Job Hates

Things I Will Not Miss About My Dumb Ass Job, A List

• Inconvenient hours.  -- I almost always work 2:00pm - 10:30pm and always some days of the weekends.  I could do this if I cared about the job but when I'm missing social happenings and gatherings and more importantly, vegan activism, I get down and annoyed.  This brings me the next item.
• I don't give a shit.  -- I could care less.  I don't care that chips went up in price or the bread isn't ringing up or that there's a hole in cookie packaging.  I don't care that the count room is a mess or we're out of newspapers again.  I can't be bothered with pointless jobs which is why I need to find something that means something to me and/or a job that allows me the financial freedom to do something meaningful when I'm not working.  This leads me to...

• Terrible Pay. -- Can you imagine living off of $300 a week for 45 hours of work?  I don't have to imagine!  Let me tell you, it sucks.  Especially when monthly student loans are $300.  And there's a lot more I have to pay for and little else that I actually can.
• Having to wear a smock.  -- There are a lot of reasons why I have recently become much less excited about Natalie Portman but one of these reasons is in a group interview where she said on her days off she was always excited to wear what she wants all day long.  Shut the hell up!  I wear an ugly, polyester blue smock two-sizes too big and you don't hear me complaining.*  Also, see the bullet above.  You get paid millions, jerk-face!  I get paid $9 an hour before taxes!
• Having to ask to use the bathroom.  -- It's degrading and weird and I don't like it.
• Standing for at least 8 hours.  -- Not much fun.  
• Working with people like me. -- Who, like me, only work here because they really need to.  It makes me sad because everyone I work with is really nice and they all work really hard.  They tie groceries on to little old ladies' carts, they push PIN numbers in the credit card machine for disabled customers, they help people find things, all at the drop of the hat.  It makes me sad to see them all working with me knowing that they hate this job just as much, possibly more than I do, but also knowing that they are seemingly stuck.  I wish I could help them.  
• How Little "The Man" cares. -- If he wanted to, he could help but he doesn't want to so he doesn't.  Lame. 
• The Rules. -- A cashier's job consists of ringing up groceries, bagging the groceries, and being kind and friendly to the customer in the process.  So what if there are no customers?  What is a cashier suppose to do?  I'll tell you what they're not suppose to do.  They are not suppose to read, write, or draw.  Making double bags is the preferred way to occupy one's time.  Once your station is full of made bags, make yourself useful and just stand there.  Just make sure you stand up straight because if you slouch someone may violently shove a shopping basket in your general direction.  Seriously, this has happened.  
• Lack of Excitement. -- So boring!   
• Musical Playlist. -- The company sends us a new CD to upload to the hard drive and this music plays for about a month until we get a new CD.  Some of the songs I like.  Others I don't and I swear, these songs play the most. 
• Profiting from the exploitation of others. -- A grocery store is no place for a vegan. 

* You're reading my complaints.  Totally different.

Real Job

It happened.  I finally got a real job.  It doesn't start for at least another month but it is for certain.  I wanted to cry when I found out. 

I graduated from Temple University in January 2010.  That means it's taken me almost two years to find a job that pays me over $10/hour for my many thousand-dollar burden in student loans.  I am not alone in my struggles.  A fact I keep hearing is how for the first time in history, student loan debt is surpassing credit card debt.  I hope we'll all be ok.

But I don't mean to darken a happy moment with sad facts.  I at last have a "real" job to call my own, and at least for a little while, I will be happy about it.   

Promotion Mojo

About a month ago, one of my supervisors from work asked me how I would feel about making a little more money doing what he and the other supervisors do.  I said I was interested.  Truthfully, the way the position was presented to me, it seemed so tentative, I didn't think it would actually happen.

Much to my surprise, about a week later, the promotion was brought up again, this time with mention of training days.  As my boss asked me if I thought I could do the position I felt...short.  That is the most describable feeling that comes to mind.   

I've never seen myself as any kind of leader and I was surprised when my supervisor brought the opening up to me.  I see some of my other co-workers as more model employees than me.  I'm not sure why I was considered before them but I am somewhat flattered, kind of confused, and more than a little guilty.  I have even more guilt over the fact that my co-workers are taking a lot of time to train me and even with an eventual dollar raise, the pay will not be keep me for any enduring amount of time.  But, perhaps with the way my ongoing job search has been going, maybe I won't have to be too guilty.

This has nothing to do with what I'm saying but it looks cool and it came up when I Googled "supervisor".

Training hasn't been easy.  I'm a slow learner, I'm not good with numbers, I'm not observant, and I have problems staying focused.  After the first few days I was convinced that I wouldn't actually get the promotion on account of my seeming incompetence.  The fact that I had two late days didn't help either.

Thankfully, things got better.  Some how I picked up on things that seemed like I never would and as with any new skill I learn, I'm in awe of my brain, both from a personal and a scientific standpoint.  Are other people continually amazed at the human brain's abilities?

Tonight, I was on a practice run of sorts.  For about two hours I worked as a supervisor as though I would if I were on my own.  I made mistakes, yes, but my confidence isn't shaken by them.  I feel pretty good about my progress in fact.  So, because I don't say it nearly enough (and because I deserve it!), "Good job, Me!"

   

Wood You Come to My Birthday?

Yesterday was my birthday.  I turned 24 and had a wonderful time in the process.

For one thing, I finally have a full-time job!  I now work at grocery 
store that is a 7-minute walk from my house.  Everyone I have worked with so far is very nice and I'm glad that I will at last be able to have some stability.  I even get paid every week instead of every other week.  When I first thought of working at South Square, I thought how the job would offend my vegan-self.  I still have these thoughts.  You should see me as I gingerly pick up the very tips of a cheese or meat package to scan it.  I also worry about how my paycheck is partially coming from animal exploitation.  It's not an ideal job for me in this respect but the way things have been for about a year now, I've barely been getting by.  I've been surviving more than living but this is more than I can say for the animals' whose body parts and products I slide across my scanner and announce the price of.  What would my thighs go for?  What about my life?

Sadly, the job that I was barely getting by with ended and I needed another job.  This was the first one that I could find that would pay my bills.  I will continue to look for better options for me but in looking at the situation as it is, I see an excellent opportunity to do some activism.  Here I am, being presented with pieces of people's lives.  I recently listened to a debate between Gary Francione and Erik Marcus and Gary mentioned he always starts the conversation by asking about people's pets.  At my job, I'm ringing up their cat and/or dog food.  What a perfect lead in!  I've ordered some free business cards for The Abolitionist Approach and as soon as I'm finished my training I'm going to start talking to people about veganism and giving them cards at the end of our conversations.  I'll probably get myself into some kind of trouble but as long as I'm not selling anything, I don't see what's so wrong about having a conversation made relevant by a person's pets.  So, I'll see.

For my birthday, I worked and then I went back to my apartment where my boyfriend was waiting for me.  He got me tasty vegan pizza and a delicious vegan dessert.  After eating, he gave me a present which was a ukulele!  How exciting!

Then, I dragged my roommates, friends, and boyfriend to Woody's, a wonderful, gay bar and I think that everyone had a good time.  I had a good time.  Sunday is 80's night meaning some drinks are 80 cents and there is lots of 80's music.  I love Woody's!  Everyone there is so full of joy and there's so much love in the room!  This sounds corny but I don't care.

Oh, and P.S. I got a popcorn maker as a birthday gift!  Hooray!  The lid turns into a bowl!

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

I asked people all day if they had ever seen this show and no one had. 

Last Wednesday I woke up at 4am so I could be an extra in a movie called SAFE.  The day was well worth the lack of sleep.  Once I got dressed and made up, I put an extra outfit in my bag with some heels and a book, and started walking towards Chinatown.  The other times I got up at this time this year were to go to New York City and to help my friends shoot a movie.  I really like the city at this time.  It's really beautiful and still.  It feels like it's waiting patiently for the day to start.

Once I got to Club Shampoo, I made my way to the basement where many other Asians were waiting in two lines.  One line was to check-in.  The other was to be checked by wardrobe.  In line, I chatted with someone who was an extra as a part-time job.  She was nice enough but she liked to talk in a baby voice and I found this unsettling and strange.  After I checked-in, I got in the second line.  When the woman from wardrobe checked my outfit out she seemed displeased.  I wore the shortest dress I had which was a fitting floral print dress that I bought from the store that I now work at.  I bought it because it reminded me of the 60's.  I wore my seamed stockings with it.  I showed the wardrobe woman what else I had.  I refer to this other dress as my "Conan" dress because the first time I wore it, it was to see Conan O'Brien on his tour.  I love him (and his new show starts tonight.  He could be shooting it right now!)  The wardrobe woman didn't like my Conan dress either.  She flipped through some dresses on the rack, holding a few up to decide.  She handed me a silver sequined dress to try on.  I would never wear the dress on my own but I wasn't self-conscience in it either.  She liked it and asked me to take off my stockings.  I resisted the urge to turn around and go, "But they're seamed!  Like Marylin Monroe in Some Like It Hot!"  I always think of her when I put them on.

Before going upstairs, a large man with a booming voice explained what was happening scene we would be shooting.  We were all dancing and having a good time at a club in China when the cops and the main character bust in.  A shootout goes down and chaos ensues.  The guy seemed nice but at the same time intimidating.  He had a Papa Bear-like quality.  I would also compare him to John Goodman.  Soon, I decided I would ask him how to get a job behind the scenes.

 As we go upstairs, I feel a sense of plainness.  Where I grew, there were hardly any other Asians, even within my own family.  Around other Asians I feel left out because of my distance from my culture.  I also feel less special.  To be around 150 other Asians I feel out of place and just a part of the crowd all at once.  As we are split up into sections and as I am asked to take off my glasses, I wonder if our looks have anything to do with our segregation.  I doubt it, but once the thought crossed my mind, I decide that I am average-looking and am mostly unbothered by this.

We start to rehearse our panic scene.  I look around at all the equipment and crew naming things and crew members in my head to reassure myself that my film degree and special feature watching hasn't gone completely to waste.

After an hour or so of arranging and rehearsing, the director decided that we're ready to roll.  Soon, I hear an authoritative accented-voice behind me.  The man asks, "Can I have a really loud action please?"  We do the scene a few times.  There are fake guns and some screams.  Everyone seems to be having a good time.  The crew thanks us and sends us back downstairs for awhile where we fill out some paperwork so we can get paid.  While this is going on, I approach the John Goodman-like guy and ask about getting a job.  His name is David and I wasn't wrong about him seeming nice.  He is helpful and inviting and tells me he will introduce me to Liam later in the day.

Content with this step in the right direction, I sit with the other extras.  The one who talks like a baby, two girls my age, and two older woman who are with their teenage sons are all casually chatting.  The question of age comes up  At this question, "Baby" pouts and looks down, whining, "Won't tell!"  To this, one of the older women says, "It's no big deal.  Guess how old I am!"  We all guess in the 30's and she states, "I'm 50-years-old!  See?  No big deal!"
"How do you look so young?"  One of the girls asks.
"Jesus Christ," she flatly answers. 
I reached for my Gene Wilder book at this point.  As I started reading, this woman starts to ask our table if we know about the savior Jesus Christ.  I am holding my in front face like a shield.  Gene's strawberry blond Jew-fro served me well.

We break for lunch and I choose my food carefully because it's hard for me to tell what may use butter or other non-vegan things.  I got some salad, grilled veggies, and fruit.

Soon, we go back upstairs to run back and forth.  By this time, many people seem disenchanted with being an extra because by this time they've been talking downstairs for a good hour and a half and would prefer to do that.  For me, I am convinced that I am not good at talking to new people but I could be good at doing these jobs around if I created the chance for myself.  For the first time in a long time, I feel reassured that I went to school for the right thing.

Hours go by, we scatter, stand, and wait.  We are sent downstairs and up again a few more times.  I made an effort to pay attention to what the crew was doing and talk to them when possible.  I am introduced to Liam who tells me to talk to him at the end of the day.  Jason Statham makes a few more appearances as he is needed and the girls around me gushed quietly to one another.  I don't see it.  Statham's no David Bowie.

We are sent downstairs a little before 7 pm and soon we are told that we can go home.  Just a 13-hour shoot.

I got dressed out of my slutty dress and into my street clothes.  I didn't care for asking for a job in club-wear.  I walked upstairs and waited to the side until it looked like Liam could be bothered.  As I waited, Jason Statham walked by, stretching his face in a way that I have been imitating to my friends since.  Liam gave me his number and told me to text him the following morning about getting a PA (Production Assistant) job.  Mission Accomplished.      

Conan's back!

Job Search in the Big Apple

The most exciting thing that happened to me this week was I went to New York City in search of a job.  The day was eventful and adventurous.  My sister came with me for moral support and it was both needed and appreciated.  The bus ride was great, especially because I was on the stand by list and it could have turned out that I had to wait an hour for the next bus while my sister headed to the city.  Luck was on my side because I not only got on the bus but, I scored the front seat on the top level of the double decker!  Awesome!

My sister and I got to New York and we got subway day passes.  Great value!  Afterward, my sister and I attempted to find Chinatown which was harder than we imagined.  Eventually, our persistence paid off and we enjoyed delicious spring rolls and bead curd!

In the late afternoon, I got dressed up for an interview.  My sister was walking with me when one of her flip-flops broke.  Since I brought my heels for my interview and I had sneakers in my bag.  Fortunately, my sneakers fit my sister's feet.  Unfortunately, I only have four pairs of shoes, and without my sneakers I'm left with my flip-flops, ill-fitting tennis shoes from trash picking, and my heels.  Soon, I will visit my family, at which point I will be reunited with my go-to-shoes.      

Also this week, my roommate moved out and she took with her three cats that I have come to love and take care of over the months.  It was a tough week.  I cried most nights.  I'm sad that the cats are gone and my place seems empty.  At the same time, it feels like a relief to not have them around knowing they are leaving soon.  I think they got tired of me crying on them. 

My Best Work

I work at a used bookstore.  It pays the bill, but that's about it.  Some people can go to a job that they don't like, leave and feel better.  That's not me.  I need to have good feelings about what I'm doing to feel good at all.  To feel good, I need to be learning new things, improving the lives of others, and have the luxury to be creative.  Generally, my used bookstore hasn't allowed me to fulfill these needs, until recently. 

This past Tuesday was my best day of work.  A woman carrying a bundle of flowers came into the store and approached the counter asking, "I have sort of a strange request.  My daughter-in-law is expecting and scheduled to give birth tomorrow.  I want to give her some books, light reading books, about girlfriends and things, that she can take to the hospital with her to read.  Do you have any suggestions?"  I was eager to help, but I was feeling out of my area of expertise.  I don't read "books about girlfriends".  I gravitate towards books about animal rights, psychology, and film making.  I try to read classics and books that inspired movies as much as I can.  The only "chick lit" book I've read I bought because my college play-writing professor wrote (which was "Tart" if anyone cares to know.  I liked it!).

So, I pointed this woman in the direction of the fiction section while walking over with her.  I pulled off things from the shelves that were bestsellers because I at least knew that other people had liked them.  I found Confessions of a Shopaholic and presented it to the customer.  She smiled kindly but shook her head, "A girl book but she doesn't like shopping or shoes.  I know, it's a strange request."  Although this was different from my initial idea, I felt like I could better relate to what this mother-to-be might want. 

My mind went to when I was happily working at Blockbuster and swapping books with my manager.  He lent me his Chuck Palahniuk books and I lent him my Nick Hornby books.  I can't remember if my co-worker actually read High Fidelity or just the back cover, but I remember that he didn't finish it.
"It's a chick book," he complained.
 "No it's not!  It's about a guy who can't commit."        
"Well, it's metro-sexual at the very least." 
I saw his point although I doubt I admitted it at the time. 

So, I pulled some Nick Hornby books from the shelf.  A Long Way Down, High Fidelity, and How To Be Good.  I talked about how funny the author was and that the reading was light and engaging.  The woman read the back of the books and held up How To Be Good saying, "This one will work!"  I felt so happy!  I had really helped someone!  Not just rang up their books or answered their questions on the phone, but actually helped them!  We kept looking together and I picked up What Looks Like Crazy On An Ordinary Day by Pearl Cleage.  I haven't read it, but I know Oprah likes it.  I like the title and I like the cover.  The woman likes the looks of it too!  She says she's ready to go!

As we walk back up to the counter, I ask if the flowers she's carrying are for her daughter-in-law.  She tells me that they are and that it's her daughter-in-law's birthday today.
"If the baby is born tomorrow, it'll be one birthday after another, and that would be nice."  I agree with her.

I ring up the customer's books and put them in a nice bag.  I tell her to wish her daughter-in-law a "Happy Birthday and Best of  Luck!" for me.  She tells me she will and thanks me for my help. 

As she leaves I find it amazing that a woman will be waiting to bring a new life into being with books I helped pick out in her hands.  Among her last hours before her life changes forever and she becomes a mother, she'll be reading (and probably laughing at) Nick Hornby or a book with abstract art and an Oprah's Book Club Sticker on the cover.  In the grand scheme of things, my hand in the day's events are insignificant but it's the closest I've come to feeling like I'm making a difference in my job so, I'll take it.  I wonder if the kid has been born yet...