Sunday, August 07, 2005
Working Girl & Other Tales
You may have noticed that I have not been saying much lately. Which is odd because, as those of you who know me can attest, I rarely, if ever, stop saying anything.
I think that work has killed my brain. Honestly, it's making me more stupid by the second. I wish it had killed my spirit and self esteem instead, so that I could pen a poorly written real estate version of The Devil Wears Prada (or like Sarah and the PAG), but all its done is rob me of my ability to be creative and figure out percentages, although the latter was something I never mastered fully.
Real estate, I've learned, is one of the most unpleasant industries in the world. Not that I have experience in many, (or, erm, any) other industries, but really, if you answer the phone, you're bound to get an earful of attitude from the other end. Thus, my routine goes something like this:
8:30-->Arrive at work, coffee in hand; remind myself that today will be a great day
8:35-->Pick up the phone; get bitched at by real estate agent ("The home that I wanted to show is sold! How is that possible?!?!")
8:41-->Pick up the phone; homeowner complains ("Someone was supposed to show my house and they were three minutes late! Wahhhhh!")
8:43-->Have another coffee
8:49-->Talk to a homebuyer on the phone; get yelled at ("Everything is out of my price range! Argh!")
8:53-->Homeowner calls. "Why isn't my house getting activity?!"; try to politely think of ways to explain that the house is ugly
8:58-->An agent calls. "I sent in an offer fifteen minutes ago, nobody has called me back! I'm calling the better business bureau and filing a complaint!"; offer to give them number
9:00-->Cry
Lather, rinse, repeat. I also drink an average of 12 Diet Cokes per day and attempt to engage various co-workers in pop culture related discussions.
Me: So how about the Jennifer Aniston Vanity Fair interview, huh?
Coworker: ....
Me: OMG! Adam Ant is on the radio! ::grooves in her chair::
Coworker: ::fakes laughter::
Me: Hahaha! Oh, isn't that Scott Stapp story craaaaaaaazy?
Coworker: Scott What?
I keep telling myself that it's just a gap sort of thing, that I'll have a real job soon and I'll be the one making people cry, instead of the other way around, but then I get a phone call asking, "Now, when you say as is, what does that mean?" (Shout out to Jeff!) and I find myself wishing that I had been born to a rockstar.
I mean, just look at Lizzy Jagger, daughter of Mick and Jerry Hall. All the girl had to do was be born and she immediately had a contract as the Lancome spokesmodel, plus an awesome collection of clothes to raid, whereas my mother is half a foot shorter than I am. It helps that she (Liz, not my mother, though my mother is lovely as well) is lovely, of course, though Leah Wood is not and she had a career as a model, and is now a musician. And also under the category of "Fugly chicks with Rolling Stone dads" are the hideola Richards sisters. They look like mutants and yet, there they are as Ann Taylor models. What is happening to the world?
Granted, dealing with a rock star father would mean you'd have to be privy to embarrassing details of your father's life with groupies, forced paternity tests and other horrible things classified as Too Much Information, but...I mean, wouldn't it be fun? It would, don't lie.
But, alas, it was not meant to be. Le sigh.
Aside from work, my life has been focused mainly on baseball, to the extent that I believe only players and owners care about it more than me, which is odd since I get absolutely no monetary compensation for it. Because of the insidious influence of CLC over at Parenthetical Notations (and, okay, fine, slight infatuations I have with Eric Chavez and Huston Street, who are you to judge me?), I have been following the Oakland Athletics closely which has been fun since they pulled themselves up from the AL West cellar into a tie for first place. Truly classic.
There's also the media frenzy surrounding Rafael Palmeiro's steroid use. A SCANDAL, they call it. Which...really? The man didn't start hitting his homeruns until 1998 alongside Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire, eleven years after he made his major league debut. Besides, the man has a pornstache
He's obviously not operating under our logic system.
His excuses were hilarious in their ineptitude. "It wasn't intentional!" Right, except not.
And, I ask this in all seriousness--why did these people do steroids with Jose Canseco? I mean...really. Even back in the 80s, Canseco was a sleaze who would sell out his mother for $5, so trusting him seems, to put it mildly, ridiculous. A horrifying, related story--the Hollywood Reporter, um, reports:
Published in February by ReganBooks amid a firestorm of controversy, "Juiced" details Canseco's use of performance-enhancing drugs and accuses some of the biggest names in baseball of cheating. Within weeks of publication, the memoir shot to No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list. In mid-March, Canseco drew even more headlines when he testified before Congress about steroid use.
Canseco, who is looking to launch an acting career, appears on the current season of VH1's "The Surreal Life."
There are no words to describe my terror, confusion and disdain, so I will settle for "..."
I also ventured to the cutthroat world of Shea Stadium this week to watch the Mets take on the Cubs and was pleased as punch to see them win and to see a)the bullpen hold it together and b)Carlos Beltran get hits, not to mention c)David Wright. The jeers they sent to Jeromy Burnitz were out of this world, so I can only imagine the level it would have been at if Beltran didn't perform. Again. All that plus the return of Nomar Garciaparra and the continued awesomeness of Derek Lee.
All of this PLUS a Gary Sheffield hissy. That he was, uh, misquoted in. Riiight, Sheff, right. He lives in his own little world where he is a leader that everybody likes (except, you know, for everybody on his previous five teams) and where his wife never had sex with R. Kelly. It's a good world.
Mallory at 8/07/2005 12:41:00 PM
3 Comments
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at 4:53 PM
CLC said... Hey Mal - As someone who didn't realize that the door to the working world apparently locks from the outside (and, being keyless, if not clueless) has been trapped inside of it ever since, I would like nothing better than to offer you some enlightening and moving words of encouragement. Sadly, as seems to always be the case, when it comes to work woes, the inspid "hang in there" phrase inevitably pops up. Not all that helpful, and, okay rather lame, but still a sincere showing of support, if nothing less.
Hmmm, well, how 'bout this? Working a job you don't like, esp. one in a service industry - where clients, bosses, and colleagues alike seem to be perpetually cranky and/or insane and whose bad behavior seems to drive one's caffeine addiction (ah the oasis of that green logo and the rather fugly mermaid) - will one day make for very good material for whatever creative endeavour you eventually take up as your real and true calling in life. And it will make a great footnoted blurb to the inside of your book jacket or for one of you PR flacks to throw out to the press as interesting trivia about you and your beginnings... :)
Or at least that's how I justify my daily grind - it seems to work, at least after latte #2 of the day.
If nothing else, there is always this: It could be worse. At least you aren't a lawyer. :)
But on the happier things: As to Raffy - all I have to say is, ha! I have to wonder, how does a positive steroid test potentially affect your endorsement deal, when that deal is with Viagra? Food for thought. And I am so with you on the pornstache thing. Disturbing.
Have you seen Jose on the SURREAL LIFE? What a train wreck. Although I can't stop watching as I really want to see Janice Dickenson actually come to blows with Omarosa.
Re. the A's - they are just so much fun to watch now, huh? I am (if only slightly) regretting some of the rather snarky comments I made about Ken Macha earlier this season. He is an okay guy. I still don't think he is the engine driving this team, but he also doesn't detract from it (see, e.g. Dusty Baker in Chicago, or Lou Piniella's slow melt-down in Tampa Bay). As for the team itself, what I love most (winning aside) is that they always genuinely look like they are having fun. They are so young and they are so excited to be out there on the diamong to end all diamonds, just playing the game. That is what I think your Yankees are missing this year (obvious age issues, and jokes aside), they all look miserable out there. Well, all of 'em but Derek (who I still love) and the inexplicable Giambi. I will not call him Giambino - it is just not right. Even money says he's on the juice again - what does he have to lose?
Okay, I am rambling here, sorry: but a couple other quick things. One of the best things about the A's recent run is that the Barry Zito of old has emerged once again. Proof positive that the Curse of Milano can be overcome. So there is hope for Pavano yet - here's hoping the next rehab start goes well.
A friend of mine recently spent some time in Boston and sent me an e-mail with a picture of Cro-Damon with his hair styled as though he has male pattern baldness. Apparently this was part of a series of TV spots for Dunkin Donuts with Cro-Damon and Theo Epstein. Did they get any play in the NYC area? (I am thinking not - but never can tell). If not, I will do my best as to figuring out how to post the pic because you have to see it - it is hilarious!-
at 9:09 PM
said... Shout Out! As crappy as your job occasionally is, I've valued the insight you've shared with me during my home woes.
RP is a doped-up cheeseball, but I have to give him his props for something I saw him do in a game. A Royals player brought up from the Minors that day got his first Major League hit, and RP walked over to the mound to make sure the kid got the ball as a memento.
Of course, on the way back to first, he had a bought of 'roid rage and beat the young player bloody with the very same baseball. It took four ball boys to pull him off.
p.s. - I'm watching ANTM right now and Tyra used variations of the word "strong" three times in the span of 10 seconds. And her weave looks like it's affixed with a ball of duct tape.-
at 10:49 PM
seanlmccarthy said...
Are there steroids in Viagra? Discuss.
OK. Enough about that.
Doesn't this summer seem like it should be a whole lot better than it has been? We should change that. How, I'm not sure. But I'm thinking about it, and that's a start.