Two days ago I got a phone call from that mid-level retailer (not J. Crew) offering me a position at their Georgetown shop. I turned them down. But not after thinking about it. Part of me really wanted to take it because it had been my dream, when I was sixteen, to work at this mid-level retailer. My friend Andrew worked for them at the time and I thought he was the coolest kid ever - 30% discounts and a fantastic wardrobe. Finally, at age twenty-nine, I had achieved my teenage dream. Talk about a dream deferred.
When I thought about it some more, though, the prospect of working retail in Georgetown during the holidays wasn't all that appealing. Furthermore, the Captain brought up the salient point, "You'll be working two jobs, which adds up to full-time, and you don't even really need the work."
Touche.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
What to wear
Like some of my friends, I don't know how to dress for work. Unlike these friends, I work at an indie, hippie coffee shop/bakery where I am the only one without body art. In other words, I work at a place completely opposite of what I've been preparing for the last three years. My closet is full to bursting with business casual; if my firm hadn't deferred me I wouldn't even be writing this post.
Defer me they did, however, so now I have to find something that's cupcake-appropriate. I can't wear my office stuff because, well, coffee spills and I am clumsy. Nor can I wear my work-out stuff because I have a bad habit of cutting my t-shirts too short. (And really, I can do better than my five hundred GoldmanSachs CommunityTeamWorks t-shirts.) So lately I've been perusing some fantastically hipster t-shirt vendors.
I like best the one below.
Defer me they did, however, so now I have to find something that's cupcake-appropriate. I can't wear my office stuff because, well, coffee spills and I am clumsy. Nor can I wear my work-out stuff because I have a bad habit of cutting my t-shirts too short. (And really, I can do better than my five hundred GoldmanSachs CommunityTeamWorks t-shirts.) So lately I've been perusing some fantastically hipster t-shirt vendors.
I like best the one below.
Done and done
On Sunday I ran a marathon. My list of life goals just got a little shorter.
I had been wanting to do a marathon ever since I saw my first one in person: New York, 2002. It is now 2008. Six years is a long time to have thought about doing something. Imagine how different I felt on Monday morning, then, when I didn't have to think about marathons any more. I was a whole new person. I was triumphant.
Which is why it doesn't (really) bother me that I came in thirty-eight seconds slower than my goal time. In my mind, thirty-eight seconds is my goal time. I could be negative and think to myself, "I'm always just shy of everything I want." Or I could be positive and remember, "Hey, I just ran a marathon - and I feel amazing." Because I do.
(And for those who are curious, yes, I had one of those days on the course. It was everything I could have hoped for and more. Naturally I'm planning to do another as soon as I can. San Diego 2009, anyone?)
I had been wanting to do a marathon ever since I saw my first one in person: New York, 2002. It is now 2008. Six years is a long time to have thought about doing something. Imagine how different I felt on Monday morning, then, when I didn't have to think about marathons any more. I was a whole new person. I was triumphant.
Which is why it doesn't (really) bother me that I came in thirty-eight seconds slower than my goal time. In my mind, thirty-eight seconds is my goal time. I could be negative and think to myself, "I'm always just shy of everything I want." Or I could be positive and remember, "Hey, I just ran a marathon - and I feel amazing." Because I do.
(And for those who are curious, yes, I had one of those days on the course. It was everything I could have hoped for and more. Naturally I'm planning to do another as soon as I can. San Diego 2009, anyone?)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Waddle on
Tomorrow I "run" my first marathon. To say that I am scared is an understatement.
I am petrified.
My last long "run" was three weeks ago and I did the last five miles in interminable pain. All I wanted to do was curl up and depreciate on the side of the trail. If I'd done that, though, I still would've had to get home, and since there wasn't any other way to get home, I just kept on walking. (Yes, by that point I was walking. Hence my terrible fear.) Marathoners often have mantras to keep themselves going, things like, "Yes! We! Can!" or "Almost there!". My mantra on my last run was, "Ignore the pain."
Rather than dwell on my fear, though (or snap at the Captain and seethe at our houseguests), I've decided to remind myself of why I run as a kind of reassurance.
I run because I want to. I run because I can. I run because if I don't, I develop a kind of depression so subtle I don't even notice - until I run again and feel exhilarated. Earlier this year I had to sit out two months and I entered a period of mourning. I grieved for the pleasure of running, of finding that a distance once impossible was later no big deal. I grieved for the sense of accomplishment of pushing myself - and succeeding.
When I finally started running again I thought I had been reborn. I had bad days and slow days and walked-more-than-I-wanted-to days, but I also had good days. Days when my legs were strong and my body was fast. Days when fourteen miles were like a walk in the park. Days when I felt so coordinated and perfect I felt closer to God. Truly. On days like that I rejoiced in the wonder of creation and the gift of the human body. On days like that my running was prayer.
It is unlikely that tomorrow will be one of those days. But it might. And those moments of joy are so pure they are worth chasing.
I am petrified.
My last long "run" was three weeks ago and I did the last five miles in interminable pain. All I wanted to do was curl up and depreciate on the side of the trail. If I'd done that, though, I still would've had to get home, and since there wasn't any other way to get home, I just kept on walking. (Yes, by that point I was walking. Hence my terrible fear.) Marathoners often have mantras to keep themselves going, things like, "Yes! We! Can!" or "Almost there!". My mantra on my last run was, "Ignore the pain."
Rather than dwell on my fear, though (or snap at the Captain and seethe at our houseguests), I've decided to remind myself of why I run as a kind of reassurance.
I run because I want to. I run because I can. I run because if I don't, I develop a kind of depression so subtle I don't even notice - until I run again and feel exhilarated. Earlier this year I had to sit out two months and I entered a period of mourning. I grieved for the pleasure of running, of finding that a distance once impossible was later no big deal. I grieved for the sense of accomplishment of pushing myself - and succeeding.
When I finally started running again I thought I had been reborn. I had bad days and slow days and walked-more-than-I-wanted-to days, but I also had good days. Days when my legs were strong and my body was fast. Days when fourteen miles were like a walk in the park. Days when I felt so coordinated and perfect I felt closer to God. Truly. On days like that I rejoiced in the wonder of creation and the gift of the human body. On days like that my running was prayer.
It is unlikely that tomorrow will be one of those days. But it might. And those moments of joy are so pure they are worth chasing.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Respect
After a long day on my feet, all I can say is...tip your servers. Serving coffee and cupcakes, while fun and enjoyable, is nonetheless hard work.
Yeesh.
Yeesh.
First day of work
KHC: Gah, I look emaciated.
The Captain: Good thing you're working at a cupcake bakery.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Boston, you're my home
Yeah, yeah, the Sox lost, but whatever. I still love that dirty water and I always will.
Saturday morning the Captain and I arose at an ungodly hour for our flight to Boston. As we made our descent into New England, I saw the fiery treescape beneath me and I started to cry. Really. I was that happy to be back. And it was good thing, too, because our trip was so tightly scheduled there was no room for ambivalence.
Our first stop was flour bakery because, well, just follow the link. And because Joanne Chang is my hero. She quit management consulting so she could open up a bakery, and now everyone is better off because of it. She forsake a steady paycheck in a lucrative field just so she could do what she loved, and she's excelled. In this gloomy and uncertain climate, I find that nothing short of heroic, even revolutionary. And yes, the sticky buns mean that much to me.
Next we went to the Head of the Charles, where we did our best to walk off the eight million calories we’d just ingested. (We got close.) The Captain’s former rowers had just purchased a new boat and named one of its seats in his honor, so they invited him to the boat’s dedication. When we showed up they were absolutely. thrilled. to see him again - hugs and smiles all around. Even though he coached the kids for only a season, the impact he had was real. He'd been their coach, their disciplinarian, and their friend, and they loved him because of it. It was a pleasure to watch.
Later that evening we went to a potluck held in our honor by First Friend and her husband, Dr. First Friend. First Friend was the first friend I ever made in law school and I am so lucky to count her as one of my friends still. She’d assembled a great group of former classmates to eat together and to watch the ALCS on a beautifully large flat-screen TV, but what truly stood out was the fellowship and the affection. It was a delight to be back with our friends from BC, and all night I kept saying, “This is the best weekend ever!”
And it was true. There was a whole second day to go, full of more friends and more reuning and more caloric intake. But that would make too long a post, and I think you get the picture.
Saturday morning the Captain and I arose at an ungodly hour for our flight to Boston. As we made our descent into New England, I saw the fiery treescape beneath me and I started to cry. Really. I was that happy to be back. And it was good thing, too, because our trip was so tightly scheduled there was no room for ambivalence.
Our first stop was flour bakery because, well, just follow the link. And because Joanne Chang is my hero. She quit management consulting so she could open up a bakery, and now everyone is better off because of it. She forsake a steady paycheck in a lucrative field just so she could do what she loved, and she's excelled. In this gloomy and uncertain climate, I find that nothing short of heroic, even revolutionary. And yes, the sticky buns mean that much to me.
Next we went to the Head of the Charles, where we did our best to walk off the eight million calories we’d just ingested. (We got close.) The Captain’s former rowers had just purchased a new boat and named one of its seats in his honor, so they invited him to the boat’s dedication. When we showed up they were absolutely. thrilled. to see him again - hugs and smiles all around. Even though he coached the kids for only a season, the impact he had was real. He'd been their coach, their disciplinarian, and their friend, and they loved him because of it. It was a pleasure to watch.
Later that evening we went to a potluck held in our honor by First Friend and her husband, Dr. First Friend. First Friend was the first friend I ever made in law school and I am so lucky to count her as one of my friends still. She’d assembled a great group of former classmates to eat together and to watch the ALCS on a beautifully large flat-screen TV, but what truly stood out was the fellowship and the affection. It was a delight to be back with our friends from BC, and all night I kept saying, “This is the best weekend ever!”
And it was true. There was a whole second day to go, full of more friends and more reuning and more caloric intake. But that would make too long a post, and I think you get the picture.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Customer Service
Since my baking gig is only part-time, I've reached out to other, just-as-stimulating opportunities. Yesterday, I had an interview at a mid-level clothing retailer. (Not J. Crew.)
Much to my surprise, it was an actual interview. As in, "Why are you interested in [Mid-level retailer]?" and "What does customer service mean to you?" I was wholly unprepared for the question. Which might have been a good thing because the answer I came up with was pretty awesome. I thought, where was this during OCI?
So it got me thinking, maybe I tried too hard at OCI. Before every interview I had, I'd read up on the firm, practice some answers, and role-play with my sister or the Captain. Practicing gave me confidence, so I walked into every interview with a (marginal) sense of calm. Every interview except one: the one in which I was taken completely by surprise, in which the interviewer asked, "So what is your interest in San Diego?" Namely, the one which led ultimately to my best offer.
Yeah, I worked too hard.
Much to my surprise, it was an actual interview. As in, "Why are you interested in [Mid-level retailer]?" and "What does customer service mean to you?" I was wholly unprepared for the question. Which might have been a good thing because the answer I came up with was pretty awesome. I thought, where was this during OCI?
So it got me thinking, maybe I tried too hard at OCI. Before every interview I had, I'd read up on the firm, practice some answers, and role-play with my sister or the Captain. Practicing gave me confidence, so I walked into every interview with a (marginal) sense of calm. Every interview except one: the one in which I was taken completely by surprise, in which the interviewer asked, "So what is your interest in San Diego?" Namely, the one which led ultimately to my best offer.
Yeah, I worked too hard.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Tellin' my mom
KHC: Ma, I got a job!
Ma: Oh? Where?
KHC: At a coffee place and bakery in Georgetown!
Ma:...
KHC: Hello?
Ma: What about J. Crew?
(It's funnier if you imagine the conversation in Chinese, except for the words "Georgetown" and "J. Crew". That I still can disappoint my Chinese mother, however, is funny enough.)
Ma: Oh? Where?
KHC: At a coffee place and bakery in Georgetown!
Ma:...
KHC: Hello?
Ma: What about J. Crew?
(It's funnier if you imagine the conversation in Chinese, except for the words "Georgetown" and "J. Crew". That I still can disappoint my Chinese mother, however, is funny enough.)
Friday, October 10, 2008
Livin' the dream
The ongoing financial collapse notwithstanding, I still managed to find part-time work.
Friends, you're looking at your next neighborhood cupcake pusher/barista/latte artist.
I got a job. At a cupcake place. Where people drink coffee and use Macs. It's gonna be hard but I'm gonna love it. And I feel like I've finally grown into my role as an angst-laden twentysomething; I really can own it now.
Cue the indie rock.
Friends, you're looking at your next neighborhood cupcake pusher/barista/latte artist.
I got a job. At a cupcake place. Where people drink coffee and use Macs. It's gonna be hard but I'm gonna love it. And I feel like I've finally grown into my role as an angst-laden twentysomething; I really can own it now.
Cue the indie rock.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Really, really cliche
Upon reading my last post, the Captain remarked, "You didn't mention the Obama stickers I put on the windows."
Sorry, honey.
Sorry, honey.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Liberal cliche
Most of the time, I like to think I am a nice, normal, Main Street type of gal.
The fact that I can hear you laughing is indication enough I am nowhere near Main Street. But at least I try. I bake my own cookies, I watch football, I take the bus. And I like it.
But every so often I'll find myself in a situation where there's no use pretending. To wit, I noticed last night as I was reading myself to sleep, in a Georgetown townhouse, where I live with my boyfriend, whom I met in private school, where I got the second of my advanced degrees, that we both were reading...Murakami.
Time to go break out the pearls.
The fact that I can hear you laughing is indication enough I am nowhere near Main Street. But at least I try. I bake my own cookies, I watch football, I take the bus. And I like it.
But every so often I'll find myself in a situation where there's no use pretending. To wit, I noticed last night as I was reading myself to sleep, in a Georgetown townhouse, where I live with my boyfriend, whom I met in private school, where I got the second of my advanced degrees, that we both were reading...Murakami.
Time to go break out the pearls.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Ain't nothin' but a number
The Captain is thirty! How exciting. Thing is, he looks exactly the same as he did at twenty-nine.
His actual birthday was yesterday, but the festivities started early. Little Captain [FN1] and her fiance the Cowboy Soldier [FN2] flew in Thursday evening and started celebrating with us pretty much the moment they got off the plane. Well, I didn’t get to join them at first because I had to "run" twenty miles, but I caught up eventually. There’s nothing like a power nap after dinner and drinks to get you out the door at 1AM so you can meet up with everyone else. And then close the bar at 3AM. And then have a slumber party in the basement until 5:30AM. During which the Captain might crash into a stationary object (my dresser). But the crashing part is totally optional. Yes, I do this every weekend.[FN3]
Even better, though, was the actual party we had on Saturday. I hadn’t planned on or expected to spend the entire day in the kitchen, but now I can say I have had the experience. Who knew that devil’s food cake with raspberry filling and white chocolate cream cheese frosting could be so time consuming? It was definitely worth the effort, however, as the roomful of silence clearly showed. How nice it is when everyone knows not to talk with his/her mouth full. The Captain’s dad also was in town and decided that every party-goer needed his/her own large bag of chips and appetizers. So now I am back to staring at an overflowing pantry and wondering if I’ll ever get to see the back of it.
----------
FN1. The Captain’s sister who also was a Captain in the U.S. Army
FN2. Yes, another veteran
FN3. Not really.
His actual birthday was yesterday, but the festivities started early. Little Captain [FN1] and her fiance the Cowboy Soldier [FN2] flew in Thursday evening and started celebrating with us pretty much the moment they got off the plane. Well, I didn’t get to join them at first because I had to "run" twenty miles, but I caught up eventually. There’s nothing like a power nap after dinner and drinks to get you out the door at 1AM so you can meet up with everyone else. And then close the bar at 3AM. And then have a slumber party in the basement until 5:30AM. During which the Captain might crash into a stationary object (my dresser). But the crashing part is totally optional. Yes, I do this every weekend.[FN3]
Even better, though, was the actual party we had on Saturday. I hadn’t planned on or expected to spend the entire day in the kitchen, but now I can say I have had the experience. Who knew that devil’s food cake with raspberry filling and white chocolate cream cheese frosting could be so time consuming? It was definitely worth the effort, however, as the roomful of silence clearly showed. How nice it is when everyone knows not to talk with his/her mouth full. The Captain’s dad also was in town and decided that every party-goer needed his/her own large bag of chips and appetizers. So now I am back to staring at an overflowing pantry and wondering if I’ll ever get to see the back of it.
----------
FN1. The Captain’s sister who also was a Captain in the U.S. Army
FN2. Yes, another veteran
FN3. Not really.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Fashion Don'ts
Said the Captain to me this afternoon, "Sometimes I can't tell if girls are wearing skinny jeans or leggings. I mean, gah, that's got to be really uncomfortable."
Amen.
Amen.
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