Hypersensitive non-secretary

Nothing gets my goat worse than people assuming that my role at work is that of secretary.

I've been working here for 8 years, not one of which I was a secretary.

What's wrong with being called "secretary"? I'm not sure I can truly sort through the psychology of it all. What I can do is tell you with certainty that I am not a secretary, nor do my duties include typical secretarial duties. Not that there's anything wrong with being a secretary. I personally don't look down on secretaries. I don't think them lesser beings for their job title. So why would it bother me if people assume that's MY job title?

What is my problem? In the 8 years that it's bothered me when people assumed I was a secretary I have never been able to put my finger on it. And I tell myself it doesn't matter, because really it doesn't, but it still bothers me.

So most of the older men around here think that every woman in the department is a secretary, because they are older, and they are used to a workplace that is set up that way. And they are surprised when they find out that I'm not a secretary, and that my responsibilities include more than copying and unjamming the printer (which two things can be mutually exclusive). But their old age causes them to forget these facts so that the next time the subject comes up, they ask me again if I'm a secretary. *Sigh* They'll never learn.

As I mentioned before, one part of the TC got a job equation is that I'm quitting my job. And, as I've mentioned twice already in the previous few paragraphs, I've been working here for 8 years. I'm lacking the fire and vigor and excitement I once had for my job. And I consider that what I do is important and deserves fire and vigor. As a result, I've decided to step down, take a break, and focus on our little family for a while. I'm very VERY excited for this new phase of my life. And I have all sorts of plans of how I will organize my home, my time, and how well fed and dressed TC will be.

Since I'm leaving, my job was opened and resumes were accepted for a few weeks. And people in my department, mostly the older men, have come to ask me things like the following:

"Now the job description says it requires a bachelors degree. Do YOU have a bachelors degree?"

"The job description says that Spanish-speaking ability is required. Do YOU speak Spanish?" (That's where "Spreken ze Español" was born.)

"The job description says that experience with programming databases is required. Do you know how to program databases?"

*sigh* My sarcastic side wants to reply, "Well I'm certainly not making your coffee every morning, now am I?"

It's the surprise in their voices that really gets to me. And especially the surprise in one man's voice, I shall call him TJ. He came to me to tell me about a fantastic possible replacement for me: A nice little Filipino girl (his tone when referring to her is a subject for another day) that he knows from the bus who would be great in my job. She would be fantastic. But she doesn't have a BA (Do YOU really have a bachelors?), speaks very basic Spanish (So, you speak Spanish?), and doesn't know anything about databases (I didn't know you knew about databases. Wow. Did you study that in college? How did YOU learn?). But she's a sweet girl. Really nice. And she would be great.

*sigh* Another sarcastic comment: "Oh, I'm sorry. 'Nice' isn't one of the job requirements."

Does the fact that the people around me, who do not work directly with me anyway, don't know what I do actually have any bearing on my self-worth, or accomplishments, or anything at all? No. But it still makes my blood boil, just a little bit. (Note that the elevation here makes for a lower boiling point.)

So here I am revealing my inner-bias against being called a secretary, proud and wanting people to know what I do but not so they can ask me to do things for them-jerk. I hope you don't think any less of me.

Day 2 of the Cruise: Sunny weather, a storm, and an elegant dinner

Tuesday started off sunny, so most of the family gathered around the pool to lay out, swim, or play on the water slide. All morning we enjoyed the sun. After lunch, however, the winds picked up, and a storm blew in. I may be exaggerating, but the winds were like hurricane force. Or stronger. Once the wind picked up, the ship started rocking and swaying and moving.

That evening, we had an elegant dinner. The whole family dressed up and we even took a family photo, which I don't actually have. Mom does. I'll get it from her later. Anywho, the photos I posted of our party in this post are all from elegant night, except for my parents and TC and I.

So here we are. Mom and Dad.




TC and I.



What am I wearing, you ask? Oh. You didn't ask? Oh. Well I feel dumb.

Well, I'll tell you anyway. I'm wearing my Tadashi dress from last July. Since I never did follow up with photos of the dress after all the advice and help I asked for, TC took some photos of me especially for you.




Please try to ignore the yellow lighting and slight pudge. I had just eaten (a lot) people.


And a close up of the flower.

Seriously, I feel like a million bucks in this dress. I'm still working on inventing reasons to wear it.

And just you can enjoy this sight:

TC in a suit.


TC trying to keep a straight face long enough to do a GQ pose.


So, back to the elegant evening. After dinner we took in a show. It was very easily the worst show I have ever seen. It was entertaining in all the wrong ways. Photography was strictly forbidden, so I have no photos to show you, but it was something like this: low budget Vegas meets mediocre scripting and song writing. The performers were talented and earnest. However, the costumes were cheap (I could see that from my middle of the auditorium seat) and unnecessarily overt. Imagine the song "Yankee Doodle Dandy" being sung accompanied by a very loud band, "showgirls" marching and high-kicking in red, white and blue thong leotards with blue capes, carrying flags and wearing red, white and blue top hats. It was like Old Glory threw up all over their costume closet, spewing stars and stripes everywhere. *shudder* It makes me ill just recounting it for you.


Okay. Now I'm done being a complete snob. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting. I was on a cruise ship, after all. And the show was free. So...

After the show TC and I stumbled to our stateroom. We stumbled because the ship was rocking so violently. It was hard to tell the sober from the inebriated.

Oh, and we also fit one last ice cream cone into our already long day. I love all you can eat ice cream and frozen yogurt.

Wealth... of baloney?

So the other day when I wrote about Suze Orman and feeling poor after watching her show, I realized, especially after a humbling comment by my dear friend Shannon, that I sound like an ungrateful, whiny, SSB-like, jerk.

I wasn't complaining about our own financial state. At least I didn't mean to be. We have been blessed. We did indeed go through a dirt poor, watering down our Flavor-Aid, eating only rice-a-roni and quesadillas, being vegetarian because we couldn't afford meat, watching our 13" TV with rabbit ears that was propped on a metal folding chair from an old stake center renovation, deciding between paying our tithing or buying food period. It was tough. And because we went through that, we realize just how blessed we are to not have to worry about deciding between two good things (i.e. paying tithing or eating). The contrast is stark. And I often think of those times with fondness, and look how much we've been blessed and thank the Lord for the comforts we enjoy.

What stood out to me about watching Suze's show is that pre-show I felt pretty darn good about our financial state: we've saved, we've been careful, and we've only spent money that we had. Post-show I felt like all my efforts to save and make smart purchases, and be a wise steward over what we've been given were not enough, that somehow I needed to be pulling in $20,000 a month, and that I needed to have a quarter of a million in the bank for retirement.

That contrast was pretty stark too.

So that's why I wrote about that. I was surprised at how inadequate I felt our actually adequate finances are. And I really meant it to be light and fluffy and more like, "Wow I didn't know I needed that much money." I'm guessing it didn't come across that way.

And how I must have sounded got me to thinking about how I present myself in general. I know I come across as whiny and ungrateful. So I whine, and yet I get to sew and shop and travel and do all these wonderful things. And I must seem like a huge jerk. That's probably because I am to a large degree. Don't you love how I have these bi-monthly epiphanies that encourage me to be a better person, all thanks to the blog. (Thanks, as always, for the therapy.)

There are wonderful things* happening in our lives that I am so eternally grateful to God for, but we're not ready to share them with the www yet. It's been a long time coming, and the wait has been hard. I've been impatient and childish and unhappy and haven't had a great attitude. I'm imperfect (ever so). Thanks for bearing with my impatience and whining. I'm sure that I will still find things to whine about, because, let's face it, that's my nature.

On a lighter note, I've started on a new project that I'm excited about: a pencil skirt made from upholstery fabric. I sure hope it turns out.

Also, it's about time that TC and I did some furniture rearranging and redecorating, so that should be coming up soon. It's always a challenge to find just the right furniture for just the right price though.

* not a baby

I'm not a prude...

...I promise. Not that it's a bad thing. But I can't exactly use the word prude to describe myself. I occasionally use bad language, have bad manners often, poor posture nearly all the time, even sometimes my dress is not becoming of the daughter of God I am, I don't sit like a lady... But this weekend I found something so intellectually and morally offensive that I'm here to share it all with you.

The Huz and I happened into a Halloween shop.

Perhaps I could end my post there and many of you would understand the offense I feel was thrust upon me. But in true Gordita fashion, I'm going to beat a dead horse even deader and get myself so riled up, like a chained dog snarling at a cat on the other side of the fence tauntingly just out of reach, that I start to feel light headed.

Another disclaimer is in order: I'm not a huge Halloween fan. I don't like the decorations. I dislike the crafty cutesy as much as I dislike the spooky scary. Spooky scary turns into gory bloody nasty. And crafty cutesy, well see my last post. I don't like trick-or-treating; it's just so awkward, no matter what side of it you're on. The only thing I tolerate about Halloween are jack-o-lanterns. They're kind of cute. But a huge mess and waste of a pumpkin.

Okay, so now that I've revealed my inner Grinch Who Stole Halloween, on to the offense. Holy moly, Halloween costumes for grown women are skanky (honestly there were quite a few costumes labeled "pre-teen" that were sleazy too, but I'll leave those alone). Only three out of the hundreds of costumes I saw were modest (i.e. knee-length, with sleeves, moderate cleavage). I could choose to be a pirate (a blatantly promiscuous one), a fairy tail princess (saucy version), or a witch (minxy seductress).

Huh? Pirates are supposed to be fierce and mean, princesses are supposed to be lovely and wholesome, witches are ugly with green faces and warts on their noses, not saucy sirens.

Here are my issues with this costume debacle.

Issue #1: Most of the costumes I saw there were made by lingerie companies who make these costumes for the kind of dress-up one does in the privacy of their own home with their spouse. And these things are being sold as though they were real clothing, real costumes, meant for public use? How dense do you think I am, Halloween Store People?

Issue #2: The age old argument that women are not objects comes to mind. What are you saying about yourself when you dress up as a sexy Snow White? For that matter, what are you saying about yourself when you dress up as Freddy Krueger?

Issue #3: I take offense to the fact that these costumes were from cheap fabric (and very little of it) with poor craftsmanship and were expensive to boot.

Issue #4: The women's shoes they sell in conjunction with the costumes were like those you might find in a pole dancing establishment.

Issue #5: The costumes for men weren't much better. The choices were limited to pimp (I can't even tell you how much this costume makes my blood boil), mimbo, and hippie. Oh, and there were others that I won't give the specifics of because they were in poor taste. Really poor taste.

Am I taking this whole thing too seriously? Probably. I often do that. I get angry sometimes at random things over which I have no control. For example I take issue with Hollywood romcoms and obvious orgies of CGI that assume that the audience is a pack of dumb animals that are so slobberingly ravenous that they'll eat up whatever crap is served out. See? I probably take it too seriously. Just don't watch the romcoms and CGI orgies. But instead I don't watch them and still get angry that they are even being made. And don't even get me started on those modest clothing stores that have cropped up all over Utah that sell cheaply made clothing for more than it's worth that women eat up because it's modest. Modest clothing is available at nearly every store people! (With exception of the Halloween shop.) You don't need to throw your money into a sink hole of "entrepreneurship" and "originality."

Such it is with this costume nonsense. Leave it alone Gordita. Avoid the Halloween shops. If you must dress up, find your own costume that isn't degrading to your self worth and doesn't show 90% of your body. And be happy that you were successful in avoiding the crap.

But what about all those other women out there who don't think for themselves? What about those adult-sized teenage children who will buy those costumes and wear them and send the wrong message about themselves in an attempt to garner attention from boys that they feel they need in order to have self-confidence and damage their psyche for the rest of their lives? What about them? WHAT about THEM?

...

Feeling light headed.

Taking deep breaths.

Focusing on my heart rate.

...

Don't worry about me people. I'll get a grip and move on. Someday.

Sit long, talk much, laugh often

Prepare yourself. This is a post in which I reveal what a jerk I am. Because secretly, I'm a jerk. Maybe it's not much of a secret really. Okay, well I do TRY to hide it. And sometimes I'm even successful, at least I like to think I am. Well, this is a post in which the hiding is over, the cat's out of the bag, I'm going to spill the beans. Here goes...

Have you seen those signs you can buy at craft stores or fairs with sayings on them? Like the one above, or this one:

No offense but, (here comes the offensive part where I reveal my inner jerk and make fun of something that perhaps some of you love and find endearing) I think they're kind of cheesy. Like these, which you can buy here if you are interested:

So TC and I have a cynical sense of humor. When we see these sayings, we chuckle and then try to come up with our own.

"Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away," could be changed to "Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by how stinky our breath is."

Instead of "A house is made of brick and stone, a home is made of love alone," a more accurate sign (at least for this area of the country) would be, "A house is made of 2x4s and sheet rock, a home is made of love." I mean, who uses brick and stone?

In response to one that we saw at my sister's house (seriously no offense KL because your house is lovely, but this saying made me laugh, not at you, but at the saying which is just begging to be repurposed and morphed in so many different ways) that said, "Without teachers life would have no class," TC and I came up with the following:

• Without proctologists life would be a bummer.
• Without aerodynamics life would be a drag.
• Without drills life would be boring.
• Without doctors life would be sick.
• Without vacuums life wouldn't suck.
• Without manure life would just be crap.
• Without police officers life would be a riot.
• Without lithification from sediments, solidification from melt, precipitation out of saturated solutions, or metamorphosis from other rock types, life wouldn't rock.

So I completely understand that our substitutions don't always make sense, but come on, they made you laugh at least a little, right? At least you cracked a smile? You smirked? Something? Work with me people. Alright, I admit that on that last one we went too far. But come on...proctologists? Aerodynamics? I'm chuckling just reading my own writing.

Have you seen those signs that say, "All because two people fell in love"? Well, our usual substitute for that is something along the lines of "All because two people couldn't control their hormones."

Signs that say "Sit long, talk much, laugh often," are just begging to have the phrase "now get the h*&% out of my house," added.

Have you ever looked at those signs and thought of some cynical come back? Or is that just us?