Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Is it Friday Yet?

A look at Working Girl One's morning rituals:

6:45 am - My cell phone alarm goes off. I try my hardest to pick up my phone from the floor beside my bed, turn off my alarm and reset an alarm for 7:00. By the time I finish these tasks it's 6:57, so much for those extra 15 minutes.

7:00 am - The alarm rings again. This time I must fish through my covers, sheets and pillows to turn the damn thing off. When I finally do, I rest my pretty little head back on my pillow. I'll get up in five minutes.

7:10 am - Shit! I shoot up and out of bed. Grab my towel and head for the bathroom. I already know I'm going to be late for work, unless...I take a five minute shower. Yeah, I'll do that.

7:15 am - Still in the shower. Who was I kidding? I don't think I've ever taken a five minute shower; every roommate I've ever had can attest to that. I attempt to shave my legs and I think to myself "I wish I was shaving my legs for a hot tropical beach, or at the very least a hot date with my working boy, not so my panty hose wouldn't itch all day."

7:30 am - Working Girl Two knocks on the bathroom door. (Oh, we didn't mention that we live together?) "Can you plug in my hair straightener?" she says in a morning voice that I believe only I can understand.

7:31 am - I plug in WG2's ghetto hair straightener before leaving the bathroom. She should really get a Chi.

7:43 am - Make-up. Done. Hair. Up in a towel. Me. Standing in front of my wardrobe with my eyes closed wishing new outfits into existence.
7:44 am - I open my eyes. Nothing new has appeared. My eyes drift to my black pants. I've only wore them 4 out of the past 9 working days, maybe no one will notice.

7:56 am - My hot rollers are heating up as I dry my hair. Don't hate, these curlers are a gift from God.

8:00 am - Curlers are in my hair. Working Girl Two leaves. Yes, I can wear her red pumps and she'll never know!

8:05 am - I should really be walking to the bus right now. I take the curlers out and, like a true 'Jersey Girl,' hairspray each curl. Hey, it's a loooong work day.

8:10 am - I throw my keys, wallet, cell phone, and red heels into my bag. Grab my coat.

8:15 am - I'm out the door. I begin to run to the bus stop. I used to find this an embarrassing thing to do. But in Hoboken, NJ, when some mornings buses are few and far between, you run because you never know.

8:19 am - Miss the bus I was running to, get onto the next bus. No window seats. Damn it! I awkwardly make eye contact with four people before sitting down next to another Working Girl. She's on her blackberry. I sink into my seat and am reminded that I'm an assistant.

8:23 am - Annoying girl in front me is talking loudly on her cell phone. I "accidentally" kick her seat. I should really be loyal to another Working Girl but that is by far my biggest pet peeve.

8:37 am - My favorite part of my morning commute, The Lincoln Tunnel. Really, it is. I always fall asleep as the NJ Transit bus I'm on drives through. Some mornings I wish the Tunnel would go on forever.

8:46 am - But it doesn't. We arrive at the Port Authority.

8:51 am - Get on the A train. The commuting gods might just be on my side this morning.

8:55 am - The A train I'm on stops for what feels like forever. Typical. I should have walked from 42nd street to 56th.

9:01 am - I'm in the building. One of the sales reps I work with is steps ahead of me. Maybe if I walk slow enough, I wont have to ride the elevator with her.

9:03 am - She passes the elevator bank and heads towards the cafe. Awkward situation averted.

9:05 am - At my desk. Ready for a nap.

4 comments:

Andrea said...

Dear Working Girl One,

How can I avoid the shrills and chills that go up and down my spine when I hear my cell phone alarm tone as the actual cell phone ring on someone else's phone?? Am I the only one that suffers from this disease? I broke out in hives because of it once, so then I set it to ring as Pharell's "Money Maker". It was a good choice, however, I have to exit any bar, store, or club that plays it for the fear of thowing up in public.

Sincerely,
Unemployed Girl

Toomerdog said...

Working Girl One....as that famous (maybe not so famous...but you should look it up) song by Elvis Costello goes..."Welcome To The Working Week"...your litany of your day reminds me of another litany ...that I recall years ago..lets say it is a friday night...
11pm mom and dad put baby working girl 1 to bed for the night
11:02pm mom and dad asleep (need about forty hours to catch up)
6:05am (anytime with an 0 in it sux in the am!) mom and dad awakened by baby working girl one
6:07am BWG1 still crying...mom and dad both feigning sleep hoping the other will get up
6:10am...one of em (MorD) gets up..ambles to the other b-room..BWG1 is ready to go!
6:11am...MorD..smile...because it is all worth it
6:12am..MorD. question.is it worth it?
6:14am. MorD try to go down stairs w/out creaking to wake up MorD (got to get some credit out of this)
6:17am..BWG1.is in her hichair eating cheerios!
6:18am..MorD realize s--t! someone 86'd the coffee!
6:19am..MorD feed BWG1 some cereal
6:20am BWG1 starts to grimace and turn red in the face
6:22am MorD smell something. BWG1 appears much happier
6:28am MorD change BWG1 diaper
6:30am MorD put BWG1 in swing chair and wind it up!!!
6:32am BWG1 chewing on some plastic toy from China (probly with lead paint..so sorry, we didn't know then!) and happy rocking!
6:35am MorD try to curl up on couch and shut eyes
6:40am M comes down stairs..wasnt really asleep anyway....tells D...guess, what, I think we're pregnant!
6:41am.....M&D both wonder...how did we get here? alot happened in like 35 minutes!
LOVED your post!!!

Working Girl One said...

that's embarrassing. ladies and gentlemen, my father "toomerdog." please don't judge me based on him comments on this blog.

Bethany said...

Working Girl 1- Is it me or are you always trying to avert awkward situations? Actually I should say you find yourself in a lot of awkward situations. I do agree that I am guilty of walking slow to avoid co-workers too... however I think i am noticebly slow.