Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
my unemployed life...
My name is Tania Soloski. I'm 33 years old, I live with my mother, JoAnn, and our friend, Ellis in Northwest New Jersey. I change my hair color with the seasons, I'm addicted to the water and the beach, I dream of escaping to the Virgin Islands, I love Kenny Chesney, country music, Jack Daniels, Cruzan Rum, baking, reading, and I absolutely, whole-heartedly, without a doubt hate to shop. I've been a fan of Stephanie Plum since 2002. Every year I grab the latest copy of Janet Evanovich's look into the life of Stephanie and her crazy family and escape into a world of craziness and think how normal my life is in comparison. Until today.
Today I learned that unless I come up with $487 by midnight, I will be driving around Jersey constantly looking in my review mirror for Lenny Gruber, the repo man waiting to take my car. About 3 weeks ago I had an epiphany about my job. I didn't want to do it anymore. I put in my 2 weeks notice and the company graciously said "thanks anyway, but you can leave now." So now here I am, unemployed and broke. I've put out 20 resumes and countless job applications for hourly positions in the area with only a few bites. The first one was sexual harassment personified! Twenty minutes into the interview to be a personal assistant for a casino junket representative, the guy tried shoving his tongue down my throat. Next.
Then there was the wonderful job opportunity extended to me in Philadelphia. I was seriously considering the hour and a half drive each way to work and then realized the increse in my mortality rate and requested they hold my resume until the end of the year. I'm holding out for a job as a server at a local restaurant and falling into a lovely depression along the way.
Unfortuantely, Stephanie Plum had a cousin she could blackmail into giving her a job as a bounty hunter, a hot man to teach her the ropes, and an even hotter man to be her on again, off again sex-crazed boyfriend. I have 4 cats, a pile of bills and some expired organic yogurt in the fridge.
I live downstairs in our split level house with the cats, while mom and Ellis live upstairs with the nine chihuahuas. Yes, I said NICE chichuahuas. I've come to learn in th past 3 years that chihuahuas are not unlike gremlins. If you feed them after midnight or get them wet, they multiply! They are also considered to be the second most destructive dog on the planet. And this is a pretty big planet.
I've spent the majority of the adult life working in the restaurant business. I've lived all over New York State, moved to Houston for 3 years and then ended up in Jersey working for a big chain restaurant company where I gained weight from stress eating and medical issues that only New Jersey could provide me with. I've gone from growing up in an area of cows and fishin' on the lake, to sitting on the beaches of Galveston in March staring into a bright blue sky, while cruise ships traveled to and from Mexico. The sun shining down on my skin while a cool breeze washed over me. Unfortunately, this lovely ideal location included a murky brown water being washed onto shore with a sea a jellyfish. Whether you're in Port Henry, New York or Houston, Texas, this experience is referred to as "going to the beach".
Then I moved to New Jersey.
In New Jersey, there is no "going to the beach". On Memorial Day weekend, EVERYONE goes to the "shore". If someone asks you what your plans are for the weekend, you don't say, "I'm going to the beach". You say, "I'm going down the shore". No, there was not a typo there. Down the shore. I didn't understand this ordeal or the hype or why the hell MTV had an episode of "Real Life: Jersey Shore". If you've ever seen this episode, I am here to tell you that there is ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING over-exaggerated about that show. Nothing. That is truly what these people are like. A bunch of guys in gold chains with too much gel in their hair talking like construction workers on a job site hitting on women in skin tight clothing, chomping on gum with long, red, fake fingernails.
But the Jersey shore has boardwalks. Lots and lots of boardwalks. Every shore location has a boardwalk. We could save the rainforests by not have all these friggin boardwalks. What the hell is wrong with these people? Wear some flip flops and walk in the sand! Do you know what people do on boardwalks? They drop food, drinks, gum, urine, spit and other nastyness. If they did this on sand it would at least get buried. I've been to the shore and the boardwalk. I've seen people walking around on this filth with no shoes on embracing the funk beneath their feet. Only in Jersey.
Now, when I think about the ocean I picture beautiful blue-green water and white sand. Not in Jersey. Oh, you've got sand. It's not white, but it's sand. And then there's dunes and lounge chairs rentals, umbrella rentals, hot lifeguards, etc. But the water makes Galveston look beautiful. The view? Oil tankers trudging up and down the shore, helecopters and small planes flying overhead advertising what to do at the local bar that night or where to get a good psychic reading. Wanna go for a swim? Sure! Why not! Did you make sure you wrote out a will and notified your family that you'll be making a suicide attempt first? Between the mysterious fish, the sharks (yup, there's sharks) and the undertow, you'll be lucky to survive it. I was out in the water up to my knees and got knocked on my ass and tossed onto shore by a wave.
Now perhaps you can relate to my desire to escape to the Virgin Islands.
Unlike back home in Port Henry, NY, admission to the shore isn't free. Neither is parking. Since I'm such a fan of beaches, I'm willing to suck of the idiocy around me, drive to the shore and bake on the beach all day. If you go to the right locations, there's bars and such so you can get drunk and dehydrated while you lay in the sun. The cost? Well, it's $8 per day to get from the boardwalk down 2 wooden steps and onto the sand. Parking is all metered so you can either keep running to your car or you can park in a lot and pay with your credit card which is usually $15-25. Don't forget the gas to get there, food to eat and drinks.
Looks like I'm not going to the shore this summer since I have no job.
*************************************************************************************
Since my unemployment, Mom and Ellis have kept me busy and very much entertained. First it was a trip to Mt. Airy Casino for a free night at the hotel, then it was a huge anniversary party for some friends. Last night we went to NYC for the Tony Awards! We had a beautiful suite at a hotel overlooking Times Square, and I felt like a mooch for having no money to contribute. It was a star studded event and one of the best experiences of my life!!!!! When Brett Michaels nailed his head on the backdrop as it was falling and landed on his ass...priceless! You can't make that shit up!
It was a black tie affair and everyone was looking fabulous! As I was standing in the neverending line for the ladies lounge (Why is it a lounge? Do women really go in there to lie back and rest? No! It's a bathroom! Actually, not even. It's a shithouse! Or a Potty! Call it what it is people!), anyway, I had seen this young lady wearing a beautiful vintage gown on the way it. When the line finally fast forwarded enough to get inside, the young lady was beside herself because the tooling on her dress had started to pull off. She looked at me with pleading eyes and asked if I had a safety pin or ANYTHING that she could use. The first thing I did was go searching for my retired art teacher, Girl Scout leader mother to see if she had a sewing kit. Apparently after being away from Girl Scouts for 25 years, you forget to always be prepared and she had nothing. Time for plan B. I apologized for not being able to have a sewing kit or safety pins, but told her to turn around and I would try to fix it somehow. The poor girl was on the verge of tears. I knelt down on the floor, pulled the tooling into a small bunch on the left side of her dress, pulled out my chandelier earring and threaded it through the netting to hold the tear together and in place. Just to even it out, I repeated the process on the right hand side with my other earring while hearing an assortment of women gasp and "Oh my God!" about what I was doing. One woman shouted with glee to the girl "She's fixing it with her EARRINGS!" The girl, turned around and saw my handy work, tears in her eyes and asked me if I was an angel. If she only knew.
I explained to her the importance of paying it forward and wished her a wonderful night. She told me her name was Joy, hugged me, and gave me her business card begging me to email her so she can mail me back my earrings. I told her it wasn't necessary and now she has something to hold onto that will always remind her of her night at the Tony Awards. As I went back to my seat for the show to begin, I realized that one of the women that was also trying to help her was seated in one of the rows in front of me. Her son was one of the writers and nominees for an award. He ended up winning a Tony himself as well as his production.
If you ever get the opportunity to go to an awards show, do it! The entertainment was intoxicating (Brett Michaels and all). Neil Patrick Harris was hysterical! (WHY ARE ALL THE HOT ONES GAY???) And Liza Minelli...what can I say, she was Liza.
There was a strict policy about not taking pictures during the show. Some people can sit back, accept this, and realize that any pictures that they want as memories from the night will be available on the internet with much better quality than the ones you take from, oh, I don't know, first mezzanine, row H seat 111 behind the TV camera mounted on a crane for aerial shots.
Not my mother.
JoAnn has a heart of gold and captures her memories on film. Okay, not film, digital micro chips from her camera. Anyway, she loves taking pictures. Alway has, always will. She has one computer full of pictures, an external hard drive that is pretty close to full and drawers upon drawers of CD's full of pictures from various events. The walls of the computer room are lined with photo albums. The garage has boxes of photo albums, pictures and old camera negative from before the digital era.
This woman sat there and was "secretly" snapping pictures and taking video on her camera during the show. When the tickets cost over $400 EACH, I'm gonna abide by the rules and not take the pictures knowing that they used the term "ejection" as punishment. (Another term that you just don't hear in normal day to day conversation but was used in an acceptance speech last night that I truly appreciated was "prodigeous". It's basically a synnonym for large, but what a fun way to say it!)
There we were watching Liza perform and mom's snapping pictures. She wasn't the only person doing it. But I would feel no remorse if some other asshole got kicked out for doing it. I would if it was my mother. Granted, she'd be standing outside on the curb in front of Radio City Music Hall by herself for 4 hours, but I would feel remorse.
I woke up this morning in a nice cushy bed listening to Mom and Ellis laughing at the window washer going up and down the side of the building and they were waving to him. Now that's a job that has to pay well! And the benefits!!!!!! Sign me up! How do you get that job? Do you have to join a union?
We sat down for something to eat and I grabbed the paper scanning the headlines for something positive. What I found was an article about people on "funemployment". These are people who are living off of their savings and unemployment checks and sitting on the beach getting a tan and drinking margarittas. I just want a job. I wish I could be on funemployment. And thanks to my low life of a former boss, it looks like I won't even get regular UNemployment. Did you know that it's illegal to lie to the unemployment representative on the phone? I did. He did not. I'm crossing my fingers for karma. In the meantime, I'm going to try to pay it forward.
When I finished reading the paper, I made the dreaded call to my car company and got the news about the repo. Time for action! Step one: cry my eyes out. Step two: avoid telling my mother and try to spare myself the lecture that will ensue until I have plan. Step three: call the bank and close out my Christmas Account containing a whopping $100. Step four: Close out the 401K and get the cash. Step Five: Find a place to hide the car until I can get the cash for the car payment.
The good news is that I'll get $6,000 from my 401K which will be enough to hold me off on the major stuff for the rest of the summer! The bad news is that I still need to find money to move with. I've decided that after 10 years of being out of school that it's time to go back! (I've also decided that I am an idiot.) I've enrolled myself into the Art Institute of Philly for their culinary certificate in Baking and Pastry. In a perfect world, I would have a bungalow on the beach with an industrial kitchen certfied by the Board of Health for Catering and run my own business out of my home and supply local shops with candies and cookies, while doing major cake making at home for special events. Think Duff Goldman on the beach!
With any luck, I'll get the check from my 401K in time to go shopping for the Kenny Chesney concert in Philly! I've decided to take mom and Ellis on their very first tailgate! Since rumor has it that Kenny will wander the tailgate lots, I have a plan for the ultimate tailgate! Like all good tailgates, we're bringing a grill and food. But I'm going all tropical themed! Leis, palm trees, baby pools, air compressor, coconut drinking cups and lots of booze! The concert is 19 days away! Shit! I need to stop eating and workout more!
*************************************************************************************
Today I learned that unless I come up with $487 by midnight, I will be driving around Jersey constantly looking in my review mirror for Lenny Gruber, the repo man waiting to take my car. About 3 weeks ago I had an epiphany about my job. I didn't want to do it anymore. I put in my 2 weeks notice and the company graciously said "thanks anyway, but you can leave now." So now here I am, unemployed and broke. I've put out 20 resumes and countless job applications for hourly positions in the area with only a few bites. The first one was sexual harassment personified! Twenty minutes into the interview to be a personal assistant for a casino junket representative, the guy tried shoving his tongue down my throat. Next.
Then there was the wonderful job opportunity extended to me in Philadelphia. I was seriously considering the hour and a half drive each way to work and then realized the increse in my mortality rate and requested they hold my resume until the end of the year. I'm holding out for a job as a server at a local restaurant and falling into a lovely depression along the way.
Unfortuantely, Stephanie Plum had a cousin she could blackmail into giving her a job as a bounty hunter, a hot man to teach her the ropes, and an even hotter man to be her on again, off again sex-crazed boyfriend. I have 4 cats, a pile of bills and some expired organic yogurt in the fridge.
I live downstairs in our split level house with the cats, while mom and Ellis live upstairs with the nine chihuahuas. Yes, I said NICE chichuahuas. I've come to learn in th past 3 years that chihuahuas are not unlike gremlins. If you feed them after midnight or get them wet, they multiply! They are also considered to be the second most destructive dog on the planet. And this is a pretty big planet.
I've spent the majority of the adult life working in the restaurant business. I've lived all over New York State, moved to Houston for 3 years and then ended up in Jersey working for a big chain restaurant company where I gained weight from stress eating and medical issues that only New Jersey could provide me with. I've gone from growing up in an area of cows and fishin' on the lake, to sitting on the beaches of Galveston in March staring into a bright blue sky, while cruise ships traveled to and from Mexico. The sun shining down on my skin while a cool breeze washed over me. Unfortunately, this lovely ideal location included a murky brown water being washed onto shore with a sea a jellyfish. Whether you're in Port Henry, New York or Houston, Texas, this experience is referred to as "going to the beach".
Then I moved to New Jersey.
In New Jersey, there is no "going to the beach". On Memorial Day weekend, EVERYONE goes to the "shore". If someone asks you what your plans are for the weekend, you don't say, "I'm going to the beach". You say, "I'm going down the shore". No, there was not a typo there. Down the shore. I didn't understand this ordeal or the hype or why the hell MTV had an episode of "Real Life: Jersey Shore". If you've ever seen this episode, I am here to tell you that there is ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING over-exaggerated about that show. Nothing. That is truly what these people are like. A bunch of guys in gold chains with too much gel in their hair talking like construction workers on a job site hitting on women in skin tight clothing, chomping on gum with long, red, fake fingernails.
But the Jersey shore has boardwalks. Lots and lots of boardwalks. Every shore location has a boardwalk. We could save the rainforests by not have all these friggin boardwalks. What the hell is wrong with these people? Wear some flip flops and walk in the sand! Do you know what people do on boardwalks? They drop food, drinks, gum, urine, spit and other nastyness. If they did this on sand it would at least get buried. I've been to the shore and the boardwalk. I've seen people walking around on this filth with no shoes on embracing the funk beneath their feet. Only in Jersey.
Now, when I think about the ocean I picture beautiful blue-green water and white sand. Not in Jersey. Oh, you've got sand. It's not white, but it's sand. And then there's dunes and lounge chairs rentals, umbrella rentals, hot lifeguards, etc. But the water makes Galveston look beautiful. The view? Oil tankers trudging up and down the shore, helecopters and small planes flying overhead advertising what to do at the local bar that night or where to get a good psychic reading. Wanna go for a swim? Sure! Why not! Did you make sure you wrote out a will and notified your family that you'll be making a suicide attempt first? Between the mysterious fish, the sharks (yup, there's sharks) and the undertow, you'll be lucky to survive it. I was out in the water up to my knees and got knocked on my ass and tossed onto shore by a wave.
Now perhaps you can relate to my desire to escape to the Virgin Islands.
Unlike back home in Port Henry, NY, admission to the shore isn't free. Neither is parking. Since I'm such a fan of beaches, I'm willing to suck of the idiocy around me, drive to the shore and bake on the beach all day. If you go to the right locations, there's bars and such so you can get drunk and dehydrated while you lay in the sun. The cost? Well, it's $8 per day to get from the boardwalk down 2 wooden steps and onto the sand. Parking is all metered so you can either keep running to your car or you can park in a lot and pay with your credit card which is usually $15-25. Don't forget the gas to get there, food to eat and drinks.
Looks like I'm not going to the shore this summer since I have no job.
*************************************************************************************
Since my unemployment, Mom and Ellis have kept me busy and very much entertained. First it was a trip to Mt. Airy Casino for a free night at the hotel, then it was a huge anniversary party for some friends. Last night we went to NYC for the Tony Awards! We had a beautiful suite at a hotel overlooking Times Square, and I felt like a mooch for having no money to contribute. It was a star studded event and one of the best experiences of my life!!!!! When Brett Michaels nailed his head on the backdrop as it was falling and landed on his ass...priceless! You can't make that shit up!
It was a black tie affair and everyone was looking fabulous! As I was standing in the neverending line for the ladies lounge (Why is it a lounge? Do women really go in there to lie back and rest? No! It's a bathroom! Actually, not even. It's a shithouse! Or a Potty! Call it what it is people!), anyway, I had seen this young lady wearing a beautiful vintage gown on the way it. When the line finally fast forwarded enough to get inside, the young lady was beside herself because the tooling on her dress had started to pull off. She looked at me with pleading eyes and asked if I had a safety pin or ANYTHING that she could use. The first thing I did was go searching for my retired art teacher, Girl Scout leader mother to see if she had a sewing kit. Apparently after being away from Girl Scouts for 25 years, you forget to always be prepared and she had nothing. Time for plan B. I apologized for not being able to have a sewing kit or safety pins, but told her to turn around and I would try to fix it somehow. The poor girl was on the verge of tears. I knelt down on the floor, pulled the tooling into a small bunch on the left side of her dress, pulled out my chandelier earring and threaded it through the netting to hold the tear together and in place. Just to even it out, I repeated the process on the right hand side with my other earring while hearing an assortment of women gasp and "Oh my God!" about what I was doing. One woman shouted with glee to the girl "She's fixing it with her EARRINGS!" The girl, turned around and saw my handy work, tears in her eyes and asked me if I was an angel. If she only knew.
I explained to her the importance of paying it forward and wished her a wonderful night. She told me her name was Joy, hugged me, and gave me her business card begging me to email her so she can mail me back my earrings. I told her it wasn't necessary and now she has something to hold onto that will always remind her of her night at the Tony Awards. As I went back to my seat for the show to begin, I realized that one of the women that was also trying to help her was seated in one of the rows in front of me. Her son was one of the writers and nominees for an award. He ended up winning a Tony himself as well as his production.
If you ever get the opportunity to go to an awards show, do it! The entertainment was intoxicating (Brett Michaels and all). Neil Patrick Harris was hysterical! (WHY ARE ALL THE HOT ONES GAY???) And Liza Minelli...what can I say, she was Liza.
There was a strict policy about not taking pictures during the show. Some people can sit back, accept this, and realize that any pictures that they want as memories from the night will be available on the internet with much better quality than the ones you take from, oh, I don't know, first mezzanine, row H seat 111 behind the TV camera mounted on a crane for aerial shots.
Not my mother.
JoAnn has a heart of gold and captures her memories on film. Okay, not film, digital micro chips from her camera. Anyway, she loves taking pictures. Alway has, always will. She has one computer full of pictures, an external hard drive that is pretty close to full and drawers upon drawers of CD's full of pictures from various events. The walls of the computer room are lined with photo albums. The garage has boxes of photo albums, pictures and old camera negative from before the digital era.
This woman sat there and was "secretly" snapping pictures and taking video on her camera during the show. When the tickets cost over $400 EACH, I'm gonna abide by the rules and not take the pictures knowing that they used the term "ejection" as punishment. (Another term that you just don't hear in normal day to day conversation but was used in an acceptance speech last night that I truly appreciated was "prodigeous". It's basically a synnonym for large, but what a fun way to say it!)
There we were watching Liza perform and mom's snapping pictures. She wasn't the only person doing it. But I would feel no remorse if some other asshole got kicked out for doing it. I would if it was my mother. Granted, she'd be standing outside on the curb in front of Radio City Music Hall by herself for 4 hours, but I would feel remorse.
I woke up this morning in a nice cushy bed listening to Mom and Ellis laughing at the window washer going up and down the side of the building and they were waving to him. Now that's a job that has to pay well! And the benefits!!!!!! Sign me up! How do you get that job? Do you have to join a union?
We sat down for something to eat and I grabbed the paper scanning the headlines for something positive. What I found was an article about people on "funemployment". These are people who are living off of their savings and unemployment checks and sitting on the beach getting a tan and drinking margarittas. I just want a job. I wish I could be on funemployment. And thanks to my low life of a former boss, it looks like I won't even get regular UNemployment. Did you know that it's illegal to lie to the unemployment representative on the phone? I did. He did not. I'm crossing my fingers for karma. In the meantime, I'm going to try to pay it forward.
When I finished reading the paper, I made the dreaded call to my car company and got the news about the repo. Time for action! Step one: cry my eyes out. Step two: avoid telling my mother and try to spare myself the lecture that will ensue until I have plan. Step three: call the bank and close out my Christmas Account containing a whopping $100. Step four: Close out the 401K and get the cash. Step Five: Find a place to hide the car until I can get the cash for the car payment.
The good news is that I'll get $6,000 from my 401K which will be enough to hold me off on the major stuff for the rest of the summer! The bad news is that I still need to find money to move with. I've decided that after 10 years of being out of school that it's time to go back! (I've also decided that I am an idiot.) I've enrolled myself into the Art Institute of Philly for their culinary certificate in Baking and Pastry. In a perfect world, I would have a bungalow on the beach with an industrial kitchen certfied by the Board of Health for Catering and run my own business out of my home and supply local shops with candies and cookies, while doing major cake making at home for special events. Think Duff Goldman on the beach!
With any luck, I'll get the check from my 401K in time to go shopping for the Kenny Chesney concert in Philly! I've decided to take mom and Ellis on their very first tailgate! Since rumor has it that Kenny will wander the tailgate lots, I have a plan for the ultimate tailgate! Like all good tailgates, we're bringing a grill and food. But I'm going all tropical themed! Leis, palm trees, baby pools, air compressor, coconut drinking cups and lots of booze! The concert is 19 days away! Shit! I need to stop eating and workout more!
*************************************************************************************
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