I love my job. I seriously, really, truly do. I'd probably do anything for them at this point- if they asked me to paint a picture of the sunset I probably would. There's just so much wonderfulness everytime I'm there that it makes me feel so at ease and at home. So, so great.
But, I must confess, even with my super fantabulous job, I still wanted more. So, when the temp agency I work with called and asked if I'd like to work Tuesday-Thursday this week, I said sure! Why not?! Money! Yay!
Nuh-uh. No yay. None. Because, not only did I sign up for this job at Macy's (ahem, to all you Macy's employees- being in the corporate office grabs you way more moolah for your time), but I also promised to help a "friend" out with his business, and also help my dad out with his! Now, if I had spread these things out in to three weeks or maybe even two, all this may have been possible.
But Hannah Harper is incapable of doing that. Because Hannah Harper can't say no. Hannah Har- sorry my first person is talking, I, I can't say no to other people. I didn't want to let the temp agency down, didn't want to let Jay down, and I certainly didn't want to let my dad down. I wanna do it all, I want everyone to be completely proud of me for helping them out whenever they need me! I want them to say, "Never fear, Hannah is here!".
And, well, they usually do. But lately, I've been finding it hard to say no even more. Being in New York empowers you like no other city can. It makes you feel unstoppable, even at your most vulnerable and weakest moments. You can have no job here, no money, nothing, but just being here will give you enough motivation to go on endless interviews and wake up exceptionally early to get ready because you CAN do anything you set your mind to!
Yeah? Well that's a great thought New York City! But you're wrong! You can't do everything you put your mind to! Well, OK, maybe you can... but only if you give yourself some time! Space some things out, let yourself breathe a little.
So, this week, I managed to let at least one person down. I feel a little guilty, a little sorry, but mostly really upset that I'm too proud to say no. If I'd have said no to Macy's, I could have not only cleaned my apartment and gotten ready to work for the weekend, but I also could have finished the stuff for my dad and do some sales for Jay. If I'd have said no to Jay and Macy's, I could have gotten the rest and relaxation before my long work week and vacation time with my dad. And because I didn't I almost got sick. Thank God for the snow day on Wednesday- without it I would probably be sleeping in my bed with a straw taped to a bottle of Nyquil next to my bed.
It kind of reminds me of those ridiculous plates at a buffet. You know, the ones that are the size of cup coasters? How does one expect you to pile every piece of delicious food on that plate at a time?
They don't. You see, restaurants put smaller plates out so you eat smaller portions. Because those "all you can eat" buffets really aren't actually hoping you can eat "all you can". They're hoping you put what you can on your plate, sit down, eat, then go back for more if you're still hungry. That way, you take your time, eat less of their food, and make them richer. But some people (OK, I'm going to take a stab at it and say 95% of the male population) pile as much food on their plate that will not cause the food to tip over every time they go up to the food stations. But what happens a lot of the time, is that by the second or third plate of that mountain of spaghetti-salad-taco-brownie-chili-chicken-mashed potatoes, you've realized there's no way you can finish it. Not without barfing or being held at gun point that is.
And then the waitress comes and picks up your plate. And looks at you. Then the plate. Then back at you. And there's disappointment in her eyes. Because all that food you just wasted? She has to clean up.
So, this week, I put way too much food on my appetizer plate at the buffet. And, unfortunately, I was also working the day shift at the diner. And I was the waitress.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Bubba Gump and Blue Ribbon
Recently I tried a very exotic food for my personal palate- shrimp. Yep, you heard me. Shrimp. Shrimp. Shrimp. Oh, and eel and oysters and raw tuna. And anybody who knows me or who has ever eaten with me knows this is not normal.
First off, I don't eat seafood. Not shrimp or crab or anything living underwater. I stick to what I know- a good, plain cheeseburger. Hold the ketchup and mustard. I just wanted that slab of beef. It's what I know. It's comfortable, it's good, and hey, if it's not broke, why fix it?
I've been so against seafood my whole life. And I honestly didn't like it. Maybe my tastebuds have changed, maybe I just ate it the wrong way. But there's nothing about it that sounds appetizing. How can you people justify eating something that STILL has it's tail on it. Or cooking something while it's still alive. At least the animals I eat were dead first.
But that's not the point. I'm writing tonight to speak on the positive effects of trying the seafood again for the first time since, I don't know when! The first night I had seafood was last Sunday night. The lady I babysit for, Katrina, was ordering food from a sushi place. Well, I like sushi- at least I thought, so I told her vegetable sushi for me please! And she looked at me like that was the dumbest thing I ever said (OK, she had a right to- she lived in Japan for four years! She knows what sushi is! And it is not only vegetables!). And she told me I had to try real sushi. Not the fake kind I was brought up with in Wisconsin.
She told me we wouldn't order anything too adventerous. And the first thing she picked off the menu was eel. We hadn't even seen shrimp on the menu yet. Of course it made me nervous. And also gag a little. But for the most part I was proud of the fact that I would be trying something new. And a little bit because Katrina was making me.
So when we got our food, we sat down. Graciously, she ordered me a couple things that I could recognize- beef, pork, edamame. But then she looked at me and at the seafood infested sushi rolls and said, "OK, come on. Eat." I looked at her like she was making me eat a batch of live worms.
And in a sense she was. But I'm no wussy. I took the shrimp roll first. It was the most recognizeable. And I took a bite.
And I liked it. I mean, like, it tasted really wonderful.
I liked this new me! Someone who could like beef and shrimp! At the same time! I daringly tried the rest. The tuna, the eel, the oyster rolls. So good. So, so good. I couldn't even pick a favorite.
Why was I liking this? I've disliked it for so long! I should be gagging or vomitting or demanding chocolate to wash it down!
Same thing happened this last Sunday. I went to church with my friend James. Afterwards, we went to Bubba Gump Shrimp- I've never eaten here before for obvious reasons. But, we went because he worked there and had half off and because I knew that if I could like Japanese food, I had to like American beef in a shrimp place. Totally feasible.
I got a burger (duh!) and James order hush puppies. Cute name, I thought. But now so cute inside. Shrimp and crab in the middle of bread. Ick. Or so I thought. James asked me if I wanted to try one. I said, no thanks, don't like shrimp. And he said, "Are you allergic". No I said. "Then try it." And he said that not like, "Oh, well maybe you'll love it!". It was more like, "So what you're saying is, you've never tried it, already determined you don't like it, and you expect me to let you get away with it? Nuh-uh!".
Hush puppies are good. I like them. And they're particularly good with that sauce.
So my advice for tonight is don't knock it until you try it. Or try it again if the first time it didn't exceed.
My guess is you'll like it.
First off, I don't eat seafood. Not shrimp or crab or anything living underwater. I stick to what I know- a good, plain cheeseburger. Hold the ketchup and mustard. I just wanted that slab of beef. It's what I know. It's comfortable, it's good, and hey, if it's not broke, why fix it?
I've been so against seafood my whole life. And I honestly didn't like it. Maybe my tastebuds have changed, maybe I just ate it the wrong way. But there's nothing about it that sounds appetizing. How can you people justify eating something that STILL has it's tail on it. Or cooking something while it's still alive. At least the animals I eat were dead first.
But that's not the point. I'm writing tonight to speak on the positive effects of trying the seafood again for the first time since, I don't know when! The first night I had seafood was last Sunday night. The lady I babysit for, Katrina, was ordering food from a sushi place. Well, I like sushi- at least I thought, so I told her vegetable sushi for me please! And she looked at me like that was the dumbest thing I ever said (OK, she had a right to- she lived in Japan for four years! She knows what sushi is! And it is not only vegetables!). And she told me I had to try real sushi. Not the fake kind I was brought up with in Wisconsin.
She told me we wouldn't order anything too adventerous. And the first thing she picked off the menu was eel. We hadn't even seen shrimp on the menu yet. Of course it made me nervous. And also gag a little. But for the most part I was proud of the fact that I would be trying something new. And a little bit because Katrina was making me.
So when we got our food, we sat down. Graciously, she ordered me a couple things that I could recognize- beef, pork, edamame. But then she looked at me and at the seafood infested sushi rolls and said, "OK, come on. Eat." I looked at her like she was making me eat a batch of live worms.
And in a sense she was. But I'm no wussy. I took the shrimp roll first. It was the most recognizeable. And I took a bite.
And I liked it. I mean, like, it tasted really wonderful.
I liked this new me! Someone who could like beef and shrimp! At the same time! I daringly tried the rest. The tuna, the eel, the oyster rolls. So good. So, so good. I couldn't even pick a favorite.
Why was I liking this? I've disliked it for so long! I should be gagging or vomitting or demanding chocolate to wash it down!
Same thing happened this last Sunday. I went to church with my friend James. Afterwards, we went to Bubba Gump Shrimp- I've never eaten here before for obvious reasons. But, we went because he worked there and had half off and because I knew that if I could like Japanese food, I had to like American beef in a shrimp place. Totally feasible.
I got a burger (duh!) and James order hush puppies. Cute name, I thought. But now so cute inside. Shrimp and crab in the middle of bread. Ick. Or so I thought. James asked me if I wanted to try one. I said, no thanks, don't like shrimp. And he said, "Are you allergic". No I said. "Then try it." And he said that not like, "Oh, well maybe you'll love it!". It was more like, "So what you're saying is, you've never tried it, already determined you don't like it, and you expect me to let you get away with it? Nuh-uh!".
Hush puppies are good. I like them. And they're particularly good with that sauce.
So my advice for tonight is don't knock it until you try it. Or try it again if the first time it didn't exceed.
My guess is you'll like it.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Fran Fine
Fran Fine is one of those characters I just can't get enough of. She's honest and sincere while still being able to be sarcastic and funny. I like to think I'm her when I'm working, but I know I'm not. I don't have a British playwright boss and three teenagers to take care of. I also don't have an insane amount of mini skirts and wigs donned every single day. Bummer, I know.
First off, I'm lucky that I wake up in the morning. I get paranoid at night because I'm deathly afraid my stupid phone alarm won't go off. The TV is on because I need my fix, but there's never anything on that I want to watch. I'll finally get to bed at 12 or 1 in the morning, then constantly wake up during the night. Like I said- paranoid.
Then during the day I'm awake, magically. I seriously don't know what happens. No sleepyness, no exhaustion, no boredom. I love my job. Dozer (my nickname for the kid I watch) is great. The cutest laugh and is already learning to be polite. When he's done with his meal he stacks up his dishes and hands them to me. He says please and thank you, he babbles on, and I honestly just enjoy him. And he's 20 months old. How lucky!
But the funny thing is, just two weeks ago, I was miserable. Not only did I not have a job, I was on interviews almost every single day. I did trial weekends with familys all over NYC and Jersey. Families wanted me, but only as a housekeeper, or only as another toy to add to their collection of The Help dolls. Don't get me wrong- some of the families were great- but nothing ever clicked. I was either too bored or so confused as to what I was supposed to actually do that the only thing I looked forward to at the end of the weekend was payday.
But just like that, in a blink, my situation changed. I almost gave up nannying. I was so miserable. I told everyone that I was giving it up, that I'd rather work in retail or be a hostess at some restaurant than take the easy, boring route of being someone else's "help". And yes, that's what some called me. Cinderella much? Um, yeah.
But like Fran, I came in to this new job kind of unexpected. Remember the song that starts the show? "She was there to sell make up, but the father saw more..." . Fran and I have a deep connection. Unfortunately, she is totally made up and so was my previous statement. Whatever. But I like to think that this was some family that found me, unexpectedly. When I met the Birkin's it was never a question of "if" I get the job. It just felt right. They are so genuine and real and friendly that taking care of Freddy is a priviledge!
Fran and I are two peas in a pod. Jobs we love, families we love, friends we love. There's laughter everyday and always some moment where everyone around us question our sanity. But I think that's a good thing-we're both loved. And that love allows us to pass it along to anyone- the people we work for and all the way back to our family and friends.
Work can be advantageous and wonderful. Know that. And also know that here in New York, it's totally possible to be a makeup saleswoman and get the opportunity of a lifetime.
So now, I'm only left to wonder- if that's possible, are my dreams of acting and singing possible too? The only answer I can believe is yes.
First off, I'm lucky that I wake up in the morning. I get paranoid at night because I'm deathly afraid my stupid phone alarm won't go off. The TV is on because I need my fix, but there's never anything on that I want to watch. I'll finally get to bed at 12 or 1 in the morning, then constantly wake up during the night. Like I said- paranoid.
Then during the day I'm awake, magically. I seriously don't know what happens. No sleepyness, no exhaustion, no boredom. I love my job. Dozer (my nickname for the kid I watch) is great. The cutest laugh and is already learning to be polite. When he's done with his meal he stacks up his dishes and hands them to me. He says please and thank you, he babbles on, and I honestly just enjoy him. And he's 20 months old. How lucky!
But the funny thing is, just two weeks ago, I was miserable. Not only did I not have a job, I was on interviews almost every single day. I did trial weekends with familys all over NYC and Jersey. Families wanted me, but only as a housekeeper, or only as another toy to add to their collection of The Help dolls. Don't get me wrong- some of the families were great- but nothing ever clicked. I was either too bored or so confused as to what I was supposed to actually do that the only thing I looked forward to at the end of the weekend was payday.
But just like that, in a blink, my situation changed. I almost gave up nannying. I was so miserable. I told everyone that I was giving it up, that I'd rather work in retail or be a hostess at some restaurant than take the easy, boring route of being someone else's "help". And yes, that's what some called me. Cinderella much? Um, yeah.
But like Fran, I came in to this new job kind of unexpected. Remember the song that starts the show? "She was there to sell make up, but the father saw more..." . Fran and I have a deep connection. Unfortunately, she is totally made up and so was my previous statement. Whatever. But I like to think that this was some family that found me, unexpectedly. When I met the Birkin's it was never a question of "if" I get the job. It just felt right. They are so genuine and real and friendly that taking care of Freddy is a priviledge!
Fran and I are two peas in a pod. Jobs we love, families we love, friends we love. There's laughter everyday and always some moment where everyone around us question our sanity. But I think that's a good thing-we're both loved. And that love allows us to pass it along to anyone- the people we work for and all the way back to our family and friends.
Work can be advantageous and wonderful. Know that. And also know that here in New York, it's totally possible to be a makeup saleswoman and get the opportunity of a lifetime.
So now, I'm only left to wonder- if that's possible, are my dreams of acting and singing possible too? The only answer I can believe is yes.
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