Let's Waste Some Time (Part Two)

So. I'm still jobless. Not for lack of trying. However I'm still paying for my surgery that occurred last August and I have a weak spot for iced coffee. This means that I'm still using money even if I'm pinching pennies.

I figured I'd get an easy retail type job while I was waiting for "The Big One" to come along. I mean, why not? It gave me possibilities:
- I could possibly keep it as a part time job while working full time because living in NYC is pricey.
- I'd have an income coming in to help with the essentials I still find myself paying for (train fare, deodorant, iced coffee).
- It'd get me out of the house since I'm going NUTS here.
- Maybe I need a job to get a job.

So I came across an ad for Whole Foods. As usual they are opening up yet another mega store in NYC and this career center in Jamaica, Queens was holding a 'hiring fair'. Sure it is way out of my way but I figured working for Whole Foods wouldn't be so terrible and it's not like I was busy doing anything else.

I wake up at 6am, shower, dress, and go. I have to take 3 trains to get to where I need to be for a total of 2 hours subway time. I have to be there by 9am. By the time my F train arrives in this god-forsaken land my iced coffee has already worn off.

9am
I walk into the center and immediately realize I'm in the wrong place. I don't see any friendly faces, I don't see any green aprons, I don't see this day going the right way at all. What me and apparently 3 other people thought they were coming to Jamaica for was to meet some people from Whole Foods, chat it up, fill out some paperwork, and hopefully walk out with a job.

That'd be TOO EASY!

I stand on line as two women watch everyone sign in like if we are signing in for visiting hours at our favorite penitentiary. They loudly berate someone for not knowing what to write in a line here or there, they yell across the room "You! Yeah You! I can't read your name, come back here!"

I fill out my paperwork and sit amongst the persons who quite honestly look like they either just got out of jail, or had their eighth kid, are all under the age of 28, and all of them feel that appropriate "professional attire" means that they wear the black jeans, the black underwear (fully exposed), their best baseball cap with the most recent overexposed logo emblazoned all over it.

We get mini-lectures on how to "sell ourselves" and "customer service" and the whole time I'm wondering why does Life hate me so? Why couldn't I have been raised to have no expectations of myself? Maybe then I'd be fine with mediocrity. I mean, I'm not exactly excelling anyway so I should be happy to be a Medical Assistant or a C-Town Cashier? But anyway...back to Jamaica.

10:45am
After awhile my name is called with a group of other people. We head to a computer room where we are given directions to apply online at the Whole Foods website. Something I could've done myself. I fly through the website (I have a brain, I've become very familiar with online job applications). While I wait around for the next level of hell to begin I get to observe the shenanigans going on. One guy doesn't know what it means to sign his initials. What are initials?

Another classy lady is dropping F bombs as she complains that if she had known how F'ing long this F'ng bullshit was going to F'ing take she's be sitting on her F'ing couch at home. When they going to F'in call me I finished this motherf'ing website. A few seconds later yet another I'm-an-Insanely-Rude-Career-Center-Employee loudly embarrasses her as she tells her that she hasn't completed the application process, right here on the screen it says step 3 out of 5. Her screen suddenly goes blue. Ouch.

11:15
Called as a group into another room. Some chick (yes: rude, obnoxious) asks us to take out our resumes. Most people have a piece of paper with maybe 5 lines on it. Many take out a piece of paper that was folded in four and shoved into their pockets. Since you get the picture, I won't get into detail of how insanely ridiculous some of the responses were to questions this stupid bitch had to ask. But I would like to point out that the three people in the room that did not speak ghetto were probably treated the worst by her. That would be me, Ruth, and Amina. The three of us combined could probably provide better service that this girl.

Basically we were asked a bunch of questions (why didn't you work from this time to this time? what's this on your resume?) and give "advice" (you want to work for Whole Foods? you should research a vegetable, they like healthy things there) we were told that "she" who, in such a professional way, totally forgot to introduce herself (later discovered her name was Eva...sounds like Evil!) would decide who was best appropriate to meet with the ACTUAL Whole Foods people.

In a nutshell, these retards "screen" us to see if we are even capable of handling an interview with Whole Foods, if we "pass" we have to go back to the office to get a referral letter and will be told when and where our Whole Foods interview will be.

12noon
I walk outta there stressed and annoyed and even more depressed than when I walked in. I run into that Ruth girl (who has been spending her time volunteering in Italy teaching English and is back in the US to earn some money as the dollar is worth shit over there) she too thought the whole thing was total crap and if she had known we were going to get shit on she would've never shown up. The Amina girl was a student at SUNY Oswego and was back trying to get a summer job. Ruth and I thought it very interesting that the 3 most intelligible persons in the room got crapped on the most (well except for the one guy who is truly screwed for life).

The next day I got a call bright and early (from what name? who knows) to tell me that I had been accepted for a referral to Whole Foods. I asked if I could have the letter faxed to me since it takes me 2 hours to get there and I didn't know I'd have to go back all the way out there.

She rudely (!) told me "No. You have to come here because you have to sit through a training session for your interview" I tried to find a polite way to respond, asking if I could call her back that afternoon to confirm if I could make it when she cut me off and said in SEVERE ATTITUDE "I'm not gonna be here this afternoon. You want them to write you the referral or not?"

I hung up on her.

Unbelievable.

Let's Waste Some Time (Part One)

Last Wednesday:
I headed to The New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx to check it out in preparation for an interview I had later in the week. While sitting on the Bronx 12 bus I turned left to look out the window and suddenly I had pain in my neck and back of head area. I shrugged it off thinking I had slept wrong even though I hadn't woken up with the pain. The neck bothered me throughout the day and of course as it got stronger the same went for my whining and complaining. I was certain though that the next day I would wake up feeling better.

Thursday:
Woke up and the pain was stronger and very much sticking to the left side of the back of my head.

Friday:
A whole lot of the same. I finally allowed Mark to give me a neck massage (believe it or not I often turn them down) The problem was that he kept asking me where in my muscle I felt the pain and I couldn't really tell him. It was then I realized that the pain was literally in my bone. I self-diagnosed: TUMOR!

Saturday evening:
I went up to hang out with Steve's family and some of our friends to celebrate his Master's Degree from Fordham University. At one point I realized that the spot on my gums where my wisdom tooth would be was very tender. Lightbulb!

Perhaps my wisdom tooth was causing the pain. Two years ago I was told by my professional, gentle, friendly, nice, clean, and covered-by-insurance dentist that my wisdom teeth were impacted. But instead of taking advantage of all those adjectives I just listed, I decided to continue to be a complete retard and opt out of the procedure. So now what?

Sunday:
Mark discovers that you can go to Columbia University's College of Dental Medicine and be seen by students. The part that makes it less scary is that any real procedures are handled by residents which means they know more and may seem less nervous while working on you. I would like to think that makes it less scary.

Monday:
The alarm goes off early so that we can get to the clinic at opening time. I wake up to use the bathroom and peek back into the living room. Mark is still out cold in bed and my dog has snuggled next to him. I can't resist and fall back asleep. We end up leaving much later.

11am: We arrive at clinic. The waiting room is full but not scary. There seems to be a lot of movement everywhere. I fill out paperwork and get noted as an emergency because I have pain.

12:30pm: I get called into the office where they ring me up for $85 and give me my clinic card.

12:45pm: The waiting room hasn't moved in awhile. I hear someone bitching and hear the office say that the students have all gone to lunch and won't be back and seeing patients until 1:30pm.

WHAT?
Now I know that it's all first come, first serve and I know people have to eat but if you are straight up not going to see anyone for an hour and half maybe you should tell people that. So that people stop lining up, the waiting room stops overflowing, and maybe I could have gone and grabbed something to drink because I was starting to get stir crazy and hungry. I didn't bring a toothbrush so I would've been happy just to have a drink and wait it out. But no. Let's not tell anyone that "officially". And of course with my luck (unemployment, poor choices, tumor) as soon as I would've stepped out they would've called my name.

2pm: My name is called by the one student I didn't want. She seemed scared and nervous. She was a nice Asian gal who was one step above broken English. She asked me all the questions that were already answered on the form. Awkwardly checked my blood pressure, felt my glands, poked around the left side of my mouth, scribbled on her paper for awhile, seemed nervous the entire time, never told me her name, and then told me to wait in the waiting room.

3pm: I was called by some small x-ray tech lady who has a problem giving directions. She didn't seem to be a student but instead a mostly Spanish speaking lady who was gruff and maybe a little lacking in social skills. She set me up, standing and biting down on some plastic thingy. Panels rotate around my head (totally cool) and basically pan my head creating an x-ray of my entire mouth and jaw that the dental student can bring up on a computer screen.


(Note: This isn't my x-ray but this is how the image appeared on the computer screen. However, mine had an INSANE amount of metal glowing throughout the image, you could see the remnants of my 2 root canals, and my wisdom teeth are way more screwed up than this guy.)

She pretty much abandons me and I assume I have to go back to the waiting room where Mark's mental stability seems to be declining.

4pm: I'm called by some Russian(?) lady and taken into a back room with even more people in scrubs. These seem to be the exam rooms and rooms where procedures occur. I call Mark on his cell and tell him to save himself and go get some food. I sit in another waiting room with 4 other people. I wait. And wait.
Eventually it's me just sitting there and some CRAZY dude across from me who has headphones blasting and is laughing at something hysterically funny that he has just mumbled to himself because he hasn't stopped talking CRAZY the entire time I've been there. It's really awkward because I can't go anywhere, I'm getting dizzy from lack of food, and occasionally a doctor walks by and looks at Mr. CRAZY with an apparent fear that this may be their next patient.

4:30pm: I'm called into a room where the next youngin' starts asking me all the same questions, takes my blood pressure in an equally awkward manner, I finally just go "What's your name?" Trent tells me that he's a 3rd year student. Maybe chair-side manner is a 4th year subject.

He brings up my x-ray where I see that my wisdom teeth are indeed doing some weird things. About 4 people come in to see what Trent "has" a lá 'Grey's Anatomy' style. They are all in agreement that my wisdom teeth look horrible. Trent does some poking around, feels my jaw as I open and close, and then goes and gets an instructor.

This guy actually does introduce himself as Dr. Something and I notice by his dress that being a Dental School instructor pays very well. He asks Trent a bunch of questions, quizzes him on what my problem may be, and then turns to me. I was listening to Dr. Something so I already knew what was up.
When Trent had felt me bite down my jaw clicked. Dr. Something said that if my jaw is clicking, and I'm super stressed, and I'm a clencher (which previously mentioned awesome dentist had told me), I'm probably suffering from Temporomandibular Joint Disorder or TMJ.

He asked me if I was a student or under a lot of stress. What do I do for work? I of course told him my plight and so we were all in agreement that "under stress" was putting it lightly. He said that while my wisdom teeth do need to come out they may not be the cause of my pain. He recommended not doing the extraction procedure because it may not alleviate the pain at all.

He thought I should wait until I get a job and my stress goes down to which I literally replied "From your mouth to God's ears" and Dr. Something and Trent laughed. He said to apply some warm presses, stretch my jaw, really watch out for clenching, and stop chewing gum (yeah right). Ultimately if I had my wisdom teeth removed there it would cost almost $3,000 and if my pain didn't go away that would blow. For all that I'd rather wait until I can go to a private dentist and have insurance to deal with most of the money.

5pm. Mark and I finally walk out of there. Annoyed at having spent our entire day there and not yet appreciative of at least learning it wasn't a tumor.

So there it was. HOURS UPON HOURS and 85 bucks later I still have wisdom teeth and information I already knew: I have a lot of stress.

Random Search

I googled Vinnie the Parrot because I was bored and I ended up with this video on YouTube. Sadly, this cuteness is not mine. Not to mention I'm jealous of how well behaved this parrot and puppy are. If this was my house you'd be watching a crime scene. Enjoy!

I Would Like To Say Some Things

1. I quit that part-time job as soon as Day One was over. It was so lame. Too lame to travel for an hour and 10 minutes and only leave with $12 after tax for half of my day. I felt really bad when I quit because I know the church is totally screwed but by Sunday night when the whole world was mind-prepping for work the next day, I didn't feel so bad.

2. I'd like to thank Maya Ardon for being a great customer and friend. For those of you who didn't see my craigslist post or get my email here's the deal: I was all about having a part time job for a hot minute. As usual I jumped the gun and bought an $81 unlimited MetroCard. I then quit the job.
So...for you non-New Yorkers:
An unlimited monthly MetroCard means that I spend $81 on this card and I get to use it as many times as I want within 30 days. The only real 'rule' to the card is that you can only swipe it once about every 15 minutes.
This means that I can go to work, come back home, go out later, go somewhere else, come back home and I can do this everyday of the month, it won't cost me anything extra. But I can't swipe, go through the turnstile, and then hand the card back to Mark and he can go through. For that you need a pay-per-ride MetroCard. Basically the monthly card is a great value if you not only commute back and forth to work 5 days a week but you also travel so you can actually get more than $81 out of it.

However, I quit my job immediately and instantly was stuck with a card worth nothing to me since I wasn't going anywhere. Ultimately, Maya was fantastic and decided to half swap/buy the card off of me. She gave me a pay-per-ride card she had and then gave me cash for the difference of what I was asking. Not only did she help me out with the MetroCard but she also was so nice about asking me about my wayward life that I didn't even ask about her. Hugs Ardon! By the way you have great teeth. I didn't tell you in person because that would be awkward.

3. As I cry and moan and dread writing a cover letter (for someone who "wrote" in college I cannot write a cover letter even if it was to save my own life, which in a way it is) I was thinking back on my big bomb at the Temp Agency. I remember 'flunking' the Microsoft Word test and being kinda surprised. Weeks later I'm furious at this particular fact: One of the tests asks that now that the document is complete, I should check for spelling errors. So I sat back, read carefully, moved my cursor and corrected the error the system had placed. I failed those questions. Apparently using my brain WAS WRONG. I was supposed to be completely reliant on the computer and click the spell check button. How annoying is that!!! Sorry for being able to spell and for actually being someone who could be an asset to a company's filing closet!

4. I was summoned to Jury Duty in South Lake Tahoe so I promptly went to the New York State DMV and surrendered my California license for a New York license in order to show that I'm no longer a CA resident. A few emotions: I was really sad to see my first DL go. My orangey tan, my flowing hair, proof that I actually lived and existed outside of this city. The memories of me falling on my ass (and face) in the post office parking lot as I showed my new DL to my boss lady Carrie.
Secondly, I'm never going to drive in this city much to the chagrin of my father. So how smart and witty is it to go to another town in another state and get your license and then switch! Why is it such a wonderful method you ask? NY driving: honking, screaming, changing lanes in a very aggressive manner, parallel parking, flipping people off. Tahoe driving: Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Never parallel parking. Not even getting tested on it. I would have never gotten my DL if I had never left New York. So score for me!

Updates

After an evening at the ESPN Zone I was adjusting myself in bed to get comfy and slammed my head into Mark's head. HARD. Like so hard that if I had insurance I would've gone to the doctor. My skull hurt, my vision was blurry, I had throbbing pain throughout the left side of my face, and when I sneezed (which is often) I felt like I was being slammed into a wall. It was so the way to spend a day.

Finally cashed my checks that I earned from Crazy Australian. Yay pocket money.

I was pretty much hired on the spot to be a church secretary. It's only 15 hours a week and for 10 bucks an hour and it's a minimum commute of an hour for me but I couldn't say no. First of all, I really need money. Then you throw in the fact that the 3 women interviewing me were nice, church-going women and very excited to see me. One of them was actually a Reverend and the other looked like she was about to croak. They know I'm looking for full time work so I shouldn't feel overly committed to them and maybe having to wake up early every morning will get my butt in gear. Maybe.

Wow...Thanks

Yesterday I went downtown so I tried to look nicer than usual. I wore jeans, a button down shirt, and a nice cropped sweater. I liked it, felt prettier than an old t-shirt thrown on. I felt like I made an effort.

Today I wore my stretch cords and a polo shirt that has my old employer embroidered on the front. I was just running to the store.

Man Who Should Know How to Talk to Women By Now: See...when you wear your clothes tighter like that you look skinny.

Me: I look skinny?

MWSKHtTtWBN: Yeah, you look thin.

Me: What did my clothes make me look like yesterday?

MWSKHtTtWBN: You looked chunky yesterday.

Me: Oh. I really don't know how to feel now. Thanks.

MWSKNtTtWBN: Oh, Christ. (rubbing face in frustration like he's the one who should be upset)

Shopping Therapy Might Lead to Therapy

So even though I am still unemployed (cue screaming, panicking, hyperventilating) I like to think that one day I'm actually going to get an interview with a prospective employer. But getting that interview means I'll have to actually dress for it. I currently own only one pair of pants that are appropriate (thanks fat genes!) and so I'm desperate to find a pair of black pants. Not only will they give me one other option when dressing for the interview but it will give me something to wear when I actually have to go to work.

Today, after applying to yet another job I will probably never hear from, I headed up to the Cross County Mall with Mom to try some clothes on. I have never tried on so many black pants in my life! Did I get any? NO. I'm either too short or too wide. (no...really...thanks fat genes!, love you metabolism) So I went to oldnavy.com and decided to risk the shipping charge and clicked on some black pants that were on sale and I'm hoping for the best.

But since we're on the subject of Old Navy, has anyone walked into one lately? Holy Hey Zeus. A f'ing bomb has gone off in every single Old Navy. I mean...Old Navy is cursed to be one of those stores where hundreds of people walk in all day and unfold t-shirts they are never going to buy and then don't even pretend like they are going to semi fold it back up. So yeah, a messy t-shirt table should be expected. But the past few Old Navy stores I've visited, on different coasts, have been a disaster. It's like Christmas is here and everyone quit except for the one guy who is stuck in the dressing room. It's not even messy. It's borderline gross. You can't buy anything in there without thinking about the 79 people who probably stepped on it that day. So there.

So as for a social update: I have no social life. That said, me and my wide ass are heading to the Go Green Expo at the Hilton on Saturday morning. I'm interested in seeing what is going to be there, what I can get for free, and stalking Mark as he sells organic coconut oil soap for a crazy, crazy man who Mark hopes he never has to see again after this weekend. If you're in Midtown bright and early (well...kinda bright and early) and you have $10 you wanna burn maybe we can hang.