Adventures in Babysitting

Believe it or not, before today I have never held a baby before. Moreover, I have 6 nieces and nephews. My sister Jennifer, who gave birth in June, asked me to babysit for her this morning for three hours. Before leaving the house this morning, my step-mother asked if I have ever changed a diaper before. "No. but I can't imagine it to be very hard," I replied.

I get to Jennifer's house and she leaves me with his schedule and dashes out the door. I am left in charge of a three-month-old. I'm not even sure I trust myself. Actually, I don't. I had a dream a year ago that I had to babysit my sister-in-law Angela's baby. In the process I accidentally kill the baby- either I dropped it or I suffocated it. Mortified, I stuck the dead baby under the dash of my truck. Angela was understandably devastated. When I woke up, I feel absolutely awful and have been terrified of babies since.

I pick up baby Graham. Fortunately for me, people say he is a very easy baby, meaning he never fusses or cries. I feed him the rest of his bottle, also a first for me. I try and burp him and instead he hiccups. Omigod, I broke the baby.

He smiles at me. I begin to think I'm doing a good job and then I smell the unmistakable odor: canned dog food. I place him on the changing table and open his diaper: it looks like his butt exploded. I turn around a dry-heave into the Diaper Genie. I'm glad he can't comprehend what I'm saying as I'm trying to clean him up and making an even bigger mess in the process. The hardest part was keeping a hand on him while I turned around to dry-heave. It can't be like this when it's your own baby, right? RIGHT?

Overall, I think it was a successful day. No bruises or broken bones and the baby was okay too. I made his laugh a few times that didn't result in a diaper change. I also saw a glimpse into my own future. Being at home alone with a baby- it was a very lonely feeling. Devastatingly lonely. You're with a person that can't comprehend you and he's your life- I didn't like that at all. Like I'm hoping, maybe it's different when it's your baby...

Gah!

I really think my favorite books are the Bridget Jones' books by Helen Fielding. I've read each book at least five times and I never tire of them. If I had it my way, there would be a Bridget Jones TV series because I think her character could support a commitment more involved than a 2 hour film. (Don't ask me about the Bridget Jones sequel film- it was barely even based on the book and just recycled the jokes from the first movie- I'm very disappointed with it.)

The problem is every time I read these books, my writing style, and even my thinking, reverts to hers. After reading my last couple of posts, I realized that I have done it again.

Oh well, better luck next time! v.g.

Uncle Scrooge's Money Bin

In my father's bathroom is a 3-person jacuzzi. Normally I would question the capacity of his bathtub, but then he bought the house from an architect who was originally planning to live there, so actual pervert is architect, not my father. Every opportunity I've had to enjoy a jacuzzi soak- the damn thing has always been broken. When I called my father tonight to discuss business matters, I had sense enough to ask if the jacuzzi had been fixed. Gloriously, it had!

Any sensible person knows that you can't have a good jacuzzi soak without bubbles and I turned the house upside-down to find some. The best I could find was some "milk bath" and I'm not very sure what it is but it looked disgusting when I poured it into the tub. I was just about to use my fall back plan- liquid dish soap, an excellent source for bubbles with the perk of being soap substance- but I had decided against it.

I grab my favorite book and get in the tub and turn on the jets. Bubbles start coming out of the jets to my delight; there must be some inside the jacuzzi that dispense with the water. I light a candle and relax, becoming completely absorbed in my book. Until the bubbles have grown so large that they are coming in my mouth and surrounding my book. I put it down and realize that bubbles are actually taking over the jacuzzi. There are too many of them and they are about to spill out of tub and take control over the entire bathroom. Suddenly, I felt like Uncle Scrooge inside his money vault and I had to swim similarly to the other side of the 3-man tub to turn the jets off. I had to develop system of using jacuzzi until bubbles became a powerful army and then turning the jets off until they dissipated and began again.

After three more Uncle Scrooge moments, I became exhausted with jacuzzis.

Temporarily Hired

This week I'm running my father's business while everyone is away for a conference. We always talked about me eventually joining the business and I'm hoping that if I do a good enough job now, then the job offer will shortly follow. I don't think my father sees me as a professional, but still as his child, so when he returns and the business isn't burned to the ground, he'll have some faith in me. *Fingers still crossed about the business burning part.

The other nice thing is that he runs his business out of his house so I always have the duties as house sitter and dog sitter. Even though it's only for a week, it's so nice to live on my own again. I'd forgotten how much I wanted a house of my own before I came up with my crazy scheme to move to Atlanta that worked out oh so well.

I definitely like the being my own boss part. I've been sitting in the pool and reading and I just run and answer the phone when I hear it. Pretty cushy, actually. I am especially glad the weather is still warm enough to do this.

The job interview, part II

I arrive at the tiny office the next morning and see everyone I sat with yesterday, minus the gay guy. I was told we would be shadowing a rep today to get a gist of the job, then we would return to the office for the second interview. It struck me as odd that we would shadow before the second interview- why would they invest that kind of time with someone they only asked 5 questions to the day before?

I waited for what seemed like the standard 45 minutes and they started calling people back to meet the person the interviewees would shadow. People were paired up before me. Then they called the same girl I interviewed with yesterday and stuck the both of us with one guy. I don't know the odds of that happening.

We get into his car and it's disgusting and messy and reeks of stale cigarettes. I didn't want my suit to absorb the smell. We leave and he starts to quiz us on forms of marketing and the drawbacks of each type. Having taken several advertising courses in college, I was well prepared with statistics and had a difficult time knocking some really effective advertising methods.

Then he tells me he's also a minister. (These things only happen in the south.) He tells me he also writes for a daily prayer journal. He then proceeds to pull the prayer book out and asks me to read from it out loud. I get carsick if I read in the car, but I read it aloud anyways, very quickly and sort of annoyed. This is a job interview and it is not professional to bring up religion or politics. If nothing else, it can lead to a discrimination lawsuit.

After I shove the prayer book back into a pile of cigarettes and ashes, I notice we've been in the car for awhile. I notice we're leaving Atlanta. Once again I begin to panic because I'm now stranded with these people because my SUV is still in Atlanta. "Where are we going?" I ask. He responds that we're going "a little up the road." We're on a highway. We're passing Tucker, Stone Mountain, and Snellville, GA. We are now over an hour from Atlanta. I begin to ask questions again. He says he'll answer all questions during lunch only. I'm getting pissed. I'm trying to think of someone I can call that can pick me up from way out here.

He tells these anecdotes about how he decides where to work everyday by the writings on the back of semi trucks. He says the Lord once gave him a message on the back of a semi and now he gets all his inspiration from 18-wheelers. I kick around some cigarettes on the floor boards with my sandal, staining the tip of my toes ash gray. He sees "Mansfield" on the back of a semi and he wonders what that means, not literally, just what the Lord is trying to tell him. All of a sudden, I'm glad this other girl was on the "interview" with me.

We come into some tiny backwoods town, which is probably more of a village or an incorporation. We drive through neighborhoods until we find Mansfield Rd. Then he parks the car and tells us we're here. My worst fear is realized: it's door-to-door sales.

The only people at home in the middle of the day are home schooling moms and derelicts. I got to meet a plethora of both. After 4 hours of walking around 93 degree heat in a suit, I get dizzy probably from dehydration. I already know I don't want this job- I've known that since yesterday really- but I'm willing to hear this guy out in case he offers me an obscene amount of money which is not very likely because even the crazy gay guy yesterday got an interview. I refuse to go any further until we go to lunch and get some questions answered. The girl behind me nods.

We sit down at a Wendy's- after buying our own lunches- and he tells us the plan. He called it the "management training program" which is basically a pyramid scheme. You start at level 1 and make pure commission for a couple of weeks, then you move to level 2 where you train without compensation and stay commission only for about a year. Then you're an assistant manager and make 100k a year for 2 months. Level 4 is a manager and you make 150k plus.

Oh and you work Saturdays as well.

He steps up and says, "Shall we continue our afternoon?" Just then a bolt of lightning strikes and it begins to pour.

Oh, Hell no! my head screams and I jump up, "Thanks for the offer but I'm not interested." The other girl echoes my sentiments and he says he'll drive us back.

We finally arrive back at the building he tells us we have to go inside. When I ask why he tells me it's so they can be sure he brought us back for safety and legal reasons. I get inside the office and ask if there is something I need to sign. They say it'll be taken care of in the exit interview, which I don't completely understand since I told them I didn't want it. I thought of scribbling something out and just leaving but then I thought that I get to tell them exactly what I think of them and I decided to stick around. It's completely out of character for me to do this, but I was that angry and truly felt misled.

Mr. Hottie is away on business, but equally-as-Hottie conducts the exit interview. I sit down and tell him exactly what I think of his "management training program:"

It's a hoax. You see, everybody is on the management training program. Every person you hire, you tell them they are fast-tracking to management. If 100% of the people are in the program, then they are all destined to be management. You can call everyone management, but then there is no real management. It's sorta like communism. Yeah, I agree that's a little harsh, but hear me out.

I tried to learn about your company before I initially came here. The only thing I saw is that y'all do a lot of advertising, stating that you're hiring. I've seen job postings date pretty far back. I'm willing to bet that you hire on a full-time basis. That girl up front- all she does is schedule interviews and all you do as "manager" is interview, am I right? I thought so. For a company to hire full-time, you must have a big turn-over percentage. I'm guessing it's over 90%.

People come in and you fill them up with promises to make them rich, as long as they're willing to do door-to-door sales for 8 months and it sounds pretty great, but let me ask you this: I heard a statistic from your salesman that you have one manager per every million people a city has. Atlanta has 6 million people. That means Atlanta can only have 6 managers. I saw your sales team/ management trainees this morning and I saw more than six, hire me and you add one more. Where are they all going to go?

They fall in the turn-over, yes I know. Yes, I know sales typically has high turn-over percentages, but, according to you, this isn't sales- it's management training. [Stunned silence]

I know all this because I've done sales before and I fell into the turn-over percentage because I'm no longer with that company, but you know what? I was making more per day than you're promising per week here in the lower levels. Look- if you had told me up front that this was door-to-door and that the pay was what it is, I would have turned you down immediately. Instead, I'm led on a wild goose chase and you wasted my time today as I have yours, because you're sitting here listening to me. That salesman? He had to leave his district early today to drive me back here and that's his wasted time where he can't sell as much. He's commission only so he actually lost money today by taking me out with him. It's called opportunity cost.

I don't want the job and I don't feel you've been honest with me. Yes, good luck to you too.

Very few times in my life have I been this upfront and articulate. I felt like a rock star walking out of that building and into the rain to go home.

The job interview

[Disclaimer- this is my opinion and feelings about the following business and is no way to be taken as actual fact.]

I got called for a job interview the other week. The previous day I had been extraordinarily frustrated with Monster.com and in a fit, I submitted resumes to jobs for the sake of applying. One of them called me back the next morning and wanted an interview for that afternoon. I scheduled the interview and immediately logged on to Monster to see what the hell it was for.

Turned out it was for a sales position in a marketing company. I googled the company name to learn about it for the interview. I find that employers are particularly impressed if you know a lot about them before the first interview. However, nothing came up about the company. The only places the company name came up were on job finder websites, stating that they are hiring. They were advertised EVERYWHERE, but outside the job finder sites, they didn't exist.

I decided to go to the interview anyways, for practice if nothing else. I looked up the address where they were located and it was a good area. I would love to work in that area- it was in the posh part of Atlanta.

I comb the hair and put on the suit and went to the interview. I walk in the office and the space is so tiny there is only a front desk and 2 offices in the back. The waiting area was full of other people waiting for their interviews. And by full, I mean there are 4 other people there, but the waiting area was jammed, that's how small the space was.

I brought my book and was staring at one sentence while listening to the others, sizing them up. The guy next to me rattled on about how poor he was. He said he had a $100 to his name and went to Lenox Mall and found these gorgeous suede boots with heels on sale for $80. He bought the boots for when he goes clubbing and had to borrow the $1.25 bus fare to get here. He said his last job was a seasonal position at K-Mart. (Don't they only do that at Christmas time?) He said he's applied for several credit cards, but no one will give him one because he has no previous credit. He then said he really wanted a credit card and began to cry. (Not making this up.)

I began to seriously worry about the job interview I was at. I had no idea what this was for and the company was unlisted and what kind of standards are they using to grant interviews to both me and the loony next to me.

While this is going on, disco music is being played at the front desk/waiting area/ front door/ half of the office way too loudly for a business environment. The guy next to begins to sing along. I wonder if I had seen him before and replayed American Idol's "Best of the worst" clips in my head. The girl at the front desk addresses us and tells us to begin dancing, but just stay off the coffee table because it's made out of glass and could break under too much weight. Wildly, I look at the others in the room. The girl on the other side me had graduated from Tuscaloosa 3 days earlier and this was her first interview out of college. I was afraid for her. Panicking, I looked at the others: 3 girls and the gay guy. It hit me- the job was for a strip club or some escort agency.

Thankfully, the others had declined the invitation to dance, but not on the coffee table because it's made out of glass. A very good looking man appeared from the back office and called the girl next to me for her interview. The girl from the front desk got up and called another girl into the other office for her interview. I did the math of our arrivals and figured out that I would interview with the extreme hottie.

45 minutes after my arrival, Mr. Hottie called both me and another girl for a joint interview. Wha? He asked the girl, who currently sells shoes for Stride Rite, exactly five questions, turned to me and asked me the same five:

1. What are two intangible assets you could bring to the business?
2. What's one drawback?
3. How would your best friend describe you in one word?
4. How long have you known your best friend?
5. What do you do for fun?

Within 10 minutes, both of our interviews were finished. He then asked if we had any questions. The girl next to me shook her head no- she obviously was not a thinker. I almost shouted "Yes!" He looked at me. "You say [the business] is in marketing, who are your clients?" (They have just one- Bellsouth) "Do you have any plans to acquire additional clients?" (No- Bellsouth takes up a lot of time) "You say you have a way of advertising better than Bellsouth's resources, what is it?" (Outside sales- very vague answer) "Do you work in their commercial or residential markets, or both?" (Residential) I couldn't think of any more questions and felt like I was drilling him, so I decided to shut up.

Mr. Hottie informed us that he would call us at 5:45 pm to schedule a second interview, where we would learn more about the job, it's pay, benefits, etc. If he did not call us at 5:45, then we were not selected for the second interview.

I got the call. Part II resumes tomorrow.

Ramblings of vanity out of control

My hair has inexplicably gone from straight to curly. I know that it can change due to the body's hormones, etc, but I always thought the hair would start to grow out that way, not you wake up one morning and you've got curly hair.

It started about a week ago. I thought my hair was just dry or something. I deep conditioned and it was still curly. Now without any hair products or help, I have a head full of spiral curls.

Gaw, I look pretty.

In other news, I look like this pretty much all the time:


Not my actually heinie, but found through glorious Google images. The point is none of my pants fit correctly since Weight Loss 2005, forcing my pants to expose my ass at all times. Am beginning to wear clothes from my skinny box again, but I am not yet a size 6, my goal.

My poor jeans. I bought you at the beginning of this summer and you were my favorite pair. You were ankle length and had premade scuffs and rips. Every time someone asked what happened to my pants, I got to say that I bought you that way. You were light blue and went with everything. Now you won't even stay above my shins. I must give you to charity now so poor people can wear you. And look awesome.

I want to marry

• Cable-On-Demand
• The O.C.

A letter to my dear readers

There is a reason why I've been so lame recently. I don't know why I've been keeping everything in, 98% of you won't judge me. Overall, you're more supportive than anyone else in my life, which sometimes is the only thing that keeps me going. I'm calling out to you now because I need you. I've needed you all along, but I've been proud.

Many of you know that I left Athens, my home. I moved back to my hometown, exactly 6 years after I left it. I moved for a better career. I was supposed to be here temporarily until I had enough time and money to find a place of my own. I was scheduled to move last weekend. That didn't happen. The new job that I left my home, friends, and comforts for didn't work out.

I'm okay with this. I mean I'm royally pissed that I relocated myself for no reason, but I have had enough jobs to know that my career is not the most important thing in my life. I interview extremely well and I know I'll find something else. I was supposed to eventually run my father's business, and we're having talks about me *hopefully* joining him soon.

But it was a blow to the ego. Being stranded at home with my family didn't exactly help out my stress either. Together, we're a nasty bunch, armed with sharp tongues that could make a bully cry. Living at home altered my personality. I wasn't as careful as I should have been.

Shortly after my unexpected unemployment, Matt left me. I sent him a text message that read, "If you don't love what I got you for your birthday, than you're an idiot." Something my parents used to say to me all the time. It didn't even cross my mind that anyone would take offense to it. To be honest, I still don't see it. I guess I'm desensitized. However, Matt took the greatest offense to it and sent me a text message back, "I can't do this anymore." My boyfriend just shy of a year broke up with me through a text message. Pretty shitty. And this transpired after my mother declared me depressed.

Now my entire world is upside-down. I living in a city I hate (always have- couldn't wait to leave it the first time.) It's been 6 years and no one I know is left here. I have no job and I just got out of a serious relationship. I'm a prisoner in the house I grew up in.

Sometimes- when it's sunny, 82 degrees outside, and the wind blows just right- I feel free. I am obligated to no one on this entire world. I can go anywhere and do anything I like. I could move to NYC and work for a publisher. I can move to London. I can help in one of those relief camps in Africa. My possibilities are endless.

But when it's not perfect outside, as it is most of the time, I'm not alright. This is why I've been having panic attacks. I'm completely and entirely overwhelmed, not to mention utterly heart-broken. I can't breathe, my chest hurts, and my stomach is tied in knots. I'm temperamental and have been horrible to my father, who is only trying to help, but I've shut him out, unable to forgive him suddenly for past mistakes. I find it's easier to be angry than any other emotion.

I don't know what I'm expecting. I don't even know what I'm looking for. I feel like I haven't been fair and honest with you, mainly because of pride. I'm slowly realizing that I can't go through this alone and I think I need your support. I need to be able to discuss these things.

So now you know the naked truth about me.

A voice from the non-married one

There are a few occasions that happen in a single 20-something's life that makes one want to put her head in the oven. The first is the wedding of an ex. Fortunately for me, this happened pretty early on. I was still a underclassman in college. Those Christians who wait until marriage to experience the joys of sex typically dive head-on into the marriage pool WAY before anyone else. My friend Tim from high school got hitched when he was 20, I believe. I wasn't invited. Even in high school though, he always "courted" instead of "dated." As soon as he realized he couldn't marry a girl for some reason or another, he broke it off. I think he had somewhere around 24 girlfriends during those 4 years. I had one, and it was very brief.

His name was Jamie- insert laugh track here. I got an e-mail my sophomore year of college from a mutual friend stating that he was getting married. It made a little more sense for him- he was 2 years older and probably graduating college. The news didn't bother me. I had the thought, That could have been me, but it was quickly followed with Oh God, and a wave of nausea. I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment, so I escaped the horror pretty easily.

The thought that looms in the single person's mind is always, He found something in someone else that he didn't find in me. And he married her. I was lucky to not have this thought haunt me. My dating career in college was stellar: the longest I went without a date in college was 3 weeks. I met some wonderful and interesting people and I never regretted who I gave my heart to. I was too busy to worry about Jamie. Besides, I never liked him that much.

The second event that engages the idea to interact head-on with an oven is the ex with the kid. This one happened last week. My mother informs me of the kid in her kindergarten art class who looks exactly like his father and has his last name.

Lets have a quick math lesson:

The father and I are both 24; the kid is 5. This means the child was born when he was 19. We dated when I was 18.

This one hits a little too close for comfort.

My mother says he has the same freckles his father has.

I always loved freckles.

I'm a selfish prick

I've been too busy staring at my own ass to mention that we heard from out family in Louisiana last Wednesday. They're okay, but without power. Heard from them tonight and they got power back, however the neighborhood is real dangerous. I'm confident they'll be okay though.

You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you

Chest pains got even worse Thursday night and I tried a few things, but nothing helped. I looked up panic attacks on the Internet, but I didn't have all the symptoms. I also looked up heart attack, but my skin wasn't cold or clammy. They have since ceased. I think it's just general anxiety.

But never fear, a new problem has arisen. I mentioned earlier that I've dropped some weight. I'm now the skinniest I've been in 2 years which has led to me staring at the mirror for long periods of time.

Example:

I take out the garbage and walk into the bathroom to wash my hands. Hello mirror! Front view: looking good! Let's check the side...yup, thinner. Now lets lift the shirt to check out tummy with muscle lines... atta girl. Pull the pants down an inch or two to check out lower abs...yes definitely flat. Whoops! Almost forgot to spin around and inspect lower back! Yeah, that's sexy...

Now why was I here?

Paging Dr. Carter

Yesterday I began to have chest pains. The longer the day progressed, the more they hurt and the more pressure I felt. While watching specials on the Katrina damage, it became so bad that I turned the TV off and went upstairs to lie down in my bed. My mother, who normally dismisses any medical complaint or injury, was especially worried when I told her. This, in turn, makes me really nervous, which doesn't help the chest pains.

Under the direction of my mother, I took some aspirin to thin my blood. Under my direction, I had a beer. It feels like I have a 200 lb brick on top of my chest and breathing sometimes can be painful.

She asked what may have caused the chest pains and I told her I think it's stress related. That makes sense why it hurt worse when I was watching Katrina aftermath.

She's been good about keeping an eye on me, waking me up several times in the night to see if I still felt them. I don't remember feeling them at night, but the second I woke up, I noticed they were there and they've been increasing the longer I'm awake. Today I'm just going to try to relax and see if that helps. And have some more aspirin. And maybe a bourbon.