Big Boy Job

My favorite season has finally arrived. Fall. Autumn. Call it what you will. Either way, I love it. Unfortunately, the Dallas version of fall is a far cry from what I’m accustomed to. I suppose I’ve been spoiled by the beauty of Washington with it’s cold crisp mornings and all the colored leaves falling to the ground.  Down here we’re still having 90 degree weather (not that I’m complaining) and our leaves still have the parched and slightly green tint to them. I was informed today that the leaves here go straight from green to dead and gone. No room for vibrant reds, or oranges around these parts so I shouldn’t hold my breath for anything remotely New England-esque during this season. This morning was exciting because I woke up to cloud cover, a slight drizzle, and 70-degree weather. I was so happy. Finally a day that felt like fall in Seattle! In celebration I decided to throw on my new corduroy’s and a cardigan, turned up my new “Carpenters Gold: 35^th Anniversary Edition” album (AKA fall soundtrack) and bought myself a Pumpkin Spice latte. I know, I’m so Seattle right now and I’m loving it.

This whole week has actually been really great because Robbie and myself both got jobs! I started work at a small design company called “Black Tip Media” and Robbie got offered a position with some company doing whatever it is people with biochemistry degrees do. The jobs couldn’t have come at a more opportune time because I had come to the point where I was wondering how next month’s rent was going to get paid. To make ends meet during this whole shit show of a job search Robbie had taken a job at the Walgreen’s pharmacy and I was working as a server at a Mexican restaurant called “Uncle Julio’s”. I’d never been a server before (although that’s not the story I gave the person who hired me) but seeing as I grew up in Eastern Washington I felt that Mexican food would be right up my alley even if  I wasn’t working at a taco truck. Turns out I am sooooo not cut out to be a server. I was a stressed out mess every shift I worked and everybody had to keep reminding me to smile.  Smile?? Really?? What’s there to smile about when you’re working a customer service job that pays $2.15 an hour plus minuscule tips that would hardly be enough to buy me a margarita after my shift to ease the pain. The worst part of the whole situation was I had to shave my face every day before my shift, which was an inconvenience and I felt so naked/exposed with my shaved baby face. I mean ever since No-Shave November of 2006 there have been very few times I’ve gone without my scruff so I guess it’s kinda become part of my identity. Plus every time I passed a mirror I would become startled because I didn’t recognize myself.  So when my new boss Kevin offered me the new job I pretty much broke down into tears of pure happiness. Pure happiness at the thought that I’d be able to put my beard trimmer back to use and pure happiness at the thought that never again would I have to ask the customers sitting in my section if they wanted green, red, or sour cream sauce on their chicken enchilada.

So far my newfound life as a young business professional is off to a great start. I mean there was really nowhere to go but up but I feel really blessed to have this job. There are moments where I really can’t believe that I get paid to sit down, listen to show tunes, wear cute and trendy work clothes and create art all day! Plus my boss buys me donuts and Sonic happy hour slushies on a regular basis. WINNING! There are days it can get pretty intense though, especially when we are working on several projects and trying to get them finished as quickly as possible. It’s only been two weeks and my face is already breaking out from stress of a big boy job. Side note: I’m really kicking myself for years ago not taking my dermatologist up on her offer to prescribe me Accutane. If I could turn back time…

The biggest non-perk of the new job is the fact that I have to commute to suburbia (suburgatory if you will) every morning. The town itself is called Carrolton and it’s big claim to fame is that it’s where Robert Matthew Van Winkle, more commonly known as Vanilla Ice, was born and raised. The drive itself wouldn’t be that bad except I have very little respect for Texans when it comes to their driving capabilities. I’ve never seen so many traffic accidents in my life or traffic jams that appear to be happening for no reason. Now I’ve somehow managed to make it through my quarter century of  life without ever being in a fender bender *knocks on wood* but I’m thinking my time is coming. It almost seems unavoidable, especially since the main highway I take to work every morning looks like a two lane highway that they somehow squeezed a third lane into. It's scary. The commute would be made more bearable if my iPod hadn’t plunged to it’s watery grave the weekend before the new job started. The last/swan song played was “ Monster” by Gaga before being dropped into a half cup of melted ice from one of my countless interview that got me nothing but a cluttered inbox full of messages saying “At this time, another qualified candidate has been selected for this position”. I attempted to revive said Ipod by putting it into a tub of rice for 4 days and although the power still works, the touch screen function is long gone and therefore completely useless. You’d think Steve Jobs (may he rest in peace) could have taken a little more time making these things water proof. Instead I‘m left with an iPod that would cost as much to fix as it would be to buy a completely new one. So for the present, I’m back to living my not so distant 2003 life where cd mixes were the rage.  Another side note: I’ve been reduced to listening to the radio on days that I’m bored of my mixes, and I swear to God if I hear Pumped Up Kicks or Last Friday Night one more time I may be forced to do something drastic. Like join a monastery.


In honor of the changing of seasons, here is a very under-rated pop gem by Britney. Happy Fall Ya'll!

Oh, the Magic of Macy's

The holiday season has finally come to a close, which has meant much rest and recuperation from my first holiday retail job. I feel that I’ve earned it. I hadn’t really planned on taking a job at Macy’s but seeing as job offers weren’t exactly raining like manna from heaven (and gin and tonics don’t pay for themselves) I decided making minimum wage over the Christmas season could have its perks. My favorite department I got to work in was definitely Men’s. Probably because I actually knew what the hell I was talking about when a customer had a question. My favorite part of the job was helping poor, tired, run down housewives who’s husbands were too lazy to come in and pick out their own flannel shirt. It wasn’t always easy and I definitely had some tough questions thrown at me, but I thrived on a good challenge and I feel like I may have found my newest spiritual gift that isn’t parallel parking. Example: Randomn, stressed out woman walks up to me and asks me, “What kind of sweater would you buy for someone who sells Subaru’s????” Piece of cake. Showed her a nice Izod green with grey stripes sweater. SHE. LOVED. IT. I told her I felt it was “very Oregon”. Call me what you like. A Miracle Worker? Rachel Zoe? I’ll answer to both.

One of the things that first drew me to the job at Macy’s was the fact that I had just begun reading “Holidays on Ice” by David Sedaris where he details his experience working as an elf at Macy’s. Sadly Walla Walla can’t afford the price/space to house Santa’s Workshop so my dreams of following in David’s tiny elf footsteps were quickly doused. HOWEVER, I did have my fair share of rubbing elbows with Christmas Royalty. Perhaps you’ve heard of the woman they call Mrs. Clause?? I first noticed her in the Ralph Lauren section thumbing through some red x-large sweaters. She came up to me and asked me what else I had in red. She was a little perturbed that our store didn’t carry any Tommy Bahama and I neglected to tell her that it was probably a blessing in disguise. She told me she was going to a party with her husband that night and then clarified that she was actually married to Santa. I laughed. Thought she was probably kidding….she wasn’t. She looked at me and blurted, “no really, he was in the parade this year”. Now unless memory fails me, I don’t recall the chapter in “Holidays on Ice” where David Sedaris helped Mrs. Clause pick out a holiday sweater for Ol’ Saint Nick. Do you? Yep. That’s what I thought. One point Rob Sesser. Zero points David Sedaris.

One of the downsides to working retail is the fact that you hold all the customers answers, or at least you pretend to, and every so often you become the bearer of bad news. One incident that sticks out in my mind involved having to tell a man 10 minutes before we closed on Christmas Eve that the coupons he brought in didn’t apply to the shoulderless Guess shirt he was hoping to buy. I thought he would take the news well. The men usually do, however English was obviously not his primary language and I’ve become a little rusty on my Spanish. I blame it on the fact that my first Spanish teacher was more concerned about finding the soonest opportune moment to slip another shot of tequila into his coffee versus teaching me how to conjugate. Regardless, nobody likes to be told that in fact they will not be saving $50 on said purchase. After some awkward blank stares and me trying my best to speak slowly and use very large gestures he threw me a bit of a curve ball by looking me square in the eyes as he ripped to shreds all his coupons before handing them back to me to be thrown away. Feliz Navidad??

But as anyone who’s ever worked in customer service knows, the hardest part of the job is dealing with an unhappy customer. My favorite tactic for dealing with rude and self obsessed customers is to be overly friendly. Kill them with kindness, ya know I mean? It’s an old habit I picked up from my Starbucks days. So when miss sass came up to my counter and told me she needed a gift receipt for a purchase she had made yesterday I knew there would be trouble. I explained to her that the only way to get her a gift receipt would be for her to return the items and repurchase them. You could have heard a pin drop in that room the moment I laid down the news.

Crazy person: “IT”S NOT MY FAULT!!!!”, she repeatedly snapped.

Me: “Yes I realize that ma’am, but it will only take a few minutes to make the return”.

Gurrl didn’t have a few minutes. Gurl had places to go! People to see! Every moment with me was moment missed on Days of our Lives. She snatched the receipt from my sweaty palm and power walked it out to the back parking lot only to return shortly with all the items and a credit card. If looks could kill I’m not sure that I would have made it to my final 15-minute break. While making the exchange, I received nothing but constant glares, loud sighs and uncomfortable grunts. I put the items and the gift receipts inside the bag, put a big smile on my face and said, "Sooooooooo sorry about that, thanks for shopping at Macy’s, HAVE A GREAT DAY!!" That was the last thing she wanted to hear, and boy did I love saying it.

Seeing as it was the season of giving it was a lot of fun helping people find gifts for their loved ones and I just have to say that I now think that kids buying presents for their parents is the most adorable thing EVER. For one thing, they never know how much money to give you, their parents are always nearby pretending not to notice, and they buy the most random things; such as the little boy who bought his mom a popcorn maker. Not a bad choice considering I had just sold a shiny, glitter, camouflage purse to a dad who was buying it for his kids to give their mom for Christmas. It takes a special kind of woman to love a purse that ugly…I really hope that’s what she wanted cuz that gift could easily have ended that marriage. Anyways, poor little guy had a big boy wallet that was a bit snug inside his little boy skinny jeans pocket so we spent about a minute trying to get the damn thing out. Luckily there wasn’t a line behind him otherwise I may have resorted to grabbing my scissors and cutting it out. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I make my sales goal for the day.

Bye Bye Bye...tonsils

So this past week or so has been a long one. It began with what my anesthesiologist described as "an assault on my throat". At the ripe old age of 24 I finally had my tonsils removed. Why the doctors didn't just take them out as a youngster like the majority of the population I'll never know. Through the years, experts had always assured me that I had abnormally small tonsils that shouldn't cause me any problems. And of course being the trusting, blindly follow kind of person I am I believed their words. Then came the sporadic sore throats and what I can only grossly describe as cottage cheese like entities that I'd hack up at very inopportune times. I finally decided enough was enough. The tonsils needed to go.

So last Tuesday was the big day. I had been good and not eaten past midnight the previous night. In preparation my calorie intake that Monday rivaled that of a squirrel ravenously preparing for winter. Going without food is something I'm not very good at so in preparation I consumed roughly 4,000 calories with the hope my body would slowly digest over the first few days post surgery. I was the first patient that morning and mom and dad drove me there at the ungodly hour of 6:30. After stripping down to my boxers and putting on the gown and requesting several warm blankets they wheeled me in to the surgery room. The last thing I remember before going under was the cold sensation of the anesthesia rushing through my blood stream and Dr. Rice telling me that this was Michael Jackson's drug of choice. What about that statement was supposed to bring me comfort!?!?! This stuff killed him!?!?! He'd obviously missed the memo about me being the unrefuted prince of pop (shut your mouth Justin Bieber) and had I succumb to the same sort of tragedy that took Michael the world would have mourned. Mourned I tell you!

The first few days were not fun. However it was by no means as bad as when I had my wisdom teeth taken out. That was pure hell and if anyone had offered me a diet coke with a teaspoon of arsenic during those dark days I would have graciously thanked them and asked for a straw. It was that bad. One thing you quickly come to realize after a tonsillectomy is how often the average human swallows in a day. I was told it was somewhere around 600. That sure felt a like a low estimate!! Oh and waking up several times every night to the sensation of blooding flowing down your throat gets real old real fast. After one such night my parents decided it was time for a check up to make sure everything was ok. When the doctor asked how much I had bled during the night I was doing my best to guesstimate while under the affect of painkillers. Then completely out of left field my mother pulls out of her Vera Bradley purse a Ziploc bag bulging with all my bloody Kleenex's that she had collected while I was sleeping. Oh yeah, and then my dad felt the need to inform the doctor that the bleeding occurred simultaneously with my first bowel movement in three days. I. WANTED. TO. DIE. (P.S. Mom and Dad if you are reading this, I forgive you and realize now that you did this out of love. xoxo) There has been one at least positive thing that has come from this whole ordeal. I've always said that I was one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. Alright, maybe I've only been saying it since 2006 because I totally stole it from Emily Blunt's character in 'The Devil Wears Prada'. But now I can safely say that I am one tonsillectomy away from my ideal weight! It truly boggles the mind how much weight someone can lose when their only calorie intake for the day is 5 cups of shaved ice, a bowl of blue Jello, and a Tazo Berry Blossom tea with two splenda and a splash of honey! Why didn't anyone tell me about this diet years ago!? Maybe I should write a book because the world must hear the good news.

Four Eyes

Yes. That is correct. The picture above is of me and I'm biting my finger to contain my enthusiasm because I'm so freakin excited. I just picked up my new pair of glasses and the world is now a much clearer and vibrant place. The past few weeks have been a bit rough because I had been suffering from really bad headaches that would not go away. First I blamed it on a possible sinus infection because Lord knows that wouldn't be a stretch for me this time of year. The doctor gave me some antibiotics which did nothing for the headache but did clear up my skin so that I looked fabulous for my San Francisco trip. Thanks walk-in-clinic :) FInally figured it might be my glasses and sure enough my prescription was too strong because my vision has somehow improved! It's a miracle (heaven opens up, angels sings, and doves are flying everywhere)!!!

Now don't let's be mistaken. Wearing a pair of glasses hasn't always been a bed of roses. The first pair of glasses I had were in the 1st grade. I think at that time I was excited to have glasses but the novelty quickly faded from view. It only got worse when my mother and optometrist came to the unanimous conclusion that extremely light sensitive Robbie James needed transition lenses. That happened around 3rd grade and whenever I see pictures from those years I just have to cringe. For one thing, I had a bowl cut the size of Crater Lake and my glasses took so long to transition back once I returned from recess that i was in a constant state of tint. And don't be fooled by my happy appearance in the above picture. Putting on a smile and facing the world was simply a coping mechanism.The only thing that kept me going in those days were the whisperings from Mom and Dad that once I reached high-school i could get contacts.

All was fine and dandy until recently when my eyes dried up like the Dead Sea and my optometrist gave me the cold hard facts. Nowhere in the near future will my eyes be able to support contacts due to the fact that my eyes don't create enough moisture for sustainable living!!!!! Luckily all of this is happening in a day and age where glasses are cool. Hip you might say. Last year i bought a pair of glasses somewhat similar to the ones I have now and people would not shut up about how great they thought they were. I must admit they were pretty cool and they did have fleur de lis on the side. Sometimes I just ooze classiness. Needless to say, these days people would kill for my imperfect vision. I've been offered couples first born children in exchange for my stigmatism. And who can blame them because nothing is more lame that a poser in non prescription glasses. Well unless you're Britney Spears. Because let's be clear people. How adorable does she look here???? Love you Brit :)

In closing I would just like to thank all the people in this world who have made my home called earth a place where people can be openly out and proud about the fact that they wear glasses. Gone are the days of ignorant jokes and feeling less attractive for something completely out of my control. These days when walking down the street I'm greeted by uplifting words such as:

Random stranger: Well heeeeeeeelllllllllloooooooo there four eyes!

Me: Thanks for noticing.

Random barista: I think your stigmatism's sexy!

Me: I get that a lot.

New Blog Title

Well now that my "10 MOnths in AmeriCorps" are over I've decided that it's time for a new title for the blog.
Growing up as a small child in rural Eastern Washington, I spent many a day contemplating the fame I would gain in my adult life. The lights. The cameras. The tabloid covers. But most importantly I spent a lot of time thinking about the name of my future memoirs that my screaming fans would be understandably begging me to release. Early on I had decided upon the name Robsessed for obvious reasons. For one thing it sounds awesome and it's basically my whole name minus the R. Clever right? So you can can imagine my horror the day i get a facebook post from my friend Jess Miller alerting me to the fact that freakin Robert Pattinson must have gained access to my childhood diary labeled 1994 and stolen my title! It's a sick sick world we live in folks. But I've persevered. The show must go on. And so in spite of copy right infringement and the looming possibility of being eaten alive by the Cullen family I have decided to stand my ground and claim what is rightfully mine. Therefore, from this day forward my blog shall be known as: ROBSESSED......... go team Jacob!