I am so tired. Every part of my body is tired. My feet. My back. My eyelids. My calves. My third toe.
The good news: I'm really, really loving my job.
The bad news: Standing for 8 hours a day is painful, especially for someone who stared at a wall for almost 2 months and before that sat in a chair all day. Today was the first day my feet were the only part of my body that was sore. I believe that pain was actually the result of last Saturday when I thought wearing 4-inch heels to work was a great idea. I left that night convinced my toes would never feel again.
If you don't already know this about Nordstrom, my job works on a draw against commission basis (simply put, my pay is commission only). I was terrified about this concept at first but now I'm really pleased. Because...
(This is the part where I toot my own horn for a few sentences--feel free to skip ahead to the next paragraph if you're not interested. I won't mind.) Because... so far I'm actually doing really well! I've been on the floor 5 days now. First day was pretty good. Second day was AWFUL. And two of the remaining days I was actually one of the top sales people throughout the store! Woot woot. After being borderline depressed for two months, this is a good feeling. A really good feeling.
Back to being tired. I am about to go to bed. In the near future I might go into detail about the lady who stole the $800 Burberry bag and wrote her kids names all over the leather. In black ink. (A part of me died that day.) Or about the woman who bought a $350 gift card from me and exactly 2.5 minutes later I found out the credit card she'd used to pay for the gift card was stolen. Or about the mom who openly bribed her daughter with a bag if she would make good grades. Or about the girl who saved every dollar she made from her part-time job for three months so she could buy that same bag (I might have told her "I am so proud of you" four times.)
Off to bed. Sorry for the sub-par post. I am going to blame it on my third toe.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Happy Birfday!
(Clears throat.)
(Warms up: "me me me me meeeeeeee")
And here we go:
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday TO you!
Happy birthday dear Michael, Mikee, Mike (ugh), etc.
Happy birthday to you!
Old man Magee decided to become a 27-year-old like his dear wife. I love the 8 months each year when we share the same age. Unfortunately, Michael prefers the other 4. Maybe that's why we work.
How about a photo montage dedicated to the birthday boy? These pictures were taken a few weeks ago when I realized we hadn't had our picture taken together since New Years. Typically I set the camera on timer (because Thumbs has yet to learn how to appropriately use her God-given phalanges) and we take a picture, I look at it, we take another, I look at it, and so on until we have a good shot. This time Michael said, "Don't look after each picture, let's just take several and then you can choose the best one at the end." I looked at him adoringly (usually he starts complaining BEFORE the first picture is taken) and told him I thought that was a great idea.
And this is what we ended up with. Thank you, Michael. It is obvious I have no clue what is going on because I'm just smiling away. How did I not know there was an English muffin a mere 2 inches from my face? Blah.
At least the guy gave me one good picture.
Be on the lookout for the Haynes' family Christmas card, starring Michael, myself, and an English muffin. Sorry Thumbs, you've been demoted.
(Warms up: "me me me me meeeeeeee")
And here we go:
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday TO you!
Happy birthday dear Michael, Mikee, Mike (ugh), etc.
Happy birthday to you!
Old man Magee decided to become a 27-year-old like his dear wife. I love the 8 months each year when we share the same age. Unfortunately, Michael prefers the other 4. Maybe that's why we work.
How about a photo montage dedicated to the birthday boy? These pictures were taken a few weeks ago when I realized we hadn't had our picture taken together since New Years. Typically I set the camera on timer (because Thumbs has yet to learn how to appropriately use her God-given phalanges) and we take a picture, I look at it, we take another, I look at it, and so on until we have a good shot. This time Michael said, "Don't look after each picture, let's just take several and then you can choose the best one at the end." I looked at him adoringly (usually he starts complaining BEFORE the first picture is taken) and told him I thought that was a great idea.
And this is what we ended up with. Thank you, Michael. It is obvious I have no clue what is going on because I'm just smiling away. How did I not know there was an English muffin a mere 2 inches from my face? Blah.
At least the guy gave me one good picture.
Be on the lookout for the Haynes' family Christmas card, starring Michael, myself, and an English muffin. Sorry Thumbs, you've been demoted.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Make It Work
Long lost friends!!!! How I have missed you!
Alright, I want to temporarily take you back to an uncomfortable time in your life. For some of you it will feel like yesterday, for others perhaps it WAS yesterday. (In which case, aren't you a bit young to be reading my blog? Don't you have a Miley Cyrus show to watch?) You know what I'm talking about: the first day of junior high.
Take a deep breath. I know it's hard. Trust me, I know.
You wake up with that delirious feeling of excitement, anxiety and slight nausea. You scan your closet for the millionth time and finally decide on an outfit that says, "I SO do not care that this is the first day of school and what, this old thing? I've had it for YEARS" (even though you and I both know you bought it at 579 or County Seat the week before). You're dropped off at school, which is the size of Australia and is crawling with people who know exactly what they're doing. Can they tell you are shaking in your fake Birkenstocks and training bra? You hope not. The bell rings, you walk to your first class (Algebra) and realize that no, this is most definitely not the correct class. You clumsily back out of the room and eventually find the right class. You are 5 minutes late. Your teacher gives you a look that clearly states, "I am not going to yell at you because it is obvious you are slightly pathetic as it is and anything I say might lead to a long life of counseling." You sit in your assigned seat and roll is called. You start feeling confident because you realize you OWN this class. You are gifted (even if your Gifted and Talented class doesn't meet until after lunch) and you gain some semblance of confidence. Then you hear the mutterings from those around you and realize they all learned Algebra in the third grade while you were still conquering long division. You sink in your chair, defeated. You look to your right and notice two cool girls are already pointing (and laughing) at your 579 shirt... which matches your shorts... which matches your scrunchie.... Oh heck.
Ok, I can't take it anymore, can you? Did anyone else break out in a cold sweat?
So let me explain why I just put myself (and possibly you) through hell and back. I started a temporary job at Nordstrom this week! Training began Tuesday and there were so many similarities between this week and those dreadful days of junior high that it was ridiculous.
1. I hadn't experienced Dallas early morning traffic before, which meant I showed up to my first class 10 minutes late.
2. I should have only been 5 minutes late but I parked my car in the wrong garage (are you KIDDING me?) and had to be escorted to class.
3. I wore what I considered to be the perfect "training outfit" and walked into a room that would make Tim Gunn weak in the knees. This group was dressed for success. And me? Epic fail.
4. We introduced ourselves and shared a bit of background. This is where I thought, "Ok, I can redeem myself." I told them about my past marketing experience (5 years--booyah!) and was met with 18 blank stares. After I finished my monologue I was politely asked, "Where/when was your last retail job?" Um, 3 months at the GAP in 2001? I was quickly forgotten as every other new hire mentioned their degree in fashion merchandising and 142+ years of retail experience.
5. The cool girl wouldn't even look at me.
6. When did everyone start wearing so much eyeliner? Clearly I need to update my makeup regimen.
Of course I'm exaggerating a bit to make this as self-deprecating as possible, but it is definitely based on a true story. My true story. I am still alive and here to tell it so I guess that's a good thing. After Tuesday everything vastly improved and now I'm quite happy. My first real day on the floor is tomorrow so if you need a new hand bag come visit me at the Galleria.
My only two bits of good news:
1. I've outgrown the training bra.
2. That cool girl from my new hire class? Oh yeah, we are now BFF and have already exchanged phone numbers. Take THAT fashion majors.
Alright, I want to temporarily take you back to an uncomfortable time in your life. For some of you it will feel like yesterday, for others perhaps it WAS yesterday. (In which case, aren't you a bit young to be reading my blog? Don't you have a Miley Cyrus show to watch?) You know what I'm talking about: the first day of junior high.
Take a deep breath. I know it's hard. Trust me, I know.
You wake up with that delirious feeling of excitement, anxiety and slight nausea. You scan your closet for the millionth time and finally decide on an outfit that says, "I SO do not care that this is the first day of school and what, this old thing? I've had it for YEARS" (even though you and I both know you bought it at 579 or County Seat the week before). You're dropped off at school, which is the size of Australia and is crawling with people who know exactly what they're doing. Can they tell you are shaking in your fake Birkenstocks and training bra? You hope not. The bell rings, you walk to your first class (Algebra) and realize that no, this is most definitely not the correct class. You clumsily back out of the room and eventually find the right class. You are 5 minutes late. Your teacher gives you a look that clearly states, "I am not going to yell at you because it is obvious you are slightly pathetic as it is and anything I say might lead to a long life of counseling." You sit in your assigned seat and roll is called. You start feeling confident because you realize you OWN this class. You are gifted (even if your Gifted and Talented class doesn't meet until after lunch) and you gain some semblance of confidence. Then you hear the mutterings from those around you and realize they all learned Algebra in the third grade while you were still conquering long division. You sink in your chair, defeated. You look to your right and notice two cool girls are already pointing (and laughing) at your 579 shirt... which matches your shorts... which matches your scrunchie.... Oh heck.
Ok, I can't take it anymore, can you? Did anyone else break out in a cold sweat?
So let me explain why I just put myself (and possibly you) through hell and back. I started a temporary job at Nordstrom this week! Training began Tuesday and there were so many similarities between this week and those dreadful days of junior high that it was ridiculous.
1. I hadn't experienced Dallas early morning traffic before, which meant I showed up to my first class 10 minutes late.
2. I should have only been 5 minutes late but I parked my car in the wrong garage (are you KIDDING me?) and had to be escorted to class.
3. I wore what I considered to be the perfect "training outfit" and walked into a room that would make Tim Gunn weak in the knees. This group was dressed for success. And me? Epic fail.
4. We introduced ourselves and shared a bit of background. This is where I thought, "Ok, I can redeem myself." I told them about my past marketing experience (5 years--booyah!) and was met with 18 blank stares. After I finished my monologue I was politely asked, "Where/when was your last retail job?" Um, 3 months at the GAP in 2001? I was quickly forgotten as every other new hire mentioned their degree in fashion merchandising and 142+ years of retail experience.
5. The cool girl wouldn't even look at me.
6. When did everyone start wearing so much eyeliner? Clearly I need to update my makeup regimen.
Of course I'm exaggerating a bit to make this as self-deprecating as possible, but it is definitely based on a true story. My true story. I am still alive and here to tell it so I guess that's a good thing. After Tuesday everything vastly improved and now I'm quite happy. My first real day on the floor is tomorrow so if you need a new hand bag come visit me at the Galleria.
My only two bits of good news:
1. I've outgrown the training bra.
2. That cool girl from my new hire class? Oh yeah, we are now BFF and have already exchanged phone numbers. Take THAT fashion majors.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Going For The Gold!
It has been entirely too long since we've heard from our favorite feline (I realize it's probably more "my" and less "your"). She is still loving the stairs and I'm going to guess she's lost at least 1/8 of a pound from making the climb multiple times a day. I've taken notice of her sleeping positions lately and realized we might have an Olympian on our hands--I need to get her on a diving board pronto! She might exceed the weight limit but I think she will finally allow USA to give China a run for their money.
Introducing Thumbs Magee (cue Olympic music):
She trots to the end of the diving board and wait a minute, she's turning around! She is going to do a back dive into the water, folks! There she goes!
And immediately goes in for the tuck. An impressive tuck for such a monstrous belly!
.jpg)
Coming out of the tuck, look at that form!
Stretching her short, chubby legs to prepare for entry...
And in she goes! The crowd (aka Meredith) goes wild! 10's across the board!
On a different note, here she is reading Harry Potter with me. What a smart cat! A diver AND a reader. I am so lucky.
Introducing Thumbs Magee (cue Olympic music):
She trots to the end of the diving board and wait a minute, she's turning around! She is going to do a back dive into the water, folks! There she goes!
And immediately goes in for the tuck. An impressive tuck for such a monstrous belly!
.jpg)
Coming out of the tuck, look at that form!
Stretching her short, chubby legs to prepare for entry...
And in she goes! The crowd (aka Meredith) goes wild! 10's across the board!
On a different note, here she is reading Harry Potter with me. What a smart cat! A diver AND a reader. I am so lucky.
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