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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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FN1. The Captain’s sister who also was a Captain in the U.S. Army
FN2. Yes, another veteran
FN3. Not really.

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.