I'm baffled how this article about big eyebrows coming back has been the New York Times' most emailed story for the past few days. Who knew people were that obsessed with facial hair. I started letting my giant eyebrows grow in slightly more natural a year or so ago because I could sense a trend towards the bushy-now I feel vindicated. Apparently, so do thousands of readers. At least that Shamu nonsense has finally been knocked out of the top ten.
Anyway, I might've done something rash, I don't know. As I sort of alluded to earlier, there was a job that I had been counting on getting that would've been ideal. It turned out that a freelance staff member took it. That left the part time/freelance position open if I desired it. I stewed, hemmed and hawed and then broke down Thursday after being pissed off too many times in my short time back at work and called the director to say I'd take it. So, I guess I have a new job. I'm supposed to start Sept. 11, which is ominous to say the least.
Short term it's scary, but long term it's promising because it's at the NY Post where I regularly contribute pieces (I just wrote two cookbook reviews and am working on an article about lesser known Latin American cuisines–I'll be eating Bolivian for lunch and Uruguayan for dinner) and there's potential for networking and writing more. It's always a good thing for editors to see you face to face rather than via email. Plus, there might be a part time opening in the section that I write for so I might be able to split my time between the library and editorial. As I'm writing this out, it sounds better and better and less uncertain and flaky. Isn't it gross when blogs end up being more about working out personal issues than enlightening and educating you?
Above photo illustrates a series of caganers, which apparently are an appropriate component of Catalan nativity scenes.
Congratulations, you’ve made the leap into your dream industry. If you have medical, then freelancing is not so bad.
I think it sounds awesome! But I’m really commenting on the feces issue. I worked in an office (a MAJOR insurance company) where someone did that exact same thing. What is with people? If you’re into paybacks (and I really do understand the need sometimes) then slash tires or super-glue desk drawers shut. Shitting on toilet seats punishes EVERYONE. I think part of that mentality comes from being dumbed down in the work place. Maybe it’s not your issue at work, but it definitely was mine. We were treated like children there, so I think retaliation was very childish in nature. Maybe your “fecal information” posters should use bright colors and cartoons to get the ladies’ attention.
Congratulations!!
RE: the fecal smear issue… yikes. I worked at a community college where once I noticed the back of a staff stall door was encrusted with boogers. Well, there wasn’t enough room in the stall to keep reading materials on hand, I guess…
I think we’ve had many conversations pertaining to the Professional Women’s Fecal Issue. Over the years, it has never ceased to amaze me that these midtown bathrooms (from many freelance assignments) were constantly more foul than the unisex bathrooms at Motor City Bar, Union Pool, or pretty much any other bar that might attract clientele “from the other side of the tracks.” When I was at Ellegirl.com, we shared the floor with the print folks; the bathroom closest to us always had a turd on the seat after 11am, and sometimes a bit of shit on the stall walls. Not only that, but the TP was mysteriously shredded. One of the girls submitted it to Gawker, the Ellegirl Bathroom story ran on the front page the next day. My friend at the time laughed her ass off and demanded to know if this was my doing. Sadly, it wasn’t, but she didn’t believe me due to the fact that the tipster had used the term “Wildebeest.”
I think these three sterotypes might be part of the problem:
1. Metro North commuter, new home in Westchester, quite possibly with kids (the one who often skips work, citing an appoinment in her area, and saying she will be “working from home”).
2. In finance, and lives in Chelsea, in one of the cookie cutter high rises. She has no real method of “release.”
3. Newly graduated, with tan skin and the requisite long, straight hair. She aspires to be Stephanie Klein, and pick up investment bankers at Sushi Samba, drinking apple “martinis.”
How am I doing?
I would be happy to contribute to an in-depth study. We could them print them out and place them in professional stalls everywhere.
Also, it’s AWESOME that you get to keep the health benefits while freelancing. There’s a special place in Hell for industries that think it’s OK to keep offering “full time” work without heath insurance. Assholes.
Jane: it’s funny that you’d mention wildebeests (I do love the literally sordid Conde Nast tale) because I was speculating with a coworker over who the mystery shitter might be and she suspected it might be this creepy woman that I refer to (in my mind) as The Warthog. I imagine that warthogs and wildebeests must have a lot in common.
Lisa: I’d never heard of the booger encrusting problem, but a coworker also brought up this issue while we were discussing the the horrific fecal smear from Fri. Maybe I should start using those disposable seat covers, after all.
Meredith: I tend to agree with the childish approach. I’m thinking the shitter is either very low level and striking out or very high level and a freak. I like to imagine it’s a freaky VP who’s responsible more than a disgruntled receptionist.
Emigre: Yeah, now that I’m old I do see the allure of medical benefits. I didn’t used to get the big deal until I was in my mid-twenties and had declined health insurance available from a PT job because I didn’t want to pay the $40 or so a month, and then I broke my tailbone falling down stairs. That taught me a lesson. Luckily, I did have paid sick days so I didn’t get too screwed on being out of work for nearly two weeks.
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