Totally Not Racist

I've been working here for almost a year. This company is Korean-owned. The vast majority of our guests are Korean. I've become something of an authority on the upper-middle class Korean family. And I can tell you without fear of rebuttal, that they all drive this car:

In this color. 

All of them. I think it's a prerequisite for entering the US...

Personification

Welcome To The Jungle

Everything echoes in this building. This wouldn't be such a problem if my coworkers were like normal people, but they're not. The women all wear shoes whose heels, I swear, must be made out of snare drums and cymbals because every time one walks down the stairs, it sounds like a herd of zebras stampeding through the lobby. And then of course comes the laughter. I can't imagine what's so funny that everyone in back guffaws like hysterical baboons every day, but whatever it is needs to be shut down. The only person in the world allowed to sound like that is Whoopi Goldberg and even then only when she's playing a sassy hyena.

Grog and Mead

Being a secretary can cause "Benjamin Button Syndrome." The longer you spend staring blankly at a computer screen, silent and alone, the faster your brain reverts to a childlike state. This is actually useful as it's the only real way to get any sense fulfillment out of your work.

I take great pride in even the smallest accomplishments:

My sense of danger is replaced with a giddy wonderment:

And then I begin to replay classic movie scenes in my head:

Shmancy

Most offices have a "casual Fridays" policy. Since Friday is the last day of the work week and Monday is the first, I think Mondays should be special too. They're the opposite of Fridays. Therefore I suggest: Fancy-Pants Mondays.

Let's stir shit up!

A Day in the Life

Make avatar

Sip Sip BURN

I should have seen this coming. I walked into the break room and grabbed a Styrofoam cup. It felt light and cheerful in my hand. The pot of coffee was fresh and full, little wispy whirls of steam rising up as if to say "good morning, Candi. It's java time!" I poured the congenial liquid into my cup, grabbed a stirrer and plopped it in the glass. And it sizzled. The little white plastic straw sizzled and slumped against the rim of my cup. Somehow, this did not clue me in. In went the French Vanilla creamer and the half-teaspoon of sugar. I carried my coffee, gingerly, to my desk and waited a few minutes for it to cool down.

If only I'd waited just a little longer...


ANYWAY. Despite the third degree burns on my tongue, I'm in a pretty good mood this morning. I've just discovered that the maximum number of followers a Blogger blog can have is 50,000. That being said, I'd like to set a goal, of sorts. What say you? What's a reasonable number? 10 a month? More? Less?

Let's get the word out, people!

The Many Perks of Being A Secretary

I Am Like Make-Up: AH MAKE YOU BOOTIFUL!

As a hilariously appropriate follow up to my post about bad resumes yesterday, I received this today (keep in mind that I do not work for Sephora... in any capacity):

"My Name is _________. I am a student at _____________. I am very interested in working with sephora. I will do the best I can to try to get a position with the company.I love make-up and Cosmotology. If given the oppurtunity I will not disappoint. Please take my application and resume in to consideration. I have applied to many different locations.I would love to work in Manhattan or New Jersey. I am interested in starting my own business. I am also interested in travelig. Working with Sephora would help in accomplishing that goal. Please keep the hope Alive. I have many goals and plans set aside and with the help of Sephora and the government that is possible. Please help in graduating college, becoming a successful career woman, starting my own business, Helping the government, and eventually becoming a mother. Entertainment, Fashion, Traveling, Money and babies are my goal. Thank you."

The natural progression of life:

Your Face.

Part of my job includes sifting through resumes to weed out the completely lame or inappropriate. You'd think that the average person would realize that, when looking for a job, it's generally a good idea to try to impress your prospective employer. Perhaps you use a few words that have more than one syllable? Or opt out of the text message lingo (I'd wager most established employers will not understand or appreciate a cover letter that begins: wot up Dawg! I herd u r hiring?).  But it seems that today's unemployed college graduates are too busy picking lint out of the dimples in their beer-bellies to put much effort into their first impressions. When they're inexplicably invited to the office for an interview, more often than not they react as though this was the inevitable outcome of their awe-inspiring existence and that I should be honored to be the one to usher them into this next stage of their lives.

Then there are the women. Oh, the women. Perhaps they assume that since short skirts and pony tails worked so well on their portly, balding, cuckolded professors that their bubbly cuteness precludes them from having to have any substance to their personalities. They gush about their excitement over the possibility of working at this company as though the building were made of gingersnaps and soy lattes. At first these applications seem appealing, based solely on the level of passion they display towards the position. That is, until you realize that between those ribbon-encased pigtails and behind that industrial sized rainbow lollipop, there's a great, vacuous bubble where a brain should be. Also, smileys have no place on a resume unless your face looks like this: