gay.
Me (snicker): Possibly. You would know!