A Different Offering

I was running late. I’m usually running late, so today was really no different. As I approached the four-way stop, I noticed that the lady in front of me had her parking lights on, and refused to progress through the intersection though no cars were coming. Irritated, I backed up in preparation to drive around her, until she got out of her car and approached me. I rolled down my window.

“I’m sorry. The reason I’m stopped is because I’m trying to scrounge up some change for gas so I can go to work,” she said. She wore blue patch-work jeans with camel-colored stitching. Her top was a camel-colored, sleeveless lace camisole. Her hair was shoulder length... a grayish black sew-in with deep waves.

“Okay, it’s no problem,” I replied.

“I’m not going to ask you for any money, but could I follow you to a gas station? And, maybe you could help me out with a few dollars to get some gas in my tank?”

“Um, I’m not really familiar with this area… but I can help you out with gas,” I said. The only thing I knew about this part of town was where my church was located. A church that I was a block away from, whose service I was clearly going to miss.

“Okay,” she smiled. She got back into her car and proceeded through the intersection to the nearest gas station. She drove a black compact four-door. I can’t remember the make and model, but I recall a large, deep scratch on the rear left door. She was missing a few hub caps as well.

Once we arrived at the Shell, I started to insert my debit card into the machine. Of course, as one might expect in any hood gas station, it was broken. I opened my wallet. Two crisp twenty dollar bills. Though I was young and struggling, I ultimately knew that I was provided for. God has just worked His magic on Friday, had He not? Furthermore, I was on my way to church. Could I really call myself a Christian if I neglected those in need? Without hesitation, I pulled out a twenty and handed it to her.

“Wha-?” she gasped. “You – you are an angel! I know nobody sees you but me. Nobody will believe this. You must be an angel. You have a good day. I – oh my…Thank you. THANK YOU!” she stuttered. I smiled. I had done my good deed for the day, and it felt nice. I considered it my offering for the service to which I was already late. I guess I could just make it to the 12:00 service. No biggie.

I pictured God smiling too.

http://www.impactdoingchurchdifferently.org/

The Ultimate Stretch

I went to dance class last night. The class is called “Dancers Stretch” and it’s a combination of ballet and yoga. It ties in nicely with my gym schedule and overall goal to tighten and tone my body. It felt so good, to stretch and ease the tension in my shoulders, back and legs. As a classically trained ballerina, with an array of dance experiences ranging from African dance to tap, modern to meringue, and jazz to lyrical, it’s nice to get back into the groove of dancing.

My friend “CiCi” introduced me to the class last Thursday, and I went back on my own yesterday. I learned about muscles I never knew I had. We became acquainted with one another this morning through a little concept called “soreness”. It’s a nice pain, though. The kind that proves you accomplished something the day before. The kind you want to feel again…

Then, this morning, I ventured to my Chiropractor for an adjustment. I know it sounds high-maintenance but it’s my cousin’s practice, and he has assured me that I “need” these adjustments regularly… so, I go. And again, more with the stretching. My vertebrae, which has some detectible flaws and needs realigning, is being stretched and coaxed into a more suitable position with each visit. I always feel more relaxed when I leave the office. I guess that means it is working.

But the stretching and tension came to an all-time high when I reached the office. I withdrew cash for tomorrow’s hair appointment, and was dismayed by the balance listed on the teller receipt. Where was my paycheck? It wasn’t showing up in the account, and I KNEW today was payday. So, again, where was my check? Ah! It hadn’t posted yet. That’s it. This is the money Mom promised for my flight to DC in two weeks. My real paycheck was just a little late posting on my account. Cool.

I went to Wachovia.com to check on the status of the paycheck. I mean, it had surely been deposited; I just needed for it to clear. I then called my mother to thank her for making the deposit into my account (she was so thoughtful). Just as she was answering the phone, I read the transactions in my account. This money wasn’t from Mom… it was from the company…and they hadn’t paid me nearly enough. I was going to have to call her back.

I had had the foresight before transitioning into this position to call HR, my new hiring manger, and accounting to ENSURE that my paychecks would continue to flow, without interruption, as I moved into my new department. Everyone and I mean everyone, reassured me that my concerns, though valid, were taken care of. My paychecks would remain consistent, and I needn’t worry. Right.

Welp. Those heifers were wrong. I was immediately enraged. How was I going to make $300 dollars stretch for two weeks?! My phone bill was due on the 29th; rent on the 1st; Visa bill on the 1st; gas and power due on the 10th… next payday: JULY 11.

What. The. Ham-Sandwich.

How was I going to stretch this check? It was impossible. Even if I dug into my Wachovia savings, withdrew my ING savings, and charged frivolous things like gas and groceries… I’d still only be getting by. Granted, I’ve been “getting by” for awhile now and am neither immune nor averse to doing it… but WHY should I have to? Couldn’t this company just give me my check?! I’d done the work. I’d posted the hours. I needed my compensation.

I called accounting. Evidently, full-time employees were paid ahead of schedule, and overtime was paid in the rear. Which means, each two weeks, I was paid for hours scheduled to work, and awarded overtime from the previous pay cycle. Freelancers, however, were not so fortunate. They received payment in the rear, which meant I would work for four whole weeks before ever seeing a dime. Somebody shoot me.

So I called my mom back, with sobering calmness, to tell her the news. As she prodded for details and clarification, I felt them. Tears. I tried my hardest to hold them back. "Arionne" (the intern) was sitting two feet away in our shared cube, and I couldn’t bear for her to see me cry within the first two weeks of our meeting. But… down they came. So much so, that I had to abruptly end the conversation with Mom and pardon myself to use the restroom. I was just so frustrated. Why was this happening? I admit, I take serious issue with things I cannot control. And, there will always be situations and circumstances beyond my control… but I SWEAR. I have worked diligently, tirelessly and paid more than my fair share of dues. Was it really too much to ask that this dim-witted company remain consistent in its pay cycles?! People have bills to pay. They have rent to pay. They have GAS to buy. And entry-level employees, try as we may, can only save fractions of the pennies we receive to begin with. I considered digging into my savings to piece together bill payments. I did consider that. But there was a principle that was being blatantly neglected. Just because an employee transitions from full-time to freelance does not mean that her obligations shift as well. Am I the only logical person on the planet?

But my mom, my saving grace, came to my rescue. After initially promising to deposit sufficient funds into my account to carry me over for two weeks, she called again with better news. She was depositing a truly significant amount of money into my account (more than I needed or would have asked for)…“just because”. She said that I had worked hard throughout college and she was overdue in giving me credit. She and my father had not paid a dime for my education. She applauded my efforts in seeking out grants and scholarships during school, graduating with high honors and achieving accolades to last a lifetime. She applauded my continued efforts to prove my independence as well. I’m incorporating my own business, taking evening French classes at a local university, freelancing at a local travel agency (to feed my traveling fetish), applying for business schools, and networking and in my downtime, dancing…all of my own volition, no less. I may not make much, but I don’t ask for much either. She appreciated that, and offered financial support as a short-term fix, long-term “I’m-proud-of-you”, and possibly, a figurative Kleenex. Though my emotions had shifted from frustration to relief, those tears just wouldn’t stop.

Mom is, indeed, the Single Aesthetic. And this is but one instance where she has come through in the clutch. What would I do without her? Where would I be without her? WHO would I be without her? My Mom: an amazing person, an extraordinary parent, and a remarkable friend.

http://www.dance101.org/
http://www.viningschiro.com/

The Character Canvas

When the character of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends.
- Japanese Proverb


The Single Aesthetic is firmly founded upon self-awareness and knowing that the company you keep directly reflects your own character. I value my friends and wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’ve learned that each friend contributes something valuable, though different, to my life. One might say they contribute varying strokes or colors to my life’s character canvas. They help paint a picture of who I am, and the person I strive to be.

I have one friend who’s outspoken, ambitious and a riot to be around. Let’s call her “Dionne” for anonymity’s sake. She is, by far, one of the funniest human beings on earth. I’m pretty sure that the “censorship” button God gave to the rest of us was omitted when He created her. She says whatever is on her mind, and does whatever her heart dreams up. The beautiful thing about this BFF is that she stays down for the cause. She’s an excellent listener, gives amazing advice, stays patient with me when I manage to tell the same sob story over and over again, and most importantly, never judges me. She’s also free-spirited, fun-loving, and a shop-a-holic. Some have called her “selfish” and a bit “childish”, but whatever dude. Nobody is perfect – and that’s my girl.

I would say she’s a pretty accurate reflection of me, too. We joined the same organizations in college; we work hard, and party hard. Well, sometimes we party a little harder than we work… but we work damn hard, so you can only imagine what we’re like at the club. She’s not a pushover, and neither am I. She knows what she wants, and she’s headstrong about getting there. What I really admire about her, and I was telling my mother about this the other day, is that she’s a HUSTLER. She hustles everything from designer sunglasses to academic diplomas. This woman received two degrees from our alma mater in 2006. TWO. She’s getting two more as we speak. TWO MORE. That’s four degrees in eight years. Count them with me: 2 + 2 = 4. WTF? Who does that?! And, I call her a hustler because she knows exactly what to do, what to say, and who to talk to in order to get things done. This girl is not slaving away at a desk or computer to earn these degrees. And, to be perfectly clear (because I don’t want to undermine her intelligence), it’s not because she’s not smart. She has learned the art of education, and is using it to her advantage. School isn’t always about the education… it’s sometimes about life lessons. Learning how and when to cut corners; it’s not always “what you know” but “who you know”; sometimes a kind word here and there will take you a lot farther than busting your ass on a term paper, etc. I mean, she could write a book. And she has… but it’s a book of inspirational Haiku. More on that later.

While a person can look at our friends, and learn about us, the same can be said about our taste. The way we dress ourselves, decorate our homes and office space, listen to music, consume food, and spend our spare time reflects who we are. There’s an interesting website that tests this theory. Surprisingly, my results were dead on. The site uses our sense of visual aesthetics to illustrate our character canvas, so to speak. So really, who we are is never actually a secret. I consider myself a private person, but there are some discernible truths about me and my personality that are evidently clear to everyone. Through my friends, my wardrobe, my iPod, and my checkbook, it’s possible that you could never meet me in person, and yet know me pretty well. (I hope you wouldn’t laugh when you saw my checkbook, by the way. It manages to teeter around $0 every two weeks, just before payday. It is what it is.)

Try the site out, though. Fifteen images will appear, with a question or prompt. Choose the image that best reflects your attitude towards the question. The site guides you through eight or ten questions, and then reveals insights about your personality based on the images you chose. Go ahead… You might even learn something new about yourself. It’s the Single Aesthetic at work… Who’d’ve thunk it?!

Http://DNA.imagini.net/friends

Pursuing Other Interests

Okay, okay. I know… it’s been awhile. I still have to find my groove with this whole blogging thing. And, as many young, single females will admit – life sometimes gets in the way. But, excuses are merely tools of the incompetent; monuments of nothingness that build bridges to nowhere; AND, those who use them seldom amount to anything… but I digress. It’s been a long time, and I’m back.

Lots of exciting things have happened in my few-week hiatus. I ventured to New York for work, caught an amazing Broadway play, finagled my way backstage to meet the principal actors, and also met a cute guy. Well, I shouldn’t say I “met” him… I’ve known him for awhile. Let’s just say, we got reacquainted. More on that later.

I left my old job. My entry-level program position expired and I was forced to relocate. Luckily, I landed in a contract/freelance position within another department in our company. I’m learning new things, continuously networking, and enhancing my life portfolio. Though the field in which I’m currently working has always interested me, after a few days here, I’m tempted to say “it’s not the right fit”. Now, I don’t want to speak too quickly, but working in a new position is almost like trying on new shoes. You need not walk a mile before you realize it’s a poor fit.

The Single Aesthetic in this new role, however, is that I’m diversifying my resume, enhancing my portfolio (as previously mentioned), and generating a plethora of new contacts for my fancy rolodex. While my lackluster responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring and, at times, an insult to my intelligence, I’m keeping the faith. I’m confident that this experience will provide new insights into the corporate world and further mold me into the kick-ass businesswoman I aspire to be.

What’s interesting is that, the senior level management from my old position was recently “let go”. LET GO!? Needless to say, I was taken aback…no, floored… no… ASTOUNDED when I learned the news. The Senior Vice President and Executive Vice President of my ENTIRE former department were now “pursuing other interests” as the company President’s politically correct e-mail stated. WTF? It explains so much though. I busted my booty for a year for these people. They couldn’t hire me upon the completion of my program as a full-time employee? At the time, I was saddened, infuriated, indifferent, annoyed and hurt simultaneously. But now, the light is shining ever so brightly, and I can see clearly. They couldn’t hire me because, little did they know, their own positions were in jeopardy. Wow.

Welp. That just means that God knows what He (or She) is doing. He pulled me out of that work environment just before the dog crap hit the ceiling fan and got on me (as a friend of mine once put it). I’m looking forward to what the future has in store. Hopefully it will include less freelancing and more permanent, full-time, benefits-eligible, overtime-paying, perks and free stuff EMPLOYMENT. Mind you, I’m not knocking the new gig. I’m still with the company, I have a desk, a computer, and my badge still gets me in the building. BUT, I share my cube with the intern (sweet girl) and my health benefits are no more. Guess I can’t get sick for three months. Good thing my old boss had me working on that cure for cancer. Should come in handy…

But, whatever. I’m working hard, playing hard, and living it up. All is well in the life of the pretty, single girl in the big city with the fabulous friends. Plus, I mean, with gas being $7 a gallon, a check is a check.

Not Like Crazy

When we first met
I was surprised to get
That feeling
That feeling
The kind that don't wash away with soap
So sweet to me
Ooh, the kind of feeling I need
To get me through the darkest days
For you, I've prayed

What you do is crazy babe
Not like you belong in an asylum
Crazy babe
Like the sun in the morning
And the moon at night
Like the rain falling from the sky
Like the trees growing from the ground
I'm astounded, babe
By your love for me
And your touching me
And your trust in me
Like you do, whoo whoo
Whoo whoo, whoo whoo
Whoo whoo

Even now
I still feel that feeling
Although we've grown
We're still on the same side
Of the proverbial road
Heading in the same direction
I'm so glad to know
With you I spend my time

What you do is crazy babe
Not like you belong in an asylum
Crazy babe
Like the sun in the morning
And the moon at night
Like the rain falling from the sky
Like the trees growing from the ground
I'm astounded, babe
By your love for me
And your touching me
And your trust in me
Like you do, whoo whoo
Whoo whoo, whoo whoo
Whoo whoo
-------------------------------

Jill Scott gets it right EVERY TIME.
Have you ever met someone, dated them, and then determined: "it's not for me"??

You recovered from that situation, declared yourself a "better person" and moved on with your life...

Then, for whatever reason, under whatever circumstance, you encountered that person again.

Of course, you looked fly, had your ish together, and could have cared less... I mean, that's how we do, right?

But, at the end of the conversation/evening/weekend/week/month... the inevitable truth was undeniable... you missed him.


How does that happen? I mean, being a resilient female is not easy. It takes practice - hard work, lots of tears, listening ears, best friends, new shoes, VIP entry at the club and COUNTLESS cocktails - to make your way towards "resilience". And yet, when you see him again, it's almost like he's a brand new person... He is a phenom that you've never encountered before. Your conversations are refreshing. Your shared interests are brand new. He can make you laugh when your day was otherwise bland and annoying... AND, when he says he'll call/text/visit, yet is unable to (for whatever reason), you're secretly saddened. GEEZ! Where is the Single Aesthetic in that?!

I guess, it is in knowing that, resilience is beautiful. We learn life lessons for a reason. Though it is amazing to see him, talk to him and reminisce with him... we are in a better place without him. He has helped shape us into the person we are today - and made us a better person at that. But, that was then, and this is now.

Relationships are, and will continue to be, one of the most difficult life challenges we face. The more we encounter, experience and enjoy the ups and downs of relationships, the more we will learn. There is no beauty in falling in love one time, and then settling. Once we experience the roller coaster that love has to offer, we're able to determine our own tolerance for what we will accept and what we will not. We are firm in our position on how much we're willing to endure. We know how far a man can push us before we're fed up and ready to call it quits. If we never experience a broken heart, we're never aware of our limits.

Indeed, the Single Aesthetic of growing in love lies in our willingness to hurt for awhile. Once that time has passed, we're able to seek out new relationships, learning more about ourselves and new relationship possibilities. I wonder if, after our broken heart mends, we can ever permanently reconcile with the person who broke it? Not that "politically correct" reconciliation (per Hillary and Obama), but a real, earnest, honest, heart-felt reconciliation...

Regardless, Jilly from Philly gets it right every time: what he does is crazy...

Pushing the Envelopes

Entry level work is not easy. It's called "entry level" because it is presumed to be easy. And, indeed, the mundane tasks being performed can be categorized as "easy". But, by no stretch of the imagination is entry level work easy. Not even a little bit.

I have been sending mass mailings, filing invoices, ordering supplies, maintaining company-wide decks, reading trade magazines, sending article summaries to senior level management, updating distribution lists, sending more mass mailings, assembling press kits, composing creative briefs, attending meetings, ordering lunches, organizing meetings, planning holiday parties, and sending mass mailings for eleven months. ELEVEN MONTHS. Granted, I've had the opportunity to do some exciting things too. I've eaten on the company dollar at least once a week. I have traveled on the company dollar, and I have built some incredible relationships. But, for any one who has endured an entry level position, you will concur - it's hard.

Like many of my entry level peers, we strive to be the best at our stupid little jobs, proving that we're capable of much more than what has been delegated to us. We come in early and leave late. We order lunch for our boss, even though we have a college degree and she is clearly able to do it herself. We rush to do last minute things that our boss "forgot" (read: neglected) to do. We maintain those daily, weekly and monthly responsibilities and simultaneously firefight those debilitating office fires... You know, like when you mail something to the wrong person's attention. Quick! Cover your heads! The world is ending! Or, the premiums you ordered for the office haven't arrived yet. That certainly warrants a dock in your pay.

Those professional, curt e-mails always make my day:
---
To: Subordinate
From: The Boss
Re: Quick Notes

Subordinate -

We need a cure for cancer by noon. Please advise.
Also, this afternoon, for our 2:00, could you please run around like a chicken with your head cut off?

Thx,
Your Boss

---

To: The Boss
From: Subordinate
Re: Re: Quick Notes

Boss -

CAN YOU?!

"THX" :-)
Subordinate

---



Just kidding. That's one of those "responses" you type to make yourself laugh. Then you put your gloves on and get to work on that cancer project... it could take awhile.

My biggest issue with entry level work is this: once you excel in your role... you're expected to maintain your responsibilities on that silly little salary. It's like being punished for doing a good job. Growing up, my brother used to do a terrible job cleaning the kitchen. It was the MOST annoying thing, because I was constantly having to fix his mistakes when my turn came around. Little did I know, the little brat had a plan. He later told me "if I don't do a good job cleaning the kitchen, mom will stop making me do it". Lo and behold, he was right. For as long as we lived in that house thereafter, kitchen duties were split between my sister and me.

It's the same way at work. Nora, who always has time to watch Oprah at work, will maintain that leisure time. Why? Because our manager recognizes that she is too lazy or too incompetent to handle more work and time-consuming, detail-oriented projects. Per Human Resources, we can't fire Nora because, technically, she hasn't done anything to warrant her dismissal, nor do we have any documented cases of inappropriate behavior or office misconduct. Right.

In the meantime, Kobe must time the number of breaths he takes each minute. I mean, dude is just that overwhelmed. Why? Because, by the same token, our manager recognizes how diligent and hard-working Kobe is. He's great at his job, and is a team player. It's like, the manager rewards Nora's low-productivity with less work, and punishes Kobe's proven efficiency with more work.

But I digress. Now that I have completed my yearlong "entry level" program for this major media/entertainment company, I can't help but smile. Yes, I have worked my pretty little fingers to the bone. I have grown to love my team, and have networked extensively with other departments as well. As I transition out of my current role into a new, more challenging, more exciting department, I will fondly remember pushing all of those envelopes.

The Single Aesthetic about entry level work is that it provides you with a solid (albeit sometimes stagnant) foundation for career success. Learning the ins and outs of any business requires a fundamental understanding of its building blocks and the entry level employees that execute its vision. Perhaps some people never encounter entry level work, and thus never understand the everyday gripes and complaints from people like me. But, in the long haul, I believe that the discipline, work ethic, tenacity and perseverance developed in any entry level position far outweigh the cons of low pay and long hours. Besides, once we appreciate entry level work for what it is, and how it contributes to our lives, we'll be more careful (hopefully) not to perpetuate the very things we hated. Or, maybe we will... so that others can embrace the single aesthetic as well. Embrace the bull. Own the position. See where your hard work will take you. Hey, if you're entry level... the only place you can go is up!

An Introduction

I call it the CBE: the "Carrie Bradshaw Effect". Women everywhere are talking, writing and blogging endlessly. I'm jumping on the bandwagon... pumps and all. I've never been one to keep a consistent journal, nor a consistent group of female friends for that matter, but Carrie has inspired me.

I'm not anywhere near forty, nor am I pining away for a husband. I'm actually quite happy with my life and the way it is progressing. I'm working for a great company in a major city. I recently graduated from college, yet remain infatuated with my alma mater and everyone I encountered there. I have great friends and an incredibly supportive family. The dating scene isn't quite what I'd like for it to be, though I can't complain about it either. I'm content.

I'm content, but I find that women, young adults, minorities, entry-level employees, and other single people are not. Women complain about men. Young adults complain about not being taken seriously. Minorities complain about white people. Employees complain about their bosses. And single people complain about the need to find a significant other. Well, everyone complains... but, I can only articulately depict the complaints of the groups to which I belong.

The Single Aesthetic is about finding the beauty in any situation. It's about embracing the bull. It's about appreciating life for what it is. It's about taking those lemons, and adding salt and Patron. It's also about being SINGLE. I am a single woman in a fabulous city with amazing friends. This town is a playground and I'm enjoying every second of it. Even when we are a part of a formal "relationship", there is an element of singularity that needs to be cherished and celebrated. Though I'm not currently in a relationship... I've finally learned to appreciate my "single-ness" and bask in all of its glory!

Some of my favorite women - my friends - are developing symptoms of a terrible virus that appears to affect women everywhere. It's called the "I-Need-A-Man" Syndrome. Symptoms include long, drawn-out conversations about finding a man (though not necessarily love), bashing men, entertaining sub-standard men, rejecting good men, bashing men, participating in "boo" status for longer than three months, using "boo" status to trick men into a relationship (which never works), and bashing men.

Ah... but I have the answers. The medicine for this syndrome is in the Single Aesthetic. More on that later...