A Quarter Life Crisis

When everyone heard that I would be traveling to Brazil for about a month they were all overjoyed. I however only saw trouble. Trouble in the sense that it would be yet another project with Texas, yes infamous Texas from Vancouver would be heading up the work in Brazil (mostly from the US, how I don’t even know). But not because he wanted to head the work but because the manager who was originally staffed and helped sell the project decided to move to greener pastures….lucky him!!!! If you remember anything about Texas, he’s not the best manager but I’m quickly learning that my company talks a lot about being the best however our people and actions pale in comparison. Ah the life of a consultant. Not to mention Texas is super anal retentive, with the most ginormous chip on his shoulder it’s hard to ride in compact cars with him…I mean I’m not complaining I’m just making a friendly observation (maybe not so friendly but you smell what I’m cooking).

Did I forget to mention that I don’t speak a lick, iota, not a word of Portuguese. Guess that didn’t matter to the all mighty powers that be…moving right along!

In any event the prospect of flying to Brazil just a few days after the holiday just didn’t sit well with me. Partially because I am in a bit of a funk about the whole going back on my word about the Spaniard, why do I do this to myself? Something is wrong with me I know. Maybe I really want to believe the lie. The little Faith inside keeps jumping up and down screaming you stoopid stoopid stoopid girl but I just keep ignoring her because sometimes the truth is a lie. Or sometimes we like believing the lie because it’s easier to digest. So my digestible lie is that he’s actually getting a divorce and hasn’t been with his wife for the last three years. I choose to believe this like so many other mistresses (sideways heifer…hey I call it like I live it these days) because it’s easier than admitting the obvious truth, that he’s probably slaying both myself and his wife (shuddering a little in the corner at the detestable nature of that last comment).

Man oh man how those morals they do fall.

And to add insult to injury you know because nothing in my life goes as planned, The Little Brother (TLB) totaled Juan. Yup you read that right; Juan is sipping mojitos in a land where good cars go after ridonkulous accidents on the ice. Before you try to hang me at the stake I made sure my flesh and blood was 100 (this is slang it means ok in this instance) before asking about the car. Believe it or not I haven’t yelled at The Little Brother once for the accident. (This is subject to change if I have trouble securing another equally reliable relatively similarly priced automobile.) TLB suffered nothing more than a bruised ego…too bad his bruised ego had to come at the expense of Juanino. Yet another expense I wasn’t ready for, much like my $600 cell phone bill from making calls in Vancouver on my personal cell, but I guess that’s why they call it life. If it wasn’t full of janky shit it wouldn’t be nearly as fun…or nearly as interesting to blog about.

Ah so back to this whole Faith you’re flying to Brazil thing. Anything that could have gone wrong with this whole trip did go wrong the first week. Let me just give you the run down in bullet point form because well I’m a consultant and we likes our bullet points because it makes us feel like we’re doing our job well. (I would bet half my paycheck there isn’t a presentation (we call them decks) that exists that doesn’t have some form of bullet point, ok I might be pushing this mundane topic too far).

What went wrong in no particular order:

• Told literally at the last minute to book a flight to Brazil at the cheapest rate possible which pretty much meant you’re flying coach unless you have status…ugh!!!!
• Totaled Juan…well I didn’t but TLB did
• Entertained some nonsense with The Spaniard (good and bad for me sort of like ice cream
• Didn’t get my Brazilian visa until the last possible minute (it arrived the Thursday before the flight on Sunday)
• Ignored two state-side text messages, one from Mailroom Boy and the other from the taxi driver (I use my cell as my primary number no I didn’t give my number to yet another random taxi driver) who mistook my friendly conversation for sexual innuendo
• Delayed in Philly airport (not surprising) causing me and Fellow Traveler to dart through Dulles Airport in order to catch the last plane smoking to Sao Paolo
• Saw my life flash before my eyes not once, not twice but three times while in flight on the monster jet from Dulles to Sao Paolo…literally I believe we dropped 5k feet out of the air at one point over the Amazon (children were screaming)
• Arrived in Sao Paolo (Fellow Traveler’s luggage wasn’t so lucky and actually never left Philly) with a serious case of bubble guts but I didn’t make it to the hotel for another two hours…y’all know I can’t do public restrooms
• Met Texas and all he wanted to talk about was how the Eagles lost to the Cowgirls…WHATEVER!!!!!
• Felt like the outer limits of hell traveling in the Sao Paolo traffic
• Expected to actually rush from the airport to the client site after a few minutes of “freshening up” clearly some stoopid ass man thought of this (sorry for any hombres in the audience but seriously after 17 hours of travel the last thing I’m thinking about is going straight to the office how about an actual shower, dirty ass bastards!!!!!

And before I forget why were there no washclothes in my room and why didn't anyone know what I was talking about when I asked for one at the front desk.

Oh yeah and happy new year folks!!

Lately my life has been so boring I’d rather watch a patch of grass grow and as a result I’m gonna pull an oldie but goodie from my vault of oddly amusing things that have happened to me. In addition Cardiogirl asked that I give her the back story on a comment I left on her blog so I figure since I’ve literally got nothing else I might as well satisfy her curiosity.

Without further ado….back when I was a stressed out, underappreciated and overworked senior attending a Jesuit University in Philadelphia I decided it would make sense to lighten my load by taking a nonsense class. Considering my rather hectic work schedule that required me to be class free on Fridays, by night I was a directory assistance operator, my course selection was restricted to classes offered Mon-Thur. Additionally I’d have to find something that interested me. With that small list of requirements I found myself in student services rearranging my schedule.

Not surprising there were only a few classes that even fit the mold. Now I would have preferred to take advanced Psychology considering I’d already taken the intro course. My initial thought was that while not 100% aligned to my major, Criminal Justice, it linked quite nicely and would compliment my growing resume of Criminology and Sociology classes. Just for shits and giggles I’d taken two Philosophy classes…you know trying to be well rounded and read. Unfortunately it was offered on that frigging M/W/F schedule so it was a no go.

After about a half hour of toiling futilely through the catalogue I happened upon an Intro to Art class. Booyah! Believe it or not this was right up my alley. Back in the day I was very much into sketching and the course description said it would be an introduction to sketching, sculpting and painting. And to put it over the top, it was offered on Wednesdays for three hours at night, and I know I said I worked at night but Wed was my night off so this seemed like it dropped from the sky above.

Like every good rainbow severing the clouds from the heavens above it started first as rain….well in this case more like an amusing Caribbean shower. My first night in class I didn’t know what to expect. The course details didn’t indicate what if any materials we needed, it just said something like bring your imagination…no problem there I had mine in tow with me all day. To that end I guess I was more than prepared.

The art classroom was pretty small, oh wait the word is quaint isn’t it or maybe intimate. Yes yes, the art classroom was intimate. It held enough room for 14 students and 1 professor comfortably. Once inside I began chit chatting it up with the other students. I wanted to know if they’d been given any advance notice of the materials we’d need going forward…you know I’m anal like that. No one seemed to know and the professor was nowhere in sight.

My life as a career student had taught me that on the first day of class teachers and students alike are equally capable of being up to 15 minutes late so I wasn’t going to stress out that he was tardy to the party. Of course with 14 or so random students of differing ages, majors and sexes the conversation soon turned to recent parties and a whole bunch of other debauchery, ah college!

Anywho I’d taken up talk with a relatively cute butter pecan Puerto Rican hombre to my immediate left, for what it’s worth we’ll call him Butter Pecan for the rest of this post or BP for short. He was local Philly not imported Jersey like so many of the other students. This was rather refreshing. Standing to Butter Pecan’s immediate left was an overly tan large haired individual reminiscent of Bon Jovi but I didn’t give it much thought because I was lost in silly flirty convo with Butter Pecan.

By ten minutes in the room was pretty loud with tons of side conversations and the like. Suddenly and I say suddenly because before anyone could realize it Mr. Bon Jovi took center stage. And you know I say center stage because it dawned on me in that very moment in the middle of the intimate classroom there was a sort of podium type contraption with painters clothe draped across it, subtle details.

Once on stage Mr. Bon Jovi dropped trou!!!!!! Yes you read that right; he dropped trou in front of everyone with no warning. And really it took me by surprise in particular because he was so dang close to Butter Pecan that it almost had the appearance that Mr. Bon Jovi was giving BP a private show. Of course that wasn’t the case but you know appearances. After de-clothing all willy nilly he struck a sort of work of modern art pose and held it. And yes if you guessed that the room fell monastery silent you’d be 100% right except for some horriprised (horrified and surprised) gasps from the collective peanut gallery.

What broke the silence, Butter Pecan of course saying, “Damn dude you could have given us some kinda warning, yo! I wasn’t even prepared for that. (Turning to face me) Aye Yo, what the hell, he don’t even have no drawers on…it’s cold as shit outside.”

Hmmm this situation is uncomfortable, at least I’m not alone in my uncomfortable-ness.

I understood BP’s frustration or maybe slight awkwardness, hell the classroom was full of folk caught completely off guard, I mean it’s not too often someone de-clothes in a semi crowded room.

My only response, “Yup you’re right he’s not wearing any underwear!”

Before long the professor walked in and instructed us to pick up a sketch pad from along the wall and begin capturing Mr. Bon Jovi’s “essence.” When he said that all I could really see was his hair…you know because I felt it slightly inappropriate to stare at his little man jewels. Even still the teacher liked my work…he said that he could feel Mr. Bon Jovi’s energy in my rendition even though I’d forgotten his essentials.

Even though I went through a semester of nudes and got relatively comfortable with the concept of holding normal conversation with someone who suddenly de-robes I never ever really got comfortable with the sculpting, painting or sketching of the essentials.

When the Best Friend called and said that there’s this 32in television I must have or I’ll die and would like to have a partner in crime while I’m out getting this steal, I should have declined. Of course hindsight is 20/20. After a little leg pulling, because at the time I was still very much working slave hours for the Vancouver client project I agreed to be her wing woman, her stand in line while I tinkle woman, her grab that 30 pack of Rubbermaid canisters woman…you get the point. That woman was me.

I should have definitely declined the offer but I hadn’t seen the Best Friend in a month of Sundays and believe it or not I was in some ways looking forward to being sequestered in the yellow smiley face rollback prices store for hours. However, the Best Friend informed me that we wouldn’t have to stand in line for hours on end because this year, suddenly the smart stick hit execs, people would get tickets at 12AM on a first come first serve basis for the item of his/her choice and have to return to the store at 5AM to retrieve said item. Fantabulous! That meant I could peruse the aisles while my friend waited patiently to get her ticket then we could return to her house. Once at her home I’d finish my work stuff, catch some zzz’s and then wake early grab breakfast and scoop up her television along with a mess of other “Black Friday” deals.

All sounds wonderrific, right?

And since it did sound so fantabulous you know it was not! First bubble buster there was no exiting the store once you secured a ticket. Second bubble buster, after securing said golden ticket you were pigeon holed to a line for the remainder of your stay. And by remainder of our stay I mean at 12:15AM when we sauntered our happy tails into Walsucks we had to remain in line until 5 bells before we could officially purchase the television. This meant no going back to finish the mountains of work I needed to complete nor getting up early for breakfast, and y’all know I loves me some diner breakfast.

This would be beginning of the stank eye (o_O) for Black Friday and the end of my already on thin ice relationship with Walsucks. No matter I prefer Tarjay anyway!

As luck may have it, walking through the aisles of merchandise I was unable to purchase until 5AM (for whatever reason the staff had duct tapped tons of items customers were not allowed to touch during the 5 hour jail sentence) I happened upon some very lonely bar stools not packaged in 5AM tape. My first thought was genius, now I wouldn’t have to pop a squat on the narsty Walsuck's floor and the second thought was damn these stools will look sick (this is slang and means fantabulous) in my apartment…bottom line, two for one!

Side note: I was allowed to walk around because I wasn’t purchasing a ticketed item.

Upon my return, stools in hand, to the line the Best Friend had the I’m so not feeling this sh*t face. I told her about some relatively decent deals which seemed to perk her spirits and we began setting up our stools along the nearest display wall. Those stools must have had some kind of magic Walsuck worker power because within minutes some jerk-off in a blue smock came over to discuss the “stool situation.”

Walsuck’s Worker: Uh you’re not allowed to sit if you’re waiting in line.

Me: Is that in some type of written document…did you give notice to the people on the floor? I don’t think they got the memo.

Walsuck’s Worker: What I mean is you’re not allowed to sit on stools if you’re waiting in the line.

Me: Really?

Walsuck’s Worker: Yeah it’s not fair to the other people who are waiting in line.

Me: Is that so…is it my fault that none of them thought of getting chairs to sit on for the next five hours. I shouldn’t be penalized because I found a creative solution.

Walsuck’s Worker: Uhhhh, yeah ummm, well the only way you can sit on them then is if you agree to buy the stools.

Me (turning my head toward my friend indicating that I was done with the conversation): I’m buying them!

Do you think it ended here….if you do, you’re dead wrong!

The Best Friend and I share some smart ass conversation about people taking positions of no power to their heads. Before long we’re rudely interrupted by the Harleysville Walsuck’s Manager.

Walsuck’s Manager: You two can’t sit on those stools.

Me: I’ve had this conversation with your worker a few minutes ago; I told him I’m buying the stools.

Walsuck’s Manager: It doesn’t matter. You’re creating a safety issue by sitting on the stools.

Me: You can’t be serious? We’re creating a safety issue? We’re creating a safety issue?

Walsuck’s Manager: Yes YOU’RE creating a safety issue. If YOU’RE seated on the stools someone could come by, trip and hit their head on the ground.

Me (holding back a laugh): Whatever, you might want to tell that to the dozen or so folks who are lying on the floor making it impossible for other customers to walk down the aisles. You might also want to mention that to the other dozen or so customers who are sitting on shelves with merchandise hanging every so nicely above their heads. Oh yeah and you might want to mention that to the people who are sitting on boxes in the middle of the aisles. You know since you’re giving out safety advice. Oh and by the way, it’s also a safety issue to have people standing in lines for hours without suitable seating during the wee hours of the morning. Not to mention roping off areas, yet another safety issue. I could go on but I think you get my drift right? But maybe you don’t should I dumb it down for ya?

I admit not my finest moment and quite possibly too condescending to a woman who was probably old enough to be my mother. In my defense I was at my wits end with the stupidity of the whole Black Friday event.

Walsuck’s Manager (arms flapping and doing a slight bottleneck): What did you say? I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want to have to escort you out!

By now my friend gave me the please don’t get us kicked out of line we’ve been here too damn long and I really want this television look. And since I care more about my friend’s feelings than actually being right (as painful as it was) I conceded.

Me: You’re kidding right, trouble. Some people!

The Best Friend and I got off the stools and placed them along the display. After a minute or two of huddled sideline conversation between the manager and her minions, one walked over and stated that the manager said that I still had to purchase the stools once I checked out. I didn’t bat an eye until the moron placed the stools inside our cart to which I questioned where television would fit. No answer, but not really all that surprising.

By 3AM I settled down slightly. I mean at least I wasn’t the lady who got kicked out for “shopping” during her 15 minute bathroom break. She was escorted out by security at the behest of the Walsuck’s Manager. Kicked Out Customer yelled something like now this b*tch thinks she’s a Somebody because she’s making 6 dollars an hour and wearing a blue smock, f*ck that! I could be adding dramaticals here but believe me it was something like that. Standing in vain for hours really pisses people off…just a thought!

At the stroke of 5 a free for all pretty much broke loose. When the Walsuck’s Worker started to place the 32in television on top of the two stools they placed in our cart earlier, I had to speak up.

Me: You might wanna take the stools out of the cart before you put the tv in, I’m just saying.

Walsuck’s Worker: You’re right.

Walsuck’s Security Guard (pretty much appearing out of nowhere): Oh no these two(pointing at my friend and I) have been sitting on those stools all night and have to purchase them or they can’t get this television.

Me: First off Captain Flashlight I haven’t been sitting on anything all night. And if you were standing guard around here you’d already know that. Second you can’t make me purchase anything!

Walsuck’s Worker: Don’t worry about it he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. (turning to face the security guard) Hey man calm down and go back to your post.

By this time I’d already begun my walk to the front of the store to secure a customer comment card. Granted I might have added to the heightened tension that night/morning between myself and the Walsuck's staff but stoooopidity coupled with bad customer service gets under my skin to a whole other level.

From now on I won’t ever go out again on Black Friday and both Walsuck and Black Friday get the eternal stank eye (o_O)