please burn in hell, T-Mobile
I should rename this blog “People on Toast’s Blacklist” because I tend to only blog when I’m utterly frustrated. It makes for a neat memento of all the things/people that enrage me. And it’s a continually growing list.
Next on the chopping block? T-Mobile.
Thanks, T-Mobile, for being ridiculously stupid and full of bullshit. Thanks for all the dropped calls and never-even-received calls I’ve had over the last couple of years. And the received-6-hours-after-it-was-sent messages! Punctuality is so square in the cell phone biz, and you’re so avant-garde and cutting edge with your arbitrary decision of when to deliver my texts and voicemails (if you decide to deliver them at all). It really makes my life that much more interesting when I find out 4 hours after the fact that the I was supposed to pick someone up or that my evening’s plans have been canceled. Yay for making me look like an asshole!
Seriously, T-Mobile? If I were not signed up with my family on your family plan, I would’ve jumped your Catherine Zeta Jones-helmed magenta ship a long time ago. And can you tell me how it is that you’re total Nazis when it comes to answering my one question of “How long before my contract expires so I can upgrade my phone?” but let other people extend my contract all willy-nilly without my knowing?
Every time I call customer care, you insist on speaking to my father because he’s the primary account holder. And that’s fine, even though it makes things that much more annoying because he’s never fucking home. But whatever, I understand, you have policies. So why is it that you claim someone (but you don’t know who?) had extended my contract and therefore I am ineligible to upgrade the phone I’ve had for over 3 YEARS? Who did this contract extension? It wasn’t my father, the all mighty primary account holder with whom you must speak before answering my one question, because he hasn’t set foot inside a T-Mobile store for years. So it must have been my mother. Who is not on the list of authorized users, by the way. So how is it that she was able to EXTEND MY CONTRACT without my father, and I can’t get one question answered without him? HOW IS THAT LOGICAL?
By the way, you claimed (when I finally had my father with me so that I could get that question answered) that I had upgraded my phone only 11 months only, and therefore am only eligible for a partial discount on my upgrade. I say bullshit, because you know where I was 11 months ago? In AUSTRALIA. Tell me, how could I have upgraded my phone from the Land Down Under when T-Mobile doesn’t even exist there?
Then, my father calls me from the T-Mobile store to tell me that the sales person there claims that I’m completely ineligible for an upgrade because I evidently already upgraded my phone a mere 7 months ago. Not 11, like customer service said, but now 7. That’s equally full of shit, because I was in Boston 7 months ago. With this same phone that I’ve had for over 3 YEARS. Don’t try to tell me that I’ve had this phone for only 11 or 7 months when I know that it’s over 3 stinkin’ years old. GET YOUR FACTS STRAIGHT.
Burn in hell, T-Mobile.
dear mother: please be patient
I want to start this post by declaring that my mother is a wonderful human being. She raised me well, and worked hard to provide me with opportunities and luxuries she never had growing up. She was all about tough love, and although we were never the “hug and kiss” type of family, there was never a doubt in my mind that she adored me and my brother and sister as much as any other doting mother.
But my mother, just like any other person out there, has a less-than-desirable side to her. And this is what this post is about: my mother driving me crazy in the way that only mothers can.
My mother is very passive-aggressive. She’ll sling insults so thickly veiled that sometimes I won’t even know I was insulted until I dwell on her statements later. She’ll disguise her snark and judgement as motherly guidance. Just yesterday, she unloaded one of those passive-aggressive bombs on me while we were eating dinner.
To put things in context, here’s a bit of background: I graduated with a journalism degree 2 months ago. I came back to live at home because it would be more financially sound and logical than attempting to find a magazine job and live on my own in NYC (aka ‘Magazine Central’) right away. My parents agreed with me, and even seemed somewhat relieved. I never thought that my living at home would be an issue anyway, since it is common in our culture for the children to live at home until they’re married (I don’t think they even liked that I left the state for university). But the problem is that Houston is very limited in journalism outlets, and those that are here are not hiring. I anticipated this, so I told my parents I would look for a steady administrative job for income and freelance on the side. I never expected to get straight into magazines after graduation anyway. They agreed.
My first week back home after graduating, my mother started nagging me about finding a job. She accused me of not doing anything, when in truth I had been sending out my resume to different companies everyday. It wasn’t like I didn’t want a job. After all, who wants to be broke all the time? Not I!
I went on interview after interview, and finally, 4 weeks after graduating, I landed a job as an agent and office assistant with a travel company. It’s not glamorous, but it’s a legit job and I get paid well. But for whatever reason, my mother has an issue with me taking this particular job. I have no idea why.
In the midst of me getting hired, I also stumbled upon an internship opportunity with a local magazine. I decided to take a rain check on the internship because it would be unpaid and short (one month), and I didn’t want to go through job hunting again after my stint there, especially since I had finally landed a decent paying job. The editor of the magazine understood, and told me to come back for the internship whenever I was ready. In my own mental plans, I had decided to stay with the travel company for at least 6 months, which I think is long enough to not be dropping out on them too quickly. By that time, I should have plenty of money saved up so that I can quit and take that internship, as well as get myself through the inevitable month-long job hunting process after said internship.
And now, the conversation:
MOM: Did you not get the magazine job? (the internship)
ME: I told you that I said I wanted to wait because no one’s hiring and that’s only an internship. I told the editor that I’m going to take the internship later.
MOM: Why?
ME: Because I already have a job.
MOM: But it’s not what you want to do.
ME: I know it’s not what I went to school for, but I need a paying job right now. I need to save money.
MOM: For what?
ME: To spend, mom. I need spending money. And the internship won’t be paid, so I’ll need to have money saved to use when I’m there.
MOM: For what?
ME: For spending! Gas, going out… You know, spending money.
MOM: You can’t find a magazine job?
ME: I just told you that no one’s hiring.
MOM: I know, but you can still look! I just don’t want you to waste your time. I want you to do what you like.
ME: I am looking, mom! Just not right now because I already have a job.
MOM: Are you looking everyday?
ME: No, I’m not looking everyday.
MOM: Why not?
ME: Because I already have a job.
I have a feeling that she’s against me holding this job because she thinks it’s “below me” owing to the fact that I have a degree. She can’t seem to grasp that getting hired at all these days is a miracle, and that just because I’m here with this particular company at this moment in my life, it doesn’t mean that I’ll always be here. Don’t write me off as a failure yet, mom. And come on, who lands their dream job fresh out of college? Maybe some lucky sods, but most people I know wade through a lot of shit first before climbing the first rungs of the Dream Job ladder. I’m still actively looking for journalism gigs, but it’s only my second week at this job. Can’t I at least go through a month of just being employed and learning the ropes before I start multi-tasking and freelancing like I planned to all along? Why does everything have to happen so fast for my mother?
She just wants to see it all: boom, boom, boom. It’s like if it doesn’t happen right away, she writes it off as “never going to happen.” So, if I don’t land a journalism job right away, it means that I’ll go all waywardly, lose track of my life, and just be a lowly travel agent FOREVER. Really? She should know me better than that by now, after seeing just how much shit I will put up with, and how hard I will work to make things happen. I mean, I chose to major in “don’t do it, the industry is dying” journalism for fuck’s sake. What logical person looking for a bright and easy future would do that?
Her lack of confidence in my decisions does nothing to better my situation. She’s been giving me the “you’re a failure” looks, and her resentment at my decision to stay at this job despite her objection is obvious. But what can I do? Could she really expect me to quit after two weeks on the job just because it’s “lowly?” A college degree isn’t a free pass to a better job. It’s just one of many possible advantages.
I wish I could reassure her that although it may not seem like it, I am making progress. It’ll just take time. From here on out, she and I will both have to learn to be patient.
paycheck, please.
Since I last posted about the frustrations of fruitless job hunting, I have finally landed a job. This calls for a fist pump. (-FIST PUMP!-) HELLS YEAH. It’s not a journalism gig, but that time will come. For now, you’re looking at toast, the most kick ass travel agent and office assistant this side of the hemisphere has ever seen. I file! I answer the phone! I look over travel visa applications and correct any and all errors! I mingle with the consulates! I do a lot more math than any person with a journalism degree has any business doing! And, oh yes, internet, I have even rejected visa applications before. I have that power. MuAhaHAhahAH!!! -ahem- Well, the one application I rejected was because there were forms missing, but you know. I like to think I have that power. Cheap thrills, people. Cheap thrills.
I did have an interview with a small local magazine, but they were looking for an intern, and at this particular moment in my life (read: no money, lots of problems — contrary to what the Notorious B.I.G. would have you believe) I couldn’t afford to not to be paid. The editor gave me her card, though, and seemed keen on having me intern in the future. Sweet deal.
What will be the first thing I buy when I get paid? A new goldfish tank for Barnaby. He’s grown so big that he can barely move in the little tank he’s in now. Poor dude. He’s getting a fish mansion.
job hunting aka destroying the last remaining shreds of my self-esteem
I’ve been out of college for approximately 5 weeks and have gone on about 5 job interviews after sending out my resume to hundreds of places. You’d think graduating from a good university with honors would give you a boost above the others. Not so, my friends. Not so. Employers don’t care.
No media publications in my area are hiring. So there goes any job related to my degree (journalism). I decide that I’ll just work as an office assistant or receptionist instead for the time being. But then I get rejected for not having enough work experience as an office assistant, since most of my previous jobs were as a journalism intern or in the arts and restaurant industry. As if having a university degree isn’t enough proof that I can handle answering phone calls and filing paperwork.
And get this: at other places, I’m told “Sorry, but you’re overqualified for the position.” AHHHHHHH. Underqualified? Overqualified? What position can I apply for where I’m just qualified enough?
Then I got an interview for a position that sounded to me like it was just good enough. I would write and report simple articles for a growing domain development company. I had the skills to do the job, but also had room to grow. I thought this was the perfect match, especially since I have some experience in web writing. The interview went well, although I found about a million different things I should have done after I was back home and thinking about it. But I just got an email today informing me that I didn’t get the job because there were a lot of other “qualified candidates” who applied. Meaning either: a) my interview was god-awful or b) I once again am underqualified.
Job hunting is taxing, and if you’ve had to suffer through rejection after rejection, it’s also depressing. It’s easy to get down on yourself, feeling like you’ve accomplished nothing after 4 grueling years of college. After all, this is supposed to be the “real world” that all those university classes and tuition payments have prepared you for, right? Then why is nothing working out? Why are you just as unemployable and seemingly useless as you were before graduating?
I have to keep reminding myself to not take it personally that finding work is so difficult, but it’s hard to not feel like shit when no one seems to want me. I’m running out of money. I need an income! And for godssake, I’m out of college. I need a job! No one finishes school to be unemployed!
band-aid allergies
It’s completely bizarre, but I’m allergic to Band-Aids. Well, not just that brand in particular, but all Band-Aid-type products. I first noticed this when I donated blood my junior year in high school. Just a few hours after donating, the skin underneath the X-shaped bandages on the inside of my arm started to itch furiously. I ripped off the bandages to find that I had a perfect puffy, red X-shape left in its place. This took a few days to go away.
The weird thing is, I’m only allergic to adhesive bandages on certain parts of my body. Like, on my fingers or legs, I’m fine, but anywhere else causes the skin underneath the adhesive part of the bandaid to swell and itch like crazy. This reaction is usually worse than whatever the bandaid is supposed to be protecting.
Take, for instance, my current situation. I’ve just begun laser treatment to get a tattoo on my inner forearm removed. It’s a medium-sized tattoo, about 4 square inches big. After the treatment, my doctor bathed the entire tattoo in Neosporin and covered it with a pad and paper tape. I had told her beforehand that I tended to have a reaction to Band-Aids, so she opted for the paper tape because it supposedly would work for sensitive skin. It didn’t. Within hours, I nearly went mad from the itching. And of course, when I took the paper tape off, I had a nice rash left where the tape had touched my skin.
My entire tattoo right now is blistered and swollen from being bombarded with lasers, but it feels just peachy compared to the skin that came in contact with the paper tape. AUUUUGH. I’ve switched now to using a gauze wrap to cover the tattoo, since there’s no tape-to-skin contact involved, but the bandaid rash still itches like mad. I just don’t understand what it is about bandaids that makes my skin freak out. It’s not a latex allergy, because I’m fine with latex gloves and whatnot. I’m thinking it’s just adhesive in general. What would you call that?
POLAROIDS!
I have a new little website featuring most of my Polaroids. COME VISIT ME! I’m going to be adding at least one new Polaroid per day, making the most of the last few months I have left with my expiring film. 
-throws laptop against wall-
Okay, so I obviously didn’t actually do what I said in the title because I’m here typing this. But AUUUUGH I hate how the internet slooooows dooooownnnn every night so that I can barely. do. anything. (I’m surprised this Wordpress page loaded at all.)
You see, Internet, I like to watch movies while cuddled up in my bed at night, with my giant cushy headphones on my head and my Sony Vaio balanced on my knees. And yes, everything I watch is legal. It’s a little something called Netflix Instant Watch or whatever and websites like CBS that happens to have every single episode of Star Trek: The Original Series online for streaming. The problem is I get all cozy with my headphones, blankets, pillows, and bowl of blackberries (yum!) – prepared for a night of cinematic enchantment – and instead I get videos that either stop. every. single. second. so. it’s. like. I’m. watching. the. movie. in. terrible. stop. motion. or it refuses to load altogether. Neither are enjoyable options. So instead of laughing in the dark at Spock’s evil twin and his unfortunate goatee while shoving blackberries into my mouth, I’m running around my room yelling obscenities. In the dark. Which not only makes me look like my brain has been replaced with peanut shells, but also leads to many stubbed toes.
It makes me wonder why the deuce I’m paying for internet when it only works when it feels like it. Where in the contract does it say “internet only available between the hours of 10 a.m. – 11 p.m.?”
home sweet? home
I’m back in Texas after graduating and completing the arduous process of packing up 3 years of my life in the Northeast and moving it back to the South. My room here back in my parent’s house is uncomfortably large compared to the teeny little apartment I’ve been living in. It sounds crazy, but I don’t know what to do with all this space!
I’m now in the painful process of job hunting. So far, no good. Granted, I’ve only been home for about 3 days, but I feel so idle not doing anything but rearranging my uncomfortably large room. -sigh- I was hoping to graduate from my old part time gigs (bakery, restaurants, ceramic studio) to something new and more “grown up,” (an actual office, maybe?) but that is looking unlikely.
And to add to my frustrations as a completely lost college graduate, my published clips from Empire (a film magazine) are missing. I interned at Australia’s Empire branch last fall where I reviewed many a movie, but none of which ran until the February issue. By that time, I was already back in the States and unable to purchase the issue. My editor told me he’d mail a few copies to my Texas address, but after months of being in Boston, I came back to Texas to find that none of those copies ever made it here. AUUUUUUUUUGH. I practically have no proof of having ever written anything at all without those copies. I emailed him yesterday night. Hopefully something can be done to fix this problem. -crosses fingers-
Why in the world did I decide to major in journalism?
the graduation look (almost)
Here’s my graduation dress, the FCUK “racy” dress as I posted about before:
And here it is on me, with two shoe candidates from Go Jane:
Forgive me, I’m no model (I am far below the height requirement and far above the weight limitation). And ignore my unfortunate hair – it was having a rebellious morning, and my only means of taming it was with an unruly bun and plastic headband.
As for the shoes, both pairs were too big. -sad- But, I am exchanging the ones on the right for what I hope will be a better size. I just love them! They’re really funky, surprisingly comfortable, and a steal for $25. Sweet! The good news is, I do have another pair of shoes for the graduation job. Remember the patent Cate slingbacks from J.Crew I posted about before? No? Well, here they are again to jog your memory:
I got a really sweet deal on them (extra 20% off and student discount before the newstudent discount restriciton), so I decided to keep them despite them being a bit uncomfortable. The cute factor won out on this one. My replacement pair (long story about the original pair) should be arriving tomorrow, so I’ll post pictures then.
I’m thinking about belting the dress, but I’m not quite sure yet. It does seem to cry out for some sort of accessory, but I don’t know what kind. A necklace? Earrings? Bracelets? DECISIONS.
“if anyone needs me, I’ll be in the Angry Dome.”
Points if you get the title reference, although I should tell you in advance that points don’t earn you anything. This is a blog, after all, not Chuck-E-Cheese.
I was going to model my super cute new shoes today, but had completely forgotten by the time I got home. And by the time I remembered, I’d already changed into my “lounging around” clothes, which consists of sweats and an oversized Houston Cougars shirt. Not really something I want to photograph myself in, even if the focus will be on my feet. (Leave me alone, I’m slightly neurotic.)
Yesterday night I dealt with more neighbor noise issues until about 3-4 a.m. -loooooong sigh- I ended up not sleeping until 5, and they woke me up again by 10 with their stomping and whatnot. What lovely people. For the record, I did go upstairs to tell them to quiet down for the first time ever, and it’s quite clear that they have no intention of giving a shit about anyone else. I didn’t even actually speak to my neighbors, as one of their girlfriends answered the door instead to give me a glare-down. Yowzas. One more week of this. That’s all I need to endure. Then I’m OUT OF HERE.