Craigslist says Marketing. Real people say door-to-door sales.
Today I learned an important lesson in Craigslist job hunting; the word marketing can be used loosely, very loosely, maybe even to describe the ridiculously obnoxious practice of door to door sales.
So when I told everybody yesterday that I had an all day interview with a marketing company, I should have said, I will be spending 8 hours tomorrow walking around Logan Square in my best suit trying to get people to switch to Quill office supplies…and not getting paid for it.
So needless to say, I did not take the door-to-door sales job because a) I sucked at it and b) it paid less than temp work. But in the spirit of bright sides, silver linings and trying to stay sweet in this bitter world, I did get the chance to discover a new neighborhood.
Logan Square is not the type of neighborhood you can “discover” at night, mainly because of the danger of falling into man-sized pot holes. It is not trendy *yet* and it is probably not the safest neighborhood, judging by the fact that you have to buzz to get into the yoga studio. However, it does have some kick-ass looking Mexican restaurants, including one where a 60 year old borracho tried to seduce me with his mustache.
There are also plenty of tiendas selling everything from pasteles to custom made leather vests. Plus Logan Square is home to cheapest theater in town with tickets for month old blockbusters going for 3 bucks. I may never want to live there, but during the safety of daylight hours, Logan Square was just divey enough for me.
So although my feet are killing me, my grey suit is in desperate need of dry cleaning and I didn’t get paid today, I needed this day to remind me that at least temp work doesn’t require you to have your tetanus shot up to date.
Plus I got free pizza. Niiiiice.
3.23.2009
Office Space: the Canadian Version
I sincerely apologize to all my friends and family that had to endure my complaints about temping on the stress infested 35th floor. Sure 35 is home to some prim donnas and napoleons of M&A. Sure I hate having my name forgotten and my ego busted. Sure I occasionally want to jump out the glorious huge windows overlooking the trade center. But at least I feel something, at least 35 inspires some emotion for my pathetic excuse of an 8 hour work day.
But today working on a floor that I never knew existed, for a group whose acronym I can’t define I realize what a blessing even angst can be. Today I am sitting in a beige cubicle surrounded by an ocean of other beige cubicles. There are sings that say “focused work session in progress,” charts of workplace goals, warnings of the danger of carpel tunnel and worst of all beanie babies slumped on top of computers. It is the sad Canadian version of Office Space, without the breaks of flair and merry squirrels. And it evokes no emotion besides exhaustion, even after a large coffee.
Maybe it is the grey skies outside, the strain of the constant buzz of city life or just remnants of last weekend’s hang over but today life in the city does seem exciting or invigorating, but instead numbing and counter productive.
This morning I read an article in the New York Times about dairy farmers in danger of losing their creamery because of the greed of a business man. (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/23/us/23land.html?_r=1&pagewanted=2&ref=us)
The story was tear jerking, heart warming and every other clichéd, over simplified emotion one person can feel but it also seemed more real than this life in a cubicle. The farmer was producing tangible good in exchange for real money. It made me want to move to a dairy farm up north. Actually I’ve been to a dairy far up north…so it made me want to move to an orchard in Vermont or a vineyard in North Carolina.
Really the article made me want to do something real and tangible with this very real and tangible life of mine before it turns into something that can be speculated, traded or discounted. In want to do something real with my life before I end up smashing a copy machine in the middle of a field.
3.22.2009
3.17.2009
300 dollar hair cuts- Ummm no thanks
There was an article in RedEye today about people “trimming” (hahaha-punny) their haircut budgets. African American women are choosing to forgo 100 dollar relaxing treatments and go au natural and other women are doing self trims. And then there is the gold coast residing “I just got a promotion” business lady who spends 300 buck on her hair cut. Seriously 300 bucks! In any economy that is ridiculous.
I have been known to be thrifty in my day. I even got my much coveted cole haan heels for 70% off. My hairs benefit from this thriftiness as well thanks to my recent discovery of salonapprentice.com (cred to viks on that one). Although the majority of these places are looking for people willing to make “dramatic” changes to their styles or people that are miraculously free on Mondays at 10:30 a.m., there are also a good chunk of apprentices at top salons who are offering 20 dollar hair cuts in 100 dollar salons.
Last Friday I gave my first apprentice a whirl and even if I had to endure some intense and almost painful small talk, I got a great hair cut with Aveda products for a mere 23 bucks. Even in the “big city” big deals are possible.
I have been known to be thrifty in my day. I even got my much coveted cole haan heels for 70% off. My hairs benefit from this thriftiness as well thanks to my recent discovery of salonapprentice.com (cred to viks on that one). Although the majority of these places are looking for people willing to make “dramatic” changes to their styles or people that are miraculously free on Mondays at 10:30 a.m., there are also a good chunk of apprentices at top salons who are offering 20 dollar hair cuts in 100 dollar salons.
Last Friday I gave my first apprentice a whirl and even if I had to endure some intense and almost painful small talk, I got a great hair cut with Aveda products for a mere 23 bucks. Even in the “big city” big deals are possible.
3.15.2009
News Flash: Irishmen Prefer Chicago to Ireland on St. Patty’s Day
Friday night, in the spirit of St. Patty’s day or more importantly $3 Fat Tires, my visiting vbf (very best friend- thanks Judy Blume) and I headed to the Dark Horse. After a heaping plate of fish and chips and a cold pint or two, we noticed a group of young blue eyed men examining a black t-shirt they had just received. The shirt read “I just got proper head” and was oh so cleverly advertising an ale brand. Of course I was immediately jealous of the tacky shirt and tried to bribe it off of them. But they insisted on clinging to their prized American souveneir. After examining passports and confirming that they were indeed Irish and not just inflicted with a speech impediment, we began discussing the St. Patty’s day tradition and why these 4 young Irish men were gracing us with their presence instead of partying it up in Ireland.
Apparently the two best places to be on St. Patty’s day is Japan or more specifically Tokyo or the U.S. particularly Chicago. What little celebrating Ireland does was apparently imported from Irish American returning to their motherland and is a rather watered down version of an American St. Patty’s day. There are no green rivers, flashing beads or dyed beer. On the other hand, the copious amount of drinking Americans do on St. Patty’s day is “just another day at the Pub” for the alcohol resistant Irish.
So in the spirit of sharing cultures, the Irish men made us drink a Guinness, which was more filling that the fish and chips, and we made them “taint” their precious Guinness with an Irish car bomb. At the end of the night, although one party may have been slightly more tanked than the other, both had experienced a piece of life on the other side of the pond and I had the headache in the morning to prove it.
Apparently the two best places to be on St. Patty’s day is Japan or more specifically Tokyo or the U.S. particularly Chicago. What little celebrating Ireland does was apparently imported from Irish American returning to their motherland and is a rather watered down version of an American St. Patty’s day. There are no green rivers, flashing beads or dyed beer. On the other hand, the copious amount of drinking Americans do on St. Patty’s day is “just another day at the Pub” for the alcohol resistant Irish.
So in the spirit of sharing cultures, the Irish men made us drink a Guinness, which was more filling that the fish and chips, and we made them “taint” their precious Guinness with an Irish car bomb. At the end of the night, although one party may have been slightly more tanked than the other, both had experienced a piece of life on the other side of the pond and I had the headache in the morning to prove it.
3.08.2009
RAIN
When it rains hard in the city, the intersection of Belmont and Halsted floods. Pedestrians must try to be super heros and either leaps over the puddles or quickly dive through traffic to avoid being ankle deep in mucky grey rain water. Sometimes it doesn’t seem worth the effort. And maybe it’s not. Maybe rainy days are Mother Nature’s ways of giving us an out, of giving us an excuse to lay in bed all day, listen to the thunder and read the New Yorker.
Sometimes in the city, you need a good hard rain to remind you of who you are and why God invented beds.
Sometimes in the city, you need a good hard rain to remind you of who you are and why God invented beds.
3.05.2009
Artsy Fartsy City Life
My dad is a straight-forward, black-and-white, “What the hell is a baguette?! That is a roll,” type of guy. And while he is thrilled I moved to Chicago (mainly because I moved out of my old room in geeb), he doesn’t really have much appreciation for what he calls the artsy fartsy city life. He doesn’t see the relevance of wandering through rooms filled with century old still lives, public art is a waste of his hard-earned tax dollars and the only time he has been in a theater in the past decade was to listen to his beloved UW Marching Band. This is not to say he is totally devoid of culture- I mean he watched Larry the Cable guy with passion and vigor- he just likes his culture in small whitewashed and apparently odorless non artsy fartsy ways.
But the more I explore this city, the more I am finding while I may come from a non paris Hilton simple-life, small town background, I am quite fond of the big city arting, which I have found very rarely goes with the big city farting. And this city makes it exceedingly easy as well.
First there is the Evard Munch exhib for a breezy 10 bucks at the Art Institute. For 10 bucks I got to stand in line for an hour with other art loving people (or actually cut in front of hour waiting art loving people) and then wander the life of Norway’s most famous artists. I learned he was not entirely the mad man he molded himself to be but actually a man reflecting much of the madness of urban life.
From his misogynistic view of women as sex sucking vampires to his more Van Gogh-like serene beach images, Munch’s talent while not always 100% original explains the wide range of urban emotions from light to dark. Man I could totally write one of those little wall plaquey things.
Second there was First Thursdays, a night for poor people (read just graduated and spend too much of alcohol people). It used to be First Fridays and include appetizers and drinks but this was obviously a bit too tempting to aforementioned poor people. So the appetizers were stripped but the galleries left stocked with local talent. Although it was a bit awkward to wander through some small galleries with price tags the size of my first car (or two of my baby geo prisms), some of the larger exhibits made the awkward silences worth it. I would endure no less than 5 silent galleries to just experience the “American Teenager” exibit complete with a drag queen story, a Hasidic jew’s view on life and a young lesbian couple’s struggle with being 17.
And finally there are free Tuesdays at MCA. In addition to events like Stitch and Bitch and Bingo Tango, you can also wander the smaller museum for free. Although I think my favorite was the wall of vagina clouds, there are also great temporary video installations and artists from across the globe. MCA also hosts a variety of lectures and talks throughout the month, that help me feel like I’m still capable of learning even though I graduated.
Chicago’s art scene may not be made for the sittin’ on the porch with a beer and a shotgun type (not exaggerating- love you pops) or for anybody that refers to art as “fartsy” but it is made for the too poor to pay to yuppy to stay home types aka ME.
But the more I explore this city, the more I am finding while I may come from a non paris Hilton simple-life, small town background, I am quite fond of the big city arting, which I have found very rarely goes with the big city farting. And this city makes it exceedingly easy as well.
First there is the Evard Munch exhib for a breezy 10 bucks at the Art Institute. For 10 bucks I got to stand in line for an hour with other art loving people (or actually cut in front of hour waiting art loving people) and then wander the life of Norway’s most famous artists. I learned he was not entirely the mad man he molded himself to be but actually a man reflecting much of the madness of urban life.
From his misogynistic view of women as sex sucking vampires to his more Van Gogh-like serene beach images, Munch’s talent while not always 100% original explains the wide range of urban emotions from light to dark. Man I could totally write one of those little wall plaquey things.
Second there was First Thursdays, a night for poor people (read just graduated and spend too much of alcohol people). It used to be First Fridays and include appetizers and drinks but this was obviously a bit too tempting to aforementioned poor people. So the appetizers were stripped but the galleries left stocked with local talent. Although it was a bit awkward to wander through some small galleries with price tags the size of my first car (or two of my baby geo prisms), some of the larger exhibits made the awkward silences worth it. I would endure no less than 5 silent galleries to just experience the “American Teenager” exibit complete with a drag queen story, a Hasidic jew’s view on life and a young lesbian couple’s struggle with being 17.
And finally there are free Tuesdays at MCA. In addition to events like Stitch and Bitch and Bingo Tango, you can also wander the smaller museum for free. Although I think my favorite was the wall of vagina clouds, there are also great temporary video installations and artists from across the globe. MCA also hosts a variety of lectures and talks throughout the month, that help me feel like I’m still capable of learning even though I graduated.
Chicago’s art scene may not be made for the sittin’ on the porch with a beer and a shotgun type (not exaggerating- love you pops) or for anybody that refers to art as “fartsy” but it is made for the too poor to pay to yuppy to stay home types aka ME.
3.03.2009
OH BMO: March Updates
I know I bitch and moan daily about BMO and yes it does deserve the majority of it but I thought I should start keeping track of some of my favorite BMO moments for prosperity’s sake.
1) On the super bowl lottery, one professional put in 2 dollars and won the whole 75 dollars. His colleague goes “Man that’s some return.” Then winks and punches him in the shoulder. If you can’t laugh at that what can you?
2) “Stealing” food after a meeting was done even though I wasn’t hungry, then eating it fast before anyone saw me and then getting a stomach ache. Yes it was stupid but I just have to get every possible thing I can free from this company.
3) Employees constantly making references to Office Space, and being serious. This includes the stapler on the desk I am temping at that reads “I do believe you have my stapler.”
I can laugh because it is temporary and not my life but otherwise I would cry, and then laugh and then throw my stapler at someone’s head.
3/12 Updates
4) FIRE DRILLS! First fire drills are the great equalizer. There is no way a Managing Director can maintain the intimidation factor when trying to balance a blackberry and a coffee all while stuffed into a stairwell with the lowely temps. Plus I love watching CEO's being lectured by fire men.
5) Hilarity = when CEOs fart while walking by you and pretend it wasn't them. I'm sorry but i know nothing that foul comes out of me.
3/16
6) One of the MD's: “That’s odd because he’s usually always has his lips in the right place.”
3/20
7) 24/ 7 News for 8 hour days. Ridic. There is a T.V. in reception where I am temping this week. My duties at the desk include turning the T.V. on when I arrive at 8:30 a.m. and turning it off when I leave at 4:30 p.m. That means 8 news-filled hours fill my day; that much cable news makes one realize what a joke 24/7 news really it. TV anchors analyzed everything from the McCain “catfight” to whether Obama is funny or not. Just proves that cable news should only be taken in 15 minute increments.
1) On the super bowl lottery, one professional put in 2 dollars and won the whole 75 dollars. His colleague goes “Man that’s some return.” Then winks and punches him in the shoulder. If you can’t laugh at that what can you?
2) “Stealing” food after a meeting was done even though I wasn’t hungry, then eating it fast before anyone saw me and then getting a stomach ache. Yes it was stupid but I just have to get every possible thing I can free from this company.
3) Employees constantly making references to Office Space, and being serious. This includes the stapler on the desk I am temping at that reads “I do believe you have my stapler.”
I can laugh because it is temporary and not my life but otherwise I would cry, and then laugh and then throw my stapler at someone’s head.
3/12 Updates
4) FIRE DRILLS! First fire drills are the great equalizer. There is no way a Managing Director can maintain the intimidation factor when trying to balance a blackberry and a coffee all while stuffed into a stairwell with the lowely temps. Plus I love watching CEO's being lectured by fire men.
5) Hilarity = when CEOs fart while walking by you and pretend it wasn't them. I'm sorry but i know nothing that foul comes out of me.
3/16
6) One of the MD's: “That’s odd because he’s usually always has his lips in the right place.”
3/20
7) 24/ 7 News for 8 hour days. Ridic. There is a T.V. in reception where I am temping this week. My duties at the desk include turning the T.V. on when I arrive at 8:30 a.m. and turning it off when I leave at 4:30 p.m. That means 8 news-filled hours fill my day; that much cable news makes one realize what a joke 24/7 news really it. TV anchors analyzed everything from the McCain “catfight” to whether Obama is funny or not. Just proves that cable news should only be taken in 15 minute increments.
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