Ramblings of a Mad Woman

“Look at your life”

The post-retreat languishing that occurred at the end of this holiday weekend is the stuff of legend. I tumbled into bed the second I got off the elevator, and had no plans to leave that well-worn bed until Tuesday. As with the best-laid plans, this did not come to fruition. That is not to say that I did not enjoy my unscheduled foray into the “real world.”

It was 7:30 pm, about 4 hours into my marathon Netflix session that I got the call. A girl from my fraternity was also in the throws of a hangover. For her, the only option was a burrito. She called to get my company on her trip to the local Mexican food place. When I tried to turn her down because SHOCKER: I HAVE NO MONEY IN MY BANK ACCOUNT, she scoffed away my rejection, saying “I am inviting you. I will pay for you.” I saw this trip to Vallarta’s as my one chance to leave the apartment in the coming days, so I decided to go for it - telling myself that I wouldn’t get food once there.

We listened to Lady Gaga and gabbed for the entire 20 minute trip, and it was really nice to have human interaction. When we got there, my semi-pajama attire of sparkly leggings and an over sized hoodie sans bra became glaringly obvious. I requested that we use the drive-thru and drive to a second location to eat. I was not trying to sit in a cramped space with about a dozen SDSU frat boys adorned in neon muscle tanks. With these requests, she made it known that I was definitely expected to get food. No “I’m not eating” when I required so much. I acquiesced and let her buy me a $5 calorie-fest.

As we were in Kearny Mesa, my brain immediately went to Pacific Beach. I clearly forgot how great the actual distance was, allowing my memory to reduce the 20 minute drive to a few moments. The drive, delay, and effort were all worth it though. My partner even agrees.

When we got there, the second mistake on my part was made obvious. It was a holiday weekend. That fact had been eclipsed by my exhaustion. But there it was, smacking us in the eyes, the drunken parade of 20-somethings. A fun, calm, easy meal on the beach was out of the question. Our only option was quickly recognized - the picnic table outside the beach-adjacent grocery store. I tried to right the situation by claiming that “people watching is so fun.” It is true, but I am pretty sure that my hungover friend was beyond atmosphere as she craved her burrito.

The night quickly became good again as we chowed down and began to discuss the importance of education and the meaning of life. It was all very “collegiate” and we were loving it… Until a man walked up to where we were sitting. Our position was right on the main street, which besides being highly populated, was also frequently patrolled by the police (who were probably punished with this beat). Thus, when he approached and began rambling about how he lost his friend and his phone, we were not too concerned.

There would not have been too much to be concerned about anyways. This dude was in his mid-40’s, with bleached blonde hair that he had strategically spiked into the center of a visor, cargo shorts, and a Quicksilver t-shirt. I could have kicked his ass.

His mission at our table, besides sitting down in his obviously drunken stupor, was to borrow one of our phones. My friend looked very wary and immediately pulled her purse in tighter. I was skeptical, but I completely changed my attitude when he pulled out a pile of bills. He was at least sober enough to recognize that he was weird, intruding, and not to be trusted. So, he did was creepy middle-aged white men do best - he offered us money. Five dollars to be exact. Roughly the same amount as my burrito. I quickly agreed, warning that if he took off with the phone, I would be left with nothing and I would “find him.”

My friend looked shocked. He began to rant and rave to his wife on the phone about how his friend had been a “total dick” and how he is “44-years-old” and how he doesn’t need to be “a fucking babysitter.” It would have all been wildly amusing if I didn’t glean that he was waking up his long suffering wife to pack his 5 and 7 year old sleeping children into a car at 10 o’clock at night to pick up his plastered and abandoned ass on a Sunday night - all instead of taking a taxi. Whatever. Not my husband, not my problem; just my five dollars.

In the midst of this buffoonery, another ridiculous, and infinitely more important thing happened. Our conversation completely stilted, we both took to staring in front of us. My in front of us happened to be the sidewalk littered with wasted college students. It was almost numbing the sameness of it all. That must explain why I noticed him. A relaxed, sort-of-buzzed man in his early thirties, happily jaunting along with his also appropriately acting friend. I would have marveled at the sight even if he HADN’T been my LSAT instructor.

Let me quickly explain this man. He is the teacher and head of marketing for the company with which I am taking my LSAT prep class. I love this company, and have since my mother’s independent research came back with the definitive results of “this is the best.” However, her advice was not the first contact I had had with this company. As a member of a pre-law organization for over 2 years, the LSAT is something with which I have becoming deeply acquainted. And this man, this marketing manager and teacher, has been there every step of the way.

He was the one to bring in Chipotle and explain the basic core of the test to my class. He was the one to offer free tips to our organization. He was the one to consistently shine at our semi-annual “LSAT Battle Royale” from among several companies. He was the one to offer a raffle of $300 off - which I won and used. And he is the one who we have consistently had a crush on for the entire time. He is goofy and dorky and wildly smart and nice and yeah he’s great. To the point that more than one person asked me if I was just taking the course because he was “the cute one.” Yeah. Like I would base my entire future path and happiness on the attractiveness of my teacher. No. Obviously not. Although it does not hurt. One bit.

Which is why I was SO excited when I saw him. Outside of his element! I had stayed after class several times, and more than once I had inquired about his life outside the test. Just to make sure he had one. He shyly indicated that it was limited. Which, of course, was wildly endearing. But, seeing him there, a little more than buzzed on the Sunday of a holiday weekend was the best thing I could have asked for.

I immediately blurted out that I was “studying for the test” and we both giggled at my obvious lie. Pleasantries and references to retreat were exchanged - the situation stilted by my shock and delight and his awkwardness and slight inebriation. All together it was my typical social interaction. Strange and wonderful.

Oh, and to top it all off, as he was walking away, I felt the need to shout after him, point to the still rambling man on my phone, and declare “this is just some random guy who I am letting use my phone.” My teacher politely nodded. The perfect ending to the perfect encounter.

My friend and I spent the remainder of this strange man’s time on my phone discussing the glory that is the company and my teacher. When he got off and gave me the 5 dollars, he stayed. This was not the plan. We had to listen to him rant about the “assholes” at Starbucks, claiming that he would be writing to his buddy who was the “number 3 guy at the company.” His comments about his high position in the Jack and the Box organization were largely ignored as well. When we finally got rid of him through a fake-out leaving motion, I handed the bill to my friend. She looked down and looked at me, and that is when I said “That’s the reason I let him use my phone. And I took his money. I wanted to be able to pay you back for the burrito.”

We laughed for about 10 minutes. At the sheer lunacy of it all. Trading psychotic, drunken phone time for burrito money, while at the same time running into a tipsy teacher? The perfect night.

And, as Rohan said later, “Look at your life.”

Both sides

My job at the car lot brought me in contact with rational people, doing a rational thing. Naturally, they behaved irrationally. There is something about spending 20 to 30 thousand dollars that really brings out either a) rudeness or b) timidity in people. It is certainly an interesting vantage point for the human experience; but, it is a sliver of the population, and a very unique situation. 

I would like to argue that my barely-above-minimum wage retail job at the mall Claire’s lets me see almost every type of person in two very distinct ways. This store can either bring out the best in people, or the absolute worst. 

The Best

Two weeks ago a woman in scrubs walked into our tiny store and browsed for almost an hour. I kept my eye on her out of sheer curiosity. I asked her if she needed “any assistance,” if she was “finding everything alright,” if she “needed anything from the back,” and if she “had any questions at all.” I was bordering on obnoxious because I wanted to know what this lady in her early 30’s was doing browsing the “youngest” section of the store. Every time I approached, a wide grin spread across her entire face, and she replied with some version of “I’m doing great, thank you!” She finally came up the counter with almost an entire basket full of fun, shiny things. I had to ask “what are you shopping for today?” The smile inexplicably grew as she replied “My niece. She lives in Chicago. This is the first time I am seeing her in three years.” Even as I was ringing her up, she was running back to the towers, grabbing more and more things that would make any girl 5-9 swoon. This nurse spending almost 200 hundred dollars on stuff that her niece would probably lose within 6 months made me radiant with joy. Having no aunts of my own, or nieces and nephews, I did not understand what she was doing. But, the excitement and happiness obvious in this woman was infectious. And her niece would, no doubt, remember the time her sweet aunt was the best, and showered her with gifts and love. 

The other day I filled in at Mission Valley Mall. The location of this store is a bit more central to the mall, so we tend to get more people looking for the perfect accessory for a specific item of clothing. Even so, the clientele of this mall is notorious for being aloof, and requiring very little assistance. Thus, I was rather surprised when, in the middle of organizing the earring section, a woman bounded into the store, came up to me, pulled out a shirt, and said “can you help me match this?” I walked around the store with her for about 10 minutes, trying out different accessories. If it had been a year ago, I would have been put off. She was loud and a little demanding and, it would seem, difficult. But, after having worked with people in very direct ways, I found this woman refreshing. She knew what she didn’t like, and that can sometimes be as helpful as knowing what you do like. With every attempt on my part, she either scoffed or worked through the reasons why it would not work. I remained, determined to see this woman decked out for her “festival.” The time was worth it, and we finally found a perfect combination of two skull bracelets and dangly earrings. She had a strong voice, but by the end, it was clear I had earned her trust, and she actually valued what I thought. It was a nice feeling, to have helped this woman get exactly what she wanted, and watch her leave the store happy and feeling good about herself. She was the best, and the perfect ending to my already smooth 4-hour shift. 

The Worst

My first week on the job, I was scheduled to close with my boss. Our store hours are from 9am until 9pm on Saturdays. At around 7:15, a pre-teen girl walked in by herself. The store was bustling with the excitement of a middle school birthday party. So, it took me a little longer than usual to greet her and provide her with a basket. She took it and smiled shyly back. Once the piercings were complete, and the huge group of girls had completed their tiny purchases, I returned my attention to the lone pre-teen. She combed each rack with careful consideration, making a concerted effort to take in every piece of merchandise in the store. Not even I had done that (much to my detriment on the job). When she was ready, with her 3 items, I began my usual cash register chit-chat. She responded with shocking enthusiasm, proudly stating that Claire’s was her “favorite store in the world.” I obviously responded in kind, and she left the store with a smile. Less than 20 minutes later, she was back. I congratulated myself for piquing her interest in magnetic nail polish, and she spent another 30 dollars. This time, she was enthusiastically discussing each of her choices as she made them. She practically skipped back into the mall, having spent another half an hour in our store. When I looked up 10 minutes later, she was back. With the pretense of looking for or buying things completely abandoned by this point, she just roamed the store, making comments all the while. I enjoyed her. But it struck me - this girl, around 13, should have had someone. She was old enough to have friends to go to mall with, but too young to be going alone. Where were the kids her age? Where were her parents? I wondered this for the next hour, as she took several phone calls from a “ride.” It was not until 9:15, after all the stores in the mall had closed, that her mother waltzed in. She was weighed down with shopping bags. I was sickened. This lonely girl, whom I had been briefed did a study-at-home program, was abandoned by her mother - with no plan for retrieval at the mall for what came out to be just over four hours. How dare this woman not appreciate her awesome kid, who made a point to tell me that I had the “best customer service” she had ever experienced. That mom was the worst. 

Back at Mission Valley, we had an entirely different flavor of nonsense. I had been in the tiny, new store for all of 15 minutes before my boss took her state-mandated break and I was left at the helm of a completely foreign vessel. There was a rush of people, with a middle aged woman in a “UCSD Medical Center” polo bringing up the rear. I greeted her with my customary “Hello! Welcome to Claire’s! What are you shopping for to-…” I put that little dash there because she cut me off with a terse “Do you have bow ties.” Shockingly, I was not unaccustomed to this question, and I had made a mental note the second I got there to check for the “fun and flashy neon LMFAO-esque” stuff for the college-age pub crawlers. This woman may have been 20 years outside of my normal demographic for this; but, I still directed her to the mesh gloves and ties. I was pulled off, to retrieve a necklace, clean up a knocked over display, open the display case, and ring someone up. When I finally completed my rush of tasks, I looked up from the cash register to see this woman outside the store, walking to the food court, examining a bright pink mesh glove… a glove from my store, a glove that I was POSITIVE she did not pay for. Who was this old bitch who walked in with a shirt indicating she worked at MY UNIVERSITY, with the wrinkles of hundreds of days in the sun without protection, and the gall to not even hide her shoplifting? I was miffed for the rest of the day that I had missed it. I would have LOVED for my first time executing the company’s shoplifting policy to be this angry, old, terrible witch. She was the worst. At least I can take solace in the fact that she stole a single, neon, mesh glove… probably to go to a party where no one would talk to her… or everyone else would also be the worst. Because, honestly, if I found out that my friend stole a single, neon, mesh glove from a Claire’s at age 45 while working for the state, I would immediately cease contact with them. 

I am only 5 weeks into the job, and I have worked less than 30 hours total; but, I have learned a lot. Not just that I never want to be stuck working minimum wage (actually $9… manager title and all). Or that I will now always put things back where I found them in a store. Or that middle school girls have gotten more ridiculous (glow-in-the-dark sunglasses?!?!?). I have learned a lot more about people - things I could not learn in the telemarketing or car selling environment. People really have to feel like you DO NOT MATTER AT ALL - not that you are bothering them or scamming them - but that you truly HAVE NO IMPORTANCE OR VALUE to show either the best or worst sides of themselves… If I label it a “learning experience,” it makes it all seem like a sparkly wonderland of goodness. I am perfectly fine with self preservation delusion.

My response to yesterday’s vote

There are huge sections of this country that, for whatever reason, believe it is well within their privilege and duty to withhold what the Supreme Court has declared a fundamental right to whole categories of Americans. 

Isn’t that shocking? No. It is not. And that is disgusting. 

We live in a time and place where I can open my computer, see that a state I have called home has blatantly discriminated against a group of people, and not be caught off-guard. How terrible is that?

The flagrant bigotry on the part of North Carolinians is obvious to me every time I go there. Whether it is overhearing high schoolers at the mall call each other “fag”; or making an extra sale because my co-workers do not want to deal with the “dykes”; or seeing church signage decry the life of the homosexual as “sinful.” It is all there. 

Yes, there are people there who do not act or think in this deplorable manner. But, as we learned yesterday, there are a lot who do. 

I have seen this chart floating around, illustrating the ratio of those with a Bachelor’s Degree with those who voted “No” on Amendment 1. And, yes, it’s true that education seems to make people more “liberal” in their social standings. But, this is HONESTLY not a matter for politics. 

This is a matter of personhood. Are homosexuals equal persons deserving of equal treatment? Are all US citizens and residents privy to the same fundamental rights that define personhood? Are you a good person? 

Here’s a hint: the last answer depends on the first two. 

I am not shocked. I am disgusted by both the vote and that fact. I should be shocked. 

Step it the fuck up North Carolina. Step it the fuck up United States. You’re embarrassing all of us. 

Big Plans for Tomorrow, Wednesday

I think since I will be done with classes, papers, midterms, working, and studying for a little while, I am going to spend the day in bed. I shall be day drinking, listening to nostalgic music, eating chocolate, watching HORRIFYINGLY sad movies, and sobbing.

It’s cathartic and called for and necessary. 

Music

• “Vienna” - Billy Joel
• “Slow Motion” - Third Eye Blind
• “Copacabana” - Barry Manilow 
• “I’ll Be Seeing You” - Billie Holiday 
• “Last Kiss” - Pearl Jam
• “Something” - The Beatles 

Movies

• Stepmom
• West Side Story
• One Day
• The Way We Were 
• Patch Adams

My word

All a man has is his word. 

My constant coveting of sparkly accoutrements and part-time status as a used car salesperson may lead some to conclude that this is not, in fact, a crucial part of my personhood. Those some would be wildly off base. Now firmly on the other side of a few slip-ups, I know more than ever that my word is all that I have. 

I have spent a lot of time thinking about this (obsessive nature and all). All a man has is his word. I do not just hold myself to this standard; I apply it to everyone. This can either be a ridiculously easy qualification, or an impossible bar to reach. The distinction rests in others’ understanding of their own word. 

Let me clarify - Most people try to abide by this philosophy. But, they define the concept so narrowly that they end up accidentally abandoning it. Truth is not just in fact, or even concrete follow through; it is also in the openness of feelings and emotions. 

I subscribed to a pretty skewed view of “holding someone to their word” or “taking someone at their word” for a long time. It ended up giving me major anxiety, making my life unduly difficult, and even ruining relationships. People did not lie to me outright about real world facts. But, they did not seem to consider their emotional state something that required truth or consistency.

“Fine” is a four letter word in any relationship. Why is that? “Fine” does not have a negative denotation. Why has it developed a negative connotation? It is because people are not sticking to their word. 

The trend with “fine” is to say it when, in reality, things are not “fine.” That is fucked. And it is indicative of the problem that is prevalent in a lot of relationships. 

My realization did not happen over night. It has been a years-long process involving several epiphanies and a lot of hard work. This entire area is still in progress, and I put effort in every day. But, it has all been worth it. 

1. The first step I took in understanding and embracing the “word” philosophy was to vocalize my actual feelings. This probably has something to do with why some people think I am confrontational. But, I would rather be forthright about my feelings than hide them and let them become a twisted, mashed version of my actual mindset.
2. The second step was to deal with those feelings. Having the conversation, righting a situation, or just moving on. And that’s the thing, moving on. I had to mean it. No more holding on to stale emotions, past transgressions, or hidden issues. When I say to someone “I accept your apology,” or “I have moved on,” or “It doesn’t matter,” I MEAN IT. When I decide internally to let something go, I MEAN IT.
3. Those steps were the internal aspects that took awhile to recognize, but very little time to implement. The third step was the beginning of the hard stuff. This was when I had to apply my new personal views to others. I had to start working on the assumption that they too would be honest with their feelings, and that they would deal with them outright. Easier said than done. When the person is actually operating under this view, it makes the relationship infinitely easier and better. But, when they are not, it can erode the relationship. I used to be the person who asked friends on the regular if they were mad at me. It was super annoying not only for me to feel so anxious all the time; but, I see now, for them to hear. I would ask over and over, until I had gotten them mad. I am not sure if they knew that they were getting mad at me for more than just my nagging. It went beyond that because I was not taking their word. I was basically calling them liars. It was me going “Oh you said you are not mad at me? You were mistaken. Or you are lying. Let me ask again. And then not believe you. Because your word means shit. Mad yet?”  Yupp, they were. Breaking the pattern of “are you mad at me” has been an almost drug-addiction-withdrawls-relapse struggle. I am still in the 12-step program… This is not to say that I am inconsiderate of other’s feelings. People can display things that they don’t articulate (which is frustrating), and I will ask about it. ONCE. And I will accept the first response. Even if they say “No. I am fine.” in a tone, I will move on. Because it’s up to them to go through the process, understand their own feelings, and articulate them. It is not fair for them to lie about their feelings, just like it is not fair for me to not believe them.

I work every day to make sure I interact with people in a healthy manner. This means that I get in touch with my emotions; articulate them when necessary; consider other’s feelings; inquire sincerely about someone’s situation; and, finally, accept their answer. I tell the truth, and expect others to do the same. 

Take me at my word, and I will take you at yours.