We'll call this phase of my life "me" time
For work today, I had to go a training. No, no, not one to learn things, one in which I was present to assist. Awesome. My boss was facilitating and I was, in her words, Vanna. (Interestingly (or perhaps not) Vanna--according to IMDb (my source for correct spelling (I care, people))--is from North Myrtle Beach. Now, is North Myrtle Beach any different from South Myrtle Beach? Is it a side-of-the-tracks thing? Hmmm. Also, she was born in 1957. Check her out in the upcoming "Dirt Nap." She stars as herself. It's like she was born for the role. Buh-dum-bum.)
So, back to me. I was, in fact, introduced to the entire room of folks-being-trained as Vanna. To wit, I flashed a gen-you-wine Starpower smile, elicited chuckles, spread good cheer. Prior to the training, I picked up plates, napkins, and 6 2-liter bottles of soda (and tampons but I doubt I'll be reimbursed for those) and lugged all of the items (well, not the tampons) into the building. Also prior to the training, I picked up a Master's degree at a pricey university and worked for five years in multilateral international agencies, federal agencies, and non-profit community-based settings. At this stage in my career, I should hardly be paying my dues. I've paid them like seven times over. But I have had some really cool jobs and have gotten to work with some awesome populations. I'd choose work involving post-op transsexuals of color in need of health care over some Joe-Here's-Your-Desk anyday (and have), but, sadly, Joe-Here's-Your-Desk has better benefits and allows for the freedom of paying each and every bill each and every month. Ahhh, the sweet sweet luxury of bill-paying.
It's not all that bad. It's really nice to not worry about money, it's just kind of a bummer that the cool jobs with the transsexual (and other) folks don't allow for such a blissful state of affairs. So I traded in the lesbian- and transman-focused sexual health clinic job in DC for a go-pick-up-the-Subway-sandwich-platters-because-the-Subway-delivery-guy-is-sick gig in LA. So I go to pick-up-the-Subway-sandwich-platters-because-the-Subway-delivery-guy-is-sick this afternoon and get there a bit early (per usual, unlike my late-ass friend, Suie) and they're still preparing the sandwiches. I notice a store across the street. One of my fave shoe stores of all time. Sooooo, I harken back to my shower this morning whereupon (whenceupon? I didn't go to grad school for English, that's for sure) I thought about the need for East Coast footwear for my upcoming East Coast travels. I triumphantly cross the intersection, enter beloved Payless, and browse the aisles.
Six minutes and $32.98 later, I emerge with a pair of black leather (?) boots and super cute Airwalks in my fave shade of blue. I was all aglow with the impromptu shopping victory, sure that my now-Californified tootsies will be protected against the harsh weather of the eastern seaboard in December. I happily picked up sandwiches and returned to the training on time (again, per usual). I guess the main thrust of Ye Olde Ramblefest is many-pronged:
1. I opine (shout-out to Princess Sparkle!) that grad school is for suckers--at least it is when it cost $40,000 and you make little more than that six years later.
2. Nothing is more rewarding than working directly with people, but try telling that to Master Card.
3. When you get a job NOT working with people, but one that Master Card approves of, nothing is more rewarding than shopping and buying things for yourself that make you feel pretty.
So, back to me. I was, in fact, introduced to the entire room of folks-being-trained as Vanna. To wit, I flashed a gen-you-wine Starpower smile, elicited chuckles, spread good cheer. Prior to the training, I picked up plates, napkins, and 6 2-liter bottles of soda (and tampons but I doubt I'll be reimbursed for those) and lugged all of the items (well, not the tampons) into the building. Also prior to the training, I picked up a Master's degree at a pricey university and worked for five years in multilateral international agencies, federal agencies, and non-profit community-based settings. At this stage in my career, I should hardly be paying my dues. I've paid them like seven times over. But I have had some really cool jobs and have gotten to work with some awesome populations. I'd choose work involving post-op transsexuals of color in need of health care over some Joe-Here's-Your-Desk anyday (and have), but, sadly, Joe-Here's-Your-Desk has better benefits and allows for the freedom of paying each and every bill each and every month. Ahhh, the sweet sweet luxury of bill-paying.
It's not all that bad. It's really nice to not worry about money, it's just kind of a bummer that the cool jobs with the transsexual (and other) folks don't allow for such a blissful state of affairs. So I traded in the lesbian- and transman-focused sexual health clinic job in DC for a go-pick-up-the-Subway-sandwich-platters-because-the-Subway-delivery-guy-is-sick gig in LA. So I go to pick-up-the-Subway-sandwich-platters-because-the-Subway-delivery-guy-is-sick this afternoon and get there a bit early (per usual, unlike my late-ass friend, Suie) and they're still preparing the sandwiches. I notice a store across the street. One of my fave shoe stores of all time. Sooooo, I harken back to my shower this morning whereupon (whenceupon? I didn't go to grad school for English, that's for sure) I thought about the need for East Coast footwear for my upcoming East Coast travels. I triumphantly cross the intersection, enter beloved Payless, and browse the aisles.
Six minutes and $32.98 later, I emerge with a pair of black leather (?) boots and super cute Airwalks in my fave shade of blue. I was all aglow with the impromptu shopping victory, sure that my now-Californified tootsies will be protected against the harsh weather of the eastern seaboard in December. I happily picked up sandwiches and returned to the training on time (again, per usual). I guess the main thrust of Ye Olde Ramblefest is many-pronged:
1. I opine (shout-out to Princess Sparkle!) that grad school is for suckers--at least it is when it cost $40,000 and you make little more than that six years later.
2. Nothing is more rewarding than working directly with people, but try telling that to Master Card.
3. When you get a job NOT working with people, but one that Master Card approves of, nothing is more rewarding than shopping and buying things for yourself that make you feel pretty.
posted by starpower at 11:19 PM
3 Comments:
Payless rules.
Now when are you gonna write a story about me?
Lo
Opine! Love it!
And how much do you own in the shade of blue?
grad school has to be good for something. i have a good friend who got a PhD in math not b/c he liked math but rather he liked having his summers off.
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