Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I never thought though that after graduating college I would witness these daily macking moments soberly on my daily transportation to and from work. Obviously I have seen my fair share of PDA in my 23 years - sometimes a quick peck on the cheek or even things that have made me blush. Lately I feel as though PDA has taken a turn for the worse to the point where I can see taste buds, yes taste buds.
Maybe it's because I'm single, but I just don't understand the need for all the morning foreplay before the work day begins. It starts with hand holding, whispering in each other's ears and quickly turns to making out four subway stations before you have to say goodbye. Newsflash to my fellow subway riders: this is not an airport and you will see each other in 8 hours. In most cases, I'm guessing you exhibitionists co-habitat from that huge diamond ring her left hand so can we leave the Slobber Fest '08 in the bedroom?
And it's not so much that they'll see each other soon (since you never know what can happen in 8 hours), but what bothers me the most about subway PDA is the fact that the morning rush means that a lot of bodies are going to be crushed into one small car that is hurtling underground. In my experience and during my intense research, these couples rarely hold onto things (the male thinking he is manly enough to keep them both standing), which causes a lot of bumping, falling, and awkwardness for those around said couple. Not to mention that I'm usually close enough to the twosome that if they asked me to join them in a "triple kiss" that it wouldn't be out of the question (that is if I wanted to join).
It's possible I'm just being bitter (very possible), but I don't think I'm wrong when I ask that the subway PDA be kept to minimum. My rules are simple to adhere to and I think they should be etched into every subway car in New Jersey and New York.
1. No tongue before 3 p.m.
2. Hold onto something so you don't step on my new heels fourteen times on our way to 23rd street (and each other does not count).
3. Keep the slurping noises to a minimum - as in none.
4. Licking of ears. Yikes. Just no. Not okay.
4 simple rules. That's it folks. That's all I'm asking.
Or maybe we should just institute an "all couples" car? Thoughts?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
'A Working Girl in...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl living on the Jersey Shore about her decision to become a teacher despite her background in Communication.
I'm not your conventional Working Girl who lives in a big city. I don't wear posh clothes or pointy heels every day to work. I don't do Starbucks runs or make photocopies for my "way too into herself" boss.
In fact, my daily activities are the exact opposite. I live in a small town down the Jersey Shore. I wear button-downs and flats to work everyday. I make frequent visits to my purse for my Advil bottle and the only photocopies I'm making are for my 25 screaming students since I'm a teacher.
Teaching was not always included in my life plan. In college I was a Communication major from day one - a major that was mostly full of lacrosse players and preppy girls with pearls and matching drug problems. Communication was also known as the 'easy way out' at our college. My roommates joked that I never had a class before noon and that I wrote papers probably once every two months. Unlike my fellow classmates, I took my major seriously. Well, kind of (and apparently not as seriously as WG1).
At first, I truly did want a career in Communication with the goal being to work for a television station or maybe even in the movie business. However, I ended up taking easy classes with professors who were closer in age to me than my parents. I was basically the Shawn Hunter of my friends (minus the leather jacket and the minor detail of not living in a trailer).
Fast forward to summer after junior year (also known as my "Gimp Year" because of an injury I sustained on a muddy hill after my team took gold in Beer Olympics) when I interned for CBS Radio in Times Square. I liked the work, (some of) the people, and the grown-up feeling I got as I pushed my way through screaming Paris Hilton fans as I made my way into the MTV building.
However, everyday I got on the crowded train, I felt more and more guilty. The money my parents were spending to make me a ‘businesswoman’ was going down the drain. I didn’t want to do this the rest of my life. I realized I wanted to do what I dreamed of since I was a little girl - and that was being a teacher.
So after graduation, as WG2 moved in with my family and began her job as an assistant three days after we left college (did I mention that WG1 & WG2 are two of my best friends?), I started taking online courses to become a teacher, spent my days at the pool, and waited by the window for WG2 to pull into the driveway at seven every night. By not having a job right out of college, I had become the rebel of the family.
I stuck with my courses to become a teacher though and in the fall I completed an accelerated nine-month program to become a K-5 Elementary and Special Education Teacher. It was the hardest nine months of my life (but I've never been pregnant so I assume that has to be worse). I took 30 credits per semester while student-teaching my ass off in a small rural town for one of the toughest classes in the school. Think third graders making suicide threats, stabbing one another with pencils, and students losing their best friends in drive-by accidents. Even though I don't live in New York City, it still felt like it sometimes this year.
Even through all the "but Mom, I don't wanna go to school tomorrow" tears on Sunday nights and partying way too hard on Saturday nights (Fridays are just too exhausting), I made it through and became a certified teacher. This summer, along with enjoying my time away from the kids (I think I deserve it), I am taking courses toward my Masters and should be finished by December.
Sometimes I get jealous of my friends and their glam lifestyles in the city, but I will never regret my decision to go back to school and follow my childhood dream. And even though I will never make big money and I'll probably have to live with my parents until I get hitched, I still get my summers off (you know you're jealous).
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Take these classic tortoiseshell glasses for instance. These little suckers are the glasses that grace my face day in and day out. Do I think they make me look more like a pro than a schmo? I have to admit, when I'm wearing a pencil skirt and a cute top, these can make me feel like I could woo any client.
These playful and colorful glasses are all sunshine and lollipops. Sure to brighten any boardroom.
Ferragamo. Prada. Versace. Designer glasses are like the little black dress of eye wear. And these Bulgari rimless frames spell out sexy secretary to me.
Blast from the past eye wear can also spice up a boring black suit. And they're cheap to boot. Buy these throwbacks to the '50's from RetroPlanet.com for $5.99. The price tag might make you even consider to order these without even needing them to read your notes from your latest meeting.
And with the right eye wear, a Working Girl might not get Working Boys to make passes but I'm sure they could get Working Men to make moves.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
This is the back hallway that I often take to avoid all the upper management offices when I am either a) late for work or b) if I want to sneak out without anyone seeing me leave. The latter case is what I used the back hallway for tonight - to avoid having to go to a happy hour with my co-workers (I mean, come on Top Chef finale or a Blue Moon?).
This the bank of elevators I have to take up and down to get the 10th floor of my building. If you look closely you can see that they doing work on Elevator #2, which I have affectionately dubbed the Tower of Terror since it jumps between floors, which makes me feel like I'm plummeting to my death at least two times a day.
As we leave my apartment building, you run smack dab into a bank of movie trailers. I work in an area of New York City that often is a set for movies and TV shows, which is pretty sweet except for the fact that I've never spotted a celeb to go with these shiny trailers.
I pass by this ice cream truck everyday on my home from work and I am always tempted to bust out my pocketbook to buy one of those Spongebob Squarepants ice cream pops. Fun sidenote, this is the exact spot where I saw Law & Order: SVU being filmed one morning. I had my bagel with a side of Christopher Meloni for breakfast (yum!).
Simply put, this is the great view I have of the Empire State Building and Madison Square Park. These views are what remind me why I love New York City as much as I do.
Today, I jumped on the hot car of the train which accounts for the lack of people in this quick snapshot of the PATH train I take home. The blurriness I can only attribute to the fact that I become a Nervous Nelly when taking scenery pictures or random shots of a poorly lit subway train taking me to New Jersey. I'm a creep.
I usually walk the ten plus blocks home from the PATH train, but if I'm feeling extremely lazy/tired/it's over 100 degrees, I'll take a bus like this sucker home for $1.35. A true bargain when you're running late for work.
Welcome to the vestibule of our apartment. WG1 and I have come home after late-night snacking at McDonald's or our local pizza place to bums sleeping in this very corner of our vestibule. We live in one classy joint.
And the last stop of the tour of my joyous daily commute is the messy bedroom that I left behind this morning at exactly 8:33 a.m. - just ten minutes after I had woken up from my deep sleep by WG1. Stupid alarm.
Ugh. And to think I have to do this all again tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
All right, so I'm exaggerating a little (but like I said before I'm great at that and whining - my specialties if you will). But anyone who lives in New York City will agree with me when I say that construction sites as of late are giving me the heebie-jeebies. Crane collapse stories are filling the headlines of CNN and MSN and The New York Times (you get my point).
It also doesn't help that a week ago, I was walking from my subway stop to my office and I saw a full-fledged fire taking place at construction site across from my favorite bagel shop. Red fire engines, a ladder being used to save people, streets being blocked off - the whole nine yards. They even started using a fire hydrant. Can you tell I've lived in a small town most of my life?
And to boot, the other day Small Fry got pelted with wet cement when exiting our local Subway. "Eat fresh my ass," Small Fry had sputtered as she had sauntered up to my desk after eating. That's when I noticed the gray powder in her hair. Apparently she had been waiting to cross a street underneath a construction site after the sandwich eatery and a glob of wet cement had hit her smack dab on the head. Fortunately, our other work friend who I will call Red (for her stunning red hair of course) was there to clean her up. And don't worry we all had a good laugh at her expense.
Of course it was nothing a shower couldn't fix. But now on my walk to work I have started avoiding construction, which all us New Yorkers (shut up, I know I live in Jersey, but please humor me) know is hard to accomplish. This has officially added on five extra minutes to my walk and more frustration to my already not-so-fun commute to work not to mention the lives these cranes have taken in the past few months.
My plea? Can someone fix this construction site problem? Because this city is damaged. I thought that I should let you know. So to quote Danity Kane some more, how you gonna fix it New York?
Friday, June 6, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
"Congratulations, your next rotation will be located in Burbank, CA. Attached is your relocation package, as well as the contact information for your future manager. Please let me know if there is anything I can help you with."
When I first heard the news that I was going to have to relocate from New York City to Los Angeles for the first rotation of my finance leadership program, I remember thinking, ‘Sure, can you pay my therapist bills?’
I had been sitting at my desk at the headquarters of a worldwide conglomerate and I had just agreed to move across country. In the next three weeks, I would have to wrap up my current position, train a former Dolce & Gabbana model to “like learn finance”, move across the country away from my family and friends, and start a new life in a new city – alone.
It was six days before Christmas, two weeks before my first year-end close, and approximately one second before a quarter-life crisis and mental breakdown. I’m talking about a legit breakdown. The usually mute manager from across the hall validated the visibility of my instable state when he asked me if there had been a death in my family (I’m guessing the fruit basket I had coincidentally won from the cafeteria that morning hadn’t helped the situation).
That night, I kicked off the celebration of my first rotation with a liquid dinner and a lot of Kleenex.
Fast forward five months, after a weekend of “house hunting”, in which I only left my hotel room and ANTM marathon to a) go to Pinkberry and b) swipe away my signing bonus at the Beverly Center, and I’ve finally learned how to navigate ten Excel documents without using a mouse, audited the “Sexiest Weather Anchor” of Maxim on her excessive company expenditures, and finally completed my first “semester” of MBA-like coursework while commuting back and forth between L.A. and Hotlanta (while singing “Welcome to Atlanta” every time I stepped off the plane).
The most important things that I’ve learned along this long journey are also the hardest. I’ve learned how to step out of my comfort zone to make friends in a new city and have realized what it means to miss someone. I’ve learned how to work hard, but play a bit harder, and to maintain a balance of aggression and compassion at the office – two things that are important and necessary for every worker no matter what industry you are in or how old you may be.
Although I still despise certain things about this city of Hollywood glamour (Wayfarer sunglasses, traffic, Ed Hardy, and waiting in line to get into my neighborhood bar just to name a few), I’ve learned to love the little things that Los Angeles has to offer (like never needing an umbrella).
As the first rotation of my program comes to a close, stay tuned as to where I’ll end up this August (because your guess is as good as mine). And if anyone is interested, I’m hitting up my neighborhood bar tonight. If you want to join me, I’ll be the blonde toasting early retirement with a shot of tequila chased down with a vodka tonic.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
In my past work experiences, I hadn't found it that difficult to make friends. I'm not trying to brag here but it seemed my co-workers and I all had one thing to bond over and that was what we hated about work. As a camp counselor, we had all complained about not being able to play Hangman in front of the kids (I didn't know children these days were so sensitive). At my job as a hostess, it was the long hours for practically no pay. At my internship, it was my boss who we swore was a clone of the Devil Wears Prada.
At my new job though, no one complained. This was the real world. This wasn't an internship or a summer job cleaning tables or wiping mud off kid's knees. No, this was reality where you had to find common ground with your co-workers that didn't involve your hatred for your job because telling the wrong person could get you fired.
This left me friend-less for a few months until The Boss's computer started acting up and I met my IT hook-up. And not hook-up like you're all thinking. No hanky-panky was involved whatsoever. Get your minds out of the gutter! No, when The Boss's computer went whack-o on her and I was ordered to get it fixed while she was in her 2 p.m. meeting, I called IT. In walked my first work friend who I refer to as Buffalo Soldier.