Just assuming that all my visa worries will be resolved in an agreeable manner, there is the question of my employment and how much longer I can keep this up. The latest malady to befall me involves a series of bruises appearing from my ankle to my knee on my left leg. Too much standing, too much leg strain. I'd like to continue walking upright at least until I'm 40. At this rate, I'll be in a bathchair calling for my footsoak by next Wednesday.
So, in order to keep my options open, I met with a certain New Zealander yesterday afternoon to discuss the possibility of my working for his coffee shop. We shot the proverbial shit for about two hours and left the interview with what I think were mutually good vibes. (Of course, there had to be one awkward moment when at the precise moment I came behind the bar to get the lay of the caffeine-strewn land one of my current co-workers walked in the shop for a drink. Recognition, surprise, realization, laughing, secret-keeping, in that order.)
The upside of this job would be a gregarious boss who is interested in quality of life for not only himself but for his employees as well, more humane hours and a pay bump that would allow me to not only continue, but to expand upon my new found love of vintage wallpaper AND wiping out failing organic beauty kiosks at local malls. Win/win.
However, there is the distinct feeling that I've done all this before...namely, Kansas City circa 1995/1996. I rather thought my days of shot-pulling, milk-steaming and giving sassy back talk to java addicts was behind me. Wasn't that what grad school was all about? Getting away from service jobs to be a more convincing/conventional grown-up? Apparently, I am neither convincing or conventional. Well, put in those terms it doesn't sound so bad.
Maybe part of the problem is needing a desk and a computer to prove to myself that I'm a person of worth. Yes yes, I get that these are just accessories that don't have anything to do with who I really am, but when you're a little shaky about what you're capable of, the accessories help.
Ah well, if nothing else, the new job, should everything work out, won't require me to wear a hat...and god do I hate that hat, I mean hell, I certainly didn't go to grad school to wear a hat.
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I spent how much on grad school? I do what for a living? Man, that might have been a bad idea.
3 comments:
fingers crossed for you Jenna. A job's a job. fuck it.
I'd take damnnear anything at this stage, hat or no hat.
I think the crapper the job, the better the story. Like George Orwell or something.
Go you!
Good Orwellian reference...that was always one of my favorites.
Well, if I move out of my current situation to side with the Kiwi, you can have my vacated hat.
Ann Taylor really wants you to get a better job, too.
*cough*
*COUGH*
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