Hola my fellow graduates! Again I’ve been lackadaisical about keeping this blog current but I think things just took a turn for the interesting, so I no longer am suffering from a lack of material. Since last I posted I quit my job, got a shinier, newer, better job (with more cashhhhhhhhh), and ventured into the Midwest and back. I also got my grades back from my first semester of grad school. I realized that liberal arts college prepared me perfectly for a master’s in education, because I am an expert bullshit artist and apparently that is all you need to pass grad level education classes. I finesse words, bat my eyelashes, and somehow an A miraculously appears.
So my foray into middle America taught me something very valuable: I am a New England girl through and through. It’s not that the midwest wasn’t fun, interesting, and surprisingly modern (it is), it’s just that it’s missing that razor sharp edge that I’ve become so accustomed to in all my East Coast cities. In case you were wondering, I wasn’t in some bumfuck town tucked away in the corner of the Earth. I was in Minneapolis, Minnesota; the capital of niceness. Also, the people there are quite tall. I felt like a short, Jewish midget. Things I learned about Minneapolis:
They have a pretty forward thinking contemporary art scene
They have great indie music
Not everyone sounds like they are an extra from the movie “Fargo”
It is the #1 bike friendly city in the country (yup, they beat out Portland, wtf?!)
Many of their historical buildings are from the late 1890s/early 1900s (I find this funny, only because Boston has gravestones 2 centuries older than this)
Minneapolis played a major role in feeding the country throughout the nineteenth and twentieth century.
See, you learn something new every day. But the longer I was there the more I realized that I could never function in a city like that. I was too afraid to be my blunt self and instead tried to act like this refreshingly nice/empty version of myself. Back in 2011, a national survey was conducted by two psychologists and it was concluded that Boston is the meanest city in America and I’m fine with that (Don’t believe me, here’s the link http://articles.boston.com/2011-07-17/bostonglobe/29784728_1_strengths-city-religious-divisions) .
I love my people painfully honest, and in your face with their emotions (good or bad). Having been raised by a New York mother and Massachusetts father, Boston is the perfect place for me and I’m finally pleased to say I can call this city my home. I was so happy when I got back to Boston, I cried. This is the first time in my life I have ever felt 100% at home, alone, in a single place on Earth. I wanted to hug my neighbourhood dry cleaner when I went in to pick up my romper the day after I returned and he asked “How was your trip, sweethaht? Is Minnesota fehkin’ boring or did you have a wicked good time out there?”. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I missed the “Bahston accent” and I missed being called sweetheart by strangers who know nothing about me, but are simply drunk Boston Irishmen. And this is not saying I didn’t have a great time in Minneapolis, cos I did. I had a wonderful host, all the people I met were cool, funny, and way hipper than I imagined, but it’s nice to be back home and in control. It even felt comforting when I had dinner with a friend of mine in the Fenway and a raunchy Scotsman and Englishman started eavesdropping on our conversation about men, videogames, and sex (as in men may frequently opt to play videogames over having sex).
But enough about my newfound connection with Boston (and how grateful I am for the T, even if the green line sucks ass). So I found a way to work my way up the retail slave chain pretty fast. I went from being a sales associate in February to being a shift supervisor at Chi Chi from February to June (when I accepted this position I was gaining management experience but at the expense of a reduced salary). After 3 months of management experience under my belt I went back to my old company and my old boss (we’ll call this company Accent Mark) and asked if they had any manager positions available. She did! I didn’t even have to interview and I am now working in a central location in Boston, with a 50% pay increase from what I was making a month ago. Pretty sweet, right? I do think that as a struggling post-grad sometimes it is necessary to take a job with less pay if you are gaining experience from the whole thing, but I don’t recommend staying at a job like that too long. Get the experience, perform competently, than peace out for something that will pay you for your newly acquired knowledge and skills.
During my second week of training I did have to do my least favourite activity, which is to call preferred customers and let them know about the major promotions we have going on right now at Accent Mark. I’m a really awkward phone caller and I can do this semi decently if the person never picks up the phone and I can leave a message, but once in a blue moon one of these asshole customers will pick up. And throw a hissy fit. Case in point:
RING. RING. RIN-
Raging Bitch: Hello?
Me: Hi. This is Lor, calling from Accent Mark in Boston. How are you?
Raging Bitch: Um, I’m good.
Me: Good. I’m just calling to let you know tha-
Raging Bitch: Why are you calling me?
Me: Um… To let you know about our latest in store promotions.
Raging Bitch: Yes, I get that. But I don’t know you. When I shop at Accent Mark I always work with Ramone. He always knows what I like. Who the hell are you to call me?
Me: I’m sorry, Miss Raging Bitch. I wasn’t aware that you and Ramone worked so closely together when you shop. I can have Ramone call you when he comes in.
Raging Bitch: I’d like that. But since I have you on the phone, tell me, what is this promotion and tell me what you got in recently?
Me: Are you kidding?! Like, are you for real?! Do you realize I am a person doing my job and you can’t chew me out for giving you a call when my boss just gives me a list and tells me to call all the highlighted numbers? Go fuck yourself. I’m not walking you through the entire new collection. You can come in and see it for yourself, you crusty old slut!
JUST KIDDING! That last part didn’t happen. I walked through the store on the phone, telling her every little new thing we got in, and she was on the other end of the phone looking at the items online. I then had to tell her what the material felt like, how to wash it, and what did it look like on a person. I did that for about an hour. But it wasn’t all for naught. She came in the next day and dropped a cool grand on all the shit I put aside for her. Thank god I make commission for my troubles! Maybe the worst thing that happens is when I call a man on the list and it turns out he was buying the clothes for his mistress, not his wife. That’s the most awkward moment:
So that’s all for now, my fellow graduates! This is my last week of Summer I classes, but I promise, promise, promise I will be posting more frequently. Especially now that summer is in full swing, and I’m just a honey living in the Hub of the Universe (and loving every minute of it!)