Sunday, December 14, 2008

someday my prince will come

my boss: envision with blonde wig.

I've been back from new york for a couple of days now and it's been jarring. I was unfortunately scheduled for the opening shifts at work the two days following my return, and my first day back was an utter disaster. upon arriving at the salon, the owner turned to me and started picking me apart, from my exceedingly offensive choice to wear a sweatshirt with my skinny jeans and heels, to my hair which I had worn wavy instead of pin straight. in a scene that seemed to be tailor made for a textbook bad dream, in front of an audience of 6 stylists, she manhandled me into a chair and started furiously flat ironing my hair as she ended her tirade with, "maybe if you put on some lipstick it would detract from the fact that you're wearing a sweatshirt." now, if I had shown up in yoga gear in a pony tail with BO in last night's makeup, it'd be one thing... but this offensive sweatshirt in question is a 35 dollar black and grey cheetah print cowl neck zip up from H&M. it is admittedly not a fur coat, by any means, but it's not a questionable choice to wear to a salon job.

from the disconcerting first 5 minutes of work to the subsequent following 5 hours of disasters, including a scheduling error that occurred in my absence that made it so I have 4 shifts for the rest of december, I only managed to quell the tears for one block into my walk home. there is not much I wouldn't give to be back in brooklyn. I feel almost ridiculous for admitting how bummed out I've been since I got to JFK for the trek home. my dad used to call this "too much party syndrome", exhibited by those who've just had themselves an amazing time and then get jarred back into an unforgiving reality. mine right now is that I despise everything about san francisco and that I woke up at 5 am this morning because of having vivid nightmares about chemo. ugh.

the only solace I can find is in that if I work really hard to get what I want, which is to relocate, I can be truly proud of myself. no one can do this for me but me. so I guess that means that I have to get up and get ready to don my finest couture to my stinking job. I'm just a cog in the machine, today.


surely you jest. I just went to work to find the salon is under construction and no one cared to mention that I wasn't supposed to come in 'til one. what. the. fuck.

at least I have 2 and a half more hours to do myself up like a hooker so my boss won't publicly humiliate me.

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