I heart Anthropologie. This is my current “Drool” item. Sigh.
**Edited to include another brilliant creation by “Photoshop Dave” (For those who don’t know, Dave will send me brilliant and hilarious photos he creates to fit my blog entries by using photos in my archives. He has total permission to do so and they are always such a hoot!)
I am a stay at home mom. There is a bit of confusion from time to time because I will write, “When I was at work” or something similar and I will get an email with an inquiry that usually involves a statement like “Wow, I haven’t read in a week. Did you suddenly get a career and I am just totally out of the loop???”.
Alas, it is nothing that grand.
Sporadically (Yet, fairly steadily) I get small and insignificant side jobs. Sometimes I am bored and the job is fun (Working in a bookstore), sometimes it is necessary (Working as office manager for my husband’s company) and sometimes it is because I want to make my own tiny bit of money to save for something important to me like my dream trip to the UK this fall (My current job). With this current job of mine I have been deliberately obtuse on this blog. You’ll see why.
In January, my husband told me that the couple who were contracted to clean his company’s office building weren’t going to continue and he wondered if it would be something that I would be interested in doing? I hadn’t really ever thought of doing something like cleaning offices before, but I really want to go to the UK in the fall. The pay was decent and it was only about 4-6 hours a week and I could work at night. So, I said yes.
Last week I had a startling realization:
I am a janitor.
I am not totally sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I have never, ever been ashamed either for myself or on behalf of others for doing decent, honest work. On the other hand, I AM A JANITOR!!!!!!!!!
At least this title is a bit easier to swallow since purchasing my new car. Because truly? The whole going to the janitor job while drive an ’83 Station Wagon was just a little too hard to take some days. If it is hard for me to swallow, you should see my awkwardness in explaining that I do to people.
People have various reactions to it. There are times I can tell that they are trying their best to keep a casual face and not judge, but it is still goin’ on in the cranium. When that happens I start freaking out in my head, “DUDE, I CAN FEEL THE JUDGEMENT!!!! STOP THINKING THAT I SUCK BECAUSE I SWAB TOILETS 3X A WEEK! Oh, and you have some spinach stuck in your upper front tooth. I am not going to say anything about it to you since you are such a hater. So, pppth!!!”
Even worse than that though, are the sweet, well-meaning people who get that “Look”. When I was telling one of my friends about my job, they got “The Look” and I said if they were about to use the terms “Courageous”, “Admirable” or “Brave” I would have to severely hurt them. I also said if they call me a “Sanitation Engineer” I will be forced to start ripping out their arm hairs one at a time.
Unless I just decide to accept my fate about it all. Maybe I can start a network of janitors and form a faction that is plotting to take over the world like the diabolical janitor with no name from “Scrubs”.Don’t fear, I have zero plans on inundating you all with “Tales from the toilets”. Actually, given my abhorrence of all things “Excrement”, I can’t believe I actually agreed to do this job in the first place. At least I don’t have to deal with bitchy people doing this, which is more fab than I can begin to tell you. Actually, there is pretty much zero people interaction at all. Unless you count Wednesdays.
I hate Wednesdays at work, and let me tell you why in two little words: MARY KAY.
Now, before I get hordes of you pink fans emailing me like the Amway fans that think I am a hater, let me say that Mary Kay can be awesome. I am a total fan of the Timewise system and they have a completely sweet lip mask set that makes my mouth soft and munchable like nothing else. Lots of women have found their niche in the world due to this little company and I admire it.
The office building that I clean is not just any office building. It is a freaking HUGE office building with like 50,000 square feet. They rent out a lot of it to other businesses. A Mary Kay faction rents it out on Wednesday and it almost always involves craploads of perfume, glitter and a boombox blasting “I believe I can fly”.
These big weekly gatherings of women can irritate me like no other. I am just not a fan. I have never been “Into” large groups of women doing anything, really. I tried to join a sorority my freshman year and pretty much snorted and giggled so much during initiation because I thought it was STUPID that I was sorta univited. When I was an active LDS person, Enrichment Night used to make me break out into hives. I am really not sure how I survived being PTA President for three years.
Every Wednesday, I am required to walk into this room full of very nicely groomed women and gather the trash from the cafeteria. I always have to go in in the middle of their meeting and it fills me with apprehension and DREAD. It doesn’t help that the trash has usually been crammed full of 8 billion Styrofoam packing peanuts and pink makeup boxes and so retrieving the trash is rather awkward and long. Usually, this involves about 30 pairs of eyes looking at me and taking in my hair (Usually hurridly thrown into pigtails, a bleach stained t-shirt and Army cargo pants and a sweater. I may or may not have smeared eyeliner at that point as well. I hate it. It probably has to do with the fact that 90% of the time that I am at work, I look like a homeless person. I live in total fear that one day I will be accosted because they will think I would make a great charity case. “Awe. Let’s give the poor, fugly janitor lady a makeover and bring some joy and grooming into her bleak little world!”
I know. I’m being wenchy, but it is still a fear, and I sense that it is not all that unreasonable, either.
Over all, though it has been an ok little job, actually. And frankly as long as it means that come September I am able to fulfill one of the biggest dreams of my life, I can put up with toilets, mop water and even Mary Kay and be pretty damn grateful about it all.
***Jessica’s link should be fixed now. Thank you for letting me know I had http://kerflp.com on there. Sigh.Â
I live in “Happy Valley”. Literally. Logan is a beautiful valley of about 100,000 surrounded by a ring of tall mountains and has good schools, good people, low crime and gorgeous scenery. The only thing that really lacked in previous years was that the shopping wasn’t the best. However, since we hit the magic “Metro” mark since the last census, the growth of large stores and restaurants have exploded. So, where you used to have to drive 1-1.5 hours to Ogden or Salt Lake, you don’t really have to anymore. I love living here, but I always take every possible opportunity to “Get the hell out of Dodge”, so to speak.
I don’t know if going out of the valley to South East Idaho for the day really qualifies as an escape from Cache Valley, but that is exactly what I did.
As many of you noticed, my blog was beyond FUBAR’D yesterday. All because I tried to post to my sidebar. Luckily, I had already planned to meet with the designer of the page: Jessica of “Kerflop”. (I promise this is not going to become the “I Heart Kerflop Blog”, but let’s face it, she has been the whole reason for this switch, has put in oodles of time and energy and patience into it and she’s cute.)
I thought about just going over everything on the phone, but frankly? I suck at things like that. I was also afraid that if she tried to walk me through stuff on the phone the conversation would end up going something like this:
Jessica: “Ok, Loralee. Now I need you to open the Doohicky folder.”
Loralee: “Umm…I don’t know what a Doohicky folder IS, Jessica.”
Jessica: “Oh, no problem, sweetie. It is that file over there in your Thingamabob directory.”
Loralee: “Wait, is that the one that one I opened by hitting the vorpalblade function? Or was it the Snarblatthingy you told me about yesterday???”
Jessica: “Just breathe, Loralee. Just open your Coocookacho drive and we’ll go from there.”
Loralee: “Ok. Hold on…Oh, DANG IT! I just hit the Bibbityboobityboo button and now “Queen” is playing and my screen has dancing Care Bears all over it.”
Jessica: “Hmmm…This could be a problem.”
Loralee: “Can you hold on for a minute? I have to go stick a Dinglehopper in my eye.”
You can see why I just decided to make the four hour trip to the potato capitol of America and walk through it all in person, right?
The drive was fairly humdrum. I decided to take the scenic route, which when you are driving to Idaho consists of lots of cows, sagebrush and abandoned gas stations and diners with peeling painted signs that say “The Hi-Way Cafe”. It is a fairly desolate drive, but fortunately I have a vivid imagination and can converse with a plethora of people in my head to take up the time.
I even had a great little banter with “Tina the Llama” from “Napoleon Dynamite” in my head when I passed Preston. She was a bit pissed off when I “Sunk to the cliche” of calling her a fat lard and to eat her ham.
I was low on gas so I stopped in the only town that had a gas station/diner. Weirdly, when I am in an Idaho gas station I suddenly feel about 300 times more attractive than when I’m in Utah. I know that sounds petty, but you’d have to live here. It’s just true.
The diner was interesting. I happened to be going in at the same time as a gaggle of farmers? Mechanics? Whatever they were, they were all wearing jumpsuits with elastic bands and I silently named them DeVeral, LaSal, Vernon and Ed in my head. Two of them waiting for forever for me to walk over so they could hold open the door and the others were right inside. When I said, “Thank You” I dropped my bank card and they all scrambled to get it. It was really sweet.
However, since I grew up as a fat girl with unfortunate double-processed hair, it is still really weird for me when people think I’m attractive. So, I kind of hurried over to get a soda while they all went to a table to sit down. It would have been the end of it, except that I was starving and wanted jerky and to get the kind I wanted I would have to give that table a pretty embarrassing view of my posterior. I gritted my teeth and did it as quickly as possible.
It would have been fine, except when I bit into I realized that I was so flustered I accidentally grabbed a bag of HIDEOUS Tabasco flavor instead of Teriyaki because the bags look similar. Bleck. So, I just went hungry.
I finally got to Jessica’s adorable house and the fun began.
We came to the conclusion that all the problems in setting up my page was due to it being hosted on a server set up by Jon. One, it was in Windows, which is a big “No-No” for WordPress. In the end, even though Jon said he could switch it to Linux, I just opted to have my page hosted somewhere else. Jonathan doesn’t see any point at all in my blogging hobby and I really don’t want to have to depend on him as much as I would have to if I hosted it with him.
So, I signed up with the same host Jessica uses: Siteground. It was all well and good until right after I ended my credit card info and a chat window popped up with a conversation from “Emil”.
He said that he needed to verify my account purchase and could I give him my phone number so he could speak to me?
I looked at Jessica and she was flabbergasted and said it was, “Weird”.
I hate, loathe and despise speaking to people I don’t know on the phone. It makes my heart flutter and feel like I am going to throw up. You wouldn’t ever know it, but I can be PAINFULLY SHY.
My phone rang and there was just a bunch of static. I said hello about 4 times and hung up. Jessica took over my chat. “I’m sorry, I tried to answer and no one said anything. This is kinda creepy.” (I love her.)
So, he called back.
I could barely understand him. It also sounded like there was a LAN-Party going on in the background and a couple of crying babies. This made me wonder if my page was being hosted in a building that is used to host D&D tournaments complete with Funyons and Mountain Dew Keggers.
The conversation was so stressful to me I kept writing pleading notes to Jessica, that looked like this:
After painfully spelling each letter of my freaking long URL, I parted ways with Emil and Jessica worked her magic on my page (Along with her long-suffering brother who is the king of programing.). She kept trying to tell me that usually it “Isn’t nearly this problemed”. I told her that I knew she knew exactly what she was doing, it is just the plight of being me. If it can go wrong it will. I am used to it, sadly.
I was totally useless the whole time and did things like tell lame stories, compare arm flab and fat with Jessica and “Ooh and Aahhhh!!!” over Jessica’s freaking GORGEOUS and adorable 18-month-old, Katie. Which means I had a great time.
It took about four hours and some frustration, but it is up and running and everything is going well. Now I just have to put together a humdinger of a ‘Thank You’ package.