The Waitressing Years cont.

Hold on readers, we are about to embark on a whirlwind tour.  With my new found waitressing skills I went back to university and started looking for a part time job to help support my education/drinking fund.  First I worked at a little place in downtown Hamilton where I encountered extreme racism, a horrible chef/owner, and when I called for my schedule the girl who was supposed to be making the schedule told me that she had never heard of me and wasn't sure why I thought I worked there....  So I brought my then boyfriend, now husband, with me for moral support to pick up my pay cheque and never went back.

Next I worked for Yuk Yuks comedy club for two nights.  It was fun and funny and I thought I could really get into that job.  Except they also wouldn't give me a schedule, but instead of being honest about it they avoided my calls.  Finally, I left a message for my 'boss' and ended it with, "If I no longer have a job with you just let me know and I will stop calling."  He called back to insist that of course I still worked for him.  Then refused to pay me for the time I had worked.  Finally I also had to go down there to pick up my cheque which they tried to withhold. 

So ended my working career while in university.  But what followed was an unimaginable and hideous list of waitressing jobs that I can only give you in bullet form. 

*Tony Roma's in the Falls, by far the best waitressing experience of my life.  Lesson: always work for reputable chains not sketchy, dirty places where you fear for your life.

*Denny's - ignore my previous lesson.  New Lesson: Do not work for chain restaurants where you get yelled at for polishing the silverware and are told to just stand and do nothing instead.

*Biscotti's - a little place in Toronto.

* The Fiery Grill - a fun place on the water in Muskoka where I spent a few summers serving and swimming and tanning which no longer exists.

*__________ - another place in Toronto that will not be named because it does exist still and was mostly a front for drugs, but also a big supporter of the underage drinking community.  Once I asked two young girls for ID and got in trouble from my boss because they didn't have any.  Also we had to climb a small winding staircase to get to the upper portion of the restaurant and the owner used to stand underneath and grab our ankles and then fire you if you dropped your tray or spilled a drink.  Please note - I quit this job and was not fired because I have impeccable balance skills.  Although I did once shout, "You are not an alligator.  Don't touch me." because he was obviously pretending to be an alligator under there.  I did mention copious amounts of drugs were being dealt and used in this place, right? 

                                                          *********************

Stay tuned, up next is a much anticipated chapter called, "Marching With Horses".  It is also the current working title of my life story - special thanks to my friends Jen and Carlie for their continuous support and laughter at the failure that is my life.

My Career Path Continues....

On to grade twelve.  I was forced to quit my most favourite job at the IGA because I wanted to be a camp counsellor for the summer.  I loved camp and so gave up the hours I spent scanning food.  On a side note, one of the negatives of that job was the week there was an extreme sale on pig legs.  If you have never seen an entire pig leg, they are gigantic.  About the size of me.  Apparently the people of Niagara Falls have a secret love of them because when they were on sale people were buying in bulk.  No lie.  I would have have to try and scan five or six of them in an order.  They do not fit neatly in little styrofoam deli trays.  O no.  Instead they were wrapped up in clear plastic garbage bags.  Think Dexter, but just giant legs, with bar code stickers attached.  So I would have to manuver the leg to scan the bar code, but let me just tell you this other little piece of information, pig legs are really quite hairy.  Not hairy like mine in mid February, no these hairs are like little metal spikes, breaking open the bags and quite often scratching up my arms.  You might think this is disgusting enough, but once the bags were filled with these little hair holes all of the pig juice would come dripping out all over me.  I would return home from these pig leg sale shifts covered in all sorts of bodily pig fluids, while they seeped into my open wounds from the pig hair, exhausted from the strenuous activity of even lifting them.... 

Gag if you must, but I lifted this dang things for a whole week to satisfy the resident's of Niagara and their sick porky fetishes.

So it was time to move on.  In grade twelve my job criteria was no job interview, only on weekends.  Here is when life tricked me, I was taught if you said what you wanted enough times then you could be given it.  I repeated my request approximately four times before a class mate offered me a position as gift shop girl in a motel/hotel where the rooms were rented hourly and nobody bought anything from the giftshop but the owner's son took a liking to me because of my extreme and obvious contempt bordering on hatred for his entire family including his wife and kids.  Did I mention I was often called on to babysit?  Sometimes to waitress during breakfast or stand at the front desk while they went for cigarette breaks?  I ran food to the bar.  I cleaned rooms.  I delivered room service or extra towels or answered the phone.  What I rarely did was sell anything from the tiny little nook that was the gift shop.  I dusted meticulously, frequently showed up so hungover I could barely stand, and rarely smiled.  They had a policy about employees paying 50% for their food.  I refused to eat there or give a single cent of my hard earned (well maybe just earned....) money back to my employers.  It got so extreme that the owner's son became obsessed with forcing me to eat his food.  If you know anything about me it's that I don't eat when I'm uncomfortable.  And I especially don't eat when I'm trying to prove a point to a giant asshole.  He went so far as to tell me to order anything I wanted off the menu for free.  He would leave plates of ribs for me, or have steaks cooked up just as I was walking in.  As someone who spent a while as a vegetarian, and continues to not eat beef or pork, he clearly went the wrong way about getting me to eat.

I tried to find you a picture of a gift shop without disclosing my actual place of employment, but all that came up was Zoltar.  I thought that would be more entertaining than my past anyway.....

In conclusion, that was not a good job.  But that year I went on my very first airplane at 17 to Mexico to build houses in Ensenada and get extreme pink eye.  This opened my eyes (although not literally, literally my eyes were stuck completely closed for most of the week because my whole face had swollen shut because of the infection), to a world outside my own that I wanted desperately to explore. 

I quit my job for another summer at camp and then was off to Hamilton for my university years at McMaster.  But that....  is a story for another day.

The Greatest Day of All - Ever!

Yesterday the most fantastic wonderul thing, in fact the best thing that can happen to a person, happened to me.  I was walking to work (sort of running actually because I was a little late), when from across the street I heard a little scream.  I looked over to see a brother and sister standing on the porch of a house, and a little tiny black furry blob go streaking out into the middle of the road.  The brother, who was the smaller of the two, stood on the porch screaming for his mom.  The sister, who was maybe about 7, went to the edge of the curb.  By now I could see a tiny puppy standing in the middle of the street without a care in the world, thinking she was quite hilarious for escaping from the house.  I know the look well.  Regis still frequently thinks he is hilarious when he manages to do something really rather bad.

Then the unthinkable happened (or maybe the expected?!?!).  A car turned onto the street.  I had been watching this scene unfold as a casual observer, but then I saw the little girl see the car and in a moment of clarity I could read her mind and it said, "My puppy is going to get hit, I have to save her."  But, my mature mind thought, let the puppy get hit, not the girl.  Her mom came out on the porch at the exact same minute and saw the exact same thought that I did, but was much further away.  The little girl started to run.  The mom yelled no at the same time I walked into the street.  I held up my hand to warn the car something was happening, the girl waited and watched, and the little furry puppy with a sweet pink collar ran right over to my arms.  I scooped her up, waited for the car to pass (it still is Hamilton afterall, and even an adorable puppy's safety can't be expected to stop these people from driving like complete maniacs!), and then crossed the rest of the way over and handed the puppy to the girl. 

That is right.  I am a rescuer of puppies.  I immediately texted both my sisters who both immediately texted me back with the same message saying, "You are a hero!".  Sometimes there is not a lot to validate me in my life of being under employed and doing pretty much nothing.  But on that day, I was a hero, a courageous woman who stepped out in traffic to save a puppy and stop a little girl from being hurt.  Yes, this is the highlight of my week, and probably of next week, and maybe even the week after.  But, really, who can blame me? 

Just checking in....

Sorry folks - somehow an entire month completely escaped me and I never once found the time to blog anything.  Could be because I am horrifically busy doing nothing, or maybe because no matter how many times you think to yourself, "It can't get any worse" or "How much longer can my unemployment go on?" life proves to you that in fact you can stay unemployed for another whole month and you can not get any interviews.  Then your job at the mall offers you a manager position and a 50 cent raise and you have no choice but to accept it, even though it kills a large part of your soul and you begin to wonder how long it will be before you are entirely soul-less.  But you are also encouraged because in four months they have obviously seen manager potential in you.  But then you wonder why nobody else even sees 'interviewing potential' in you.  Plus also you feel vaguely guilty writing this blog because after four months at your 'seasonal part-time' mall job, which was become your every season, full time job (without full time hours, vacation or benefits), with a not so bad discount on the products you sell (if only you could afford to actually buy them), you have started to appreciate what it is like to work hard for a company that can decide to screw you over at any minute and has a proven track record of doing that not only to its lowliest sales staff but also to the senior management team.

In conclusion, we lost February completely to a whirlwind of depression and promotions and another long and bitter winter, only this one was without the cold and snow.  But who needs snow when life is raining all over your late 20s with no career or savings or vacation plans parade?!?!  Ahhh it's good to be back.  Please join me here again and forgive my absence.  See you soon!

Resolution Update/ More Money Saving Tips!

Like 300 million other people, this year in January I joined a gym.  Definitely spending money that I don't have rather than buying groceries.  I know.  Counter intuitive to how very very poor I am.  But, it goes with my resolution to be more positive, and nothing makes me happier than running until I feel like I am going to throw up (on average about 5 minutes on a medium/low speed). 

I'm nothing if not honest with you all, so I will tell you that I joined Goodlife.  In order to sell me their package, I went on a long tour of the women's only facility.  The one closest to my house is women's only, and let's be honest ladies, these types of gyms seem to be more about socializing than actually working out.  On my tour the Goodlife rep said to me, "Now don't worry about attending these weight lifting classes, they will not make you bulk up and have too much muscle."  Uhmmm  okay...  Thanks Goodlife.  I am definitely coming to the gym to make sure I never gain muscle.  Do you have programs that help me maintain my flabby stomach too?  O, actually, at the class I was in yesterday they told us if you went to the gym this weekend there was going to be free cake....

Goodlife also loves to pressure me into getting skin cancer through their over enuthusiastic sales of indoor tanning.  They are forever offering me my first tan free, or trying to get me to tour their claustrophobic little death chambers.  Holy moly, no thank you Goodlife!  Although here's a good business plan - why not offer botox as well?  Because if people really tan that often soon they will be wanting to get rid of their wrinkles!

Nothing says sexy like a big box of death.  Come on baby, light up a cigarette for me.

Ooops, a rant on Goodlife business practices was not the point of this blog.  Have you missed my rambling?  My point is that I have cleverly taken to showering at the gym to avoid having to pay for showers at home.  The logic is that I'm already paying for the gym, so why not take advantage?  I now take all my showers in the comfort of a disgusting public stall where my dirty water mixes with all the other ladies and where my towel has the option of hanging in the shower and getting wet with me, or hanging on the hooks in the public area where I have to run out naked to get it.  I alternate between with two, if you were wondering.

In conclusion, I like to bring you to the new lows of my life.  I'm trying my best here people!  As always, I am open to your money saving suggestions.

Oops I was looking for a picture to show you have horrific my Goodlife showers are, but instead this cutie little beast popped up and made me smile.  Yay for baby hippos!

Happy Shopping Season!

I know this will seem a little unbelievable, but I have actually been incredibly busy this last little while.  I apologize, but my part time job quickly became full time, and then more than full time, with me working 6 days last week and 47 hours!!  Yikes!!  As an unemployed person that is a horrifically overwhelming amount of work to be doing in only one week.  That's about my hourly total for the months of July, August, September and October combined.  Seriously.  That is not a joke.

I just came across a little piece of news to brighten your day and fill you with whatever sort of holiday spirit you care to be filled with.  The results of a young alumni survey I had filled out a few weeks ago for McMaster came in today.  The most startling information is that 16.5% of the 2500 respondents said they were unemployed.  I didn't say I was unemployed, but I definitely mentioned being rediculously underemployed. 

I understand that chances are more unemployed people bothered to actually do the survey (me included), but still!!  That is much much higher than any national averages.  What are we doing?  Besides sleeping in our parents' basements and eating chips until 4am and hoping that the next day we will have the inner strength to be bothered to put on clothing or at least not entirely and completely lose the will to live.  But why aren't we out there in the work force?  This seems absolutely crazy to me.  I am happy to not be alone in this.

Can I also let you know that further in to the survey the number one thing we would like a discount on is retail stores and number two is travel related?  Uhmmm  how are all these unemployed people travelling and buying stuff?  (unless they have all read my blog about marrying for money/rent, in which case I completely understand, and spend on my fellow losers, spend on!). 

I have no real conclusion, only my condolences for the rest of my generation.  I had this vague hope that possibly I was in a small minority of unemployed, going nowhere in life, people who haven't managed to really do anything and would have been better off with only a highschool diploma and a full time job.  But it looks like I am not alone, and although that is mildly comforting, I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone!

Back to my real world - we can't afford a new vacuum cleaner and I am trying to fix our old one and they company just emailed me and told me they didn't even make the product we have because apparently Electrolux switched hands in 2001....  oops....  haha  The quest for a new filter continues!

Just when I thought I had finally found rock bottom, I find you can always fall a little further. Sometimes, literally.

I felt like I was piecing my life back together, again.  After not getting that job I had decided to move on and stop looking in at the dress I had decided to buy at RW as a celebration dress which I can no longer afford and the adorable ankle boots I was also going to get.  I started packing my lunch instead of eating at the food court on my breaks.  I applied to a few more jobs on Monday.  I visited my family on the weekend.  Yes, I found I could move on, and possibly up.  There was something else out there for me.  Something better even!

Today I headed out to work at the mall.  I was walking because I cannot afford a car on my luxurious salary of under $600/month.  Also, let's be serious, I need the exercise.  I have become extremely inactive, even for an unemployed person.  While walking I thought of a funny story I wanted to tell my littlest sister.  I called her up, but since it had snowed last night and I was freezing I did something a little silly.  I never wear hats, for unknown reasons I hate them, instead I have a cute little headband to keep my ears warm.  I stuck my phone under my headband, thus creating my very own 'hands free' talking!  This is not an attractive look, but it served its purpose and it was early and nobody else was out.  I was zipping along trying to get to the mall when I decided to take a little short cut through a very small patch of grass.  This is where the problems started.  They ended with me dramatically slipping and falling into a mud puddle, screaming at the top of my lungs and grasping for my stupid phone which stayed stuck in my headband.

Please, picture this.  I am covered in mud, showing up to work right on time, but no extra time to go back and get changed.  I cannot afford buy new pants.  I definitely cannot afford to call in sick.  I have no choice.  I show up, pants soaked all the way up my butt, muddy and awful.  Is there really no end to my humiliation?  World, I apologize for whatever I did in a previous lifetime, but I do believe I have suffered enough.  Seriously.  Enough.  I am not sure how much more I can handle. 

In hilarious news, if that isn't enough, when I went to work and explained the story, I finished with, "you know, just in case you were wondering why I showed up looking like such a mess..."  to which a co-worker simply raised an eyebrow and stared me down.  I was forced to reply with an awkward, "well, more of a mess than usual.  *uncomfortable giggle*"

I tried to google various pictures of mud puddles and wearing your cell phone in your headband, but apparently this unique situation has not happened to anybody else, or if it has they have not documented in on the internet.  So, I have taken this opportunity to draw you a visual Paint representation of what happened.  Enjoy.  If you would like a self portrait done please send me your most embarassing moment and I will try to my best to draw it for you.



Yes, I took some liberties and made myself a lot blonder and thinner.  I needed something to brighten my day.



The Truth

Dear Internet Followers,

I have been lying to you.  I have to confess.  Remember a while back I mentioned a job interview?  I did in fact get the job.  So, although I call myself unemployed, technically I am now underemployed.  This is a serious step up, and I was afraid to hurt my own reputation by telling you.  But I can't hide the truth any longer, I can't live with this lie. 

Here is my advice to you.  First, get an honours degree, work really hard, graduate with an A average because this is very important in the real world.  At least that was what I believed when I worked so hard in highschool my stress levels caused my hair to fall out and my stomach to be unable to keep food in it for more than about five minutes. 

Turns out the world doesn't care that you almost died to prove you are smarter than most (some?  at least a few?) people.  Then you go to university, where even less people care how smart you are, because turns out graduating with a 93 average in highschool doesn't mean very much there.  Fine, so you work hard at university to keep your scholarships (apparently my health and mental well being was worth $4000, just in case you wanted to quantify your stress, although nowadays I would take that $4000 and trade in my self dignity and respect as well and not complain).  You graduate and nobody cares.  So you go back to college to get practical experience in your field and hope to find a job you are insanely overqualified for.  Guess what?  Still nobody cares.  Or wants to hire you.

BUT there is hope.  A light at the end of this long dark tunnel, if you will.  Because after five years of post secondary school, working so hard to be the very best, you get hired, for minimum wage, to work at the mall.  Here's the part that really hurts....  part time, seasonal work.  Now, for the twist of the knife - you accept this position because nothing else has been offered to you and you need to pay your rent somehow.  Yes.  That is my life.

I absolutely do not want to come off as ungrateful, because I am very excited to finally be working again (4 hours this week!  Watch out world    ....  oops  ....  I was supposed to be sincere in this part ....  somehow my bitter sarcasm snuck in ....).  No, seriously, I am glad to have something to be doing, that pays me money.  I am also glad I have come out with the truth to you.  I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you for the last week.  I am terribly sorry.

To help gain back your trust, here is an adorable picture of Regis as a baby.

Cutest puppy ever?  You know I think so.

The Beginning!

The idea for this blog was born while I was cleaning out the crumb collector on my toaster. Employed people don't know about this silly little contraption. They have no time to wonder where the crumbs from the bagel they toast on the way out the door to a paying job go to. Crumb heaven? Maybe. People who are working just don't have time to care. When the toaster lights your breakfast on fire you have the means to go to Walmart and for $11 pick yourself up a new one.
Unemployed people - and I know I'm not alone here - have far more time than money. We know that the toaster collects the crumbs in a fun little tray that is precariously held with some sort of little latch. This can be released into a garbage can and the crumbs will empty.

Your method will depend on the length of time you have been unemployed/underemployed. Myself, going on 18 months (Christ, if my unemployment was a baby it would be walking!), I have a different way to clean this out. First - I open the tray into the garbage and shake it around, pretending there is some semblance of sanity left in my life. Then I place the toaster on the oven, without properly attaching the latch, so crumbs fall into burners making a giant mess and threatening to burn down my house. Good. Now I can take the oven apart and clean it piece by piece. While cleaning the oven you should set the toaster onto the counter. When left on the counter, unlatched, of course, it will release more crumbs. After you have taken care of the oven make sure to give the toaster a little shake. Clean these crumbs. Shake again over the sink full of dirty oven water. Now you will have a reason to clean the sink that you have already cleaned at least twice today. Put the toaster where it belongs. No - too quick - first try to rearrange your cereal boxes, if you put the cornflakes beside the microwave and tuck your toaster into between your bran and all bran does it look cuter?

Eventually you will decide it is best in it's original spot. Carefully clean the counter of any extra crumbs. If done properly this job can take well over an hour. Congratulations!

Where was this long and rambling story going? O right.... so after spending much of my afternoon doing precious little more than cleaning a toaster I thought, "I can't be alone in this." We are a generation of unemployed, overqualified people waiting for the Boomers to retire, which was going to be a long wait anyways without the collapse of everything financial slowing it down. While I realize this is a world wide crisis, I think we could all use somewhere safe to laugh about it, share experiences and occasionally play "9 to 5" as loudly as possible to try and muffle the sound of our collective sobbing. This is that place!

So please, I know you have time, check my blog every day to see what I'm up to. I will try to give you lots of tips and ways to fill in your time. Not crap like - try volunteering, go back to school to boost your resume, it's an aggressive market. Really helpful stuff - we can debate the best way to get the buttons on your microwave clean, or how many times you can reword your cover letter before you have a complete mental breakdown, or impending homelessness. It's not like you have anything better to do. Join me on this journey!