Category: Office

I'm Leaving

12/23/2015

Sike! Bitches.

Day 10 of the 12 Days of Bubbles continues on towards doom and mental collapse of your favorite blogger and contrary to the title of this post. I'm here to stay. Kind of.

Picture it. It's October. I'm having a really great time. I've been plotting to write this article, since then. I was going to spring it on you. My eight favorite readers that I was leaving the country. Never to return. Except not.

I applied to study abroad. Barcelona. It was horrible. I had to write an essay in Spanish explaining why I wanted to study abroad. I took French in high school. I was not prepared. My GED did not prepare me to deal with real life.

Finishing this essay was the biggest hurdle. Sure I had to get two of my professors to write me recommendations, but there are worse things. After all of this I was prepared, I was fucking ready. I was going to Barcelona in the spring.

Little did I know that somewhere in the deep bowels of the US government, my passport was not going through. Apparently my birth certificate was not “good enough”. @ the government. That sound like your problem.

They say “get a new birth certificate”. That was a mess. Me and my favorite study abroad office worker try to send a faxed document that has been certified by a notary that I indeed do want this birth certificate. However, we are millennials and are unequipped to use a fax machine. I end up at FedEx Office spending $2.19 to get it sent off.

The week after Thanksgiving, I mail off my birth certificate to the government. At some point my passport will come in. Shiny and beautiful. Ready to be used and I will be here in the United States having emotional breakdowns over macroeconomics.

It's not good enough to just get a passport. As an international student, who will be gone more then 90 days, I have to get a Visa. A Visa takes at least three weeks to process. I love cutting things to the wire as much as the next college student, but I said to myself. Maybe next year.

I'll be able to save more money. Get a better apartment in Barcelona (!), do more exciting things (!), and who knows, I might even fly first class. Live on the true wild side.

Yet, here I am. In my bathrobe. Surrounded by my wonderful family, so excited to be here one more year. This also gives me more time to learn Spanish. Truly apply myself. Will I do it? Probably not. I'd rather just stumble around a foreign country unable to speak to the locals.

In one year's time, I'll be here again. Telling you about my plans to leave the country. Or not. A lot can happen in a year.

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First Week Of SChool

9/15/2015

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Picture it. I was with the twins. I said to them that I didn't know what to write about for a What's Happening Wednesday. They told me why don't I write about school. I told them I may only have eight readers, but I try to be more interesting then that.

And, yet here I am.

I should preface that my well adjusted self (I had relatively few emotional breakdowns this summer in comparison to the school year) has crashed. Everything is falling apart and my life is a train wreck, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

On Sunday I was with the twins. The day before class starts. And, I was casually discussing the hate comment I received on my video “Tip Thy Waiter”. Both Joyce and Black have claimed it as my best. So this isn't actually related to my emotional breakdown at school, but I'm working there.

Needless to say, I showed them the comment. And, they saw the name of the person who commented and they said isn't that Waldo's real name. You see Waldo is his nickname. That's why I never put it together. I've seen Waldo on a few occasions, but we weren't friends. We also weren't enemies.

The worst part of discovering that my hater is someone I know means that I'm not famous. I'm also confused why he would say it. Waldo is everyone's timid boring next door neighbor bisexual. Honestly, I'm not sure how I was supposed to respond. You can use homophobic slurs all day long, and I'll be like #accurate. Apparently Waldo has been dating a nice boy who bags groceries. All this boy wants to do is have sex in the back of his car. And, my response to Waldo through the internet is to ask him whether it's a nice car or not.

I ran into someone that I kind of sort of liked. I never talked about it on the blog. It was an the end of the school year kind of thing. I thought I was over it. Of course I knew I wasn't and here I am typing out this article emotionally unhinged.

My first day look was the same one I wore on my trip to St. Louis with the twins. It was summery and bright. For some reason one of my fellow homosexuals decided to step his A game up. He's always had nice hair, just not the way he styled it. He has nice clothes, there just not put together well. Yet, here this little bitch is in my Detective Fiction class looking more then decent. What the fuck.

Let's not even talk about Math 106. That's not just a simple math class, but calculus based. Shout out to my math teacher for pointing that out. That is filed under information I didn't need to know.

Warner also didn't sit next to me. He sat next to this other boy who I'm sure is very nice, but what the fuck. He should have sensed that my aura is approaching and waited for me. I can be a very petty homosexual. Side note that I ended up sitting next to this girl who is so gorgeous it didn't matter that my outfit could have been in the pages of Teen Vogue I looked like a wet paper towel next to her. The girl was ***Flawless.

I also refused to acknowledge Warner in public. I'm petty. I like being texted first. I like being acknowledged first and I don't apologize. He didn't say hi to me until Thursday.

He's unobservant as fuck. I'm actually texting him right now and ignoring his message. To be fair I didn't see when he texted me this Monday until Wednesday. He said “Surprise Bitch!” and it took all my good will not to ask him why he was trying to be Emma Roberts.

We might have a volatile relationship. Let me correct that. One of my coworkers said I should drop this friendship and part of me agrees with that. But, as petty as I can be I know I'd miss him if I didn't talk to him.

Emma Roberts stars in the new Fox series Scream Queens that airs on Tuesdays.

I also went to the GSA meeting. This year I will be a proud member of the Gay Straight Alliance. Most importantly I will be active. I introduced myself as a Freshman Marketing Major. Multiple people had to tell me I was a sophmore. That was awkward. And, yes my favorite superhero is Green Lantern. Ryan Reynolds looked sexy as fuck in that movie.

That was a Wednesday. It was my last day with the twins. I got pulled over getting home. Hyperventilated, cried. The officer was very nice. Then, I got stuck in traffic for an hour and thirty five minutes where I occasionally shouted “WHY IS THE TRAFFIC SO BAD!”. It took twenty minutes to get through one light. On the bright side I did get to listen to the entirety of Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club, so that was exciting.

Of course our plans were time sensitive. We were going to play trivia with our mothers. You may or may not know that our team name always has Beyonce it. One team's name was “We Are Always Beyonce”. Much like Warner they should have sensed our aura. We had of course not been to trivia recently. We'd been in St. Louis. Wisdom teeth (not mine) had been removed. Trivia had not been our plate.

BUT THESE LITTLE BITCHES STOLE OUR NAME.

I am not upset about this. Salty, perhaps. But, upset no. We lost terribly. They helped to not dilute our brand recognition. The questions were based on The Office. I know that John Krasinski is married to Emily Blunt that is the extent of my knowledge.

That was my week. Now I'm here typing, waiting to go see Joyce receive $10,000 for being an awesome student. I'm not kidding. That's the gist of it.

Until next time where hopefully my life involves more then school starting up.

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My Not First Day Of School

9/3/2014

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Wednesday was a long, not very, but somewhat eventful day for me. Not this Wednesday, but a Wednesday two, three weeks ago. The Wednesday before school started.

I was very confused. I had been for the better part of the summer. After I turned eighteen, my parents told me that I was an adult and that I could handle getting my student loans all by myself. Those were two terrible months, before they finally realized I had no idea what I was doing, and decided to help me. My father was not pleased that he had to cosign my loan. Shock of all shocks that a part time minimum wage worker couldn't secure a loan by themselves

Either way we finally got it done, five days before my payment was due. So, definitely great timing. However, online it is showing that I still owe about $2,000. I got a lot of graduation gifts, but not that much. After I got my loan, I was supposed to owe, maybe $690. So, I wasn't prepared for this.

Battered and wounded I drive down to my college. I talk to one of the financial assistance counselors, letting her know what is happening. She says to me “What can I help you with?” and I say to her “I'm just very confused.”

In maybe ten minutes we are done. One of my federal scholarships just hadn't gone through, because of a little paperwork. I fixed that. I go over to the business office to actually pay for it and they ask for my ID.

I don't have it. I drove all this way and I didn't bring my license. So, I try starting the car. I'd been bumping and grinding to Calvin Harris the whole way there. And, it won't start.

This is not really that surprising. I've run my car battery down, ten times this year. Or at least that's what I've been saying. Now that I think about it, I believe it's closer to six, but whatever. And, that Sunday before I'd run the battery down twice in one day.

My father jump started my car the second time and he thought it was fine. What my father doesn't know is that I run the battery down all the time, and that I just don't tell him. We have lthis portable jump starter that you plug into a wall and you just walk away for a half hour and let it charge the battery. That way he never has to know.

So, I am not surprised that the car will not start. I go back to the business office, I ask if I can borrow a phone. They tell me to go to campus security. They tell me to go to the computer lab, that's right along this shady ass corridor that scares the hell out of me. I get to the phone, and they fail to mention to me that you have to press 9 in order to make outside calls.

Earlier I told you that I have a flip phone. I don't carry this flip phone. I don't know its number. I use a home phone. Yes. That's right a home phone. Which we recently got caller ID on, so that's exciting. We are now keeping up with the Smith's from the 90's. First, I call the home phone. My mother does not pick up. She doesn't know how to check for caller ID, so I know she's not avoiding me. I then call my father's cellphone, and he doesn't pick up. RUDE. This is your child calling you in dire distress.

I then call my next door neighbor and tell her what happened. She tells me to stand by the phone, and once she's reached them, they will call me. I stand at the ready and after five minutes, my father calls me, and asks me where I am.

I tell him where I'm parked and I wait. I did however make considerable progress in The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. I've had to read for school for four weeks now and I've been putting it off by reading Jackie Collins instead. I was two pages from finishing when my father pulls up.

Buy The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears

Of course I parked in the worst possible spot. I was cornered by this cement sidewalk and a red Impala. Every other car surrounding me had moved, but not the red Impala. What a bitch.

I'm told to put the car in neutral, and back out, so my father can jumpstart it. Let me tell you. Without power steering, driving a car is a mother. It was the worst possible thirty seconds of my life. But, this very nice boy helped my father push it into the right spot. I wanted to anoint him “bae”.

We jumpstart the car, determine what I already knew, that I needed a new battery. Padre drives me to work. Something, I most certainly could get used to, and I walk in with The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears and the latest Architectural Digest in hand. I set them on the break table in the back.

Normally, I would have kept them in the car, because that's where I go on break, but I didn't have the car. So, it's 10:30. I am about to leave. We are just doing some cleaning up, making sure everything was organized. It had been a rough Wednesday night.

It had been really slow all that week, so my manager sent two people home earlier then he had to. I agreed with his assessment, but we got surprisingly busy. Nothing we couldn't handle, but the store wasn't clean.

So, in walks my General Manger and I thought he was about to go off because of how dirty it is, but he doesn't. He walks to the back and does inventory. Or whatever it is he does back there. I think to myself, he must be in a pretty good mood.

It's a few minutes after this that I hear him scream, “What is all this shit?” and him swiping everything off the break table off onto the floor. He might have flipped the table, I don't know, I only heard it.

The break table was a mess, but I don't know where that really matters. I don't know where he would ever think that's an acceptable way for a man in his fifties to act that way over a dirty break table. I just don't understand where he thinks throwing one of his employees books onto the ground is a good idea. I am a minimum wage worker. I don't have twenty dollars to spend on buying new books.

Because, yes he threw my books onto the ground. We have tile in the back and they were mopping it. He never did pick them up for me. One of my co workers did and there's this layer of grime on both of them.

They told me I handled myself very well, but I didn't go back there. If I had it would have gone down. He not only disrespected me, but the thoughts and ideas of Dinaw Mengestu. His book was deeply personal and no matter how I feel about a work of fiction, I am not about to degrade one of his books. Even, if his book wasn't personal. How dare you, that author put time and effort into this work, they put a part of themselves in it.

How dare you call a magazine and all it's writers “shit”. Margaret Russell as a respected Editor of a premiere American magazine, does not deserve that and neither do any of her writers. Who are you to treat their hard work like that sir.

He never did apologize to me or any of the staff for what he did. But, even if he had, I wouldn't have accepted it. That act of aggression was uncalled for. To apologize to me, he would have had to have written to Dinaw Mengestu and Margaret Russell and apologized to them

When he finally did come up to the front and said some very cryptic words. “You have 5 minutes. GO.”

You expect me to finish all my duties in five minutes. Rush them, so you can lower your labor costs. Sir, I don't have that kind of respect for you. I grabbed my books and I clocked out.

And, after all of this I had to go back to my school on Thursday to deal with my payment. That woman behind the counter judged me so hard.

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I'm Leaving

First Week Of SChool

My Not First Day Of School

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