One of the most basic things that parents teach their children once they are first starting to talk and interact with other people and children is to use the word “Please” followed appropriately by “Thank You.” At least I HOPE parents and teachers are still enforcing the use of please and thank you these days. Recently, I have found myself saddened that I rarely hear the word please used by adults any more and the use of thank you has become all but nonexistent.
Thank you matters in ALL facets of your life. I was really surprised to learn how infrequent thank you notes have become not just in networking for new job opportunities but in following up with people after interviews. Can it sometimes be a huge pain in the ass? Abso-freaking-lutely. For my current job, I interviewed with 17 different people when all was said and done. And it definitely took time and energy to write out 17 thoughtful and unique thank you notes (because you know they are going to get together and compare – so copy and paste just won’t do) but I know it made a really great impression on my now employer and bosses. When I found myself interviewing candidates for the temp replacement for my assistant, I only got one thank you note. And that was only after that candidate found out she did NOT get the job.
It matters in the work place – thank you to the geeky IT staff member means not only that you truly appreciated them quickly responding to your critical emergency (facebook froze your computer) but ensures that they will promptly answer your calls and emails in the future. Remembering to thank office staff and secretaries will make your work life easier in ways you may not even imagine at the time – copy jobs will get finished faster, your office supply order will mysteriously get bumped to the front of the line. And in my line of work….when a lawyer puts me through HELL to get something done for them, the ones that say thank you are the ones I am going to go out of my way to help in the future.
If you are in a sales or service-oriented business, doesn’t remembering to thank people seem like a no-brainer? Thanking someone for their repeat business or thanking someone for making a purchase with you in the hopes that they will become repeat customers or refer additional business to you.
Or maybe you have done fundraising for a cause that you are passionate about or even helped a your child or a friend’s child sell cookies/candy/etc. to raise money for something related to their school or youth group. Have you remembered to thank people for their donations or efforts? An actual thank you note (email acceptable, old-school handwritten preferred)…not just a facebook status update thanking people far and wide. Make people know how they individually contributed to your effort and what that meant to you. That carries a whole lot more weight than a virtual shout out on a social networking website (that you can’t even be sure they read anyway).
Incorporating thank you into your everyday vocabulary isn’t that hard when you think about it. Thank the bus driver (I wave to mine every day after I get off the bus), thank your coffee barista, thank the checkout person at the grocery store. Thank your friend/significant other/roommate for something simple, like taking out the trash or forwarding you an email that they thought would interest you.
And then make an effort to be a bit nicer and do things worth getting thanked for. Sometimes this is something really simple that everyone loses sight of in our day-to-day and getting mired down in the details or our own all important lives and routines. Your “thank you” could totally make someone else’s day, and that’s a pretty cool thing.
I once had someone tell me that I seemed very “Southern” in my attempts to make every day use of good manners. I took that as one of the best compliments ever. Being gracious is not something that just comes naturally – it is a habit to be learned, practiced, and cultivated until it becomes second nature. You have to want it, it doesn’t just come to you one night while you are asleep.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I don't know what's wrong with these kids today
It’s another sign that I am really getting old. At this point I have grown to a begrudging point of acceptance at being called “ma’am” sometimes and I have learned to turn a blind eye to my gray hair (since I truly got dealt a bad hand and started going gray at 21 -- I blame my Dad's side of the family for that one.) But now, I have started using the phrase “these kids today” with some regularity, and that lets me know I am O-L-D and there ain’t no turning back.
I have recently been lamenting the loss of my assistant who is out on maternity leave and the temp who is filling in until she returns. I was sad for my assistant to leave for a number of reasons – she is the only other department colleague I have here in the DC office, she knows what to do/where to find things/who to ask and knows what people need even before they do, and she let’s me know when she is going to get an afternoon pick-me-up from the cupcake truck. What's not to love? She is an intelligent person who is a hard worker and takes pride in her work from start to finish -- and her good sense of humor and cheerful disposition are just an added bonus. Like me, she never had dreams of working in a law firm. And like me, she doesn’t see this as something she wants to do forever. But we both know it is where we are today, so darn it, we are going to give it our best shot.
So I really couldn’t tell if the current temp assistant (let’s just call her CTA) was disappointing me because she wasn’t my wonderful, amazing assistant and perhaps I may have set the bar too high. Or if she was just disappointing me because she generally wasn’t giving anything her best shot. As the weeks have gone on, it is becoming increasingly clear that CTA hasn’t given anything her best shot since the shots she did at the bar in Dewey last weekend. I don’t hold that against her, she’s 22 and just graduated from college. I (vaguely) remember what it is like to be that age. But CTA simply doesn’t give a sh*t about anything here at work. A request to send out 10 emails takes her ALL day to do. I find simple and easy-to-manage administrative tasks for her to do and she somehow finds a way to do them completely wrong, so not only am I out the hour I took to explain it to her in painful detail, but the hours I need to spend fixing up her f*ck ups. I even take the time to explain the reason behind the request, and how her seemingly simple task is going to add value to a project or initiative. I thought maybe if she understood the "why" of what she was being asked to do, it would seem less like a trivial and boring chore and she might feel more like an integral part of the process. Nope, still takes her 3 times as long to do it as it should, and she does it incorrectly just to make my life more fun.
Lately, I have noticed her sauntering by my office at 4:50 to leave for the day. Do I think there is tons to do in the ten minutes leading up to 5pm? Not really, but if you are supposed to work until 5, then that’s when you leave. The fact that she casually strolls by my office door to leave means that she didn’t even care enough to find an alternate route to the elevator to sneak out. It's sad, but I think it would bother me less if she at least tried to cover up the fact that she was clearly leaving early.
Sadly, it isn’t just her. It’s characteristic of the young people I come in contact with nowadays. Most come from upper-middle class families and have every advantage that I never had -- private prep school educations, college tuition paid for by their parents, after-college apartments and living expenses "subsidized" by mom and dad so they can live a life they couldn't afford on their own meager salaries. Kids that were basically born on third base and act like they hit a home run. They have an overwhelming sense of entitlement about many things in life, but it's really apparent in the workplace. Most of them think that you should graduate and immediately have a job that gives you a private office and a great salary without having to go through any of the grunt work or lower level jobs to get there. One assistant at my current firm (not my rock-star assistant of course!) lamented that she had to take notes during a meeting. Now I know that taking meeting notes is not an exciting job and all, but it is in your job description so stop with your b*tching and take the nfreaking otes. And then just generally work hard, take pride in your work and you will move on to a better job and someone ELSE will have to take the meeting notes. That’s how it works, it’s not complicated.
At one of my first jobs after graduate school I would spend DAYS in a conference room stuffing folders to be used at conferences and workshops. I used to set little goals for myself, like if I could make it until 2pm I would treat myself to something from Starbucks -- anything to keep me from going bonkers (and this was before the ipod came to be, so I did this all in dead silence.) Hell, even DURING graduate school I worked two different waitressing jobs to pay for my rent and bills. CTA lives at home in Bethesda with her parents and I am pretty sure she only uses her paychecks for cute shoes and bar tabs.
It’s going to be a LONG couple months with CTA. I guess I should count my blessings that she doesn't call me ma'am. But I am positive I have more gray hair now than when she started.
I have recently been lamenting the loss of my assistant who is out on maternity leave and the temp who is filling in until she returns. I was sad for my assistant to leave for a number of reasons – she is the only other department colleague I have here in the DC office, she knows what to do/where to find things/who to ask and knows what people need even before they do, and she let’s me know when she is going to get an afternoon pick-me-up from the cupcake truck. What's not to love? She is an intelligent person who is a hard worker and takes pride in her work from start to finish -- and her good sense of humor and cheerful disposition are just an added bonus. Like me, she never had dreams of working in a law firm. And like me, she doesn’t see this as something she wants to do forever. But we both know it is where we are today, so darn it, we are going to give it our best shot.
So I really couldn’t tell if the current temp assistant (let’s just call her CTA) was disappointing me because she wasn’t my wonderful, amazing assistant and perhaps I may have set the bar too high. Or if she was just disappointing me because she generally wasn’t giving anything her best shot. As the weeks have gone on, it is becoming increasingly clear that CTA hasn’t given anything her best shot since the shots she did at the bar in Dewey last weekend. I don’t hold that against her, she’s 22 and just graduated from college. I (vaguely) remember what it is like to be that age. But CTA simply doesn’t give a sh*t about anything here at work. A request to send out 10 emails takes her ALL day to do. I find simple and easy-to-manage administrative tasks for her to do and she somehow finds a way to do them completely wrong, so not only am I out the hour I took to explain it to her in painful detail, but the hours I need to spend fixing up her f*ck ups. I even take the time to explain the reason behind the request, and how her seemingly simple task is going to add value to a project or initiative. I thought maybe if she understood the "why" of what she was being asked to do, it would seem less like a trivial and boring chore and she might feel more like an integral part of the process. Nope, still takes her 3 times as long to do it as it should, and she does it incorrectly just to make my life more fun.
Lately, I have noticed her sauntering by my office at 4:50 to leave for the day. Do I think there is tons to do in the ten minutes leading up to 5pm? Not really, but if you are supposed to work until 5, then that’s when you leave. The fact that she casually strolls by my office door to leave means that she didn’t even care enough to find an alternate route to the elevator to sneak out. It's sad, but I think it would bother me less if she at least tried to cover up the fact that she was clearly leaving early.
Sadly, it isn’t just her. It’s characteristic of the young people I come in contact with nowadays. Most come from upper-middle class families and have every advantage that I never had -- private prep school educations, college tuition paid for by their parents, after-college apartments and living expenses "subsidized" by mom and dad so they can live a life they couldn't afford on their own meager salaries. Kids that were basically born on third base and act like they hit a home run. They have an overwhelming sense of entitlement about many things in life, but it's really apparent in the workplace. Most of them think that you should graduate and immediately have a job that gives you a private office and a great salary without having to go through any of the grunt work or lower level jobs to get there. One assistant at my current firm (not my rock-star assistant of course!) lamented that she had to take notes during a meeting. Now I know that taking meeting notes is not an exciting job and all, but it is in your job description so stop with your b*tching and take the nfreaking otes. And then just generally work hard, take pride in your work and you will move on to a better job and someone ELSE will have to take the meeting notes. That’s how it works, it’s not complicated.
At one of my first jobs after graduate school I would spend DAYS in a conference room stuffing folders to be used at conferences and workshops. I used to set little goals for myself, like if I could make it until 2pm I would treat myself to something from Starbucks -- anything to keep me from going bonkers (and this was before the ipod came to be, so I did this all in dead silence.) Hell, even DURING graduate school I worked two different waitressing jobs to pay for my rent and bills. CTA lives at home in Bethesda with her parents and I am pretty sure she only uses her paychecks for cute shoes and bar tabs.
It’s going to be a LONG couple months with CTA. I guess I should count my blessings that she doesn't call me ma'am. But I am positive I have more gray hair now than when she started.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The case against googling yourself
You could find some 19 year old with the same name as you that writes exceptionally bad poerty, as I did today. Here's a sample:
A lonely tear falls down
A smile turns to frown
Trickles down the cheek
Does not make you weak
A lonely tear escapes
A lifetime of mistakes
A sad and lonely heart
Others broke apart
A lonely tear is dried
So many nights it cried
A friend reached out their hand
And tried to understand
The lonely tear is gone
Life will carry on
With love from a friend
The lonely tears will end
Hmmm, sounds like someone didn't get Justin Beiber tickets and is in some serious pain! Hope it gets better for you little one, go cheer yourself up by seeing "Eclipse" for the eight time. I'd rather you and your bad poetry be linked to me than the OTHER person with my same name who used to plague me in the DC area...she was in my same sorority at another school. And was a HUGE slut. Awesome. Maybe why people were dissapointed on dates with me when they found out I wasn't THAT girl.
A lonely tear falls down
A smile turns to frown
Trickles down the cheek
Does not make you weak
A lonely tear escapes
A lifetime of mistakes
A sad and lonely heart
Others broke apart
A lonely tear is dried
So many nights it cried
A friend reached out their hand
And tried to understand
The lonely tear is gone
Life will carry on
With love from a friend
The lonely tears will end
Hmmm, sounds like someone didn't get Justin Beiber tickets and is in some serious pain! Hope it gets better for you little one, go cheer yourself up by seeing "Eclipse" for the eight time. I'd rather you and your bad poetry be linked to me than the OTHER person with my same name who used to plague me in the DC area...she was in my same sorority at another school. And was a HUGE slut. Awesome. Maybe why people were dissapointed on dates with me when they found out I wasn't THAT girl.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Lessons learned from cake and champagne
My friend’s 30th birthday is today, and I imagine she might be celebrating it with some champagne – pink champagne, most likely. But she would just as easily be drinking champagne on a night of no importance, consequence or celebration. Why the heck not, right? Champagne is delicious and she likes it, so ordering it for no special occasion makes perfect sense when you simplify it like that.
It may be her birthday that has me thinking about champagne…which has led me to a story involving cake. The two go oh so well together. But there’s another reason that I will get to, in my own roundabout way.
My Gram passed away just over two years ago after suffering a long time from Alzheimer’s. It is a hard disease not only for the person with it, but for the family and loved ones who take care of that person. And sometimes, as politically incorrect as it may be, you laugh at something that person does or says. Sometimes it’s because you are tired of crying or being upset by it. And sometimes because it is just really, really funny.
Around Christmastime of 2007, a bridal shower was held for my soon-to-be sister-in-law (STBSIL). I was seated at a table with my Gram, sitting across from her. I remember it being a good day because she remembered who I was even though she may have not known what was going on and why we were at this party. But she knew it was a party…and parties always have cake. As is the case with just about any shower I have been to – baby, bridal, and everything in between – it takes about 17 hours to open all the presents. This particular shower had some more “colorful” presents than I have seen at other showers. Basically things one might save for a bachelorette party. I still remember the STBSIL swinging a purple dildo around by a ribbon attached to it and my Gram asking me what that gift was. I think I told her it was some new sort of kitchen appliance. Forgive me, but thank goodness for the Alzheimer’s so she likely never had to remember that image….because I sure wish I could forget it.
Eventually, Gram got tired of all the present opening and asked me when we were going to have cake. “Soon”, I said, “STBSIL has to open all her presents and then I think we are going to have cake.” My Gram turned around and pointed to the sheet cake a few tables away. “It’s right there!” she said. “Yes, I know I know” I replied trying to calm her down. She asked me again about that damn cake maybe three or four more times. She was growing increasingly frustrated by the situation. She picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the table (used earlier for the super fun shower party games that people so enjoy) and wrote CAKE in all caps. My Gram held up her makeshift sign like she was the Norma freaking Rae of desserts. But you know what? I’ll be damned if that didn’t get someone (likely from my family) to say “The hell with this, we aren’t waiting and we are cutting this cake.”
I know it may sound so strange, but that is one of my favorite memories of my Gram. One of her last lessons to me was a really important one – don’t wait for cake.
Don’t wait until a special occasion to have your cake and champagne. Use the good dishes, even if it’s only for a PB&J sandwich. Dress up for work on a day you don’t have any meetings. Get a pedicure in the dead of winter.
Don’t wait for a reason to celebrate….find the reasons to celebrate every day.
It may be her birthday that has me thinking about champagne…which has led me to a story involving cake. The two go oh so well together. But there’s another reason that I will get to, in my own roundabout way.
My Gram passed away just over two years ago after suffering a long time from Alzheimer’s. It is a hard disease not only for the person with it, but for the family and loved ones who take care of that person. And sometimes, as politically incorrect as it may be, you laugh at something that person does or says. Sometimes it’s because you are tired of crying or being upset by it. And sometimes because it is just really, really funny.
Around Christmastime of 2007, a bridal shower was held for my soon-to-be sister-in-law (STBSIL). I was seated at a table with my Gram, sitting across from her. I remember it being a good day because she remembered who I was even though she may have not known what was going on and why we were at this party. But she knew it was a party…and parties always have cake. As is the case with just about any shower I have been to – baby, bridal, and everything in between – it takes about 17 hours to open all the presents. This particular shower had some more “colorful” presents than I have seen at other showers. Basically things one might save for a bachelorette party. I still remember the STBSIL swinging a purple dildo around by a ribbon attached to it and my Gram asking me what that gift was. I think I told her it was some new sort of kitchen appliance. Forgive me, but thank goodness for the Alzheimer’s so she likely never had to remember that image….because I sure wish I could forget it.
Eventually, Gram got tired of all the present opening and asked me when we were going to have cake. “Soon”, I said, “STBSIL has to open all her presents and then I think we are going to have cake.” My Gram turned around and pointed to the sheet cake a few tables away. “It’s right there!” she said. “Yes, I know I know” I replied trying to calm her down. She asked me again about that damn cake maybe three or four more times. She was growing increasingly frustrated by the situation. She picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the table (used earlier for the super fun shower party games that people so enjoy) and wrote CAKE in all caps. My Gram held up her makeshift sign like she was the Norma freaking Rae of desserts. But you know what? I’ll be damned if that didn’t get someone (likely from my family) to say “The hell with this, we aren’t waiting and we are cutting this cake.”
I know it may sound so strange, but that is one of my favorite memories of my Gram. One of her last lessons to me was a really important one – don’t wait for cake.
Don’t wait until a special occasion to have your cake and champagne. Use the good dishes, even if it’s only for a PB&J sandwich. Dress up for work on a day you don’t have any meetings. Get a pedicure in the dead of winter.
Don’t wait for a reason to celebrate….find the reasons to celebrate every day.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Mean Girls and the Politics of Pretty
I have found myself thinking about the movie “Mean Girls” quite a lot lately. It’s a smart and funny movie, I mean what else would you expect from Tina Fey? But we (and by we I mean us girls) find it funny because on some level we can all relate to that high school experience. Being on the outside looking in. Or being on the inside and trying to maintain your status there. Finding out that the place you want so desperately to be may not be the place that is best for you. I think we all also remember that feeling of stressing over the perfect outfit, or worrying about having a bad hair day, or obsessing over the number on the scale and what size jeans you could fit into.
I don’t know that I feel right using that word “remember” because for some of us (and I would wager it is actually more of us than some people will actually admit) those circumstances and those feelings are not a memory, they are still a reality in our day-to-day lives. Mean girls still exist and they walk among us.
I understood what it meant to be pretty and popular in high school, and I never quite reached either of those, probably hovering somewhere in the middle tier if you will. But I knew what it meant for me and my “status” when I made it onto the cheerleading team. That’s still an inner ring in most high schools that many girls strive for. Hell, I tried out and failed before I finally made it onto the team. What I was truly longing for was that sense of belonging, of being a part of something. And I so enjoyed the camaraderie and fun I experienced as being on that squad. However, I would be a huge liar if I said I didn’t enjoy the perks that came with all of it. They weren’t the reason I wanted to be on the team, but they sure didn’t hurt either.
I had that same experience all over again when I pledged a sorority in college. I was a little skeptical about the whole Greek life thing, so I didn’t join right away. While most freshman rushed and pledged right away, basically within the first few weeks of arriving to campus, I was just trying to adjust to the whole transition from high school to college. Living in a dorm room with a total stranger, trying to make friends on my floor, figuring out where all my classes were (all on the complete other side of campus – like a 25 minute freaking walk away). But I met people in my dorm and in my classes who did join sororities and they were all pretty nice and normal, so I dipped my toe in during the spring semester. That’s when our campus had an “informal” rush period, where you could kind of come and go to houses as you pleased. I ended up not pledging at that time, but knew for sure I would do it the following semester.
So that fall rolled around and I went through the formal rush process, and for those of you reading this that know it, you know how exhausting and monotonous that whole parade can be. The same conversations over and over….cheeks aching from your plastered on permasmile….worrying about what to wear, what to say. They always say it’s a mutual selection process, but that’s just something nice the Panhellenic folks have to tell you. As a rushee, you have little power over anything. When I got on the other side of things I saw girls not invited back to the next round of parties because they wore something that someone didn’t like (silver pants) or their hair was bad (cheesy highlights) or they “seemed dorky” (in my house that probable meant she enjoyed reading actual books). I hate admitting that, but it happens. And as things turned out for me, I got into one of the “good” houses. All of that other Panhellenic PR about every house being a good house is total sh*t. Kind of like saying Ivy League Universities and community colleges are the same thing because they are both higher education institutions. Anyone on a college campus – whether they are Greek themselves are not – can tell you who the good houses are and who aren’t.
Here’s the thing…for the most part I felt really out of place in that house. I felt like people were looking at me while singing that “One of these things is not like the other…” song in their head. Most of these girls were total knockouts….they may have been the mean girls in their own high schools for all I know. I just felt so much like I stuck out. I had a friend from the dorms who had pledged that sorority the previous Spring, so I figured she maybe just campaigned hard for me to get a bid, so I did. And for all that time I was in the sorority in college, I could never ever shake that feeling of not fitting in. Of not being pretty enough, never being comfortable with my weight (no mater how large or small), and just being totally unattractive.
It wasn’t all my doing, or my thoughts and feelings that were at fault. I remember once when I was running for a position on the chapter’s council – the rush chair. I had purposely taken committee and assistant positions for the rush periods that came after I was initiated, trying to learn and get experience for the position I wanted to eventually run for. But I wasn’t slated for the position by the outgoing council…I later heard that the person that would be leaving that rush chair position had argued that I wasn’t really the person that would be best to go out and welcome the rushees – that someone prettier should be the first person that steps out to greet them. To be fair, that may not be *the exact* words because that happened a LONG time ago and I can’t remember them verbatim. But I was informed about it by more than one person, so that sentiment was expressed loud and clear. It didn’t matter that I had the experience and the ability. Basically what kept me off the ballot was that some of my “sisters” didn’t think I was pretty enough to do the job.
I was really crushed after that experience. I remember some nights I didn’t go out to parties with the rest of my sorority friends because I just felt too ugly to leave the house. I know that likely sounds overly dramatic to some of you, but I can remember that paralyzing feeling like it was yesterday because I still feel it at times today. I am not saying I blame these feeling entirely on my sorority experience, but I know it’s a very large part of it.
I tried very hard to not let the negative election experience sideline me entirely. When I returned for the spring semester, I decided to pull a “screw you” and go run for the same rush chair position for the Panhellenic Board – it would basically put me in charge of rush for the whole campus and oversee the rush chairs for each of the 15 chapters. And shockingly enough, I won. I wish I could say it was because I was the most qualified or ran some fantastic campaign. But in being honest, I think I largely won that election in much the same way that I lost the one in my own chapter. I ran against a girl who was way more qualified than me. The thing is, she was not in a “good” house. I think people voted for the letters on my chest more than they voted for me and what they thought I would do in the job. While I still feel badly about that, I think everything happens for a reason because I ended up doing a truly fantastic job with my position and had some of the happiest and most rewarding experiences ever during that time of my life. But I know the politics of pretty was what likely got me elected.
The pretty factor and mean girls aren’t isolated to high school and college. They are alive and active in our lives today. Would you watch the Real Housewives of any city if they were average-looking, non-surgically enhanced moms, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and loading their kids into minivans to go to soccer practice? Probably not. Hell would we continue to watch these shows if all the ladies got along and were nice to one another? No, that would be boring. So we tune in and watch these women go from the nail salon to the hair salon to the tanning salon, flip tables at restaurants and argue with one another for sometimes no reason at all other than it gives them something to do. (as a side note, they keep giving these housewives microphones and telling them they are fabulous vocalists – please stop doing that Bravo)
And we can’t just say “oh that’s reality TV” and explain it away. A few weeks ago, California Republican Nominee for Senate Carly Fiorina was still wearing a live mic and was recorded mocking Barbara Boxer’s hair. She caught a lot of flack, obviously. But she’s not saying anything other women don’t say when they are out with friends on a Saturday night, or when they comment on a celebrity’s new look. Even Elena Kagan has received a large amount of press for her looks. HER LOOKS. Something that has no bearing on her ability to do the job. Last time I checked being hot was not on the requirements list to be a Supreme Court Justice. I mean Stephen Breyer doesn’t exactly rev my engine, but that doesn’t really have a bearing on his ability to do the job, know what I mean??
People’s looks (and that includes weight) remain one of the last openly acceptable forms of bigotry. It’s awful and it’s wrong and it’s something we probably all do to some extent. I may be more apt to it or more susceptible to it because I’m a female. And I can do all I can to try and not be one of the mean girls. To take people for more than their attractiveness or ability to dress well. But we all have the ability to leave the world a little “prettier” than we found it that day, by smiling at a random person on the street, or complimenting a coworker on their jacket/necktie/haircut. The least we can do is try and make people feel good about their looks as well all live in our beauty-biased world.
On that note, thanks to my sorority sisters for taking pity on me. I see pictures of me on bid day with my long, long hair, beyond pale jeans and doc martens and I physically cringe. Thanks ladies for overlooking my fashionably challenged self and getting me into some black pants and chunky Steve Madden shoes and changing my life forever!
I don’t know that I feel right using that word “remember” because for some of us (and I would wager it is actually more of us than some people will actually admit) those circumstances and those feelings are not a memory, they are still a reality in our day-to-day lives. Mean girls still exist and they walk among us.
I understood what it meant to be pretty and popular in high school, and I never quite reached either of those, probably hovering somewhere in the middle tier if you will. But I knew what it meant for me and my “status” when I made it onto the cheerleading team. That’s still an inner ring in most high schools that many girls strive for. Hell, I tried out and failed before I finally made it onto the team. What I was truly longing for was that sense of belonging, of being a part of something. And I so enjoyed the camaraderie and fun I experienced as being on that squad. However, I would be a huge liar if I said I didn’t enjoy the perks that came with all of it. They weren’t the reason I wanted to be on the team, but they sure didn’t hurt either.
I had that same experience all over again when I pledged a sorority in college. I was a little skeptical about the whole Greek life thing, so I didn’t join right away. While most freshman rushed and pledged right away, basically within the first few weeks of arriving to campus, I was just trying to adjust to the whole transition from high school to college. Living in a dorm room with a total stranger, trying to make friends on my floor, figuring out where all my classes were (all on the complete other side of campus – like a 25 minute freaking walk away). But I met people in my dorm and in my classes who did join sororities and they were all pretty nice and normal, so I dipped my toe in during the spring semester. That’s when our campus had an “informal” rush period, where you could kind of come and go to houses as you pleased. I ended up not pledging at that time, but knew for sure I would do it the following semester.
So that fall rolled around and I went through the formal rush process, and for those of you reading this that know it, you know how exhausting and monotonous that whole parade can be. The same conversations over and over….cheeks aching from your plastered on permasmile….worrying about what to wear, what to say. They always say it’s a mutual selection process, but that’s just something nice the Panhellenic folks have to tell you. As a rushee, you have little power over anything. When I got on the other side of things I saw girls not invited back to the next round of parties because they wore something that someone didn’t like (silver pants) or their hair was bad (cheesy highlights) or they “seemed dorky” (in my house that probable meant she enjoyed reading actual books). I hate admitting that, but it happens. And as things turned out for me, I got into one of the “good” houses. All of that other Panhellenic PR about every house being a good house is total sh*t. Kind of like saying Ivy League Universities and community colleges are the same thing because they are both higher education institutions. Anyone on a college campus – whether they are Greek themselves are not – can tell you who the good houses are and who aren’t.
Here’s the thing…for the most part I felt really out of place in that house. I felt like people were looking at me while singing that “One of these things is not like the other…” song in their head. Most of these girls were total knockouts….they may have been the mean girls in their own high schools for all I know. I just felt so much like I stuck out. I had a friend from the dorms who had pledged that sorority the previous Spring, so I figured she maybe just campaigned hard for me to get a bid, so I did. And for all that time I was in the sorority in college, I could never ever shake that feeling of not fitting in. Of not being pretty enough, never being comfortable with my weight (no mater how large or small), and just being totally unattractive.
It wasn’t all my doing, or my thoughts and feelings that were at fault. I remember once when I was running for a position on the chapter’s council – the rush chair. I had purposely taken committee and assistant positions for the rush periods that came after I was initiated, trying to learn and get experience for the position I wanted to eventually run for. But I wasn’t slated for the position by the outgoing council…I later heard that the person that would be leaving that rush chair position had argued that I wasn’t really the person that would be best to go out and welcome the rushees – that someone prettier should be the first person that steps out to greet them. To be fair, that may not be *the exact* words because that happened a LONG time ago and I can’t remember them verbatim. But I was informed about it by more than one person, so that sentiment was expressed loud and clear. It didn’t matter that I had the experience and the ability. Basically what kept me off the ballot was that some of my “sisters” didn’t think I was pretty enough to do the job.
I was really crushed after that experience. I remember some nights I didn’t go out to parties with the rest of my sorority friends because I just felt too ugly to leave the house. I know that likely sounds overly dramatic to some of you, but I can remember that paralyzing feeling like it was yesterday because I still feel it at times today. I am not saying I blame these feeling entirely on my sorority experience, but I know it’s a very large part of it.
I tried very hard to not let the negative election experience sideline me entirely. When I returned for the spring semester, I decided to pull a “screw you” and go run for the same rush chair position for the Panhellenic Board – it would basically put me in charge of rush for the whole campus and oversee the rush chairs for each of the 15 chapters. And shockingly enough, I won. I wish I could say it was because I was the most qualified or ran some fantastic campaign. But in being honest, I think I largely won that election in much the same way that I lost the one in my own chapter. I ran against a girl who was way more qualified than me. The thing is, she was not in a “good” house. I think people voted for the letters on my chest more than they voted for me and what they thought I would do in the job. While I still feel badly about that, I think everything happens for a reason because I ended up doing a truly fantastic job with my position and had some of the happiest and most rewarding experiences ever during that time of my life. But I know the politics of pretty was what likely got me elected.
The pretty factor and mean girls aren’t isolated to high school and college. They are alive and active in our lives today. Would you watch the Real Housewives of any city if they were average-looking, non-surgically enhanced moms, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and loading their kids into minivans to go to soccer practice? Probably not. Hell would we continue to watch these shows if all the ladies got along and were nice to one another? No, that would be boring. So we tune in and watch these women go from the nail salon to the hair salon to the tanning salon, flip tables at restaurants and argue with one another for sometimes no reason at all other than it gives them something to do. (as a side note, they keep giving these housewives microphones and telling them they are fabulous vocalists – please stop doing that Bravo)
And we can’t just say “oh that’s reality TV” and explain it away. A few weeks ago, California Republican Nominee for Senate Carly Fiorina was still wearing a live mic and was recorded mocking Barbara Boxer’s hair. She caught a lot of flack, obviously. But she’s not saying anything other women don’t say when they are out with friends on a Saturday night, or when they comment on a celebrity’s new look. Even Elena Kagan has received a large amount of press for her looks. HER LOOKS. Something that has no bearing on her ability to do the job. Last time I checked being hot was not on the requirements list to be a Supreme Court Justice. I mean Stephen Breyer doesn’t exactly rev my engine, but that doesn’t really have a bearing on his ability to do the job, know what I mean??
People’s looks (and that includes weight) remain one of the last openly acceptable forms of bigotry. It’s awful and it’s wrong and it’s something we probably all do to some extent. I may be more apt to it or more susceptible to it because I’m a female. And I can do all I can to try and not be one of the mean girls. To take people for more than their attractiveness or ability to dress well. But we all have the ability to leave the world a little “prettier” than we found it that day, by smiling at a random person on the street, or complimenting a coworker on their jacket/necktie/haircut. The least we can do is try and make people feel good about their looks as well all live in our beauty-biased world.
On that note, thanks to my sorority sisters for taking pity on me. I see pictures of me on bid day with my long, long hair, beyond pale jeans and doc martens and I physically cringe. Thanks ladies for overlooking my fashionably challenged self and getting me into some black pants and chunky Steve Madden shoes and changing my life forever!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
You can take a Mulligan in golf. Not so much in relationships.
I am a huge fan of 30 Rock – smart, funny, and I respect their use of inside jokes. For those that don’t follow the show, they recently had a plotline where one of the lead characters was going back and re-evaluating her previous romantic relationships. Longer story of why she was doing this but it basically comes down to someone telling her that there are not really all that many “types” out there and by that point in her life, and it’s likely she had already met the one for her. Now, I don’t know if I would agree or disagree with that but it did get me to thinking. Lately I have become way too aware that this phenomenon of going back and seeing if maybe you overlooked something in a previous relationship, or maybe the timing or something else was off before and could be better now, re-visiting people from your past to see if maybe there was something still there worth considering. Well I can tell you that this phenomenon is real. And it is most definitely NOT just the ladies who set out digging through their ex files.
I don’t know what the F it is, but people have been coming back around in my life like some sort of weird boomerang that I could have thrown out years ago that somehow eventually returns to smack me in the back of the head. Hey, I am all for being green but Reduce-Reuse-Recycle should not generally be applied to people and relationships, know what I mean?
People who left my life at various points in time. Ranging in levels of seriousness of involvement. Varying lengths of time we were together. None of these things give any clear indication of if or when someone decides to make a return appearance. I wish I could say as I got older, I understood guys more. I actually think the reverse is true. I am more confused today then ever before.
These weird occurrences started a couple years ago. I was just coming out of a serious relationship and the break was one of those bad ones. Longer and more drawn out then it needed to be and a lot of hurt and anger on both sides. About a month later I was contacted by an ex who was going to be driving through my neck of the woods on a drive home to see family and we should get together for a drink. Since he and I had broken up years before, we honestly and truly had been able to salvage a friendship after our romantic relationship ended. That definitely did not happen instantaneously and was aided by him living far away. And I honestly and naively thought it really was just having a drink with a friend. Please keep your mind out of the gutter, it was all very PG rated, but it was more than a drink. He was also coming out of what sounded like a pretty painful breakup so it was probably that we were both in bad places and it felt comforting. We have still kept in touch over the years that followed, even me flying down to visit him a few times. Those are times when your head tells you that you should know better than to do something that ridiculous. But your heart just wants to feel that sense of being totally comfortable with someone, even if it is for a weekend. And sometimes you let your heart win.
The following year I was leaving an old job and getting ready to start a new one. I was sad about leaving the friends I had made at the old job but really looking forward to starting something new that I thought would be really challenging, a position which I could work hard at and do well in (this became my start of law firm hell – good to know there was a time that I was looking forward to it!) From out of nowhere, another ex got in touch with me. We had remained friendly – our relationship ended nicely enough, the timing was just bad and he moved away shortly after things ended between us. I guess a recurring theme here is you can remain friends or stay friendly if you live a sizable distance apart! We had always kept in touch here and there after he moved away. Then out of nowhere he gets in touch with me and says such nice things, things that sound like he’s reading a movie script. He had been thinking about me so much and wonders about what could have been. All those sorts of things that I don’t care how cynical you may be or how hard your edge is – you melt a little. Or as I remember doing at the time, you melt a lot. I was getting talked into canceling my plans for the weekend and taking a last minute trip down to see him. We spent time emailing; we spent hours talking on the phone. And when the time come to really make a decision, to see if I thought we could make something like this work, I said no. I got scared that there might be a catch, scared of taking such a huge risk. I felt like I was having that same conversation with myself – my head vs. my heart. And my head made the better argument this time. I thought being a grown up meant making tough decisions so that’s what I did.
Things have stayed quiet for a while. Then all of the sudden, people start showing up again. Maybe it’s a Facebook effect – some friends and I often joke about guys we had gone out with or been otherwise involved with “kicking around” on our facebook pages. Commenting on photos, writing on our walls. But the people who have come back around lately are not the result of Facebook. I wish that were the case so I could easily explain this recent outbreak and be done with it.
One is someone I dated about two years ago. It was a fun, non-serious little fling of a couple months. Something I knew was going nowhere, but it was happening at a time where I needed the distraction and wanted something cheap, fun and easy. Like knowing you should go home and fix a healthy dinner and then saying “screw it” and going through the drive-thru instead. Anyway, this guy has actually had a few nicknames bestowed upon him, but the best one would be MDIYL. That stands for “My d*ck is your loss” – that’s the text message he sent when things between us were ending. Clearly no one can ever accuse me of not being able to pick classy winners! He was someone who was I think 32 at the time and acted like he was going on 22, so it didn’t surprise me – I actually laughed pretty hard and enjoy telling that story just to see people’s reactions. He came around out of nowhere a couple months ago, writing me to apologize about how horribly he had treated me and how he had always felt so badly about it and was really ashamed of it. Wow, okay. I just figured maybe he was on whichever of the twelve steps it was where you make amends. Okay, that's nice enough, hope he feels better getting that off his chest. But then he emails me again recently – out of nowhere – about driving past my old neighborhood and how am I and what am I up to this weekend and maybe we should get together and grab dinner sometime. Huh? I think girls get a bad rap for being a little looney tunes sometimes, but clearly crazy goes both ways. I haven’t talked to you in years. You actually texted me that your d*ck was going to be my loss. It wasn’t. Do we really need to discuss that over dinner? Yeah….I’m thinking no.
And that brings us to the present. Things with the most recent guy, well they did not exactly work out. I feel badly about that and am obviously disappointed, but it’s all okay . But then about a week after, he emails me. Chatting, bullsh*tting like nothing happened. I get the whole “I hope we can still be friends” business, but let’s be real. Nine times out of ten that’s something we all just say and don’t truly mean. It’s like asking someone how their day is going and you probably could care less. But you ask because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do. So, ok….I guess I should know from my past that yes, you can actually be friends. But it doesn’t happen a week later. And if my previous track record is any indication, this guy is clearly going to have to move far away! To be fair, I think he's a great guy and you shouldn't NOT be friends because it didn't work out. But I think you need to give it more than a freaking week, no matter how short or long lived the relationship was.
So I am not even going to try and say that this long rambling post had a point or offered any insight. Sorry about that, folks. I have just been scratching my head about all this lately. So I will send it out there into the universe and maybe somehow I will get some answer giving me insight as to why this happens. Here’s to hoping the Universe’s sign of choice is not having one of these fellows drunk texting me over this long holiday weekend because that would be not cool. You hear me, Universe? Not cool.
I don’t know what the F it is, but people have been coming back around in my life like some sort of weird boomerang that I could have thrown out years ago that somehow eventually returns to smack me in the back of the head. Hey, I am all for being green but Reduce-Reuse-Recycle should not generally be applied to people and relationships, know what I mean?
People who left my life at various points in time. Ranging in levels of seriousness of involvement. Varying lengths of time we were together. None of these things give any clear indication of if or when someone decides to make a return appearance. I wish I could say as I got older, I understood guys more. I actually think the reverse is true. I am more confused today then ever before.
These weird occurrences started a couple years ago. I was just coming out of a serious relationship and the break was one of those bad ones. Longer and more drawn out then it needed to be and a lot of hurt and anger on both sides. About a month later I was contacted by an ex who was going to be driving through my neck of the woods on a drive home to see family and we should get together for a drink. Since he and I had broken up years before, we honestly and truly had been able to salvage a friendship after our romantic relationship ended. That definitely did not happen instantaneously and was aided by him living far away. And I honestly and naively thought it really was just having a drink with a friend. Please keep your mind out of the gutter, it was all very PG rated, but it was more than a drink. He was also coming out of what sounded like a pretty painful breakup so it was probably that we were both in bad places and it felt comforting. We have still kept in touch over the years that followed, even me flying down to visit him a few times. Those are times when your head tells you that you should know better than to do something that ridiculous. But your heart just wants to feel that sense of being totally comfortable with someone, even if it is for a weekend. And sometimes you let your heart win.
The following year I was leaving an old job and getting ready to start a new one. I was sad about leaving the friends I had made at the old job but really looking forward to starting something new that I thought would be really challenging, a position which I could work hard at and do well in (this became my start of law firm hell – good to know there was a time that I was looking forward to it!) From out of nowhere, another ex got in touch with me. We had remained friendly – our relationship ended nicely enough, the timing was just bad and he moved away shortly after things ended between us. I guess a recurring theme here is you can remain friends or stay friendly if you live a sizable distance apart! We had always kept in touch here and there after he moved away. Then out of nowhere he gets in touch with me and says such nice things, things that sound like he’s reading a movie script. He had been thinking about me so much and wonders about what could have been. All those sorts of things that I don’t care how cynical you may be or how hard your edge is – you melt a little. Or as I remember doing at the time, you melt a lot. I was getting talked into canceling my plans for the weekend and taking a last minute trip down to see him. We spent time emailing; we spent hours talking on the phone. And when the time come to really make a decision, to see if I thought we could make something like this work, I said no. I got scared that there might be a catch, scared of taking such a huge risk. I felt like I was having that same conversation with myself – my head vs. my heart. And my head made the better argument this time. I thought being a grown up meant making tough decisions so that’s what I did.
Things have stayed quiet for a while. Then all of the sudden, people start showing up again. Maybe it’s a Facebook effect – some friends and I often joke about guys we had gone out with or been otherwise involved with “kicking around” on our facebook pages. Commenting on photos, writing on our walls. But the people who have come back around lately are not the result of Facebook. I wish that were the case so I could easily explain this recent outbreak and be done with it.
One is someone I dated about two years ago. It was a fun, non-serious little fling of a couple months. Something I knew was going nowhere, but it was happening at a time where I needed the distraction and wanted something cheap, fun and easy. Like knowing you should go home and fix a healthy dinner and then saying “screw it” and going through the drive-thru instead. Anyway, this guy has actually had a few nicknames bestowed upon him, but the best one would be MDIYL. That stands for “My d*ck is your loss” – that’s the text message he sent when things between us were ending. Clearly no one can ever accuse me of not being able to pick classy winners! He was someone who was I think 32 at the time and acted like he was going on 22, so it didn’t surprise me – I actually laughed pretty hard and enjoy telling that story just to see people’s reactions. He came around out of nowhere a couple months ago, writing me to apologize about how horribly he had treated me and how he had always felt so badly about it and was really ashamed of it. Wow, okay. I just figured maybe he was on whichever of the twelve steps it was where you make amends. Okay, that's nice enough, hope he feels better getting that off his chest. But then he emails me again recently – out of nowhere – about driving past my old neighborhood and how am I and what am I up to this weekend and maybe we should get together and grab dinner sometime. Huh? I think girls get a bad rap for being a little looney tunes sometimes, but clearly crazy goes both ways. I haven’t talked to you in years. You actually texted me that your d*ck was going to be my loss. It wasn’t. Do we really need to discuss that over dinner? Yeah….I’m thinking no.
And that brings us to the present. Things with the most recent guy, well they did not exactly work out. I feel badly about that and am obviously disappointed, but it’s all okay . But then about a week after, he emails me. Chatting, bullsh*tting like nothing happened. I get the whole “I hope we can still be friends” business, but let’s be real. Nine times out of ten that’s something we all just say and don’t truly mean. It’s like asking someone how their day is going and you probably could care less. But you ask because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do. So, ok….I guess I should know from my past that yes, you can actually be friends. But it doesn’t happen a week later. And if my previous track record is any indication, this guy is clearly going to have to move far away! To be fair, I think he's a great guy and you shouldn't NOT be friends because it didn't work out. But I think you need to give it more than a freaking week, no matter how short or long lived the relationship was.
So I am not even going to try and say that this long rambling post had a point or offered any insight. Sorry about that, folks. I have just been scratching my head about all this lately. So I will send it out there into the universe and maybe somehow I will get some answer giving me insight as to why this happens. Here’s to hoping the Universe’s sign of choice is not having one of these fellows drunk texting me over this long holiday weekend because that would be not cool. You hear me, Universe? Not cool.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Sorority House Time Machine
I recently went back to my college sorority house for the annual Senior Dinner. No, I am not one of those weird old ladies just hanging around the sorority house trying to relive my “glory days”. I was invited as a guest after I recently agreed to be an advisor to the chapter. I am sure this decision will provide me with loads of headaches and needless drama…but all of that makes for some of the best and funniest stories so I will give it a try for a year and see what happens.
So after the dinner is over and everyone is enjoying their cake and coffee, each of the girls stands up to say what their plans are for after graduation and a favorite sorority memory or what being in the sorority means to them. And I admit that I got a little choked up listening to these girls talk about meeting their best friends there and that they would all be in each others weddings someday and moving into apartments together after graduation and all of their rosy sounding hopes and dreams for the future.
I got choked up because I remember when it was me sitting there – all my plans and dreams for what life was going to be like after leaving college. And here I am, MANY years later, and not a lot of what I thought or even planned has come to be. Now, don’t get me wrong, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing at all. Not all of us want the same things at 32 that we thought we wanted at 22. I just thought my life would be a lot, well different. It’s nothing about having a more glamorous job, or being married vs. being single, or any sort of crazy timetable I had set up for myself about what age I wanted my first child by and my second child by and all of that. I was never one of those girls. I have always been pretty independent and never really worried or even thought about there being guys or babies in the picture to worry about.
But my 32 year old self was sitting there listening to all these 22 year olds full of hope and smiles and wide eyes. And I just felt kind of sad. I had kind of forgotten about a lot of the goals and hopes that my 22 year old self had because I am well past the point where I had to make some tough admissions that some of them were just not going to happen. I envied their ability to look at everything that would be possible for them because it was all there in front of them. A blank slate so to speak that they were going to go out and put their mark on. I found myself being a little envious, and wishing I had my own blank slate right now or had that same sense of excitement and anticipation about what was going to happen next.
I was lucky that I got to have a time in my life where I lived in a castle, with a bunch of great girls all around me where there was always someone to talk, commiserate with or go out with. Had dinner served every night at 5:15 and my biggest stress was probably finding a date or a dress for formal. The view from there was pretty damn good – anything and everything seemed possible. Now I worry about bills to be paid and finding enough hours in the day to get all my work done. Sometimes dinner doesn’t happen until 9 at night and it’s a bowl of cereal because I am too tired to cook a real dinner. I miss my friends and having people around me to talk to and spend time with because now we are all separated – by miles or jobs or families or children. I wish I knew then how good I had it. Because some days, I would give anything to be back there.
So I need to do something to find my inner 22 year old. I don’t know what that is exactly. I’m hoping it doesn’t involve Jagermeister or bad decision making. But seriously there should be a way to still have some semblance of that “anything is possible” attitude. That excitement and anxiousness about turning the page to find out what happens next. I need to find it soon so my older self doesn’t look back at me now and feel any shred of disappointment.
So after the dinner is over and everyone is enjoying their cake and coffee, each of the girls stands up to say what their plans are for after graduation and a favorite sorority memory or what being in the sorority means to them. And I admit that I got a little choked up listening to these girls talk about meeting their best friends there and that they would all be in each others weddings someday and moving into apartments together after graduation and all of their rosy sounding hopes and dreams for the future.
I got choked up because I remember when it was me sitting there – all my plans and dreams for what life was going to be like after leaving college. And here I am, MANY years later, and not a lot of what I thought or even planned has come to be. Now, don’t get me wrong, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing at all. Not all of us want the same things at 32 that we thought we wanted at 22. I just thought my life would be a lot, well different. It’s nothing about having a more glamorous job, or being married vs. being single, or any sort of crazy timetable I had set up for myself about what age I wanted my first child by and my second child by and all of that. I was never one of those girls. I have always been pretty independent and never really worried or even thought about there being guys or babies in the picture to worry about.
But my 32 year old self was sitting there listening to all these 22 year olds full of hope and smiles and wide eyes. And I just felt kind of sad. I had kind of forgotten about a lot of the goals and hopes that my 22 year old self had because I am well past the point where I had to make some tough admissions that some of them were just not going to happen. I envied their ability to look at everything that would be possible for them because it was all there in front of them. A blank slate so to speak that they were going to go out and put their mark on. I found myself being a little envious, and wishing I had my own blank slate right now or had that same sense of excitement and anticipation about what was going to happen next.
I was lucky that I got to have a time in my life where I lived in a castle, with a bunch of great girls all around me where there was always someone to talk, commiserate with or go out with. Had dinner served every night at 5:15 and my biggest stress was probably finding a date or a dress for formal. The view from there was pretty damn good – anything and everything seemed possible. Now I worry about bills to be paid and finding enough hours in the day to get all my work done. Sometimes dinner doesn’t happen until 9 at night and it’s a bowl of cereal because I am too tired to cook a real dinner. I miss my friends and having people around me to talk to and spend time with because now we are all separated – by miles or jobs or families or children. I wish I knew then how good I had it. Because some days, I would give anything to be back there.
So I need to do something to find my inner 22 year old. I don’t know what that is exactly. I’m hoping it doesn’t involve Jagermeister or bad decision making. But seriously there should be a way to still have some semblance of that “anything is possible” attitude. That excitement and anxiousness about turning the page to find out what happens next. I need to find it soon so my older self doesn’t look back at me now and feel any shred of disappointment.
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