They Are Not Paying Me Enough for This Crap

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The Weekend That Didn’t Happen

After working all weekend (26 hours total), I’m PTFO’ing.  You can figure out what that means.  Good night and sweet dreams of unicorn smiles and teddy bear hugs.

Post Script. I’m summing up my weekend in the tags because I’m too tired to actually sum it up in actual summarization formation station summation.

The Faces (Haven’t) Changed, But the Hassles Are All the Same

So, how’d my first day back in the 9-5’er (uh, well, sort of…I start at 10…) world go? Well, I arrived at the office about 10 minutes early, and instead of going in, I waited outside across the street for eight minutes until 9:58.  This would make the first hour not drag out so long, I reasoned. This is called: false.

By 11 o’clock I had to sing Cyndi Lauper songs in my head to keep myself from falling asleep.

At noon, I wanted to chainsmoke a pack of Marlboro Reds so bad, I didn’t even care that I don’t even really smoke.

Around 2 o’clock I became homicidal.

And at 3 o’clock I hid in the bathroom for ten minutes to resist the urge to throw myself out the window.

But then, I listened to the following Kings of Leon song on the walk home.

Through the throngs of harried women in sweaty work dresses, and corpulent businessmen in wrinkled suits, my ipod offered me salvation from the soul crushing corporate world at last.

Okay.  Fine, I’m working for a non-profit — not a big corporation. And, this was only day one.  I have got to stop being a baby. I mean, if Brett Favre can pull himself out of retirement (twice!) from his out of shape boot straps, the least I can do is go join the rest of society and work in an office.  I mean, hello, Meredith, that’s what you were doing before the ol’ resesh came a-knockin’ on your door…Two months out of the game is a long time though…  Maybe I should just drop out of soceity, and abandon the idea of an office job all together. I’ll become  a Neo-Beat poet and change my name to Juniper Breeze, Satchel Fig-Tree, or Brett Michaels.  Yeah, that sounds nice. Good talk.

9-5 — Not the Dolly Parton Movie

Looks like I’ll be temping for the OBG’s (Oldies But Goodies) again, starting at the end of this week.  Cue: the pyrotechnics, dancing girls, the music —

and what not.

A Post With a Happy Ending

Monday was my last day working with the Oldies But Goodies.  Bright side: no more bedtime!

Adventures in Awkwardness

This kid is probably awkward and I feel like him in social situations.

I’m awkward.  Some people think otherwise, but honestly, I’m just faking it.  I hate forcing conversations and I really don’t like being in groups of people I don’t know because it gets to the point where once you hit the seven minute lull and you have nothing else to say after that.  IT GETS WEIRD.

This probably happens to everyone, but I’m in perpetual fear of that lull and as a result, I most often avoid meeting new people.  There is an exception though and that’s if I’m with someone I know.  I feel safer knowing that if the conversation comes to a screeching, awkward halt, I can always fall back on the other person.

Tonight I had to overcome my social anxiety all on my own and go to a work softball game.  I got roped into it by this guy on my work bowling team who encouraged me to join under the pretense that he’d join to, but turns out he doesn’t really go to the games.  So there goes my safety net.  I was so nervous about going.  My heart was racing, my hands were shaking and I stalled for an hour so I wouldn’t have to be there the whole time.  I mean, these people all knew each other…I’m the outcast!  I almost backed out but I was ultimately convinced/bullied to go with the intention of meeting new friends! getting exercise! possibly cute boys! (but honestly, it’s media and most of them are gay so…that last one was a reach.)

Not at all what my first day at softball looked like

Well, turns out it WAS as awkward as I expected!  I mean, It didn’t help that I was scared like whoa to even play.  I’m competitive and I don’t like to be bad at things, so it’s not like I was going to go out there and throw a ball and have it totally miss my target. Oh well, I’m practicing this weekend because I’m a total tool.

BUT we all went to a bar afterwards and we went to a bar where they feaure a name every day and if your name is the name of the day you drink for free.  WELL, guess who’s name it was today?  Yes, you are so smart, it was MELANIE!  So exciting.  So I had two beers and ended up talking to a guy who was pretty nice (and looked hipster but lived in Harlem…yeah, how do I find these people?) but not even on the team.  Oh well, baby steps!

Next week’s mission: actually step onto the field and talk to someone on the team.  ONE TWO THREE BREAK!

New Career Goals

Lately, I’ve been really into the idea of selling out and going corporate.  To hell with helping others and trying to make the world a more positive place; fuck the non-profit, not-for-profit, and NGO world — I just want to make piles of cash at a ginormous, heartless, corporation, so I can go swimming in my gold coin vault like my name is Scrooge McDuck.

I’ll take 3 martini lunches, and tell people “my assistant will take care of that” and everyone will look at me like I’m crazy, because uh, I AM the assistant, and why am I always coming back from lunch drunk?

This. Is the dream.