It's crazy, I know.
Jan. 8th, 2005 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredericksI had a weird dream last night. Should have written it down earlier, but I remember the most, uhm, weird part. I was standing outside on some street corner in Manhattan listening to Hoobastank's Crawling in the Dark and singing along. That was it. Singing along word-for-word. Like...huh? On waking I asked around and no one was listening to any rock stations, so it wasn't playing. I think the spazzy tax guy was singing a part of the song yesterday, after we'd started pumping him for information on the test (he kept singing "I've been crawling in the dark/looking for the answers" - the man swore he was clever).
Right. So yesterday was the last tax class. I was a touch nervous. I usually am when I know I don't know as much as I should know (ha; you figure that one out). I'd picked up Publication 17 from the IRS office the day before and I'd also picked up a book on tax preparation from the library, but I didn't study them as much as I wanted to. I ended up waking up early(ish - for me, nowadays, 10 AM is early...I know, I'm such a slacker) and going to a nearby store to pick up something to wear (although we've been wearing jeans and sneakers for the last couple of days the manager said we should wear business attire for the exit interview).
Now, I hate shopping. I have absolutely no fashion sense. I think it got sapped out me after many nightmarish shopping ventures with my mother when I was younger. I can usually pick up something to wear if I need it, but only after much deliberation and frustration (and I have to shop by myself - I'm not a social shopper at all). I think it's interesting to note that my oldest younger brother has terrific style. Maybe it just comes down to being confident in what you wear...and owning more than 3 pairs of shoes, occasionally cleaning said shoes, and, you know, *buying* clothing. Anyway, I went shopping and picked up something (the sweater blouse came with a matching woolen scarf, which was a plus, even though purple really isn't my color) then headed to Dunkin Donuts to attempt some last minute studying (I think it's the caffeine in the air - Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks are the places I usually end up doing last minute work). I gave up after about an hour, came home, washed and dressed, then left, hoping to be able to cram some more stuff in on the way.
Got there early and met up with the Yale guy, who had the same idea that I did. We grabbed two books before the annoying tax lady who doesn't know how to teach to save her life could notice and tried to make stuff stick. It wasn't, though. I gave up after a bit and started admiring his folder. Dude was using a Yale folder, even though he seemed embarrassed to be an Ivy League grad and looking for work at this place (way not to bring attention to yourself, huh?) He claimed he needed the folder in order to try to help his chances in getting a mortgage, seeing as he had been petitioning banks right before class. Whatever works, I suppose. We started up on school talk just as the day teacher showed up. This day teacher was the aforementioned Spazzy McGee that'd been singing the Hoobastank that wormed its way into my head. We started asking him questions about the test and then he noticed Yale Guy's Yale folder. Oh. LORD. "You went to YALE and you're worried about this test?" Just what I didn't want to hear. And then, and THEN the Yale Guy had to blow up my spot and say "She went to Brown". Ugh. I wanted to throttle him. Spazzy kept hee-ing and haw-ing about how we went to Ivy League schools so we shouldn't we worried about blah blah blah, bitter-about-not-going-to-Ivy cakes. I just rolled my eyes and kept sneaking exam answers off of him. The guy was really spazzy, seriously.
When class officially started the horrible teacher-lady held a "review", which consisted of her just spouting off facts in her rapid-fire fashion. She also confiscated all the books we'd managed to smuggle off of her. I mean, suckitude. Serious-like. The review helped not an iota. Spazzy was actually much better at the review type stuff.
The test itself, like the material, wasn't that hard at all. Well, the material wasn't that hard. But the lack of reference and the shoddy teaching made it a miserable experience overall. There were 26 questions, and ALL of them were things we'd seen before. They were the end-chapter questions from the class book that no one short of those that'd taken the book home without permission had time to get cozy with. We finished the exam and then waited for the call-backs/exit interviews. You had to get an 80% or above to be guaranteed an exit interview and job consideration, but, as it turned out, the night class did so badly that they ended up dipping below that. I was the fourth person they called in for an interview (pulled a 24.5 out of 26 out of my ass - don't ask me how). It was Spazzy that called me in, and he kept saying "You went to Brown and you were worried". It was him I wanted to throttle then.
So, interview was with two store managers. The main one was the manager for the Yankee Stadium location, and he seemed to like me. He gave me pick of my placement then said he wanted me to work at his location. That's good for me, I think, because we get paid a bonus based on percentage (of returns? of refunds? I'm a little confused as to which) and the 161 Street location has CRAZY foot traffic. The bonus feature has me trying to figure out whether I should quit Project Happy and just work at the tax place on Saturdays. I mean, I do enjoy working with the kids...but I need money. I want to get out of his house so badly. Money's needed to do that. I also have to figure out whether I'm going to work at Shake and Co for Rush. The book discount would be sweet, but I don't want to make it seem like I'm not going to be available to work for the tax store. Man. I'm torn.
Right. Interview done. I start on Monday. We shake hands, and I go back out. I wanted to wait for Yale Guy (he got called right after me) but I also wanted to get out of there - I'd suddenly become very tired after leaving the interview space.
Came home, played Mario Party with the bros (straining my vocal cords), watched some "Arrested Development" (have I mentioned that I love that show? "Where is God?" "There is not God!" - Priceless), and called it a long night.
*
My brother came in here while I was typing this and started ranting about my father. Heh. Story of my life. I told him to go to an away school. I've been telling ALL of them to go to an away school. See what they get when they don't listen to me?
*
Me: [reading off McDonald sign] "We APPERCIATE your business". Look at that spelling in action.
Bro 1: Ha! A McDonalds education at work. Did these people finish high school? What type of tests did they have to take to get a job there? It's probably like SpongeBob's Krabby Patty test.
Me: The questions are probably like "How much lettuce is there in a Big Mac?"
Bro 2: Or "How much meat is there in a Quarter Pounder?"
Bro 1: Ha. "Is there cheese in a cheeseburger?"
-
Yes. I've trained them well. We're all soulless creatures that mock and snark.
Right. So yesterday was the last tax class. I was a touch nervous. I usually am when I know I don't know as much as I should know (ha; you figure that one out). I'd picked up Publication 17 from the IRS office the day before and I'd also picked up a book on tax preparation from the library, but I didn't study them as much as I wanted to. I ended up waking up early(ish - for me, nowadays, 10 AM is early...I know, I'm such a slacker) and going to a nearby store to pick up something to wear (although we've been wearing jeans and sneakers for the last couple of days the manager said we should wear business attire for the exit interview).
Now, I hate shopping. I have absolutely no fashion sense. I think it got sapped out me after many nightmarish shopping ventures with my mother when I was younger. I can usually pick up something to wear if I need it, but only after much deliberation and frustration (and I have to shop by myself - I'm not a social shopper at all). I think it's interesting to note that my oldest younger brother has terrific style. Maybe it just comes down to being confident in what you wear...and owning more than 3 pairs of shoes, occasionally cleaning said shoes, and, you know, *buying* clothing. Anyway, I went shopping and picked up something (the sweater blouse came with a matching woolen scarf, which was a plus, even though purple really isn't my color) then headed to Dunkin Donuts to attempt some last minute studying (I think it's the caffeine in the air - Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks are the places I usually end up doing last minute work). I gave up after about an hour, came home, washed and dressed, then left, hoping to be able to cram some more stuff in on the way.
Got there early and met up with the Yale guy, who had the same idea that I did. We grabbed two books before the annoying tax lady who doesn't know how to teach to save her life could notice and tried to make stuff stick. It wasn't, though. I gave up after a bit and started admiring his folder. Dude was using a Yale folder, even though he seemed embarrassed to be an Ivy League grad and looking for work at this place (way not to bring attention to yourself, huh?) He claimed he needed the folder in order to try to help his chances in getting a mortgage, seeing as he had been petitioning banks right before class. Whatever works, I suppose. We started up on school talk just as the day teacher showed up. This day teacher was the aforementioned Spazzy McGee that'd been singing the Hoobastank that wormed its way into my head. We started asking him questions about the test and then he noticed Yale Guy's Yale folder. Oh. LORD. "You went to YALE and you're worried about this test?" Just what I didn't want to hear. And then, and THEN the Yale Guy had to blow up my spot and say "She went to Brown". Ugh. I wanted to throttle him. Spazzy kept hee-ing and haw-ing about how we went to Ivy League schools so we shouldn't we worried about blah blah blah, bitter-about-not-going-to-Ivy cakes. I just rolled my eyes and kept sneaking exam answers off of him. The guy was really spazzy, seriously.
When class officially started the horrible teacher-lady held a "review", which consisted of her just spouting off facts in her rapid-fire fashion. She also confiscated all the books we'd managed to smuggle off of her. I mean, suckitude. Serious-like. The review helped not an iota. Spazzy was actually much better at the review type stuff.
The test itself, like the material, wasn't that hard at all. Well, the material wasn't that hard. But the lack of reference and the shoddy teaching made it a miserable experience overall. There were 26 questions, and ALL of them were things we'd seen before. They were the end-chapter questions from the class book that no one short of those that'd taken the book home without permission had time to get cozy with. We finished the exam and then waited for the call-backs/exit interviews. You had to get an 80% or above to be guaranteed an exit interview and job consideration, but, as it turned out, the night class did so badly that they ended up dipping below that. I was the fourth person they called in for an interview (pulled a 24.5 out of 26 out of my ass - don't ask me how). It was Spazzy that called me in, and he kept saying "You went to Brown and you were worried". It was him I wanted to throttle then.
So, interview was with two store managers. The main one was the manager for the Yankee Stadium location, and he seemed to like me. He gave me pick of my placement then said he wanted me to work at his location. That's good for me, I think, because we get paid a bonus based on percentage (of returns? of refunds? I'm a little confused as to which) and the 161 Street location has CRAZY foot traffic. The bonus feature has me trying to figure out whether I should quit Project Happy and just work at the tax place on Saturdays. I mean, I do enjoy working with the kids...but I need money. I want to get out of his house so badly. Money's needed to do that. I also have to figure out whether I'm going to work at Shake and Co for Rush. The book discount would be sweet, but I don't want to make it seem like I'm not going to be available to work for the tax store. Man. I'm torn.
Right. Interview done. I start on Monday. We shake hands, and I go back out. I wanted to wait for Yale Guy (he got called right after me) but I also wanted to get out of there - I'd suddenly become very tired after leaving the interview space.
Came home, played Mario Party with the bros (straining my vocal cords), watched some "Arrested Development" (have I mentioned that I love that show? "Where is God?" "There is not God!" - Priceless), and called it a long night.
*
My brother came in here while I was typing this and started ranting about my father. Heh. Story of my life. I told him to go to an away school. I've been telling ALL of them to go to an away school. See what they get when they don't listen to me?
*
Me: [reading off McDonald sign] "We APPERCIATE your business". Look at that spelling in action.
Bro 1: Ha! A McDonalds education at work. Did these people finish high school? What type of tests did they have to take to get a job there? It's probably like SpongeBob's Krabby Patty test.
Me: The questions are probably like "How much lettuce is there in a Big Mac?"
Bro 2: Or "How much meat is there in a Quarter Pounder?"
Bro 1: Ha. "Is there cheese in a cheeseburger?"
-
Yes. I've trained them well. We're all soulless creatures that mock and snark.
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Congratulations!
Date: 2005-01-08 07:38 pm (UTC)I majored in...mmm... not going? I thought I was the shiznit. I was taking 18 hours and working 40 hours a week, and I burned myself out very quickly. I would go to my classes like once a week. I lasted barely a year. Totally sucks, cause now, almost seven years after graduating from high school(Gah, that was really painful to type), I can't get my lazy ass back to finish.
Anyway, good job. What is Project Happy?
Is there a romance a-brewin' with Yale guy?
Re: Congratulations!
Date: 2005-01-10 02:24 am (UTC)My major was fairly far from anything involving number crunching - Psychology. I did it because I liked it. I still like it. I always imagined myself as a psychologist. My grades weren't up to snuff for grad school, IMHO, and my thesis left me with a sour taste in my mouth regarding research. So, yeah. I have to try to spin it all positively, though, so I don't come off as a slacker. All these nursing schools I'm applying to require an interview and I'm sure that's one of the first things they're going to ask me about.
I majored in...mmm... not going?
Oh, I'm sorry, but that cracked me the hell up. *grin*. You worked 40 hours while taking a full course load? It's admirable, but too bad it fell through. You could go the part-time route. My uncle did that (he had a family and full-time work too). Took him, like, six years to get his degree (I'm fairly certain he took courses every other semester) but he got it. The paper is helpful, yes, but if you can make due without it then, you know.
Project Happy is this Saturday camp my school runs. It basically gives physical and mentally handicapped individuals in the area a place to enjoy themselves with various activities like swimming, dance class, arts and crafts. I run the bowling alley there with another woman. I like it, although some of the participants can be a handful. But, you know...if I can get paid more with the tax people it would seem the logical choice.
Is there a romance a-brewin' with Yale guy?
Heh heh, NO. He's just interesting company. I'm hung up on the whole "monogamy" thing. You know how it goes.