Life in the Service Industry

One of my first jobs was waiting tables.  Actually, my first job included chasing after cows and attempting not to run a tractor in to the mailbox (I succeeded in this task *almost* every time…) but my first place of employment besides a farm was waiting tables.  I waited tables through high school, then decided to do it throughout college for two reasons:  1.  They were flexible with my class schedule.  2.  It was more than perfectly acceptable to show up for your Wednesday night dinner shift with a massive hangover incurred from “Tequila Tuesdays.”  After graduating and moving back to start working in an office (with suits that wouldn’t get splattered with grenadine!  And actual paychecks!  And high HEELS!) I realized that I missed restaurants.  I missed the high-paced chaos of Friday night, I missed the raucous after-shift parties, and I really, really missed the huge chunk of cash in my pocket after a long night.  Like, REALLY missed that cash.  As I somehow always seem to do, I picked up yet another waitressing gig, this time after my 9-to-5 one.  Eventually that restaurant closed and, looking on to new career paths, I decided to put my restaurant career on an ice floe out to sea.  Regardless, I’ve got a lot of experience with restaurants, dive bars, watering holes, pizza joints - you name it - and you come to realize it teaches you a few things (okay, a LOT of things, but only a few I’m willing to admit to the entire Internet.  I’ll just leave you to what are probably-true assumptions.)  And so I write, “Life Lessons from a Restaurant: A Narrative.” 

1.  People can just be plain dicks.  I’ve heard people make fun of my answers to their questions while I was STILL AT THEIR TABLE.  I’ve been mocked for my accent.  I’ve been left pennies (and on at least one occasion, thrown the pennies back at the “tipper.”) Of course, I always had my regulars, no matter where I was working.  I had friends leave me fun notes, along with my tips, in high school.  I had a couple who would come in every week for all-you-can-eat wing night and leave me $20, no matter how much attention I didn’t have time to pay to their table.  And then I had the couple who thought I was “cute” and “wanted to take me home with them.”  But I digress – being a server taught me a valuable lesson.  And that lesson?  Most people suck, so don’t be surprised when you bend over backwards to get change for their $100 bill and they don’t leave any of that hard-sought change for your tip.  Just remember their face and then talk about how ugly their children were when you are drinking that first beer after your shift.  

2.  Never judge someone on appearances.   I like to think of this as the “don’t judge a table by their labels” rule of restaurants.   I’ve often found the richer-looking the table, the lower the tip.  Sometimes I think it’s because they think they’re better than the server (hence the “get a real job” picture floating around the Internet.)  Sometimes I think it’s just sheer ignorance (see also: foreign diners who actually pay their servers more than $2.15 an hour in their home country) and sometimes I think it’s because they’ve spent so much money on their asinine outfit and the what I’m guessing is “compensating for something” car that they genuinely have nothing left to give to their server.  Whatever the reason, I learned to never judge a customer by their appearance.  Because that crazy lady that just walked in looking a bit…um…insane?  That was Alison Krauss (and yes, she’s a good tipper.) 

3.  Be nice to everyone.  Because everyone can screw you royally.  This little platitude doesn’t exist just for the customers.  It applies to everyone from the busboy to the poor guy stuck in the dish pit.  Here’s the thing:  if you forget to put in a very important appetizer for a very important table and you tell your very important cook to “put a rush on it” after you refused his request of running some quickly-dying-in-the-window food?  It’s not going to happen.  Being nice to everyone yields certain things, and in a restaurant these things can mean a bussed table so the hostess can seat you again.  It can mean a free meal when the cooks are feeling generous, and it can mean that you will be able to go home feeling better about yourself than the prick who just left you $4 on that $82 ticket.  Same thing goes in life – just be nice to people. 

4.  Restaurants are like tiny, alcoholic, dysfunctional families.  The problem with working in restaurants comes when you realize that you can only hang out with other restaurant employees due to the fact that you’re the only ones working when everyone else is out having fun.  Getting off work at 4am while still (somewhat) sober limits you to your choice of hangout buddies.  Plus, why go out to try to find some place to get a drink when you’re looking at a bar right in front of you?  Here’s what happens:  everyone gets off work, except for the poor sap stuck closing.  Everyone starts drinking, including the poor sap stuck closing.  The music gets turned up to cover the sound of the vacuum, and then the stories begin…the “Was that his daughter or a hooker?” and the “The guy actually handed me a business card that said ‘Everyday Hero!’  Here it is!!” conversations.  Slowly everyone gets more and more buzzed, you start playing the Would You Rather? game, the poor sap stuck closing finally gets off, and general rowdiness ensues.  Said rowdiness may involve increasingly-risqué answers to the “Would You Rather?” game, it may involve taking questionable pictures with the cell phone someone left on the patio, and sometimes it just involves someone passing out on the salad line.  Regardless, I would say that I’m better friends with the folks I worked with in college than my actual classmates and I’m okay with that, because…

5.  Some of the smartest, most creative, and most interesting people work in the service industry.  It’s a field that attracts a myriad of people for a myriad of reasons but they will a) probably curse like sailors (myself included,) b) find infinite pleasure in a good dirty joke,  and c) know how to make a mean cocktail.  They may yell at you for not ringing in a side of bleu cheese, but will stop an ambulance carrying a fight-wounded customer of yours to get him to sign your credit card receipt (true story.)  They will get belligerently drunk with you, help you expand that running list of “Movie Titles You Turned into Porn Titles” someone hung over the ovens, and possibly convince you to do increasingly-disgusting dares for a little cash.  And you’ll love it.  And you’ll remember it.  And someday?  You might just write a blog about it.   

A Girl on a Diet Gets Annoyed Easily

Realizing I haven’t polluted the Internet with any of my cursed ramblings in a while, I have a few free minutes and intend to remedy this fact.  And I intend to include mild profanity, a modicum of sheer rage, and a sprinkling of sarcasm.  Okay, probably a lot of sarcasm, but who’s counting?  Actually a better question might be, “Who’s actually reading this?”  And so I bring yet another, “Stuff that Annoys the Crap Outta Me” to the world.  Because the world needs more pessimism.  And since this is Day 15 of my lovely, self-induced diet, the world also needs more "totally fat free but still taste delicious" varieties of cheeses.  

1.     Technology.  Since when did it become acceptable to completely ignore the people with whom you’re sharing company to see what these very same people are doing on Facebook?  Call me an old-fashioned 30-year-old, but that shit needs to stop.  With a quickness.  A quick text?  Fine.  Quickly looking up an answer to solve an escalating argument between friends?  Completely acceptable (1954 was the only year between ’49 and ’58 in which the Yankees did not appear in the World Series, in case you’re wondering.  Thanks, Wikipedia!)  But obviously scrolling through people’s newsfeeds while you’re in the company of people who care enough to, you know, get up off their couch, put on socially-acceptable clothing, and hang out with you is complete horse poo. 
Let’s recap:  tweeting a funny picture of your friend falling down at the bar: encouraged.  Chatting with your best friend from third grade about the deplorable conditions of the bar floor: social idiocy. 

2.     Yellow vehicles.  Anyone over the age of 25 shouldn’t drive a yellow car unless that person works for Yellow Cab.  Otherwise you just invite the deserved stereotype of being a complete douche bag with an extensive collection of Ed Hardy t-shirts and empty liquor bottles adorning the top of your kitchen cabinetry.  Another exception to this rule would be females driving VW bugs.  I’m not a total fan, but I’ll let it slide, as long as you have a flower on the dashboard. 

3.     Complicated cocktails.  The older I get (also annoying: people saying, “The older I get…”) the more I realize that the more time spent making the cocktail equals less time consuming the cocktail.  That’s why, in the spirit of ease and Don Draper himself, I now enjoy a fine glass of whiskey on the rocks with the uninhibited abandon one can only earn while she laughs at the people still at the bar as the bartender looks for a bottle of Apple Pucker.  It’s classy.  It’s lower in calories.  And it can make you look like a total badass in mixed company. 

4.     The new trend of posting poster-like pictures on Facebook walls.  Stuff like, “It’s not how far you go – it’s about the journey” (these are usually on a background of clouds with some doves or streaming sunlight.)  Or “A true man loves the girl you are – curves and all” (this is usually accompanied by an airbrushed photo of Kim Kardashian – more on her in a moment.)  Anyway, I think this is a by-product of Pinterest, which really sucks, because I genuinely like Pinterest.  But the bumper stickers clouding my feed are unnecessary, clichéd, and often stupid.  Now, pictures of mullets and funny personalized license plates, obviously, are not included in this category. 

5.     Kim Kardashian.  I know the fact that she’s getting divorced is old news, but I genuinely had to let myself calm down a bit before I wrote something that would probably place me on several lists, including the “could very well be a threat to national security” one.  How on EARTH do spend several MILLION dollars on a wedding, while we’re in a recession, and then say, “You know what?  I don’t think this is going to work.”  Go screw yourself, Kim.  Seriously.  I am ashamed you even live in this country (is this going to keep my record from being played on country radio stations for the next few years?)  You’re a media whore with too much money and absolutely no talent (except screwing athletes and spending exorbitant amounts of money on what amounted to an ostentatious party.)  Oh, and your ex-husband is a complete idiot.  Did you even listen to him speak before he slipped that rock on your finger?  Oh wait – I forgot that you can’t hear much due to the sound-deafening qualities of your ever-expanding head.  So here’s to you, Kim – you embody almost everything that is wrong with this country.  And a few things that aren’t, but should be. 

6.     The fact that the Oxford comma seems to be disappearing.  I know things evolve, it’s the nature of our being.  But when I spend the first 30 years of my life thinking that a series of three items needs to be separated like this, this, and this and then someone tells me it’s actually this, this and this?  Well, my brain goes a bit haywire because, as I’ve said, I’ve done it like this for 30. F’ing. Years.  I have enough to keep track of in my life – when is my house going to sell?  Where did I park my car?  When’s the last time I washed my underwear? – without having to keep up with the changing grammatical rules of a generation that considers “LOL” to be proper communication. 

I was going to attempt a rather short list of things that make me happy to even out the pessimism exhibited above.  But, over the weekend, I realized that chronic optimists ALSO annoy me, so to avoid any chance to irritating myself, I’m just leaving this list as-is, and full of the rantings and ravings of a girl on a diet and therefore in a very, very bad mood for going on 15 days now.  

Annoyances: Updated 10/11/11

I realized the other day while I was attempting to kill the last 6 hours of the work day be productive that I haven’t written down all the things that are annoying me in life lately.  And since I’m just positive this omission has been annoying YOU, I’m putting it out there again.  Stuff that bugs me.  And at least one item I’m questioning. 

Stuff that Annoys Me:
1.  Beer savers.  I saw a link for these a while back and thought to myself, “Who has a bunch of open beer just sitting around not being consumed?”  I’ll tell you who.  Morons.  It’s 12 ounces, people.  I’m not asking you to shotgun a yard of beer at your next backyard BBQ.  Man up and drink the rest of your beverage.  If you can’t finish it, find someone who hasn’t been castrated and ask nicely if they will finish it for you. 

2.  People who just stop in the road when they get pulled over by the police.  There’s a reason it’s called “getting pulled over.”  And that’s because you’re supposed to pull over and not simply stop in your lane.  Now what you’ve done is do something illegal to get pulled over initially AND you’ve brought down your fellow travelers with you by making them navigate your stupidity in the middle of lunch rush.  I wasn’t the one texting while driving, but now I can because traffic is at a standstill due to Nolensville Road being reduced to 75% of a lane while Officer Friendly writes you a ticket that you probably can’t read.  Parking lots are named that for a reason – you can park in them.  Turn on your flashers, slow down, and pull out of oncoming traffic.  I’m sure the officer will thank you when he can get out of his vehicle without being run down by meth-fueled guy in a tractor trailer.

3.  People who look like they live in a beer commercial on Facebook.  We get it.  You’re young.  You’re hip.  You actually have that elusive “disposable income” I’ve been in search of for the past few years.  It’s not that I don’t want you to have fun – I just don’t want to see it.  When I see beer commercials while sitting in a pair of pants that has more holes than fabric while cradling a glass of $4.99-a-bottle red wine, I can sometimes comfort myself into thinking, “Pffft.  No one actually lives like that.”  And fancy people showing off on Facebook by having fun with well-dressed, semi-attractive people every weekend makes me think the worst:  that people actually DO live like that.  I then proceed to try to find reruns of Intervention so I can at least console myself that I’m not addicted to huffing keyboard cleaner while simultaneously trying to remember the last time actually I wore high heels to go to a bar (hint?  It’s been a while.  This one learned her lesson from one too many barefoot stumbles down Broadway.)  So keep you fun activities to yourself while I go create a photo album called, “A Weekend with the Cats: Friday and Saturday Nights with Old Age.”

4.  Self-righteous Facebook status updates.  I understand that some jobs are very important.  We need people like Officer Friendly patrolling the streets for dumb asses who don’t know how to pull over.  We need doctors and nurses to tend to our hot-tub-induced head wounds.  And we need teachers to make sure that not all of our kids turn out to be idiots who don’t know how to properly pull over for a traffic stop.  But can we stop the whole, “I get to work at 6am.  I clean up the elephant poop.  I light stuff on fire and force tigers to jump through it.  Repost if you’re proud to be a circus animal hygienist!” updates?  Everyone’s job sucks.  If it didn’t, it would be called fun.  So let’s just unsaddle that high horse of yours and come back down here to the rest of the minions with non-important jobs such as a radio sales assistant. 

Okay.  Enough of the bad – let’s move on to the good!  Stuff that makes me happy:

1.  Dresses with pockets.  Normally I don’t actually use the pockets – I just like to walk around with my hands in my pockets so other ladies say, “Ooh!  Your dress has pockets?  So jealous!”  When I do get a chance to utilize my pockets, it’s usually when I’m hiding my switchblade while sneaking up on an unsuspecting hooker.  They really are a win-win for me, and I would raise a glass in their honor if I could bring myself to take my hands out of my awesome dress pockets. 

2.  The fact that Dairy Queen serves its chicken strips with GRAVY.  Gravy, people.  Fat, flour, and milk combined to make a fattening topping of awesome!  I know they’ve done this for years, as the DQ at exit 287 off I-40 was a frequent stop during my trips to and from Knoxville.  It’s been ages since I’ve actually indulged in the chicken and gravy, but I saw the commercial the other day and I had to give props to the ‘Q for taking chicken to a whole ‘nother level.  Honey mustard?  Ranch?  Screw you.  Pass that gravy.  That tasty, tasty gravy. 

On-the-Fence Items:

1.  I really only have one of these and it has to do with trial run of a tinted facial moisturizer.  I got selected to try a new moisturizer from Loreal.  “Free face lotion?  Sign me up!” I thought to myself as I hurriedly signed up to be a lab rat for a giant cosmetics corporation.  Little did I know that this stuff was to arrive in a generic white tube labeled, “Face makeup” and that the instructions told me to put it on with MY EYES CLOSED.  While I attempted to think of a girl in her right mind who applies anything to her face without the aid of a mirror, lo and behold, the second day’s instructions told me to put it on without the help of a mirror.  When I wasn’t pondering, “What exactly is the difference?” I was trying to think of a good reason to put this stuff on without the aid of sight.   So, the on-the-fence portion of this discussion inherently comes with the age old argument of “Free Moisturizer v/s Danger of Looking like Snooki and Not Knowing It Because You Aren’t Allowed to Use a Mirror.”  The week is still young, but I guarantee you’ll know the results by the next “things that annoy me and things that don’t” blog.  Aren’t you excited?? 

It's a Poor Pop Quiz. It's a Porp Quiz!

I do believe it kind of snuck up on me but, as the realization of this never-ending recession is slowly dawning on our rapidly-deteriorating checkbook, I’ve discovered that I’m a bit light in the wallet lately.  I blame a lot of things, including the rising price of gasoline, the decline of the American dollar, and the fact that hipsters have invaded Goodwill stores nationwide totally willing to pay $8 for a used dress.  (Thanks for that.  Really.)  Anyway, it hit me that I never really defined the moment I became poor, it just sort of…happened.  So, with that in mind, I have come up with a foolproof way of determining if you’re sitting pretty at the top of a heap of money, or suffocating mercilessly amid empty Natty Light cans and several pairs of moth-ridden socks.

1.  Go to the kitchen.  Look in your fridge.  You see:         
     a.  A gallon of milk, some lunch meat, and a three bottles of wine
     b.  Some leftovers in an aluminum swan (probably steak.  Or shrimp.  Or steak made out of shrimp.)
     c.  A bottle of mustard, some olives, and…um…yeah.  That’s about it  
     d.  I sold my fridge to buy food.  Then had no place to put the leftovers 

2.  Have you done any of these activities?  Circle all that apply:      
       a.  Used coupons
       b.  Murdered a store clerk because she didn’t double your coupons
       c.  Stolen someone’s shoes.  Not for the label
       d.  “Broken” into your neighbor’s house to use their microwave.  (What?  Ours was broken)
       e.  Re-chewed gum (yours)
       f.  Re-chewed gum (someone else’s)
       g.  Tied your children to a tree in lieu of childcare

3.  You’re walking in the park and spot a $5 bill on the ground.  You:       
        a.  Look around, see no one’s looking, bend over to pretend to tie your shoe, and bam.  Snatch that shiz
        b.  Pick it up.  Buy a Contributor.  Tell the guy to keep the change
        c.  Immediately chastise yourself for not checking the hooker’s pockets before you dragged her through the park.  
         d.  Stop taking this quiz because you realize there might be $5 in a park somewhere

4.  Pick the celebrity best suited to play you in a movie:         
         a.  Seth Rogen  
         b.  Donald Trump
         c.  Owen Wilson
         d.  That crazy guy with the stick that hangs out under the 4^th Ave. bridge 

5.  How many pieces of furniture in your house came from a thrift store or yard sale?     
     a.  None.  Unless you count IKEA as a yard sale with meatballs
     b.  2.  My sister gave me first pick of her stuff a coupla years back
     c.  4-6.  I’ve supplemented my basics with some funky thrift store finds
     d.  Yard sale?  My couch is an abandoned mattress and our end tables are upside down trash cans.  Who has money for yard sales?

6.  Describe your last vacation:    
    a.  We took a nice trip to Percy Priest lake.  We floated on a Styrofoam cooler and drank the leftovers out of abandoned 40’s on the shore
    b.  We got a DUI in Florida so we could be on the beach.  Picking up trash.
    c.  We built skis out of some old pallets, waited for a snowfall, and raced down mountains of trash at the dump
   d.  Our last vacation involved a game we call “I-40 Bingo.”  Hop on a truck and see where it takes you!  I wound up in Poughkeepsie, but Travis got dumped off at a truck stop in Cousin Love, Mississippi  
   e.  We screamed at each other in French while eating cheese in front of the Batman Building.  Who needs the Eiffel Tower?

7.  What electronics do you own?  Circle all the apply:     
      a.  Plasma TV
      b.  Plasma TV you didn’t donate plasma to buy
      c.  Potato masher
      d.  Flip camera
      e.  Shoe horn
      g.  A portable notepad computer
      h.  A portable notepad (college-ruled)

Scoring:
Question #1:  If you answered (a) or (b) go away.  You have money for actual food and I can’t hear what you’re saying over the rumbling of my stomach.  If you answered (c) or (d) then good job at the whole being broke thing we’ve got going on. 
Question #2:  If you circled more than 2, welcome to the poor club!  If you murdered a clerk, then welcome to the poor club on Death Row.  The only thing separating the two clubs is a rap sheet and a very thin, very gray moral line. 
Question #3:  If you picked (b) then good for you.  You’re an idiot.  If you answered (c) you’re also an idiot, as the first rule of “Hooker Club” is always check the pockets of the hooker you just killed.  Especially in a park.  You know she just made some money in those public restrooms by the monkey bars. 
Question #4:  Wow, still reading, huh?  Congratulations.  If you picked any of the answers, then you shouldn’t be poor because some is actually making a movie about your life.  So just stop reading.  You incite both disgust and innate jealousy in me. 
Question #5:  If you answered (a) – good.  I don’t need any more competition.  Answer (b) more your speed?  Good job.  A long-term strategy of mine has been quietly insulting my sister’s things until she convinces herself to get rid of them.  Right into the arms of her greedy yet thrifty younger sister.  
Question #6:  You probably turned up your nose at all of these vacation alternatives.  And to that I say, “Pass the safety vest.  Big Mama’s taking a chance on a Tyson truck.  I-40 Bingo FTW!” 
Question #7:  I would give you a quarter for sticking around to the end of this thing, but really?  I need that quarter to ward off Mr. Crazy Eyes at 4^th Avenue.  I think his stick’s getting longer. 

The Jamiepolitan Advice Column

Dear Jamiepolitan,
I recently discovered that my husband likes to dress up as a monkey and clean the house while I am gone. Should I leave him?
Signed,
Second Banana

Dear Banana,
Your husband is weird. I can’t believe he actually likes to clean the house. Keep him around until he starts flinging his own poo at you. But even if he does, it sounds like he'll be more than willing to clean it up.  With that in mind, I amend my statement to say, "keep him until he eats your face." 


Dear Jamiepolitan,
I’m afraid my boyfriend is cheating on me. He is constantly “working late” or “helping a buddy move.” Last week I found lipstick on his collar. What do I do?
Signed,
Feeling Cheated

Dear Cheated,
Of course your boyfriend is cheating on you. Men are scum and the reason Van Damme movies exist.  My advice for you is to plot revenge. Check out my new book, “101 Ways to Use Plum Jelly and Driveway Gravel as Retaliatory Devices” for some great ideas to teach him that no one cheats on “Cheated.”

Dear Jamiepolitan,
We have a group of people at work who are constantly asking me to chip in to buy a birthday cake, anniversary card, or get well gift for another co-worker. How can I tell them politely that I don’t want to participate?
Signed,
Broke as a Joke

Dear Broke,
Look, in this economy no one wants to buy anyone else anything, but you do it because one day you're going to be the subject of a baby shower, a birthday party, or a going away get together before you leave to serve that pesky jail sentence from the unfortunate "raccoon incident" from 2 years ago.  Point being that you do it so you can hold it over others heads when it's your turn.  So stop being such a cheap skate and throw in whatever cash you haven't used on lawyer fees or rabies shots and wait for your turn to roll around.  Your cell mate, Big Steve, will be glad for the girlie magazines you got when you traded that potted plant your co-workers got you as a farewell gift. 


Dear Jamiepolitan,
I have an aunt who shamelessly “re-gifts” everything. Last year for our anniversary, we got a used bar of soap and a tire iron. What should we do?
Signed,
Re-Gifted

Dear Ungifted,
Maybe your aunt is trying to tell you something. That “something” may be that you stink and have a flat tire. Instead of being ungrateful, perhaps you should take the hints of your elders and be appreciative that someone remembers the day you married that ingrate of a husband. If this doesn’t work, might I suggest a half-eaten Mars bar and a slightly-gray athletic sock under Auntie's tree next year?



Dear Jamiepolitan,
I recently gave up eating anything with the letter “m” in the name of the food. How do I politely respond to comments I receive at dinner parties about my new diet?
Signed,
_eghan

Dear _oron,
You should be happy that people still actually want to hang out with you, given your proclivity towards idiocy.  When people ask about your extremely stupid new diet, don't give them the satisfaction of winning the bet they made with their friend that they know someone who actually adheres to this stupid line of thinking.  Just shut your mouth and pass the hummus you can't eat.


Dear Jamiepolitan,
I consider myself an attractive, put-together woman and I carry myself with confidence. What can I do when I overhear other girls making catty remarks at my expense?
Signed,
20/20 Hearing

Dear 20/20,
I’m sorry it took me a while to answer your letter. I had to wait for your note to waft down from your high horse and float down here to reality. Now, I would suggest that you take a moment and have a talk with those girls. They’re probably making fun of you because it makes them feel better about themselves. This is a great tactic to raise your self-esteem! My advice is to go sit on a park bench outside of your local psychiatrist’s office and make fun of those much crazier and uglier than you.  You'll feel like a million bucks in no time and you can thank me later. 


Dear Jamiepolitan,
I have an extremely rude co-worker. This individual plays his music at a loud volume, eats tuna for lunch everyday, and is constantly carrying on personal conversations with his girlfriend. Do I confront him? What are your tips on handling this situation?
Signed,
Fed Up

Dear Fed,
This is a tricky situation that should be handled with the utmost aplomb. And by aplomb, I mean you should order a pair of my specially trained Guatemalan fighting frogs to put an end to the matter.


Dear Jamiepolitan,
I have a friend who constantly gossips about me!  For instance, when I got my new promotion, she spread the rumor that I had to sleep with my boss to get it.  And when I moved into my awesome new house, she ruined my house-warming party by telling everyone that the house used to be a dominatrix dungeon and some of the people were still tied up in the basement.  I'm getting married next year and I'm afraid of what she'll do next.  What do I do? 
Signed,
Talked About

Dear Talked About,
First things first:  Begin by grabbing a science book.  Secondly, you need to realize that the world doesn't actually revolve around you.  Now that we have that out of the way, I can't blame her for being annoyed with you because, judging from your letter, you're kind of a tool.  All you talked about was your great new job and fabulous new house.  In fact, I actually plan on talking about you at the next party I attend.  I mean, I totally just heard that the only reason your fiance proposed was so you would stop making death threats against his mother.  And you really used to be a dude?  I suppose that would clear up the confusion from your hairy Sasquatch hands...

Dear Jamiepolitan,
My boss is about to buy her fourth miniature Dachshund puppy. I thought it would be nice if those of us in the office pitched in to throw her a “Puppy Shower.” How should I word the invitations?
Signed,
Puppy Love

Dear Dog,
Word them however you can in between the bits of poo that will inevitably be flung at you by your co-workers.  You should get together with Sasquatch hands.  I hear has an army of small dogs that she uses to serve cocktails at her dominatrix parties.

Poor People Deserve Fun, Too

It’s Labor Day weekend and for most folks, this end of summer celebration includes trips on boats, backyard BBQ’s, and other activities that begin with the letter “b.”  For some of us, however, it’s really just another weekend of not doing a whole lot due to the large amount of zeroes in our checking account (the ones before the comma.  Not after.)  This sucks, but one thing that being poor will do is leave you with a lot of time to think about the things you could be doing if you had any money and then figure out how to do those same things for free.  So, in the spirit of thriftiness, my list of things to do when you’re broke and tired of writing snarky blogs about being poor:

1.  Spy on your neighbors.  You would be amazed at what the McGuillicuttys are doing next door if you would just stop being such a prude and peek out your blinds once in a while.  Whether you’re watching your neighbor’s car get repossessed, taking a gawk at the police stand-off going on in your parking lot (true story) or postulating as to the possible marijuana growing operation next door (those people are NEVER there…but the lights are ALWAYS on!) this activity is totally free!  Plus, you’re really doing the community a favor by keeping an eye on the older couple across the street because I’m fairly certain they’re operating a brothel in their basement. 

2.  Another fun, free activity is people-watching.  Since you’re not going to the mall to actually buy anything, you might as well grab a bench and watch the human fishbowl that is humanity.  Pick out someone and make up his back story.  Try to figure out why the couple window-shopping at Kirkland’s is fighting (my guess? The girl has terrible taste.  A zebra lamp?  Oh honey, no.) And of course, finding someone who could stand a few more minutes in the mirror is always fun because you can make fun of THAT person while feeling better about YOUR person.  Turn it into an afternoon scavenger hunt – first person to find a mullet, a fanny-pack, a NASCAR shirt, and something with fringe wins whatever change you can scoop out of the wishing fountain in front of Claire’s. 

3.  Perhaps one of my favorite “being poor” activities is camping.  I like to say that I’m “outdoorsy” but really, I’m just “outdoorsy” because the only hotel room I can afford is a tent.  Camping is the ultimate poor person’s vacation, as it’s pretty much life as usual, it’s just happening outside.  Sleeping on the ground by the interstate?  Not cool.  Sleeping on the ground on top of an apparent rock farm?  Camping, my friend.  Pooping behind a McDonald’s?  Not okay.  Pooping in a hole you had to dig yourself far away (you hope) from any poison ivy and/or venomous bugs?  Camping. 

4.  Drive down Dickerson Road at night and play, “Spot that Felony.”  Different points will be awarded for different crimes – prostitutes are one point, unless they’re wearing an animal print, then you get double points.  A witnessed drug deal nets 2 points, and the crown jewel of them all, armed robbery?  5 points!  Combinations of any of these crimes may be awarded appropriate points based on input from all players.  If, for some reason, all of these crimes are happening at once, a total of up to 10 points may be awarded based on gun caliber, height of the hooker’s heels, and the controlled substance in question. 

5.  Finally, my favorite free activity is sarcasm.  Sarcasm is totally free and since it can have the ability to alienate people, it can actually make it cheaper to host a party.  Make fun of those around you, mock them, prey on their weaknesses!  Once you’ve insulted almost everyone you know, Christmas is a breeze because you don’t have to buy those pesky gifts everyone gets excited about.  And birthday dinner celebrations?  Invitations to those go out the window the minute you start in on your friend, Katie, and that horrible lisp of hers.   So whip out those smartass remarks the next time a friend of yours says something dumb.  You’ll thank me later when you don’t get invited to their next dog-painting party. 



Walgreens: A Torrid, Steamy Love Affair

It’s rare that I encounter a retail store that’s not Goodwill that will inspire an actual blog as most retail stores (Melrose Kroger, ahem) bring out my “I will smack you in the face with a hand mixer if you don’t back away from me quickly” attitude that’s not so hidden beneath my easily-angered surface.  While I’ve certainly had several, “Um, what the hell just happened?” moments at Walgreens, they are quickly eclipsed by the “I just bought a camping chair and a pair of underwear for $8.97” feeling of bliss.  And so, the reasons I adore Walgreens. 

They’re everywhere.  In college, there was one exactly one block from my house.  While I’m sure they tired of me dragging myself into their establishment in what would barely pass as pajamas, this store, within stumbling distance to my house, started the love affair.  I quickly found out Walgreens provided the basics to get you through college:  aspirin, Powerade, and the occasional Lunchable.  While the older lady at the counter cast disparaging looks in my direction, I would peruse the aisles in search of Band-aids and cherry Coke, the cornerstones of any good party.  And occasionally they would have knock-off tote bags that were perfect for carrying a change of clothes, extra shoes, and a toothbrush in your car.  Just in case. 

After graduation, Walgreens and I did not part ways.  In fact, our relationship only grew stronger as I discovered that Walgreens is not only a great place for mixers at night and hangover cures in the morning, but for EVERYTHING ELSE.  In need of a laser level and picture wire?  Check.  In search of a composition notebook to send to a friend going back to school?  Yep.  Want to stumble across a roll of caution tape to toss into a care package for a friend with a broken arm?  You bet your non-broken arm Walgreens has it.  Whether it’s a Glee coloring book or a ladybug-shaped Pillow Pet, this little oasis of randomness is like a thrift store with better lighting and worse music.  You just never know WHAT you’re going to find! 

Let’s just take a moment to reflect on not only the selection, but the fantastic deals you can get in this store de wonder.  Last week a co-worker and I got Sharpie markers for $.40 each.  Forty f’ing cents apiece.  These things are usually in the $1.00 range, making this a 60% savings on markers which will be decorating meeting notes and greeting cards with fanciful colors for days and days to come.  And the fact that I got free moisturizer the other day thanks to the clearance aisle and coupons?  That makes me a non-ashy, protected-by-the-sun-by-all-15-SPF’s beacon of happiness. 

Go in some time and see for yourself the glories that Walgreens has to behold.  Get your passport picture taken.  Grab “Gettin’ Tipsy in Nashville” shot glass.  Peruse the rack of sundresses.  Just take in all the wonderment while closing your eyes and letting the generic overhead music take you to a better place.  If one existed, that is.  If only one existed.