I'm not crying, it's just been raining. On my face.

Let's review. I'm sitting here, shivering in the glass-covered passenger seat of my beloved Volkswagen Bug, huddling away from the rain pouring through the permanently open window, taking inventory of the Things Which Are Lost Forever. This list includes my GPS, so I'm trying to figure out how to get home on my god damn original iPhone which can't find my current location (I dropped and broke my 3G two days ago. That's right. This week is bullshit). Home is a New York town I hate, where I sleep on a pull-out couch in a space so tiny there's no room for anything else. There's a boy driving me home and sneaking pitying glances at me, but we don't know each other well enough to feel comfortable in this ridiculous situation so I almost wish I was alone. How the fuck did I end up here? I'm supposed to be winning the ANTM auditions right now, dammit.

Things I understand have value, and therefore can't be mad were stolen:

1. My GPS
2. My gorgeous black pea coat
3. My zebra print shoes
4. iPod charger
   

Things that definitely do NOT have street value, and therefore I'm furious about being stolen:

1. ALL MY GOD DAMN FAVORITE SHIRTS, which I brought into the city to have options to wear to remind Tyra that I'm indispensable. They're not expensive, but I loved them. My pretty black flutter-sleeved shirt from H&M. All the tank tops that make me look thinner. My brand new cardigan, which makes me look 10 years older. Fuck.
2. My favorite skinny jeans.
3. My brand new Victoria's Secret lotion, blow-drying hairbrush, and magic hair products.

Things that for some reason were left behind:

1. My Juicy sunglasses (thank God).
2. My John Varley library book.
3. My 15-page ANTM application.
4. 1/2 of my iPod adapter (they ripped out the cord and took that with them).
5. The fucking brick that was thrown through my window, breaking my gear shifter in the process.
6. The picture of me and my friends from 2 years ago. I wonder if the fucker looked at it, saw what a nice girl I am, and felt a tiny bit guilty.

Seriously, you know what pisses me off the most? My car's a piece of shit. It's scratched up beyond belief (I'm a woman driver, nuff said), the front bumper's falling off, there's dents all over the place. Someone, years ago, was enough of a dick to scratch up my "World Peace" bumper sticker, leaving only a dismal reminder of my naivety. Why the FUCK would anyone break into this car, of all the cars on that godforsaken East Village street? Why would they be like "Oh, here's a girl who doesn't have enough money to reattach her bumper, let's see if she's got anything of value"? And who the hell are these people, who do this? Okay, crackheads, probably. But god dammit. Go break into a BMW, you fucker. LEAVE THE POOR VW DRIVERS ALONE.

On Learning

So, I'm pretty smart. But every time I start a new job - or get a new responsibility therein - everyone thinks I'm an idiot. And it's not just because of my crippling social phobias, which prevent me from ever pasting an appropriate expression onto my face. It's also because of the way I learn, which THEY don't understand because they didn't spend four boring years in college reviewing the same high school Psychology material over and over again. Incessantly. (Are you impressed with my degree yet?)

Everyone has different learning styles. In the simplest theoretical terms, I'm a visual learner, because I learn best by writing things down, which inherently means I have trouble processing things just by being lectured. This might also partially explain why I literally black out as soon as someone starts trying to explain football to me (although I suspect there's something deeper there as well... like a brain tumor maybe). More accurately, I'm what's called an accomodator, which is someone who learns best by engaging - either by mapping things out, writing things down, or asking questions.

In other words - I ask a shitload of questions. I cannot accept "You push this button instead of this one." Irrelevant though it may be, I will not only ask what the other one's for, I will insist on knowing. I literally cannot move on to the next topic until I know everything there is to know about that gratuitous button. I cannot fathom the role of the useful button unless I fully understand the useless ones around it. Once explained, it's like - duh, I'm a genius. But you can't really sit your boss or trainer down in the real world and say "Look, I need you to explain every detail to me, because I'm smarter than you, and I won't be able to function in this unfulfilling position unless I know everything about how this entire company works."

This happened to me in retail - I was a manager, but was unable to delegate even the simplest tasks until months into the position, when I could map out in my head exactly who my employees were, where they were standing, what tools they had, and what their mothers were doing last night (hint: they were with me). Instead of looking like a detail-oriented (read: OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE), responsible person, I apparently gave off more of an "I don't speak english" vibe. And now it's happening to me again. I'm a receptionist. I have a double BA, for gosh sakes. AND YET, every time I forget an extension - usually because I'm trying to memorize them instead of looking them up - or mispronounce a foreign name - because I'm trying too hard to replicate the exact pronunciation - or try to help someone I should hang up on - because I have trouble following rules - I get screamed at by people who can't even spell.

And I don't care what your learning style is, there is NO excuse for poor spelling.

Having a Job is Better... Srsly

So... I can't tell you where I work, because I don't want to get fired. But it's (probably) a temporary position, so I get the thrilling combination of working 12 hour days AND worrying about how I'm going to pay my bills next month. Sometimes I remember how nice it is to sleep in, and to drink every night of the week, and to watch tv all day in my pajamas. Then, hours of misty eyed daydreaming later, someone reminds me that OH WAIT, those are symptoms of depression.

I spent 6 months in the south, the result of a misguided attempt to prove that I was fully devoted to my boyfriend at the time who of course I would NEVER EVER leave and couldn't live without. His office pitied me enough to give me a job answering phones. Unfortunately the position didn't require me to wake up before noon, leave my house, or stop watching marathons of Jon & Kate + 8. After this thrilling stint, I moved to New York, thinking it would be a great adventure which would result in a modelling career or the title of some company's CEO, or at the very least a husband. It resulted in 6 (and still going!) horrible months of sleeping in, drinking myself numb, watching tv in my pajamas, and the occasional fruitless job search.

I knew I wouldn't enjoy this extended "vacation" when I quit my last job a year ago. Even though I was working 14 hour days, fighting with disgruntled employees, and on several occasions using toxic-waste protective gloves to scrub the blood of hobos out of the carpet... I kind of loved it. I like being busy, and I like being challenged, and this definitely was the kind of job where I didn't have enough time to finish anything and I didn't know what to do in any given situation. It was very painful and dramatic, and therefore it was invaluable to my life. I've never been unemployed, and I thought it might be a nice break from you know, the bleeding homeless people, but it just obliterated what little pride and confidence I had left. Don't worry, it's coming back now that I have this fantastic job ANSWERING PHONES ALL DAY. I'm so glad I went to college for that double major. Totally worth it.

Anyway, you guys sitting at work, dreaming of a full night's sleep and watching every episode of It's Always Sunny... trust me, it gets old. I won't tell you what all the old people are lecturing in my direction, about how In This Economy You're Lucky You Can Afford That Fancy Macintosh Computer, but honestly - even if your job sucks, it could be worse. You could be unable to pay your bills, OR you could be dealing with bleeding homeless people. If you are in either of these situations... I sincerely apologize, and hope you are using the proper biohazard materials. You can come answer phones with me if you want.