Good Advice

If you're in a rush...never decide to actually "jump" in the shower. You think you might be jumping to the back end of the tub to avoid the cold water while it's heating up. But you actually just slip and fall into the tub full of frigid cold water...naked.

Survival Tips for the Locked Out.

Last night, an awesome Friday! I was on my way to my cousin Stephanie's house to hang out. On my way, my sister Gina calls me and asks me so nicely to come over, sleep over and watch her dog because early that morning Gina and her boyfriend Keith were to go skiing! I was really their last option, so of course, I had to oblige. I don't have pajamas, clothes, a toothbrush or a phone charger with me, but whatever, I'll make do, she needs me.

I get over there around 2am. Not sleepy at all. I woke up at around 5pm that day. I knew I'd probably be staying up for a while, so I just went online and chilled out. They left around 6am, for their outing leaving the keys on the table with the dog's leash. 

I finally wake up around 2pm and I go online. The dog, JD jumps right on top of me totally ready to expel a bunch of his poop. Of course my hair is wild, I haven't even washed my face yet and my cellphone is now dead but whatever, it'll only take a minute.

I let him out, I get back and the key isn't working. I try. I try a lot. I knock on doors. No one is home in the ENTIRE apartment building. I ask random gentlemen in the hallway, he tries, no luck. I ask him if I can use his phone and he says no. About an hour later, the doorman is on duty. He tries, but under one condition, I shall NOT let the dog go near him. And this one year old Golden Retriever is wacky, bouncy and is excited to see and jump onto just about anyone. He calls the superintendent and they don't have a master key because Gina supposedly changed her locks recently and they haven't obtained a copy yet.

By this time, Gina is supposed to be home. I call her and I find out that her friend and the person who drove them there fell on the mountain and broke his leg. They were in the hospital all day and they weren't leaving any time soon. I also find out that I had the wrong keys, the OLD set of keys that were right next to the NEW set of keys. She tells me to try a credit card and if that doesn't work I could just leave and go home, wait for her there.

The credit card thing was ridiculous, so I just throw him in my back-seat and leave. My gaslight is on, blinking. I have no money and no house key. I go back to my cousin's hoping my Mom is there. Of course she's not. I call her, my dad, my sister, no one answers. I leave, counting the miles, hoping that I don't run out of gas.

I thankfully get home and I remember that my Dad said there is a key in the backyard underneath one of these three rocks. I try each but they are stuck to the ground in ice. I knock each one down using my shoe, freezing, in the dark. The last one, the key is there. BUT it's in a block of ice.  I use a stick to pick it out slowly. I get it out but it won't work because ice is surrounding the grooves. I go back to my car and let the dog lick it until it melts in my numb hand covered in dirt, water and now the key ingredient, saliva. 

It's 8pm and I'm finally home. Gina came here but I have to drive her and the dog home because Keith needs the car. So that'll make me feel better. 

No more favors for anyone.

I got an interview! Not a job though.

Today I had an interview at a café in Staten Island. Not my first choice for a job, but I need money and waitressing seems like the quickest way to do that.

Ashley, a friend, had promised me that I could use her printer to print out my resumé. The owner, Boris, said to bring a "few" in the e-mail. I assumed that meant three?

So I got to her house early to discuss my clothing and get the resumés printed. Everything seemed okay until we noticed that her printer was out of ink. That sucks. We then try her parents computer, but they do not have Microsoft Word on their PC. So I try a number of things, saving the file as a bunch of things, opening it a bunch of ways, even downloading Microsoft Office viewer. And just to make this a little more annoying, the computer is old and slow.

About an hour later, the only thing that worked out was the incredibly slow download of the Microsoft viewer. Which would be fine. However! When I opened my resumé, it was just one line too long, so it was on a second page. And because it's a viewer, I can't edit it! 

So I print out two. Throw away the second page, even though now on my resume it says I commit activities but there is a huge blank spot underneath it. Karma for being so lazy?

Then Ashley figures out a way to print out the entirety, which is great, but on this particular one, it has no name, address or phone number.

So I have three?

I'm late so I have to go. I race there in my car. The interview is at 8:30 and it's 8:25. I'm right in front. I turn onto the street, sink into a huge pothole and continue on my way on the ONE-WAY STREET. Going the wrong way, of course.

So I could do two things. Turn around or continue down the block a bit to get to the café's parking lot. I pick the latter on account of the time.

I park. I get out. I flick my gum over a fence nearby. I'm ready to go. It's 8:29. I GOT THIS.

I enter the establishment and wait for Boris, the tall man, all in black,who is interviewing a very cute girl for the same job. When he is done with her, he shows her to the door with his hand on the small of her back, they giggle as they passes me.

 "So, I'll call you this week."

He notices me there and goes for the resumé. I think he's going to shake my hand. But he's going for the other hand with the resumés. My hand is awkwardly left in the air as he walks away with my weird three resumés. I guess I should follow him?

I do. I sit next to him at the interviewing table, right by a gigantic window with a view of the street outside. I introduce myself. He asks me about my experience. I lie, a lot. I've never worked in food service before so I lied on my resumé and said I worked at a cafe at school that closed down. How hard could it have been? 

"Do you know how to make a cappuccino?" he asked.

"Yup," I said.

"Do you know how to mix a drink?" he asked.

"Not professionally, but everybody knows how to mix themselves a drink, right?" I say.

No reaction. This interview was about four minutes long so far.

"Any questions?" he asks.

Now, I don't have questions, but I want to talk more. It seems like the interview is over and I didn't even get to say anything or show any of my great, job-worthy personality.

"I don't have any questions, but I have...thoughts?"

"What thoughts?" he asks.

Then I proceeded to tell him that I like that they have live music because I'm an artist and that means he supports the arts. I thank him. Then I tell him I love gelato and I'm glad they have gelato there. He doesn't seem to relate/take interest in/give a shit about anything I am saying. I then decide to tell him that I like their modern décor. I have no idea why. The tables and chairs are connected to the floor, and the customers cannot reach the table in some cases. I tell him I like that too and the crusty orange color of the walls.

I don't know why. But when you start something like this, you can't stop.

He thanks me and I get up to leave.

"Oh, just one more thing!" he says.

I turn.

"You have a car right? I saw you pull in."

"Oh yes. I do. That was me. I pulled in," I answered.

A short amount of quiet time goes by. He's looking at me. He either saw me drive into the one-way, not turn around even though I was on a one-way, or flick my gum, or probably all three! Should I laugh? Is this what this is?

"Okay...bye." I said. And I haul ass out the door.