In Defense of Capitalism

Something has been off these past few weeks for me. I have become increasingly aware that people look down on me for working at a huge, multi-billion dollar company. Like I've sold out or something.

1. Local coffee shops here in Las Cruces are pieces of shit, by and large. The Bean is an exception; they've always been pretty friendly, and their coffee/food is good. Milagro is awful. The last time Jon and I were there, the young man at the counter sarcastically remarked 'thanks!' to Jon when he scratched out the tip line. Two things wrong with this. First- Jon prefers to leave physical tips, and scratches out the tip line habitually. His sister worked in the service industry, and knew people who would write in tips. He also likes to have the current balance in his account be up to date, without anticipating another missing few dollars while the system updates. Secondly- no one at a cafe is really entitled to a tip. It's just that- a reward for good service. Not only did this dipshit loose our tip for himself, but he prevented his coworkers from sharing it as well. I like getting tips, but I don't expect people to give them. I'm not waiting on their table, and I'm not refilling their water glass periodically. I'm just doing my job- they can tip or not, but I won't be an ass about it. This character made a show of taking thirty minutes to make two simple drinks. He served everyone behind us first, so that we could witness the effects of not catering to his tantrum.

2. I am not oppressed by 'the man'. No one put a gun to my head and told me to work at the Bux. I needed money, and none of the local places would give me the time of day. I work for a good company. I don't mind if they don't care about me. I get to have free bevs all shift, get a pound of coffee/canister of tea every week, and my shifts are easy to work with. The people that sometimes make the job unpleasant are the entitled asshats who come in and bother me about things I can't help. One gentleman (term used loosely) kept pestering me about the air not working properly. I had been out in the sun cleaning up cigarette butts and trash, and was sweating profusely. I came inside to do the same, and advised the guy to sit away from the sun, since the air was on the blink. He refused to move, and insisted on repeating his complaint each day. I didn't major in electrical engineering. Neither did any of my coworkers. We had to rely on the repairman, and he took his time getting to our place.

Go to a local place and see if it's any better. Milagro was hot as fuck the last time I was there. But I knew it was hotter still behind the counter, and didn't say anything. I'm not a stupid prick who enjoys harassing others. Also, there's been a push at a few Sbux stores in metropolitan areas to have blank plates put on outlets. People are outraged that a free, optional service is being withheld.

"Where else am I going to surf the internet, conduct my business, or study all day in an air conditioned environment? My home?" It's a freaking business. They are here to make money. People who camp all day do not generate profit, believe it or not. They are usually cheapskates who order a tall coffee, demand refills, and request Trenta sized cups of (free) water. If they take their business elsewhere, Sbux won't even notice they're gone (unless the electric bill goes down). I know customers who leave if there is no room to sit, and that's shame. They are the ones who really want to hang out with their friends and socialize over a beverage, pastry, and (possibly) more treats.

I'm not going to make a career out of this job. I'm doing it for some cash while I support my main ambition: writing. I just thought I'd take a moment to defend a place that's given me a chance to support myself.

Service Industry Grunt

Hey everyone, just thought I'd give a brief update on my employment status.

Working at Starbucks has taught me a lot of things. It's shown me how much I want a real job, for instance. Not that it's not fun working there- I like coffee, and I like making drinks and interacting with friendly people. I don't like being treated like I'm stupid because I'm behind a counter, which is unfortunately a big part of the job. Some people take a look at me and don't see a college graduate who was at the top of her class. They see a girl who they can belittle, and experience Schadenfreude at watching her become uncomfortable with their ridiculous complaints.

Many customers are just fine. They smile, look you in the eye, and say thank you. But I'm distressed at how one tyrannical personality can disturb my otherwise good day. I had a woman lie to my supervisor, saying I was giving her son attitude when he changed his drink order at the window. Never mind that she wasn't present when the 'exchange' took place, and that I have several witnesses to the contrary. I was confronted later and given advice on how to communicate with people. In short, I was treated like a kid who pushed someone down in the school yard.

I'm doing the best I can. I'm writing, I'm reading a lot, and I'm looking for bigger and better things. Am I embarrassed that I essentially wasted the past four years of my life? Fuck yes I am. But I'm not embarrassed that I'm creating my own future in a shitty economy. My parents don't pay for my place, my food, or my bills. I'm not ashamed to be poor and independent. I want better for myself, of course, but until an opportunity comes along, this is how it's going to be. I'll continue to write in obscurity, and I'll be happy knowing things won't always be so rough.

I'm smart. I'm really fucking smart, ok? I know this isn't my destiny, but I'm working with what I have. Everything has always, in one way or another, worked out for me. This time, I'm going to have to consciously force things to go in my favor again. I'm confident that it will get better. Jon is going back to NMSU in the Fall, and I'll be working on becoming the writer I want to be.

Sorry for the long lapse there. I'll continue to update everyone on my status.

After the drought.

So I had an interview with Starbucks yesterday. The general manager called me in the morning, and asked if I wanted to come in at noon to talk with him. This is the first bite I've had in a while, so of course I lunged at the chance. I was back in my routine of meticulously doing my hair and makeup, selecting a professional outfit, and steaming it, praying that this wouldn't be another rejection waiting to happen.

During the interview, I was asked questions like, "What do you think a barista is?" I'm terrible at these sorts of questions. I tend to over think them, and give dumb answers. At the time, it seemed like I was doing well. I smiled, I didn't stutter, and I avoided laughing obnoxiously (which is difficult to do with my rather annoying gaffaw). The man said he was hiring two people, out of six total applicants. I made a stupid 'so my chances are around 33 %, right?' quip, but I was feeling good. He promised to call in the evening with his decision either way, and I walked out confident. Then I got home and started to think.

"What the hell is a barista to anyone?" I asked out loud. Why didn't I say how hard I'd be willing to work, and how dedicated I was to doing a good job?

I basically drove myself crazy for hours. I cleaned my house like mad, sweeping, mopping, and dusting every room, scrubbing the patio wall and floor, and wiping down every surface I came across. As the evening turned into night, I grew despondent. I wrote, I made dinner, I wrote some more, and I played videogames. Still nothing.

Finally, at about 9:15 the guy calls. He sounded down, and said all the interviews went really well. He went on talking for a few minutes, and Jon said he could practically see my stomach drop. Finally, after much adieu, I was offered the job. I felt an odd shock, because I wasn't accepting an apology for once. I said I would love to work for him, and he promised to call again today (Wednesday).

So my depressing stint as an unemployed, domestic Suzy Homemaker, I finally got a position somewhere. I'm submitting two articles to Pulse tomorrow, which will run in next week's publication. The Delicious Dish is mine, as is the band profile for Places and Numbers. Do look for it.

I'm holding a phone interview with the musician here in a couple of hours, so I'm finishing drafting up some final questions now. Just thought I would take a moment to reflect on my feelings. It's odd; I kept telling myself I didn't care where I worked, as long as I could get a position outside of fast food. I found last night, however, an overwhelming feeling of broken pride in the place of gratitude. It was as if the work was somehow beneath me (which is crap)- but I overcame my brief mood swing by remembering my writing. I am building experience by freelancing, and my fiction is being continuously worked on as well.

So there it is- I finally have a job, and I'm coming out of my stupid, crappy mood. I will continue to write on this blog, though, and chronicle my future failures (and occasional successes). Thanks for sticking with me, guys.

Almost forgot

I received a call from Pulse, the weekly publication of entertainment news from the Sun. I was offered a chance to do freelance work, and must go in Monday to meet with the editor and discuss future assignments.

I need the experience, but I can honestly get paid more to donate plasma. They only give $25 for 500 word articles. My math is awful, but I think that's 20 cents a word. In other words, writing 2,000 words will fetch me a whopping $100.


I am struggling not to choke on the immense gratitude I feel right now.

Just when you think you're finished with school.

As I mentioned in my last post, I started looking at more online writing and editing sites for employment purposes. On Elance, I've found that there is a neat option where the prospective writer can highlight talents for their potential clients to see. The site offers a test (40 minutes, 40 questions) based on the subject matter the writer wants to accentuate. Since it is tested by the site, the results can't be fudged. "I'm really grate great at spelling!" I took the grammar test, thinking it would be easy.

I was wrong, and embarrassed. That test included content I hadn't seen (let alone thought about) in years. Parallel comparisons, modifiers, etc. I scored in the top 30%, but I was discouraged. I can retake the test in two weeks, and I'm studying for it (and editing) with my Writer's Guide book. It includes very helpful examples, reasons for rules, and easy-to-understand language.

I've hit a bit of a block, though. I'm feeling very poorly, since I went to bed with terrible queasiness. I woke up midnight, and had to rush to the bathroom to prevent throwing up in bed. I woke up feeling like junk, and I really just want to sleep off this crappy day. It's difficult to be productive when you physically hurt, but my feelings of guilt and uselessness are more overwhelming.

Growing up, my mother was always doing something. I never saw her idly sitting on the couch, watching a show. She was usually cooking, cleaning, or organizing while casting a glance at her favorite program. She encouraged me to be the same way. If I was loitering in front of the television, she'd stick the utensil drawer in front of me and suggest straightening it out while I watched TV. Now, I have this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach from inactivity. My place is clean, I don't have homework anymore, and the TV is off- but I still feel like I'm being lazy. Even though I tell myself I'm looking for a job while I'm online, the lack of physical exertion feels wrong.

I had to take a few minutes off from studying to document my emotions. They are as much of a distraction as my stomach woes.

Trying a new approach

Yesterday, I made a discovery: I was sick of having doors (figuratively) slammed in my face every time I went to inquire about an open position. I hated the faux hope I experienced each morning as I steamed my professional outfit du jour, making sure every little crease was gone to obtain the most organized appearance I could. I spent countless hours spent doing my hair meticulously, applying  makeup, and triple checking myself in the mirror and for what?

For every place to either say 'apply online' or 'we're not hiring'.

Thanks to my sister Carolyn, I got in touch with a friend of hers who works for the kind of websites I've been trying to figure out: writing and editing. She pointed me in the direction of several good ones, like Odesk.com, Guru.com, and Elance.com. I'm currently looking at projects on the last one.

Basically, I feel more hope that I'll actually get work than I have in a while. Elance's site is pretty great- you get to submit proposals in response to the client's guidelines, and they pick the one they think is the most qualified. That's right- no more getting down over losing work to high school dropouts. I'm feeling good today, since my chances for getting work are now dependent on my ability.

Begging for Work: An Examination

I'm not a stay-at-home mom. I don't collect disability. I have never attempted to get Welfare. But right now, I find myself lying in bed, trying to find the will to keep searching for a job. I've been at my endeavor for months now. Before, when people asked me what I was going to do with my degree in English, I would shrug and say "Eh, whatever I want." Now, however, the question prompts me into a fit of rage- I find myself defensive, combative, and just unpleasant to be around. I think there exists a double standard for people coming out of college; if one hasn't been accepted to a prestigious company by the time they've finished walking off the stage with their fake diploma in hand, they are considered lazy at best.

When I couldn't find work in the months preceding my graduation, I began to panic. I found out there are worse things out there than being considered lazy. People make suggestions about obvious career choices that you tried tens of times to obtain. They offer their input as to what you 'should' do, which usually consists of expensive options ranging from moving to a new city to going back to school. It's as if my lack of a job directly mirrors my intelligence and ability. That's not accurate at all. In my latest attempt to seek entry-level work, I came across a few employed women in various HR departments. I physically went to the place I was applying to (a medical center) to inquire about submitting my application in another way; the website was glitching, and I couldn't complete the online form due to a programming oversight. When I tried to explain this to the woman behind the desk, she told me I could apply online. She had sat through what I said, and offered a response that showed she hadn't listened to a word.

She continued to display her incompetence, and I found myself even further discouraged. If someone who lacked two brain cells could get a position which supplied benefits, a salaried wage, and a comfortable setting, why couldn't I?

What does that say about me? What's wrong with me?

The short answer is nothing. Nothing is wrong with me, except that I am too smart to realize what 'place' I'm supposed to submit myself to. Here's my opinion, and it's based on years of trying to gain employment throughout college. Managers do not want to hire someone like me: a young, driven person who has the ability to rise above their station to something more meaningful. Their job security becomes compromised. Having mindless, cowed minions beneath one means never fearing the loss of one's job to a more qualified person.

I can hear the protests already. Here are the facts as I've experienced them:
I've held a 3.9 cumulative GPA my entire college career. That means that out of the many courses I've taken over four years, I've gotten one B. In those four years, I've tried to get a job at every place in the mall. I submitted my resume to bars and restaurants. I even attempted to get into department stores.

I didn't get one interview from any of the places I applied to. The number, if I've calculated correctly, is somewhere in the forties. The only place I finally got into was the computer labs on campus- and that was a direct result of my friend, who was employed there, speaking for me.

In short, it appears that the only way to get hired is if you know someone in the company already. That, or you have years of experience already. It's a terrible cycle, because I can't get experience since no one will hire me.

I'm going to attempt to keep track of the places I apply to, and the outcomes of each endeavor. This blog will be the rough draft of a story that began to form in my head a few weeks ago, after my first interview* with a publication. I want to start a type of online sample of my writing, so I can have it for future reference. Yes, it's a little meta to write about trying to get work in order to secure a possible job, but maybe that's the way the world needs to head.

*It's important to note that I was only brought in to be told there was no open position. At no point was I given a real chance- it was a useless meeting that ate up an entire morning.