strapped for cash

So we're in a recession and funds are tight. I live in an apartment where the rent costs me literally 48.998% of my monthly salary. Depressing. Stressful. (And yes, I did play around with the calculator to get the closest percentage possible.)

This morning I decided to look online at potential part-time jobs. I could work in a boutique or babysit once or twice a week, right? I have no experience in the food/bar biz so that minimizes my options a lot. I've been doing some Craiglisting and here's what I found. What do you think?

Pretty Girls With Pretty Feet Wanted! ($600 - $800 Per week)

Famous foot fetish company in New York City that specializes in
Foot Fetish Sessions is seeking very attractive girls ages 18 - 29
to get paid $50 per hr to have their feet massaged and kissed
during foot fetish sessions! There is guaranteed work for each
model we hire at least 2 days per week.

As a bonus, the girls we hire for this will also get to work at our
world famous foot fetish parties in NYC! You will get to make
up to $500 per night going to an upscale party and having your feet
worshiped!

Its some of the easiest money you will ever make and there is
absolutely no sex, you don't have to be nude, and it is 100% legal
unlike other fetish jobs you may have seen on craigslist. Perfect for
actresses, models, and college students that need high paying
part time fun and easy work in this super expensive city.

To get this job you must be very attractive, have pretty feet,
be open minded about fetishes and fantasies, adventurous,
and enjoy parties and being fun and social. You also must
be punctual and responsible at the same time.

We are hiring asap so apply now if you feel you qualify and please
send ALL THREE of the following....
1. Your Name
2. Your Number
3. A Recent Photo

We will call you asap if interested and could possibly get you
some work as soon as this week! Good luck and talk to you soon!

This might be one of the weirdest things I have ever researched. PLEASE check out their website for foot fetish parties! There's actually one tomorrow night! I spent a lot of time just now reading all the pages, FAQ's and looking at the pics! wtf!?? I wonder if my feet are pretty enough to make it?

From what I read, you may be asked to do a "private session" where attendees can do whatever their twisted foot-lusting minds desire including Foot Worship, Trampling, Tickling, Foot Smelling, and Foot Domination. The only thing I'd want to partake in is Foot Domination and only if that means kicking someone in the face.

Make money fast! (Lower East Side)

Reps needed to canvas the 5 boroughs and locate wheel-chair accessible restrooms. Start immediately. Please contact us and let us know which borough you are interested in researching. Looking specifically for people in Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island, and the Bronx. Reps will also be required to enter address and phone number of found locations into a spreadsheet. We need this done, thoroughly, accurately, and immediately. Compensation: $5 for every location you identify.

This one doesn't seem so bad?! It's like a hunt for wheelchair bathrooms! But at $5 per location identified you'd have to spend a lot of time running around NYC bathrooms to make it worth it. I wonder if you could just start calling businesses asking if they're wheelchair accessible?? hmm... this has potential.

Noho Boutique seeking experienced Sales Person (SoHo)

A Bleecker Street boutique in the works to becoming the leading men’s fashion destination is seeking an experienced, talented, communicative sales associate to be part of our team. The boutique is scheduled for its grand opening in September, until then we will get to know you by participating in our sample sale.

Qualifications:
-Strong Sales Experience!!! Only experienced need apply!
-You must have a history of positive sales in a boutique environment.
-Cash handling experience/Cashier Experience
-Friendly
-Must be able to pass a background check
-Must be flexible
-Must have an eye for fashion/Coordinating
-Must have a fresh personal style
-Great Customer Service
-Must manage time efficiently: work quickly and effectively
-You must be proactive in your approach
-You must be the type of person who exhibits high standards in all areas of the workplace, promoting team morale and motivation.
- You are expected to create a sales focused environment and to maximize sales whenever possible.

Job Details:
-Working Cash Register
-Working Sales
-Working Fitting room
-Putting Back Clothes
-Picking Phone orders
-Visual (Dressing Manikins) <--NOTE THE SPELLING!
-Merchandising
-Greeting/ Customer Service
-Working with High-End Clothing

This post really isn't hilarious or weird or interesting.. I just think its funny that they are so particular with their qualifications and don't even know how to spell mannequin! I guess it does say the only thing you must pass is a background check, not a spelling test.

So what do you think? Feet, Toilets, or Manikins?

was gonna complain about my job, but...

I better be careful what I say!

Yikes!!! what happened to freedom of speech?!

I feel the need to complain a little bit anyway:

1. Yesterday someone literally emailed me an address and told me to print it on a label and stick it on an envelope. I can't believe I went to college for this. I have papercuts on my knuckles.
2. My fave bra broke this morning.
3. My skirt keeps spinning around backwards when I walk.
4. Monday night some kid ran by me and slapped my ass.
   

How is it only Wednesday?

driving-thru and parking in PA

My BF and I flew to Pittsburgh, rented a car and drove to a wedding in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania on Friday. It was pure adventure as we navigated and got lost on the MANY highways of Pittsburgh. (I learned that luckily Dan didn't get too mad at me when I got us lost. Phew!) I have to say, I made a pretty good co-pilot as I routed and re-routed our journey with the help of Mapquest and Google Maps on our Blackberries while I maintained constant good tunes. I also helped Dan make safe left turns and nagged him whenever he looked at his cell phone. "Haven't you seen the movie Seven Pounds?!?!!?!! You have precious cargo in this car!"

Anyway, our plan was to find a Starbucks for a caffeine fix before the wedding until we realized the town we were in. Churches and antique shops were sprinkled on every corner and the closest thing to Starbucks was McDonald's. With a McCafé latte in hand, Dan ever so chivalrously opened my car door for me. This is when I noticed a woman whiz by on an electric wheelchair. Of course this caught my interest and then I realized what she was doing. Wheelchair woman was headed to the drive-thru! As Dan closed my door, in giggles I pointed her out. He must have been just as captivated by her as I was because he mindlessly sat himself down into the backseat rather than the driver's seat because he was staring at her so intently. I had uncontrollable giggles at this point, Dan got into the driver seat and we followed her...




In addition to the wheel chair drive-thru hilarity, we had a great time at the wedding and got to spend quality brunch and park T-I-M-E with besties Colleen and Jake!

Nature shot in my Forever 21 lovely miracle dress

Dan in action getting the kite to fly

We had a great trip driving-thru and parking in Pennsylvania!

my ugly naked guy

A few people have told me I'm like Rachel Green from Friends. Mostly because I have been on 5 interviews at Ralph Lauren... fingers still crossed about it. Also, my boyfriend sincerely wishes he was a volunteer at the Natural History Museum. He was talking about dinosaurs for over 10 minutes last night and how cool the bones are--so Ross Gellar. I'm fine with him being like Ross, as long as he doesn't marry a lesbian.

But, to further prove my Rachelisms, I discovered my own Ugly Naked Guy! Ugly Naked Guy lived across from Monica and Rachel and they talked about him from time to time. My favorite was when they poked him with a long stick made of Chandler's chopsticks to make sure he was alive. I also love when Ross went over there to try and bribe him into giving him the apartment and ended up hanging out with him in the nude too.Well, like I said I have recently discovered that I have an Ugly Naked Guy too! He lives across from me and probably down 3 floors. This sounds really pervy, but almost every night I take a quick peek out my window to see what he's doing and he's ALWAYS naked and with the lights on! I'm sorry if that's weird, but I can't help but be curious. He obviously doesn't care either since he doesn't have any curtains. I'm going to start collecting chopsticks just in case he croaks.

adventures in dreamland

I've always been a firm believer in the meaning of dreams, or at least entertained by what my brain can come up with. I also like to look up their meanings and analyze. My main example of significant interpretation is that once when I was in college and deciding whether or not I wanted to break up with my boyfriend at the time, I had a dream I was covered in moths. I asked my go-to dream expert http://www.dreammoods.com/ and it told me that I was feeling unseen irritations and damage. The next day I broke up with him and then that night I dreamed of an amusement park. Of course this meant I needed to have more fun and enjoyment in my life. I took the interpretation to be a sort of confirmation of my choice.Whether it be a sign about making a big decision or just something random and funny, I find pure entertainment in waking up and going to dreammoods to see what's up. But now I'm starting to get a little freaked out. I'm having a hard time remembering what is real and what isn't. I sit at my desk at work and try to remember if there was actually a hairless mouse in my apartment or if it was just a dream mouse. I went to bed at 9:45 last night just so I could go back to my fun fantasy world. I am the lame real-life friend who is obsessed with mice and farm animal dreamland friends.

In the past week I've had dreams about my sister's ex boyfriend dressing up like a clown to surprise her. Another night I had a huge hole in my body that I could look into and see all my internal organs. I had a horse farm and couldn't keep them in their pens, I was trying to kill a hairless mouse with an Old Navy flip flop (which wasn't too successful since the foam is so flimsy). Last night's adventure was me getting my cavities filled but the dentist left me with bloody, falling out teeth so she could give my friend breast implants!

Here's what dreammoods tells me:
Clown: symbolizes absurdity, lightheartedness, and a childish side to your own character.
Mouse: indicates fear, meekness, insignificance and a lack of assertiveness.
Horses: signifies mystery, wildness and the unknown.
Inner Organs/Guts: a metaphor for courage and your gutsiness.
Cavities: You are lacking self confidence.

So basically in summary I am lighthearted and childish but full of fear and feelings of insignificance. Something about the unknown is mysterious (duh) and I need to have more guts. This isn't so good. Who knew that my dream characters would turn on me and be a blow to the ego and not prove my likeness to Snow White and Cinderella with BFF animal friends.

b as in booger

You know when you are on the phone with someone trying to confirm the spelling of something because B sounds like D, T and P. To help someone decipher between these letters, we say things like "P as in Paul and D as in David."

When I worked in banking, for some reason I had trouble coming up with example words. With stock tickers, our trader wouldn't even say the letters, he'd simply shout into the phone "Larry Mother Apple Tom." But the types of words that pop into my head are "Lick Ass Monster Tits." Why do I turn into a perverted 12 year old boy? Are there words that I'm supposed to use for these situations that no one ever told me about? I have to stop and think about G-rated words to use.

I've always wondered what would happen if I actually did a pervy letter combo. "No, sir I said P as in pee pee, not B as in booger."

job requirements: emergency first aid...?

As you read this post, let me first tell you that I work for an investment bank.I mostly work alongside middle aged men; my co-workers are husbands and fathers. For 99% of the workday we sit on our asses at desks where extremely minimal manual labor is required of us. However, it's starting to feel like there are more accidents in my office than I recall from being a nanny and Sunday school teacher. I'm contemplating the potential benefits of keeping bandaids, Bactine, and baby wipes in my desk drawers.

Riptide Rob - late 30s-early 40s, father of one.
One Monday morning in the summer Rob came over to tell my cubicle mates and I how lucky and grateful he was to be alive. He had spent the weekend with his family in the Hamptons and was swimming when he was pulled out really far by a riptide and almost drowned. The lifeguard had to swim out and bring him back to safety on the shore. No one will ever let him live this down and therefore he obtained the office nickname Riptide Rob.

Well, back in February I was walking past the kitchen on my way to the bathroom. I curiously glanced into the kitchen in passing and noticed Rob in the doorway. He was bent over and it looked like he was either spitting or vomiting directly onto the kitchen floor. In a panic I shouted "Are you ok?!" and wondered to myself in a judging kind of way why he didn't puke in the trashcan. He shook his head no that he was not ok and I ran to get some help. Rob ran out of the kitchen and into the mailroom and slammed his stomach on the handle of a handtruck to dislodge whatever was stuck. One of the other guys quickly began the Heimlich and Rob started couching and throwing up whatever he was choking on. Turns out he had choked on a cold cut slice of turkey. Basically I did nothing to help except judge him for choking and not vomiting in the trash can. This was a conversation I had right after:

me: Ahhh someone was choking in my office!

I was the first person to see him and I didn't know what to do

Colleen: omg

did someone give the Heimlich??!! me: It was really gross he was like barfing too

It scared me!

Colleen: o

m

g

that would freak me out too! What was he choking on? And, was he doing the universal sign for choking?

me: He was choking on turkey!

Eww

Colleen: ew

gross

just plain turkey?

not a sandwich?

me: Yeah I think just a slice

Colleen: thats really weird

how could that restrict your airway?

lol

poor guy

me: I have no idea! It was weird

Bottlecap Bailey - 38 years old, father of two
Because of the recession, my company Christmas party consisted of beers, cheese plates and mingling on our trading floor. My cubicle mate made a big scene at the party and left abruptly because somehow he had swallowed the tab to a soda can. He rushed to the ER for x-rays and kept complaining about how horrible this was because he had a family and kids to take care of. Was he thinking he was going to start profusely internal bleeding? This was how he was going to die?? RIP Bottlecap Bailey? He ended up surviving and the doctor said that he either passed the soda can tab or never swallowed it in the first place. He kept his doctor's number close at hand all week in case any sharp stomach pains were to arise.

Bottlecap Bailey also is prone to falling asleep at his desk, often chokes on his food from eating too much too quickly or using too much hot sauce. Again, I usually do nothing to actually help him, except I helped come up with the name Bottlecap Bailey.

Mr. N - 66 years old, father of three.
The CEO of the company. He is well-respected in the industry and for the most part keeps to himself. He doesn't talk much and very rarely flashes a smile. I can probably count single-handedly the number of times he has specifically addressed me by name. (Side note--my firm has the 3rd and 4th floors of our building and has connecting stairs in between the two floors right by the reception desk) Mr. N was coming down the stairs on Tuesday while I was working at the reception desk. I was answering the phones and receiving a delivery when I heard the loud tumbling noise of someone falling down the stairs. On the landing I see a disheveled Mr. N slowly picking himself up. I have NO idea what to do!!! All I manage to do is shyly ask "Are you ok?" The delivery boy hurried over to offer him a helping hand, but Mr. N dismissed it and mumbled with a crooked smile something about having new soles on his shoes. Making noises indicating he was in some pain, he hobbled down the hall back to his office. This is the IM conversation I had right after:

me: Oh shit! Mr. N just fell down some stairs right in front of me!

I am so awkward in situations like this

Colleen: o

m

g

please tell me you were kind and pleasant!

me: I asked if he was ok

Oh man

Colleen: was he ok?

me: Yeah he said he was Colleen: good

This is when I realized I have a problem reacting in emergency situations. I don't know what to do with myself. It is evident in my IM conversations that I don't really take them seriously. Part of me is holding back laughter and another part of me wonders to what degree an accident should be considered serious? I also have a problem because it feels weird to be the youngest person in a professional environment and constantly be in the position of witnessing my superiors choke and fall. I don't recall first aid certification as one of the requirements for my current position, but at the rate things are going, it might be a good idea to brush up on my Heimlich, CPR and emergency situation strategy! Or maybe I could just supply helmets, slings, kneepads, diapers, and neckbraces.

New York EasyDates

I get to work this morning and immediately delete my 3 emails from New York EasyDates instructing me to select my matches from speed dating last night. Yep, I went speed dating. Walking into the bar where the event was held I was completely nervous. The nervousness only intensified when I began taking inventory of my arriving future daters. I don't want to date these guys! My friends and I took a shot and got some beers, walked upstairs to the hostess and retrieved our name tags. Surveying the other names among my Jamie D tag were names like Tara, Kerry, Gaby on the girls' side and Ilya, Rishikesh, Amjad on the guys' side. Crap, I can't even pronounce these names.

Each girl had either a table, a portion of the bar, or a section of a bench and the guys rotated around the room every three minutes. Now, I realize that three minutes is NOT a lot of time to talk to someone, but there were definitely times where my three minute dates felt like three torturous hours. In a few instances I wanted to scream out "NEXT!" or ditch my date to get another drink. I sat on my bench and partook in some of the worst conversations I've ever had.

All the daters asked the same questions. "Where are you from? What do you do? What do you do for fun?" This got really old really fast as I was saying the same things over and over again "I'm from Seattle, Washington. I work for an investment bank. I like to explore New York and try new things." I was a broken record so I started to spice it up with "Have you ever had braces? What's your most embarrassing moment? What's your favorite kind of dog?" This made it a little more fun for me, but still it was tiring to have these conversations over and over again maintaining enthusiasm and spunk.

A few cases were particularly bad:

Michael: acne-faced redhead carrying a backpack. His favorite things to do are eat and sleep. He likes Mexican food and he was a math major, of course. This is the visual. He was so incredibly awkward and would kind of sit there avoiding eye contact giving me simple one word answers and uncomfortable head nods. I checked the 'no' box for sure.

Rishikesh: dark skinned Middle Eastern looking guy. I asked him where he was from and he said Kansas City. Hmm.. not really what I meant.

Amjad: Pakistani dude and we spent most of the three minutes working out the phonetics of his name. He gave me an 8 out of 10 on my pronunciation. 'No' fo sho!

Other highlights included one guy telling me the details of his appendicitis and how much he vomited and insisted to his 'ma' that it wasn't just gas pains. Sounds like he lives with Ma. Definitely a no.

Another guy told me about how he got really drunk, puked in his friend's car then stripped off his shirt and ran home screaming "superman!" Nope.

One guy sat down and said right off the bat "go ahead and check the no box now. I can tell you're tall. I'm only 5'9". Tall women like tall men." You can imagine how much fun the rest of the 2 minutes and 45 seconds were. Self proclaimed no.

Someone else told me he was from New Hampshire and I started laughing and said I always wanted to go there as a kid because I loved hamsters and I would remember the state name on my geography test by nicknaming it New Hamster. Seriously... who says stuff like this to strangers? Me apparently. He must've checked no for that.

At the end of the night my little yes or no ballot sheet looked like this all the way down.

envelope hope

It’s Friday afternoon. Typically this is when I am hyper, giggly and bouncing off the walls due to the hour and a half separating me from weekendom! Today I sit silently in my cubicle with icicles for fingers searching for things to occupy my afternoon. My boss has been out sick since Wednesday and has not communicated more than 5 words with me. (note: he sent out an “I am sick” email on Wednesday, but neglected to include me on that and any other emails he sent to update “us”(—me excluded) on his whereabouts/health). This really pisses me off.

This is my boss who is anal retentive about email manners and technique. I surely will talk about this more on a later post. He has repeatedly reminded me to CC him on every single business related email I send. Being new to cubicle life, I often “forget” to include him, and sometimes don’t feel it’s necessary to flood his inbox with my novice questions. This makes him extremely frustrated. In fact, I am beginning to think this is his passive aggressive lash out, giving me a taste of my own medicine. This man has not said one thing to me about being sick. Word in the cube is he has pneumonia. Somehow my cubicle-mate knows all the details. Stupid suck up.

Because I am feeling an office version of middle child syndrome, I sent him this email:

I’m sorry to hear you’re sick with pneumonia. I hope you feel better soon!
Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there is anything you need me to take
care of here at the office.

Have a good and restful weekend.

That was really nice of me considering not one word has been said to me. Once I pushed the send button, I couldn’t help but obsessively keep checking for his bolded name to appear and the unopened yellow envelope to pop up! When will he reply? What will he say? Does he know I am feeling neglected? Why is this happening?? Almost 2 hours after I sent my I-slightly-care-about-you-and-am-reaching-out email, this appeared:

Can you please handle, thanks
Jim

This came with an attached form I needed to have signed an emailed. No acknowledgement of my kind thoughts and wishes. Rude. Talk about throwing email etiquette out the window.

shall we cab it?

Only a few circumstances get me to raise up my arm and hail a cab. I am an avid walker, bus rider and subway taker. But the circumstances in which I 'cab it' include: temperatures < onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0-0DOrvrpaT3gUd2kEJt7auWZqZKn3G1pXllpwYo3Nhba8YcqOsg8IXOuDyr9-euDpma_6iTq4NxYHRcIzrKS70yjKh8e25GUnRUVT5se_RZcaIzZztp334N0-E0w-E-BkK1anW2bxY/s1600-h/nyc+taxis.jpg">Thursday morning 3am. West side bar to my apartment:

me: have you had any crazy people in your cab? Any celebrities?
cabbie: yeah, I don't pay much attention to them. I had the mayor once. Very cheap
me: that's not good. So, do you have to go to cab school to drive a cab?
cabbie: yes, it's really hard. You are trained for 15 days, then have to pass a test of 100 questions and if you miss more than 20 questions you fail
me: what kind of questions?
cabbie: what landmark is on 84th and 5th?
me: the Met
cabbie: yes. What is the cross street for 800 5th Avenue?
me: umm somewhere higher than Abercrombie... 58th? 59th? 60th street??
cabbie: close enough. What avenue in Manhattan is parallel to (insert random street name) in Brooklyn?
me: oh... I have no idea. That is tough

Saturday 6:30pm, West side to the East side with Laina, 13 degrees outside

cabbie: What do you think of Obama?
Laina: we're hopeful. It should be interesting
cabbie: Hopefully he is a smart man, I mean you don't get smart from just reading a text book, you have to know about a lot of stuff. Avocado trees. Where do avocados come from?
Laina: California
cabbie: where do grapes come from?
Laina: California
cabbie: See those things in the window there, those products are killing people. See those chips, those are feeding people, people are hungry. Obama will help feed the hungry people
me: sending a text to Laina "WTF avocado trees??"
cabbie: blah blah blahh bllahh people in China speak Chinese, People in Russia...
me: speak Russian
cabbie: you understand??
Laina: yeah.... mmmm hmmm
the cab driver continues talking non-stop and I am not following him at all anymore. I can not understand a word he is saying except "you understand?"
me: sending a text to Laina "I bet he talks like this even when his cab is empty. Someone get this man a bluetooth immediately!"

Sunday 12:50pm, leaving apartment late to go to brunch at 1pm on Upper West Side

cabbie: What are you doing today?
me: going to brunch with some friends
cabbie: Girls or boys? Or both? How many?
me: Just girls. 4 of us
cabbie: So you left the boys at home?
I begin tuning out this conversation
me: uhhh.... yeah
cabbie: did they cry? *makes crying noises*
me: umm no
cabbie: so what is your boyfriend doing today, then?
Due to my lack of participation in the conversation, the cab driver has reached his own conclusions about my life and it seems weird to stop to tell him I don't have a boyfriend, so I go with it
me: oh, he's just at home
cabbie: So you have a strong boyfriend, how old is he? Do you satisfy him? Does he satisfy you? Who tires who out more?
me: umm I don't know. he is 26
I am such a liar. I call my friends and no one answers, so I fake a phone call
me: oh hey Amy, yeah I should be there in 5 minutes. Ok great see you soon
cabbie: look at all the snow in the park
me: yeah, it looks really pretty
cabbie: it looks like Obama and his mom. The dark and the white. hahah Obama and his mom. Get it? The dark and the white?
me: yeah... I can get out on this corner

cwoffee twalk

"Would you like a bag for that?"

We've all been asked this question and feel a slight twinge of guilt when we have to admit that yes, we do need a bag. Sorry Ms. I'm-Obsessed-With-Yoga-and-Only-Buy-Organic Whole Foods shopper, not all of us carry our "I used to be a plastic bottle" recycled bag with us at all times. Don't judge.

However in doing my part in going green, I have found something in New York that is unnecessarily using up our world's supply of paper bags. COFFEE. Er, I mean cwoffee. You buy your $.90 cwoffee from your local Pick-a-Bagel and the guy will pour the cwoffee, put the lid on, and place the lidded cwoffee cup INSIDE a brown paper bag.

Let's be honest, in today's world we have some options: we can double cup, put sleeves on, or place our lattes in carrier trays. There are plenty of cup accessories plus a warning on the actual cup just to protect us from the hot beverage we are about to enjoy. But somehow in New York the paper bag has become the necessary tool in successful cwoffee handling. Or so it seems.

On the one occasion I actually did accept the bag when purchasing my cwoffee I was terrified and clearly not fitting in the way I had hoped. I couldn't see whether the cup was tilting or about to tilt, whether the lid was dripping or about to drip. What would I do if it did? The bag would soak up the coffee and the bottom would fall out therefore spilling my entire cup in the middle of the street. I would end up with my burnt hands full of steaming hazlenut flavored papier-mâché. I ripped the bag off and threw it in the trash. Wasteful, I know and for that I am sorry.

So from then on when I get "would you like a bag for that?" my answer is "For my cwoffee? Nah, fahgetta bout it."