raucous workplace > creepy workplace

September 27, 2007 - Leave a Response

Jane got me a job waiting tables at the place where she finally snagged a bar-tending job, that goth-themed indie bar/restaurant where I met Ford, Poe’s. I feel pretty torn about it, since “waitress” was the job title I was looking to shed by spending four freaking years in college. Should have second-guessed that Art History major with a concentration in Female Professors and Amusing Yet Poor Decisions. Still, the owner of Poe’s is a really decent woman, and it beats the pancake place in WVA where I pretty much had to serve drunken frat boys pancakes on my breasts to get tips enough to pay for rent, groceries, and books. Poe’s is a late-night joint with lots of vegetarian options and hipster kids. Jane says they have decent live music. Everywhere has decent live music here–a perk of Nashville.

Needless to say, the interview with the insurance company was a total clusterfuck. When I got there first thing in the morning, the entire staff was in a soundproof board room that I could see through a glass wall. Their heads were all bowed and their hands were clenched. When they started filing out of the room a few minutes later, I noticed that the women were all wearing these hideous ankle-length khaki skirts. Gary, my interviewer and would-be boss, nervously licked his lips as he lead me into his office. He wanted to know how much experience I had in administrative assistance, and I told him none, and he said “None? No experience?” I said, well, I can take a phone message with the best of them. You read my CV online in order to call me in for an interview. He looked down at my wraparound dress and black heels (conservative outfit, I thought), and said, looking over his glasses, “I don’t know where you’ve worked before. But there will be a dress code in this office. Most of our clients are good Christian families.” Wait for it, wait for it. Then I ask him if he will be my boss, and he goes, “Well, I would be your earthly supervisor. Here, we all have the same boss…in Christ.” I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and managed to hold it together until I had just barely stepped out of the office. So waitressing it is. I’d rather deal with some overtly sexual comments and spilt beer than administrative assist at Jesus Creepery, Inc. Remember, he’s watching you, especially when you lead Gary into temptation. Ewww.

My first night on is tonight. And Friday is my big, um, art lesson rendez-vous with The Downstairs Neighbor. And I’m lost on what to wear and what to talk about to such a worldly, beautiful woman.

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The Downstairs Neighbor

September 26, 2007 - Leave a Response

Think of my usually plain brown eyes with little rotating stars and hearts in them.

I have a gigantor crush.

On Ford’s downstairs neighbor. Jane and I went over there last night while we were out doing errands because I forgot my sunglasses there on Monday. He opened the door, and there she was, sitting at that too-hip brushed steel bar, sipping black coffee.

They were talking art. Ford has this delusion that he is going to be the next Jackson Pollock (and a radiologist? I don’t know). We joined in and went downstairs to see some of her work.

Think of a flower exploding. Think of a stick of dynamite going off in a pitcher of lemonade. To a foreground of black silhouettes of pin-up girls and topographical symbols.

She must be between forty and forty five. Jane kept humming “Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson…” on the car ride back, and I just sat there with a crimson face like a goon.

The Downstairs Neighbor proclaimed herself half-Spanish and half-Irish, and she’s got this black silky hair that was so long she had it knotted up without a ponytail holder. And a too-big white Oxford shirt.

Ford invited us to stay for dinner, and ordered in some Chinese. (I’m starting to wonder when he does any of this medical school homework.) We all sat around drinking whiskey and talking about Frida Kahlo.

Darcy <after drink #3>: God, how do you paint like that? I’d love to paint like that.

The Downstairs Neighbor: Why don’t you come by on Friday and I can show you some tips on how to get started?

Flirty or friendly?

Wish. She. Weren’t. So. Married.

Gah.

yeah, we went there

September 25, 2007 - One Response

There comes a turning point in every really volcanic fight where there is a pregnant pause, and someone utters in an infuriated whisper, “OH, I know you did NOT just go there.” And then you scream your heads off until you’re exhausted and apologetic and even euphoric because you run out the adrenaline rush, like giving birth or running the mile or something. If you didn’t have that post-big-game relief after you let the anger run its course, you’d never forgive anyone. Or, if you didn’t have that euphoria after giving birth, you’d never want to engage in an activity that involved vaginal tearing again. But people do have more than one kid, and they also forgive and forget. Most of the time, if you let it out, by the time you’re finished you’ve forgotten what you were even fighting about at the end and you are oddly filled with love and adoration for that person, and even though fifteen minutes before you wanted a bear to attack them, now you just want to bear hug. I guess it’s an adaptive strategy to keep humans from totally killing each other 24/7. You can go that route, or someone can stomp off and you stay at a steady, slow boil for days. Luckily Jane is not the steady, slow boil type. But she will throw things. At your head.

Alright, we said some pretty nasty things to each other. Here’s a brief recap of the blow-up.

Jane: You’re just afraid of men.

Darcy: You just need approval from anything with a dick. Just like society tells you to.

Jane: And you’re jealous that I have an easier time meeting men than you have meeting women. It’s my house and I get a say in who visits.

Darcy: It’s my house and I get to say no one with a fanged vampire clown tattoo that covers more than half of their back can visit.

Jane: His name is Derrick.

Darcy: Okay, fine, rude Derrick can’t visit.

Jane: That’s fine because that was a mistake anyway. I’m just really stressed out, and I went out for a few drinks at the bar I interviewed at on Sunday, and you know… I didn’t have sex with him but we did make out and pass out. When I woke up I had no idea where I was. <We both start sobbing here> This sounds pathetic but…I miss college.

Darcy: Come here.

::Bear hugs and head patting::

We decided to invite Ford over for dinner tomorrow and see if he wants to bring one of his non-sketchy friends. Who I hope also will not be deathly boring.

Also, I have an interview with an INSURANCE COMPANY TOMORROW! I was hoping the all-caps would make it look exciting at least…

          

bluesday

September 24, 2007 - One Response

This morning when I was making tea, a stranger came out of Jane’s room. Someone who looked like a cross between K-Fed and the Ghost of Meth Dealer Present. I spent last night researching jobs at the public library, so I had no idea she’d had a guy sleep over. They must have come in after I went to sleep.

He plopped down into a kitchen chair with a kind of half-nod to me, and spread his legs out in only a pair of gross boxers. I try not to judge people by appearances, but I felt really uncomfortable about this guy’s vibes, and even more uncomfortable that Jane had not run this houseguest by me first. He asked me if I had any coffee and I told him “no” and then he just lit a cigarette in the kitchen like it was nothing. I said um, we don’t smoke in our house, and he looked at me with this icy expression and put the cigarette out on the linoleum floor, which thankfully did not make a mark. That sent me to the edge, so it was all I could do not to pick the cigarette up off the floor and relight it in my own mouth. I slammed the door to the bathroom, slapped a nic patch onto my butt, then ran out of the back door, Jane calling behind me.

After I was on the road I called Ford on my cell. He wanted me to come over to his apartment because he said it sounded like I needed to vent.

Ford had to go to class after an hour, so he’s letting me use the computer at his apartment. Ford’s gorgeous loft apartment. In an old warehouse with a brushed steel bar and Ipod speakers exhuding Billie Holiday from every corner. Not a bad way to spend a Monday morning.

I’ve left three messages on Jane’s cell, but she hasn’t called back. I wish job searching was the least of my worries right now…

country club venture

September 22, 2007 - Leave a Response

We got to the Farmer’s Market as it was closing, so Ford drove me to his uncle’s country club in Belle Meade, a ritzy neighborhood populated by lots of Jaguars and yard workers. THE neighborhood in Nashville…ask Faith Hill.

I was skeptical.

I mean, admittedly, I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t my scene. I’d only been to a country club once before and that was with an ex-girlfriend of mine who was VERY in the closet. We got roped in to Easter brunch with her parents after her mom discovered us in her pink canopied bed, having walked home together the night before from a party two blocks away. Luckily we’d been too drunk to claw each others’ underwear entirely off, so when her mother sauntered into the bedroom, I had just enough time to pull my face out of her pink-lace-covered cleavage where I’d passed out. We sat up to a shrill, “L___! Time to go. Your father’s waiting in the car. And bring your friend along.” (Imagine smeared-mascara-raccoons-in-the-headlights with the sheets pulled up to our chins.)

I was so hung over I had to leave a couple of times to “visit the ladies’.” I remember pink cloth napkins and the clink of her mother’s gargantuan diamond ring against her Bloody Mary as she raised it to her red lips…and recognizing a neighbor of mine who was a waiter there and had to offer us four different types of muffins from a basket. I felt like a traitor.

But despite my reluctance, I had an awesome time with Ford. And I learned to play squash! Squash is like playing raquetball with a ball that’s had most of the bounce taken out. My quads are killing me from lunging.

And I beat Ford like 5 times.

Jane seems kind of agitated now. She’s banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

Today it’s back to the computer and whoring my resumé out to every possible employer…yah, I just sent one to the Dollar General Management Team. I hope I don’t have to wait tables again.

intervention.

September 21, 2007 - Leave a Response

Location: My computer desk in the Study/guest room.

 

Jane: Put the stick down.

Darcy: What? <nervously dusting crumbs from side of mouth>

Jane: Stick. Put it down. How many of those did you have yesterday?

Darcy: Four…umm…nine.

Jane: How many have you had today?

Darcy: This is my first one. I swear. My first one…after breakfast.

Jane: Give me the stick.

<I dodge her and lunge into the kitchen>

Jane: Give me the stick! Give me that, you’re like a corn dog crackwhore! Give it. <she catches me and puts me in a headlock> Give it here, ha! <secures remainder of corndog to background of my desperate squeals>

She made us spaghetti and a salad for lunch. And made me solemnly promise to give the ‘dogs a break.

So that Ford guy that I met at Poe’s called me this morning. He wants to go out to the Farmer’s Market. I suspect he is gay. Which would be just fabulous.

job search= terror

September 21, 2007 - Leave a Response

Job searching totally sux and freaks me out. I’ve sent out about fifty bazillion emails with my resume attached in three days, and filled out about fifty thousand more applications online.

I’ve been on the computer all day and my hair is up in a dirty messy bun and I’m wearing my yoga pants and this ratty old t-shirt of my brother’s that says Boy Scout Jamboree ’93: Keep Smiling. WHICH I SWORE I WOULD THROW OUT WHEN I MOVED.

I guess progress isn’t always linear. That’s it. I’m heating up another veggie corn dog. My approach to not smoking right now has been to make sure my mouth is full at all times with a veggie corndog or four.

drinking at Poe’s, first come-on

September 20, 2007 - Leave a Response

I’m in my bedroom right now. Jane is in the bathroom, showering off the smoke smell. We were too tired to go out after the move so Kara ended up taking us bar hopping last night instead.

The evening air was practically scorching even at 11…I’m still trying to get used to feeling like I live in an Easy Bake. I wore a little jean skirt and this red silky halter I inherited from one of my friends in WVA after she got pregnant…actually, the majority of my cute clothes come from friends who stopped exercising after they got married or shacked up with their boyfriends, or got pregnant. They call it “relationship weight.” It’s a little depressing…but not for my wardrobe!

We started out at a lame sports-bar type place called Teller’s where they were playing this trivia game about 90’s sitcoms, so we knocked off of that pretty quickly. Kara drove us to this other place called Poe’s that had a raven on the sign, like Edgar A. Poe I guess. Inside it had some predictable spider web decorations and red backlighting, but the crowd was good– lively, not too bourgey but not too rough. Some polos, but mostly geeky indie T shirts. No white collars. They had the typical goth-themed drinks; I think my first one was called a Vampire kiss, made from pomegranate juice, a few splashes of triple sec, vodka, and a little wedge of blood orange.

I met a boy. Usually, this is a non-event. I take care of myself physically and I have a brain, and for some guys in bars, the first thing is enough. Really, for most of them, I’d only need the former and about enough cerebral matter for basic motor functions like drinking, brushing my own teeth, and…you can imagine. One. two. And repeat.

Well this boy, or man, I haven’t decided which he is yet, actually tried to hit on me. Did the whole, “can I buy you a second,” right after I’d downed the last swallow of my red cocktail.

Darcy: Actually, I’m good for now.

Dude: Hi, I’m Ford. <awkwardly sweeps hair to the side and offers his hand, I notice his watch from a chic Tokyo designer, Hanako…now I’m slightly interested in chatting>

Darcy: <SIGH> I’m Darcy, and I’m really pleased to meet you, but I’m like, almost 100% gay…so…I’m not really interested in…?

Dude <quietly, blushing, looking down at his feet>: Quoth the Darcy, nevermore!

It was completely awkward but endearing, and I’m a sucker for cheesy literature jokes. So we talked for most of the night. He’s from North Carolina and at Vanderbilt in Med School. He didn’t even try to chat Jane up. I think he legitimately wants to be friends. Or he’s hiding a unicorn horn under that floppy dark brown hair.

healthy living?

September 18, 2007 - Leave a Response

I found the Stop Inn Grocery in Germantown while Jane was unpacking, and I was the only white person in the whole store, which was a pleasant change. Certainly not in WVA anymore. I’m currently heating up some prepackaged veggie corn dogs and making more tea. J + I made a pact in June to quit the diet-coke-and-smoke routine we’d fallen into senior year. It was only slightly less tacky than the blow-coke-and-smoke habit our sorority friends followed, and I was starting to get really short of breath doing anything that involved stamina. Which includes a lot of fun things…!

Tonight Jane’s sister, Kara, is taking us out to a bar at Five Points. So maybe with the healthy lunch and jog this afternoon I’ll make up for a little boozing this evening.

east tar pit, wva, to skyline, tn

September 18, 2007 - Leave a Response

When I step onto the front lawn and look to my right, I can see the Nashville city skyline. I live in a city. With a skyline! Screw the hum of the food processing plant across the street, this is a cosmo location.

Jane and just I rolled into beautiful Nashville about an hour ago this morning to sign our *brand new lease* with our landlord Devon. We stayed in Kentucky last night with one of Jane’s ex-boyfriends, Steven, which was less dramatic than I thought it would be…he made us some delectable curry and we drank some wine and watched “House.” And I only needed one pillow over my head to block out the barbarian moans coming from the other room in order to sleep. I’m only on my third cup of jasmine tea today…so the writing abilities are still a little fuzzy. But I thought I’d try out the wireless connection in the house. Hello out there?