Handsome Jobs

"And what was your name?"

"Kevin. It's actually, Handsome Kevin."

I swear this was what the guy on the phone said to me yesterday when I called this cafe and asked if they were hiring. I don't know what else he could have been saying so when I heard him I just chuckled and said goodbye since that was the end of the phone call. 

They had told me to come in and fill out an application, then we could talk right away. Superb for multiple reasons.

1. An in-person application!? They must also practice the old school ways that I so passionately cling to. (This would later be confirmed untrue, but we will get to that later.)

2. Does this mean I could possibly be hired today? And therefore not have to be broke for much longer?! (This would be confirmed true.)

3. Lastly, I can find out if Handsome Kevin is, in fact, handsome! (Just kidding Brian, I had no desire for this one ;] )

So upon hanging up the phone I did a happy dance and proceeded to put on "real" clothes because my days at home strictly require me to wear yoga pants, a random tee, and festive socks. It is non debatable. 

On my way to the cafe I was on top of the world. I felt good about this life event and it was a beautiful Thursday; my favorite day of the week! Upon arrival, I scoped the place out to see the descriptions I read online become illustrated before my own eyes. It was adorable. Couches in the front with a coffee bar on the right hand side and also.... five pairs of eyes staring at me. 

"Hi! Do you have an application?" Ah, such simple words to turn the situation around. Immediately "my friend" Kevin came up and shook my hand and the owner, Kristin, complimented my scarf. I love this place. And I also loved Kristin's scarf. 

They told me to grab some coffee and fill out the application. Then we chatted at a table and I found out Kristin's partner went to Millersville University, like myself. This is awesome and also super weird. It is weird because when I applied at Ida's Cafe (while at said university) my then soon-to-be employer told me he was from a neighboring town of mine and his wife went to my high school. Eerie Indiana.

I guess I have some magnet on me that brings me to cafes run by people that share my last place of residence. We all have a special skill, I suppose. 

Kristin told me I could do a trial run this weekend just bussing tables and that way we could both have a fair chance at seeing if this was a good fit. Genius idea. 

Yet, there is one thing I will have to get used to. They use an iphone application, or something similar, to put orders in immediately as I'd take them. Whoa, pressure! I mean, I still have a sliding phone. Granted, I think it is just as cool as the electric slide but most of the world thinks it incapable of doing anything. However, the cafe says I can wear all my earrings while working and Starbucks said I wouldn't be able to. So despite the technology at hand, I'll take the job ;] 

On To The Next One!

I got the job at the library! Unemployed Bridget is now Double Employed Bridget. I'd say call me "DEB" but I have a friend named Deb. Who is also part of the reason I have this job at the library now!

Deb's mom works at the library and told me to apply and then took me around to meet people when I filled out my application. The Appreciation Award goes to her because finally, after 5 months of being done with college, I not only have a job but I have one that looks good on my resume! 

Let's start that happy dance up again. (This girl* knows how to demonstrate a good happy dance via internet.)

*I don't know this girl. Honestly, I looked up "happy dance" to provide some images to brighten this entry up and found her post. Thank you to her.

Cleaning Out My Closet

The time has come. All my shelves in my room filled with old trophies, dolls, and knick knacks I've somehow accumulated in 22 years are about to be no more.

I figured that the only way to move on to the next stage in my life, especially one where I am now* a certified adult, would be to start fresh and weed out the excess of what was. I don't care for a lot of things decorating my life anymore, or at least other things have become more meaningful. While I am sad if I think about this too long, I guess it is something everyone goes through if they're lucky enough. And thank God, I am able to be lucky enough.

So where to begin? I guess with the medal I had from throwing javelin that fell off its ribbon a few months ago. It is always as if my room knows when I need to start moving forward. In the dorm rooms and apartment I've lived in over the past 4 years, all my posters and wall hangings started falling on their own when it came to the end of the semester or the end of my living there. Granted, I never seemed to have the utensils I needed to properly hang things (shout out to my old roommates Sara, Kasey, and Hannah for helping me out constantly on that end.) Yet, I like to think of it as a sign. Okay, two signs. 1-Start buying the basics for myself. And 2-Shake that etch-a-sketch of life and turn the knobs to get something new!

Have I started this process yet? No. It sounds like the worst. I mean, I am horrible at goodbyes. Which is why if you ever have said goodbye to me I probably either faded out silently and you never got a chance to say bye, or I made a big deal where I hugged you a lot. I feel incomplete just waving and walking away.

You may say, "Bridget, this isn't people." To which I say, "It is. It's me from another life." Because these are the things I loved as a kid, the things I cherished as a teen, and the things that make me smile to look back on now. Like silly notes I've passed to friends in class. Am I still friends with those people? Do I know what half the stuff meant? Nope! But I'm terrible at throwing it out.

For months I've been toying with that idea of going through things but it has only been recently I've decided to be done with a lot of it for good. All things take time. Which is why naturally the "clean my room" bullet has been on my to-do list every day for weeks. Sometimes I even try to trick myself and write it differently, i.e. "organize containers in room" or "sort through my clothes." As of yet, none have been successful.

Perhaps putting it to the blog will set my list in stone.

Regardless, I am making a conscious decision to simplify and rid my life of so many fractions. Because frankly, I was never good at math.


* I originally typed "not" instead. There is one big cake of irony that my life just can't stop taking bites of.

Out of Place

I've recently discovered I can't go back to any of my previous places of work without feeling like I'm outdated. When and why did that happen?

It happened the moment I left those jobs for good, but it took me awhile to realize because I was in denial and decided I could feel like a cool kid whenever I went back. Not the case.

Since I left my most recent job on a sour note with my boss, my ex coworkers now give me alarming looks when I walk in the door as if to say "What are you doing here!?" Wait a second... they actually said that to me. I guess I just like the thrill, guys. Jeez louise.

My job before that one was at a nursing home and it has become an abyss of people I don't know. So now I strut in to see my one or two friends and then awkwardly fade out of the building. I worked there while in high school and the first half of college so somehow I feel like the residents are more my peers than these high school kids. A few years can change everything.

And my alma mater! I firmly believe I was outdated there before I even left. Most of my best friends were gone by my junior year and I was working too much to have a life so I made few new ones. I go there now and it's like a dream full of people I never wanted to see again and places I didn't get to go to enough when I was relevant and now it seems impossible to thoroughly enjoy them.

So what to do when you feel absent from any place you've ever known even when you're standing in the middle of them? I'm sorry I don't have an answer; not only for your sake but my own as well.

Try first for a new job? I guess that's what you do. I tried that and as you may have read, I changed my indecisive mind and ran away from it. Well, today I applied at a library! This seems like a step forward rather than another step to the side.

Of course, I got a parking ticket while I filled out the application because my meter ran out before I got back to it. Do I take that as a sign that I don't belong in this new place either? Or do I take it as a sign that the police department is unforgiving? I'm going to try to do the latter.

This is a weird world when you don't have places you have to be at regularly. You get cocooned into your home and lose the stamina you had when you were shot out of the school cannon. Lighting the fuse yourself is harder than you'd think, even if you're standing on dry land because the fear you might land in water isn't looming in the distance... it's standing right next to you.

Living Dangerously

Straight off the bat I am not the "safest" person. I have jumped out of a plane, eaten wild snake (not alive, mind you), and drank water from streams, in hopes that I could be refreshed without suffering some opposite-Osmosis Jones-effect inside my body, etc. And worst of all, I don't live the safest lifestyle because I try to see the good in people despite all odds.

That is not cool. 

Last week a high school boy knocked on my door at 7:30 p.m. I was sitting on the couch right in front of the window with the front door open. Dammit, he knew I was there. 

I went to the door and, while he was very aware of my aggressive chocolate lab, he went off on a huge speech about this fundraiser/competition that could help him win a scholarship if I wrote a check for a subscription to the Philadelphia Inquirer. Welp, I'm broke but I like to help people. MISTAKE. I also had held my dog back. MISTAKE, okay okay maybe that'd be overreacting (keyword: maybe.)

So the kid told me he'd get the points if i wrote a check and then the Inquirer would need a verbal confirmation before they cashed it, therefore I could just decline and they'd mail me my uncashed check back. He seemed nice enough and since I'd get my money back I figured it would only help to contribute.

I waited for the call for days and before it ever came, the newspaper did. So my mom and my boyfriend Brian both said "The kid lied to you." Of course I wanted to believe the newspaper lied to the boy but the more I think about it the more I realize I have to agree with them. So I wonder, did he just assume because of where I lived and what I look like that I could afford this payment? Or was he just an awful person and wanted to manipulate people to win his scholarship? Either way, he said he'd want to study biology in college... so he better cure cancer. And I did help the paper a little, which needs all the monetary help it can get.

That's how I choose to look at it. Yet unfortunately he has been the last straw in my being overly nice to people lifestyle. Too many times I've been screwed over because I wanted to help and so have many people I know. So when does it end, ever? What's your breaking point? Then again, we could try to be more like God because He doesn't have a breaking point. But I guess that's why He's God. 

Edited and Unpredicted.

EDIT FOR STARBUCKS ENTRY:

Last week I had to go into Starbucks for paperwork. This was good and well because I again received another free drink and also was able to practice my Sherlock Holmes skills.

Photo Credit: Google Images

Did I know I had these skills? Yes and no. I went through a 2-year phase as a child in which I was Harriet the Spy. So I knew the skills were in me somewhere, but I wasn't sure I could bring them back to life. Watching NCIS and Bones must have reactivated them.

Back to the story... the manager and I were in the back room going through forms when I was given the list of my coworkers. A couple names were whited-out and new names were written instead. The explanation? Some people had nicknames they went by in the store and that was what I was to call them. I was cool with that, but I was also curious. So I looked at the manager's version of the list across the desk and counted down the names to the one which was missing on my own paper. BAM! The given name to my coworker was the correct gender of what I called them originally.

In that moment I felt vindicated yet distracted because I don't remember what the manager was saying to me while I played my "scan the desk" game. Twas of no matter though because I decided not to take the job :0

I would have had to open the store, which meant starting my shift at 4 am. I used to have to be at my old job at 6 am and I was not willing to do that again or at least nothing earlier than that. Also, a week went by before I began working so I lost my nerve to do a job I had been opposed to originally.
-------------------

Back to square one, but not totally!

My awesome professor gave me an older Mac computer which I am setting up to use for writing. No internet, no distractions. This is super encouraging. When I write my novel on it I can holla at him for giving me the goods to begin.

We are bound to make some mistakes. Take a turn down a road and realize we're out of gas and have to go back. I don't feel like I cut myself short in not taking this job because I went with my gut and I trust that.

Photo Credit: Google Images

However, I will miss the endless free coffee that I never got to drink.

Draft 4,000

I've come up with different topics to write about lately and so I start all of them but naturally I end up getting distracted/lose my inspiration. Sooo while I have 3 posts published, my account here says I have like 11. Perhaps I will just put them all together and display the immense spectrum of ideas my mind comes up with... or not.

But let's keep this entry based around my GETTING A JOB!

I've waited tables since I was 17 and frankly, I was looking to broaden my part-time job skills. So after having experienced a weird and scary situation with a side-job (let's just sum it up with- I was followed by a stranger while driving), I had a nice breakdown full of tears and self-pity. Things had to change and I had to feel like my life was starting to get a move-on because this blog can only do so much.

My older sister Kathleen and I drove around town looking for "Help Wanted" signs and found none. Rather than go find the closest restaurant and fall into a wonderful rut I decided to walk into places and flat-out ask if they were hiring (hooray for face-to-face conversations!) Well, both places told me to go online. So online I went and applied to Starbucks. Since that was the most I've had to do in awhile, I was spent and decided not to apply anywhere else right then.

Well a week later I got an unexpected call from the closest Starbucks and they asked me a few questions and then I had an interview the following Friday! I looked fancy enough with my straightened hair and I was even allowed to grab a drink for free while I was interviewed.

Most of it went smoothly. Sure enough though, I used the wrong gender pronoun in reference to one of the employees. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!? Ironically, just the night before I was talking with my friend Sammy and she said how if she had a 50 % to get something right she'd get it wrong. Apparently the syndrome is contagious.

The interviewer was very sweet and ignored my error (which I didn't know was an error at first) then continued to mention the person's name so I'd realize my mistake. Thanks for not calling me an idiot and telling me to leave, Interviewer.

I was told I'd get a call the following Monday either way. Well, for what I'm sure is foreshadowing, Starbucks called me the very next day and interrupted a nap I was taking. Although, it was worth it because I was told I'd have a second interview on Monday.

I was running late of course because I decided there would be enough time to grab a breakfast sandwich in Millersville on my way home from Hershey before getting to my interview. Idiot, strike two. I then had to change in the car and pin my bed-head hair back (no fancy straightening this time) but I made it there right on time!

The person I had made the wrong assumption about before turned out to be awesome and was working the register when I got my second free drink. Person, I hope we become friends and you never find out about this situation because I am mortified... and also I'm horrible for such an assumption but you won't know that if we're friends!

This second interview was less embarrassing and I was told I'd get a call in a few days.

Welp, they called me a few hours later and told me I had the job and they agreed I'd make a great part of their team. A happy dance ensued and a moral lesson was learned: if you don't know for sure, stop talking Bridget.

Hungover Yoga in the Park

A word of advice my friends: do not do yoga for the first time while suffering from drinking too much alcohol the night before.

I should have realized this yesterday morning but I had told my brother's fiancee, Gina, and my sister, Jackie, that I would go along with them to a free yoga session. I even said "attending" on Facebook... or "join", I don't know which one it is now.

Now if you type in in "hungover yoga" on Google you will find links to people saying yoga is a good cure for a hangover. So I must reiterate, this is not true if you have never done yoga before or not in quite some time.

There were a few things inhibiting my ability to do a split in the air or whatever other moves the people around me seemed to be grasping quite easily.

1. I was using a folded blanket as my "yoga mat" and I didn't realize what an issue this would be because it was a beginner's lesson and I thought "hey, most people probably won't have a yoga mat!" Everyone else had a yoga mat.

2. I am not a usual wearer of high heels but had decided to wear them the day before and so I had blisters and cuts (please excuse the grotesqueness of this) on my toes and ankles. They aren't too noticeable or ugly actually, just the most pain ever for me. So I was awkwardly slipping on my folded blanket as my wounds repeatedly reminded me that I can't wear shoes that every other girl can wear beautifully.

3. I had a killer stomach ache. Trying to balance and fold your body while having a stomach ache is horrible. I could have walked away and been sick instantly but I had too much pride for that. Also, I'm pretty sure the yoga teacher was staring right at me, not that there was many places to look because it was a small group of 7 people. Yet at the moment I was giving up I heard her say "If you are starting to lose focus, just come back to your breathing." IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE!

4. There were two boys making fart noises. These boys were not part of the group but decided ruining a calming experience for strangers would be an awesome way to spend the afternoon. They did this for about 15 minutes. How am I supposed to not throw up and stay calm in that situation!? So naturally, I made giving the finger part of my yoga moves; to which my sister whispered, "That's not very yoga-like." But really, it was a very graceful giving of the finger.

5. I have bad knees. They don't like it when I strain them and even make me ice them after every time I run. So basically my entire body was up in arms (and downward dog) every time I moved.

With all of these aspects working against me, I made it to the end! And I must admit, the corpse pose at the end of the session brought me to my happy place. For those of you who do not know, the corpse pose is lying on your back and in this case for me, basking in the sun. I fell asleep for a minute or two while we were allowed to let our mind wander. This was my favorite part.

Afterwards, Gina defined the result of Sunday afternoon yoga perfectly, "My body feels like jelly."


Random thought: I live in a neighborhood of single homes with nice yards. They are not huge plots of land but they are land. I fully appreciate this fact everyday. I also have studied a lot about the American Dream. I have always believed part of the American Dream for a family man is caring for a yard of his own, as it is a source of pride and sign of success. So my question is, why are most of the yards in my neighborhood mowed and cared for by immigrants?

And no, this is not regarding immigration issues but rather simply inquiring about the change in values that have seemingly occurred over the years. I suppose it is not some major issue but it is interesting that these homes in which strangers mow their lawns are all owned by younger families than my own.

My father just turned 60 and I am the youngest of my family at 22 years old. My father still mows our lawn and cares for it like a child (granted, my brother does help him.) We may poke fun at him for it but I know he gets a lot out of this. I understand the modern man has a different role in today's world than generations before, as does the modern woman. Perhaps I am a bit more traditional, but I'm proud of my dad and brother for caring for our land themselves.

Given this train of thought I decided to call my dad and ask him why he cares about his yard so much and this was his honorable response, "I'm very busy. I'll call you back." So there it is, the real American man doing his job while he is at his job. Right on, pop.

Be the truck going down the hill. Be aware of boxes.

Passing the time while passing trucks:

Me: Do trucks feel like fat people when they go up hills and cars are passing them all over the place?

Brian: OR do they feel like weight lifters because of their raw power?

Me: I guess it changes depending on whether you're going up or down the hill.

Moral of the story: be the truck going down the hill... while going up the hill of life? oh well, there's a lesson in there somewhere.

On a different note related to cars: 

"Goal of the day: decide whether you'd eat green eggs and ham with a fox in a box or in a house with a mouse."

That's what I woke up to find on a sticky note next to my bed. That's what I spent the rest of the day, well, most of the day thinking about while serving pancakes and eggs to hungry families, hungover college kids, and couples out for Sunday brunch.

The day was uneventful, the same as every other weekend at the cafe. There was unnecessary shouting from my boss, hundreds of coffee cups filled up and drank down, and about 20 of the same jokes said to me with a nice robotic laugh in response, that I think came from me.

After work, I went home to power in some homework. Actually, I don't remember but that probably wasn't what happened. I do know I showered and changed then drove out to the mall to meet my boyfriend. I was still debating my green eggs and ham companion and our setting, but Brian wasn't debating anything as he got off work. It was time to go to his house and have some home-cooked food with his family.

The route is short and direct, only a 40 minute drive from school but there was plenty of traffic this specific evening. Brian was driving pretty fast as we cruised westward in the left lane ("fast" being the speed limit, of course.) About 20 minutes into the drive the road got bumpy.

We saw a van a few cars up switch lanes followed rather quickly by another car and Brian started braking. However, when the car directly in front of us went immediately into the right lane without hesitation it was too late for us to do the same. As soon as the car moved out of our view the only thing that we could see was cardboard. Huh? Yes, a huge cardboard box, shaped like it held a refrigerator, covered the entire windshield's view and soon covered spots of the highway and surrounding grassy knolls. 

It wasn't so much a flash of my life before my eyes as it was waiting for the hit of another car. It was slow motion and instantaneous as the same time. The hit didn't come. But the rain did. There were plastic pieces raining all around the car and highway. We ended up in the grass median between the east and west routes. 

Quiet. We sat there waiting for our hearts to stop beating out our chests and waiting for the cars to stop buzzing by; the latter never happened. So I finally got out of the car to check out the damage; wrecked. Thousands of dollars in damage to Brian's 6-month-old (used but lovely) car. I called 9-1-1 and went through those motions. 

A wonderful woman stopped on the side of the highway, crossed two lanes and made sure we were okay. People are good. 

Another woman came out of the darkness having walked hundreds of yards from her truck down the road, the one with the driver still sitting in it, and she shouted towards us as she began gathering her belongings. 

"You must have hit our box!" People aren't always good. 

"Oh my goodness, it was your box!? Well, that is just fine. I'm sorry we blew it to pieces and inconvenienced you." Just kidding, I had no robotic laugh this time. "The cops are on their way," is what I really said as I bundled up to protect myself from the cold Winter air. 

We called Brian's dad and told him we hit the box... he thought we said "buck." Then Brian's brother found out and thought we said it was a "fox." Apparently they had animals on the brain and probably green eggs and ham too. 

Brian's dad came to get us and we ate dinner a bit later than we thought we would that night. The car was towed away and restored within about a month. The box ended up being a kid's bed frame and not a jungle gym like we had originally thought. It had fallen off their truck because of a flimsy bungee cord. 

It was supposed to be snowing that night. We were running late. The accident happened about 100 yards before cement, metal, and huge ditches took over as medians. No other cars crashed. We were so close from missing that box and so close to losing something much more. We were lucky. I'm a much more cautious driver now. 

And I'm definitely eating my green eggs and ham in a house with a mouse.

                                                This was the result =/ but thank God we were not injured.

Leap & build your wings on the way down

I'm starting to take my first steps into a world outside of school. This blog is one of those steps. I plan on taking this era of my life by storm, so watch out for falling branches.

I have yet to have a job... or even a resume for that matter. HOWEVER, I think about having both ;] But I am trying to make little goals that I can actually accomplish. For example, writing a creative piece once a week and keeping up with running now that I actually have the time, energy, and abilities that God has graced me with.

The first step towards Actual Adult Land is finding an appropriate format for my resume --> putting that baby together --> concocting a slammin' cover letter --> putting my portfolio together --> and pressing send and hoping for the best. Also, this is for internships rather than jobs because unfortunately I have no experience but I cannot wait to get out there and starting soaking some up... because it seems as if everyone else already has been doing so...

The weird part is looking for a job now and realizing this is all I need. That is to say, I've always had school and a job for years now; my last semester at Millersville being the worst because of it. I took 6 classes and worked 6:45-3 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays waiting tables. I was exhausted and went months without a day off. Also, I may have been the most anger prone human being in the world; i.e. pulling up plants on campus and knocking over signs that you stick in the ground, whoops. So I also admit to being lackadaisical (phew tough word to spell!) these past Summer months. Anddd also I admit to slacking on my goals of relearning piano and Spanish. But a girl's gotta watch Grey's Anatomy and lay in the sun, right?!

I wanna go big... but here is to turning off the TV and starting small!