So I Moved

by Working Girl One

In college Working Girl Two and I were of the first of our friends to intern and live in the big city. We thought were so cool because, well, we were. OK, we probably weren't.

Spending the summer living and working in Manhattan immediately established us as city girls. We were going to graduate, get awesome jobs at magazines, live in awesome apartments and soak up each other's awesomeness (name that movie).

Instead, we moved to a not-so-awesome apartment in Hoboken and were working as assistants in Manhattan. Not exactly the city and not exactly glamorous jobs. Still, we were honorary city girls.

A year later I moved to the city and thought I was there to stay. Another year later, the boyfriend and I moved in together to a lovely fifth floor walk-up on the Upper East Side. We were on the track to stay in Manhattan forever. And by forever, I mean, until my first kid had to go to preschool. I had no intentions of dealing with the shenanigans of getting a 3-year-old into glorified day care on the Upper East Side.

I thought I'd work my way up in the publishing world, make a decent living and gallivant around like a real New Yorker.

Then, I lost my job and the boyfriend got a new one in Connecticut. After I started working again, we decided the right thing to do was move out of the city and closer to his job. I couldn't believe myself when I said the words: "we should move to Connecticut." My friends couldn't either. "I can't picture you anywhere but New York!" was the reaction I received from most of them when I broke the news.

Cue mini quarter-life identity crisis. Thinking of myself as a "city girl" for a few years, I expected to feel different as a "Bridge and Tunneler," -- like I didn't belong in the city anymore or had lost my New York street cred. But apart from maybe being more tired, I feel the same and am not-so-secretly enjoying my suburban life.

Sure, my commute is longer but I have time to read again and I come home to a spacious apartment with a dishwasher AND a washer/dryer. I no longer have a bodega across the street to pick up milk (and Ben & Jerry's) but I have a huge supermarket and I can pack my groceries in a car. Despite having a longer commute, I feel like I have more of a life, an adult life here. It's hard to explain. Maybe it's the nice apartment or that we made a (relatively) big life decision together, but I really feel like a grown up.

I do missing living in Manhattan but I still get my daily fix of the city Monday through Friday and with occasional weekend trips. And yes, it is sometimes frustrating to leave happy hour early to catch the train but, I must say, I'm happy with our choice and my "Bridge and Tunneler" status.

New Normal

by Working Girl One

A while back, I wrote about my boyfriend's crazy work schedule. Back then, I dreamed of him having a "normal" schedule - working nine to five(ish), Monday through Friday.

This week, he started a new job and some of my dreams came true. He now works Monday through Friday but there is a catch.

He was approached by contacts of his at another newspaper to be a morning news editor for a handful of local newspaper websites. It was an offer he couldn't refuse.

So in the time since I was laid off, he found and a started a new job and he wasn't even looking. That sure made this unemployed Working Girl feel awesome. But that isn't what this post is about and I'm honestly so thrilled for him. He has deserved this for a long time.

As an unemployed Working Girl, my schedule has changed drastically. Back in my working days, I was almost always in bed by 10:30pm and up at 7:30am. I really like to sleep. These days, I haven't even looked at the clock in the morning until 9:00am, let alone get out of bed, and I stay up until at least 1:00am. Before you get jealous, remember that I'm unemployed and it's really not as glamorous as it sounds to not have to work. I take that back, it is glamorous to not have to work but I do have to work.

Before his new job, my boyfriend would sometimes get home to our apartment in the city at 3:30am and sleep until 1:00pm. Now being the morning editor, he's up at 4:00am to be at work by 6:00am (he has to commute an hour outside of the city) and his shift is over at 2:00pm. This is much closer to a normal schedule because I get to see him everyday when he gets home from work now and also whenever I start working again.

I'm looking forward to this new "normal" schedule for us but I must admit it's going to take some getting used to. As I draft this post, it's almost 1:00am and I'd love nothing more than to snuggle myself in bed and read a book for half an hour. But he's asleep and has been since 9:00pm. Reading on the sofa just isn't the same.

Now instead of him coming home and waking me up in the middle of the night, I'm going to bed late and in the middle of his night waking him as I get into bed. I feel bad but I make up for it. I've set the coffee machine, poured a bowl of cheerios, ironed his shirt and made him a sandwich for his lunch. I'm fully aware that I've turned myself into a 1950's housewife. I'm really bored, okay!

An Ode to the Giant Golf Umbrella

Last week it rained cats and dogs in Chicago. (Btw, I've always wondered where that saying came from...imagine cats and dogs falling out the sky...weird.)

Anyway, since it was raining like a mofo, everyone had out their trusty rain shields. I myself had to purchase a $7 umbrella from CVS. I even passed over the $5 umbrellas thinking, "Splurge - I bet those $2 will make a difference and this umbrella will last you a lifetime." Apparently I was delusional. The thing is already broken and to make it work I have to hold it with two hands otherwise I get sprayed with gusts of wind and water.

But that is not the point of the story. The point of this post is my ode to the giant golf umbrella. Oh, how I loathe that giant umbrella that everyone and their mother seems to have. I see their appeal - they provide maximum coverage so you will never get wet (ever) and they also serve as a weapon for when commuting.

Here is what irks me. It's a GOLF umbrella fellow commuters. That thing is meant for golf so that when you're golfing you can golf without getting your clubs wet or your awesome golf outfit wet. It is not meant for commuting to and from the train station.

Last week, I'm pretty sure I almost got my eye poked out twice by those huge golf umbrellas because for some reason when a person wields one of these weapons on the street, they think they have a small, dinky umbrella from CVS when in fact they have an umbrella that could take out two large men just by being swung in their general direction.

If there is one thing I am passionate about, it is banning golf umbrellas from the city. The street is not big enough for all of us. I think we must all be forced to carry around a dinky umbrella from CVS. Or be imprisoned.

But hey that's just me.

Things I Could Do Without

Today was one of those days where one second it was 8AM and then next time I looked at the clock it was 11:30AM. Where did my day go?!

Because my brain is mush and my Internet is shotty, I am compiling a list of things that I hate/loathe about working.

1. Commuting. Nuff said. 

2. People who talk on their cell phones the wholeeeeeeeeeee way to work. I mean, really people?! Really?!

3. Nosy co-workers

4. People who hover over your desk. I like my personal space thankyouverymuch.

5. Contracts that need to be signed before I leave for the day and bosses who suddenly go missing (and by missing I mean in meetings for hours and hours) and can't sign said contracts so you have to stay late and then you can't go return your stupid cable box.

6. Blisters from new shoes

7. Lean Cuisine lunches

8. Coming back to work after a long weekend (WG1 visited me this weekend so I took Friday off!!!), and returning to 50 unread emails. No fun. 

9. Co-workers who talk so loudly on the phone that you can't hear yourself think

10. Someone drinking all the water in the water cooler and then not replacing it 

Ok, whew. That was nice to get off my chest. To be honest, today wasn't horrific, but it was really busy. 

And seriously, commuters need to stop talking on their cell phones all the way to and from work. Obnoxious.

Chivalry Is Alive and Kicking in the Midwest

Back in July, I wrote a post about chivalry being dead on my morning commute. If you look back and read the post and then read the comments, you might see that the post wasn't received too well.

And I think I now realize why. It's because all our readers are from different parts of the country/world. When I wrote that post, I was making a sweeping generalization of all men being a-holes when commuting. So, I would like to revise my statement because back then I was commuting in and out of New York City on a daily basis. Since I moved back to Chicago, I've found my commuting experience to be completely and totally different than my experience out east. I have found that men in Chicago (and I'm going to guess most of the Midwest as well) are very chivalrous even in the mornings before they've had their coffee for the day. 

The one thing I have consistently told friends about how much I enjoy Chicago compared to NYC is how people here are so nice. I say this like I didn't grow up here, but I think having been out east for 6 years made me forget. 

I get in cabs, and the cab drivers ask me how my day is going or talk about the weather. (I was in a cab the other day, and the cab driver asked me if it was okay if he used his phone! I was so shocked, I almost didn't answer.) People smile at each other on the streets. People I don't even know say 'hi' to me. This obviously did not occur on a daily basis in New York.  In NYC, you avoid each other's eyes and if you do catch each other staring, you don't say 'hi'...you look away. 

But what has really shocked me is that all my gripes in my previous post on chivalry being dead have been proved wrong. On my commute in the Windy City, I have witnessed things I never thought I would get the chance to see. I have seen numerous (not just one, but many!) men give up their seats to elderly women, pregnant women, and sometimes women in general on the bus and on the L. Doors on the bus and at my office have been held open for me countless times. And at work, men make sure that women get on and off the elevator before them. 

This isn't to say I haven't seen some men not hold open doors, but for the most part I've been pleasantly surprised at how different men act during their commutes in Chicago as opposed to Hoboken or New York. 

And I have to say, I'm getting used to being treated like a lady. 

Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful

It took me two hours to get home from work last night because of a snowstorm.

(Yes, this post will be me whining about the weather. My apologies in advance if I sound over-the-top annoying.)

The first thing people usually say to me after I announce that I just moved back to Chicago after living in New York for a few years is, "Well, you moved just in time for the bad weather." Thanks everyone, I am aware. Unfortunately, fate didn't allow me to move when the weather was crisp and light and perfect and instead fate granted me winter.

Chicago winters are notriously horrible. I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, so I have seen my fair share of blizzards, sleet storms, and temperatures so low that school was cancelled. But it's like I had brainwashed myself about these past occurences. Like they never happened. Because I would often hear people in my old office whine about how they had to go to Chicago for a conference in the middle of winter and how they would never survive. I would fight back. 'It's no colder in Chicago than it is in New York,' I would say and snicker. 'New Yorkers, they don't know anything,' is what I would think to myself.

I take back everything I said (and thought). It's effing freezing here. And it makes for one hell of a frigid commute in the mornings. So much colder than New York, in fact, that I had to buy a new coat because the ones I had been wearing in NYC did not suffice. Here is my new Patagonia coat. It is ferociously warm and toasty.

I think I have adapted (back) fairly well to the cold and snow. Unless you ask my dad, who would say I have complained way too much for my own good.

There are some things that come back to me. Like the fact that I remembered that I'm a klutz. Many side stories of twisted ankles could be added here, but I will refrain. How did I remember? When my morning commute, which consists of a five-block walk to my bus stop resulted in me falling on my ass. I looked like a fool. But a warm fool.

I also remembered that walking in the snow is an art form. If there is a lack of salt, one must do a shuffle through the snow. Picking up your feet will get you nowhere, so don't try it.

Also, weather is not a good excuse to be late in the Midwest. Everyone here is used to it. Snow does not deter anyone from getting anywhere. Most of the people in my new office live in the suburbs. And they were all in work yesterday and today. Despite the 6+ inches of snow we got last night.

And the new piece of info I learned during this past snowstorm, do not under any circumstances, take the bus home. I sat on Lake Shore Drive for approx. 45 minutes. Pain in my tush.

Not to mention I have to leave my house earlier to avoid delays...which means waking up earlier. How I loathe the mornings. And commuting.

Whine complete.

Ch-Ch-Changes

And I'm back in the game! After a horrible experience with Comcast, I decided to get cable from a different provider who came out the next day to install! How great is that? So I finally have the Internet in my new abode and therefore am back to blogging. Sorry for the hiatus, but I think it was good for me to have a teensy break as I have been uber busy. 

It has only been two weeks since I left New York and so much has changed. I moved into my new studio apartment, which is fabulous. I seriously feel like this place was made for me. I have the perfect sized kitchen with all new Electrolux appliances (and a dishwasher!). I have a washer and dryer, a jacuzzi tub, a fireplace, and a sick patio that I intend to use once it's warmer than 19 degrees outside. My dad was instrumental in helping me A) find the place and B) furnish the place so I can't tell you how grateful I am to him. Without my dad, I would have a bed...and that's it. Below is a picture of my new studio (except it's an old picture from when other people lived here)! I'm in love <3 

Speaking of my dad, that is also something that has changed. I used to talk to my dad maybe twice a week when I lived in NJ, but now my dad lives approximately 6 blocks away from me so I see him at least 3-4 times a week. I've already had dinner at his place twice and he is addicted to my washer/dryer so I expect to see him a lot more which I couldn't be more thrilled about. 

I also have seen my girlfriends from high school quite a few times, which again is a huge change. I used to come back to Chicago maybe 3 or 4 times a year for holidays and maybe a visit in the summer, and I would see the girls once the whole time I was home maybe for dinner and a few drinks. But now I get to see them every moment I want to, which is amazing! 

And work is out of this world different. In some good ways and some bad. 

This week is officially my third week at my new company and I'm still getting adjusted to all the differences between my old job and my new job. And since there are quite a few (and since this blog is all about working), I thought I would list the great new things about my job and some of the not-so-great (quite yet) things about my new job. 

SO GREAT I COULD SCREAM

1. My benefits are the bomb. At my old job, I just had health benefits (and they weren't even that great). At my new job, I have health, dental and vision. Yes, vision! Which means I can get a new set of frames yearly! How cool is that? 

2. My new desk is ginormous. Yes, I still sit in a cubicle, but it could practically be an office it is so large. I finally have enough room to stretch my legs, enough room to hold every file of every project I will ever work on, and still have room to have a impromptu dance party (I mean you never know). 

3.  My boss is maybe the nicest man alive. Every person I have met so far at work has told me that I am the luckiest person to be working for him. Unlike The Boss, he seems to just care about the work you do, not what time you get in the office. And he offers to get me coffee, not the other way around. And to top it all off, he has known me about two weeks and he gave me a bottle of wine as a holiday present! 

THINGS THAT MAKE ME CRINGE

1. Everything starts earlier in Chicago. It is a large understatement to say that I am not a morning person...just ask anyone who has lived with me. I am cranky and about half dead when I wake up. And in order to be in work on time, I have to wake up at 6 am on a daily basis. At my old company, we didn't start work until 9 am, so I usually woke up around 7:30. It is a rough adjustment. 

2. I have to look good all the time. My new company has a stricter dress policy than my old company. In New York, I wore jeans about 4-5 times a week, but at my new company we dress up. I have almost run out of outfits, which I guess means I have to go shopping (what a shame). Also, the fact that I need to look nice all day also means that I have to wake up earlier to do those girly things like straighten my hair and apply make-up. These are things I really do enjoy, just not at 6 am. 

3. I am already out of this world busy. In the next two months, I have a conference and a sales trip (to Key West!) to plan. And last week I had to be at work at 7 am (again, I am not a morning person), to work on another event we had going on. Although I am happy that I have just been thrown into things (since I learn by doing), I also wish I had gotten somewhat of a grace period to ease into things. Instead, I am in bed most nights by 10 pm. 

Overall, I am still adjusting. There are a lot of other things going on that of course are stressful - like a little thing called Christmas. I still haven't done any of my shopping. I'm also broke. So, I'm taking things one step at a time. 

But to be cheesy, I am loving being back in my sweet home Chicago.

Suburbia is the New Manhattan

For an entire year WG2 and I lived the fabulous city life. Ok, so it was more like the broke life in what some consider to be the 6th borough of New York City (aka Hoboken, NJ). But it was still fantastic having our own apartment (however shitty it was) and being free of parents and siblings.

Long story short, on Sunday we said goodbye to our shabby apartment and parted ways. WG2 is subletting near our old stomping ground and I moved back to my dad's house. Whomp Whomp. It's only temporary, I swear.

Now these days, instead of getting out of my cozy bed at 7:00 am, I am beginning my one-mile walk, yes walk, to the train station. My morning routine had been turned upside down and I'd love to share it with you all. So here it goes, the first three hours and fifteen minutes of my day. Wow, I just realized how awful that is.

5:45 am - My cell phone alarm blares it's obnoxious ring and I struggle to find my phone among the pillows, sheets, comforter...until I discover that it's on the nightstand. I hit snooze.

5:50 am - Alarm goes off again. I hit snooze.

5:55 am - Alarm. Snooze.

6:00 am - Alarm rings and I finally turn it off. I turn on my lamp and squeeze my eyes shut as I get used to the bright light. I've recently decided that this is the worst part of my morning.

6:03 am - I'm still struggling to get out of bed. It's at this moment that I wish I had a servant, personal assistant or young sibling to go fetch me some coffee. Or I wish that I was a princess and didn't have to get out of bed at all.

6:05 am - In the shower. I don't have coffee but a hot shower will do the trick.

6:11 am - Almost halfway done with my shower. I've come a long way since I last shared my morning routine with you.

6:18 am - Out of the shower. The bathroom is freezing, the air conditioning in this house is way too cold. Note to self: talk to padre about this.

6:21 am - Make-up time. Wow, I really need an eyebrow wax.

6:27 am - Make-up is done. Six minutes, I really am getting good at this. See, make-up can be done fast Working Girls. There is no reason any Working Girl should be doing her make-up during her commute.

6:30 am - Drying my hair which will take forever despite my recent haircut. It's still very long and if I don't dry it, it will be a mess. I guess it's usually a mess even when I dry it, just not as bad.

6:40 am - Still drying. Bored. Singing "Mamma Mia" into my hairbrush.

6:45 am - Done drying, plug in my hair straightener.

6:46 am - Ok, I lied before. Now it's time for my least favorite part of the morning: getting dressed. It's especially hard in the summer because trains, subways and offices are usually frigid and outside it's sweltering. Today, I opted for my white jeans, a colorful silk-ish top and sweater for the train, subway and office.

6:53 am - Straighten my already straight hair. I know, it doesn't make sense but I do it and I swear my hair looks better. If only it wasn't so boring.

6:58 am - Grab a breakfast bar from the box of breakfast bars that my dad bought (reason #14 why living with your parent doesn't totally suck: they pay for food).

7:00 am - I start walking to the train station.

7:04 am - "Good Morning" to the middle aged man on a run. Who in their right mind runs at this hour?

7:15 am - Still walking. Sweating.

7:20 am - Arrive at the train station.

7:21 am - "Would you like a free breakfast bar?" asks a young woman in a blue shirt that says something about God. Yes, I already have a breakfast bar but God knows I eat another one if it's free. Yes, please! Clipped to the breakfast bar is a postcard about God.

7:23 am - The double-decker NJ Transit train arrives at the station and I go find myself a seat. No window seats. Bummer. No forward facing seats. Double Bummer.

7:24 am - Put my sweater one because I'm shivering already.

7:30 am to 8:06 am - Sleep. Thank Goodness.

8:25 - "This is New York Penn Station," says the automated announcer as if we're arriving at Disney World.

8:27 - Wait to get up the escalator.

8:34 - Take the A train to 59th Street and try not to hit anyone with my bag and keep my balance without holding on to anything. It's an art, really.

8:41 - Push through the crowds of the hot, sticky, urine-smelling subway station to fresh air.

8:49 - At my desk. Ready for nap, per usual. I opt for coffee (finally) instead.

Chivalry Is Dead (But Only in the Mornings)

My commute compared to others is quite simple. I walk to the PATH, I get on the PATH, ride a few stops, get off and walk a few blocks to my office.

For such a simple commute, one would think that getting from Point A to Point B would be relatively painless. But of course this is never true. I've complained and whined about commuting PDA (and how it should be banned completely), but now I have something new to complain about. My new gripe: how men become complete a-holes when commuting.

I am not one of those girls that complain about chivalry being dead. Just to preface, I like to think of myself as bit of a feminist (I go on tirades about feminism when drunk so don't get me started) so I'm not going to stare down a m. And while I do think that I, as a woman, am capable of most things that men are, I don't think that means that all the rules of respect between men and women should be discarded. I'm pretty traditional in that I like having my chair pulled out for me at a nice restaurant or having a guy hold the door open for me as I enter my apartment. To me these rules of etiquette are just a gesture of respect.

I feel like most men are good about these rules. Holding doors, helping me with my groceries are just little things that I have experienced lately that make me have faith in chivalry.

That is, until I step out of my apartment building at 8 a.m. Because it seems that all the rules of respect and chivalry are thrown to the wayside when men are commuting.

Yesterday morning, I witnessed a woman juggle a baby (who was so effing adorable btw), the baby's bottle/pacifier/baby bag, and her files for the day and no one offered her their seat. And let me tell you there were plenty of males in those plastic seats who could have gotten off their Crackberries to let her sit down. Can we say rude?

And the rudeness doesn't just stop at the subway and not offering seats to ladies who are obviously preggers, it follows me all the way to the office. Literally, I was practically run over by a gaggle of men fighting me to get into the elevator this morning. Are you kidding me? I was obviously here before you and I'm a woman! Please don't body check me so you can get to your floor first.

Bus rides seem to have a similar effect on men. A bus stops and men literally jump over women, pushing and shoving, to get off first. Which leaves me to ask, where has all the chivalry gone on my morning commute?

All I'm asking for is a little respect - a hand gesture indicating that I can exit the bus first, or an offer that I can have that seat on the subway, or holding the elevator for one second longer as I race into work 10 minutes late.

I need more chivalry on my morning commute.

I'll Have Some Tongue With My Coffee Please

It's a Saturday night in college. I'm at our local senior bar casually drinking my vodka 180 and contemplating double fisting this evening and ordering a Bud Light. One of the beloved senior couples comes crashing into me and I witness a full on make-out session. This occurred on a nightly basis (with maybe the couple would change from time to time) and I came to expect it like one would expect for the printer to stop working once you need to make copies for a super important meeting.

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? 

I Simply Hate Commuting

This morning I woke up at exactly 8:23 a.m. which is approximately 10 minutes after I should leave my apartment for work. Today's post was supposed to be about my commute to work in the mornings but since I literally ran to work I couldn't stop and smell the roses (or take pictures), so what you get is my commute backwards - flip it and reverse it.

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. 

Is That Wet Cement In Your Hair?

I have a new fear when it comes to work. It's not the thought of getting fired or the idea of someone at work finding out about my blog. It's not about letting a typo slip through my copy-editing hands or putting the wrong dates on my promotional pieces. No, my fear is my commute that could lead to my imminent death.

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). 

These tragedies on 50th and 91st streets have started to creep me out. Before these cranes started literally falling out the sky, construction sites meant no more to me than memories of lewd cat-calling and potbellied workers. Now I walk past construction sites and I think about metal falling on my head. 

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? 

Working Girl One’s Etiquette: A Guide to Commuting

During commuting hours, Working Girls are in a rush, a rush to get to the jobs they love or the jobs they hate. Most of these Working Girls know the social norms of commuting. However, there are a few that need a lesson in commuting etiquette; this post is for them.

Please Hold – It is one thing to whip out your cell phone to call your boss to tell her you'll be late as you ride the bus to work, it's a completely different thing to chat with your girlfriend about the fight you had with your boyfriend or how "Sally and John totally made out at the bar on Saturday." I know, Sally and John, I can't believe it either.

When One Door Closes – It's not that hard to hold a door, unless you're in Port Authority which happens to have doors as heavy as an anchor for the Titanic. There is nothing worse than one of those "door holder avoiders," who speed up to avoid holding the door. Hold the door; it’s the nice thing to do.

Walk This Way – Walking on the street or in a subway station is like driving on a three-lane highway: slow moving people should stay to the right; faster walkers should keep to the left.

Movin’ On Up – For some time, I didn’t see the point in walking up or down an escalator, the point of an escalator is to not walk, it’s to have a break from walking or to avoid stairs. During commuting hours, this is a different story. Escalators are the way to go and some of us like to walk up or down them. When riding an escalator, if you choose not to walk, stay to the right and stand. Do not stand on the left, block fellow commuters and then get mad when someone tries to push past you.

Give it Up – Most subways, trains, & buses have signs asking commuters to give up their seat for the elderly or the disabled. Give up your seat for these people and watch out for those people that get surly when you stand up and invade some of their space (Working Girl Two ran into one of those this morning).

Boys Will Be Boys – Working Boys can be ferocious in their attempts to get a seat, cut you in line, or getting on the subway. When a Working Boy is mean to you, it’s best not to give him a bitchy “uh, ex-cuse me!?” Kill him with kindness if you get the chance a polite “thank you” or “excuse me” as you walk past him will make him feel bad.

Me So Pretty – You not so pretty when you do your make-up on your commute. I see you when you get on the bus (sans make-up) and when you off the bus (avec make-up). You looked better before. A make-up routine can take as little as five minutes, take the time and do it at home.

Charge It – Many New York City Taxi’s are equipped with credit card machines, but be advised taxi drivers tend to give passengers a hard time and refuse to allow passengers to use a credit or debit card. To avoid a fight with a driver on your way to work on a day you’re running late or on your way home after a hard days work, let him know you plan on using a credit card when you get into the cab. If the driver claims the machine is broken, call 311 and give the medallion number. For more information, click here.

Bag Lady – Carrying your purse and additional bags can be a pain. But those bags can also keep the creeper standing next to you on the subway from invading your personal space and getting his hands a little too close to your Hanky Pankies.

Stand Clear of the Opening Doors Please – You can’t get on the subway train until I get off, please stand clear or I’ll whip you with my bag. Thank you.

Stand Clear of the Closing Doors Please – This should go without saying, but people still do it. Are you really willing to sacrifice your life to get onto the train?

Keep It Down – Maybe I just keep the volume on my iPod down because I don’t want my fellow commuters to know I’m listening to Hannah Montana but it’s a good idea to listen to your music at a reasonable volume. Not only will this keep those around you happy, but it’ll be nice on the ears.

Now that I have imparted my words of commuting wisdom on you, you are ready to hit the streets. And please, share your commuting tips and tricks with me and the other Working Girls reading by leaving a comment.

Commuting Karma

Karma isn't always a bitch, commuting almost always is. This morning as I commuted to work, I thought about what I might write in a post about commuting, the dos and don'ts of commuting, my biggest pet peeves, etc. Thinking about these things got me irritated and riled up during my commute. I even shoved a girl, yes shoved. Not my proudest moment. I become a completely different person the moment I step off the bus and into the Post Authority. 

After the shove, I heard the "ding dong" sound that indicates that the doors to the 'A' train I was attempting to hop on were closing. One of the first to be waiting for the next train, I stood patiently knowing that I had chosen a spot to stand that would align me with the doors of the train. I soon noticed a man getting closer to the tracks as a train came near, edging closer and closer to coveted spot and as the train stopped he was right next to the door, kindly letting people off. Still riled up from my horrific commuting thoughts, I was heating and wanted to cut him off. I restrained and moved to stand behind him. Just as I was about to give me a mean look, he gestured for me to stand in front of him "First come, first served," he said. 

I immediately felt bad for shoving the girl, almost giving this nice man a mean look, oh and cursing an old lady who was walking slowly. I was reminded that some commuters are kind, not in a rush, and thought maybe all those times I held the door for someone had finally paid off. 

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.