Thursday, February 20, 2014

Tell You Thursday: Sometimes, the po-lice are just wrong.

I was a bit of a rebel rouser in high school.  I ran with both an older crowd and a crowd who enjoyed activities questionable by local authorities.  But it was fun and these were my mates, whose friendships were intense, amazing, and heartbreaking all within a few short years.

One night in the late 90s, probably hanging out at one of the frequented sets of Lancaster houses, our friend Fonz asked if we wanted to check out a super haunted house in Tehachapi, CA.  This was at least a 45 minute venture north, but I was stoked since I've always been a believer in ghosts/goblins/demons.  I love watching scary movies for entertainment, but the second I imagine the act happening in real life, I tremble.  Despite still sleeping with a night light and hugging my assortment of plushies, I love it - truly love it.  And don't judge yo - the plushies are often designer and awesome, and I make my own, cuz i'm awesome.  :)

I digress... So Fonz peaks our interest and down the road we go.  It's Fonz, our friend Ezra, our friend Melissa, her then boyfriend Bryan, me and my then boyfriend Auggie.  We pile into two cars.  I was driving Auggie and myself in my dark green Honda Civic.  Fonz or Ezra was driving his car, with Mellisa and Bryan in back.  We eventually turned off the highway and followed Fonz down this janky dirt road for miles.  At that point, our night was common since the whole desert is filled with dirty and janky streets.  But the moon was gigantic and bright, casting a luminous, blue shadow over every inch of grey & black.  The kind of light where you can almost turn everything else off and still see.  Almost..

After driving for what I remember as 20 minutes, we finally pull over to the right, park, and get out of the car.  Picture the dirt road laying before and behind us.  Blue and grey lit tumbleweeds on either side, old cars, tires, junk, wood, trash, and probably ants.  Gah I hate ants.  We were silent for a spell and Melissa and I probably started squealing and grabbing any of the guys.

About 100-150 feet in front of us, behind a rusty chain link fence, stood a 2-story wooden, apocalyptic doll house.  Most rooms were exposed to the night air because they were missing the side wall.  The remaining were half open, covered by wooden slats, broken and jagged.  Fonz encouraged us to walk up to the house, but we were all really freaked out.  We remained frozen in our shoes.  Him telling us the history didn't help, either.  Apparently the person who owned it was a witch.  She and her coven would practice their witchcraft, trying to summon spirits and demons.  The witch was said to later be murdered by her coven after a ritual.  She was found hung by the second story banister, gutted above a pentagram.  Dude.  Again, facing that story in true life was fucking heart-stopping palpitations.  But since i'm outta 'danger', I WANNA GO BACK!  It's a vicious cycle I put my bod through..

Right as we were about to trespass the fence, we saw a single light through a broken window.  Almost like an electric flicker candle.  It was just far enough to make us question whether we were actually seeing it, but all of us had the same vision.  So it had to be true - right?  It seemed to float and move from room to room.  {heart racing then & now}  We couldn't do anything but stare and grab each others hands. I think we ended up hearing something strange and that was that.  We fled, speeding back down the dirt road toward civilization.

And here's where the po-lice come to play. 

On our way back, Fonz and Ezra needed gas.  We both pulled into a station with a convenience store, which made Auggie happy because he wanted candy or cigarettes or something.  While he shopped inside, I stood outside the car, watching my friends all laughing and recounting the holy fuck what did we just do.  I turned around to see if Auggie was still shopping or paying, and when I turned around a cop car had pulled up in front of me.  And not in the we're getting coffee and donuts way - they were intentionally blocking my car.  I froze and stopped breathing.  Even now, cops make me nervous, but back then, they made me super nervous.  I never had any good experience with them during this period of my life.  Arresting my friends for smoking cigarettes and pot, harassing people at parties, and overall didn't ever make me feel any safer.  I was always told cops are the ones you go to for help, but something about this agitated & confusing time for me proved otherwise.  As a grownup, I watch A LOT of COPS the TV show because c'mon, it's a 30 minute package of awesome.  It's also easier to sit back, enjoying the carnival ride since it would be rare I would ever find myself in those predicaments now.  I still find some police officers who take me right back to Lancaster and the roughness I saw, but I have met others who are decent & nice.

So at this moment, I now find myself staring at them alone.  Auggie is oblivious and the others aren't coming near me and I never blamed them, I wouldn't have either.  I nano-secondly itemized everything on "my person" and in my car.  Shit.  Did I forget to take out that dope, was there leftover beer from the other night... anything that would give them a reason to haul me off.  But no, I was clean.  They stare at me through their giant windshield. I stood still not knowing what our next moves were.  They get out of the car, come over and ask to search my vehicle.  My defenses shot up and as plainly as possible, asked what cause they had.  "We're the police" they said.  NOPE!  Not good enough, so I stated "Hey, i'm not doing anything so what are you looking for!"  Their replay was "A Burger King was just robbed and you and your car fit the description.  Two women in a black Honda Civic, wearing bandanas robbed the store about 10 minutes ago."

Ok, mental check.  My car is dark green, it was me and Auggie, and to the best of my recollection, 10 minutes ago I was staring face to face with a ghost... So um no - that wasn't me officer.  I relayed all this highly pertinent information.  When they calmed a bit, they said they understood but since it was dark, black and green look similar and since my boyfriend wasn't in the car, there could have been a second lady.   They asked nicer if they could search my car for bandanas and I guess, a sack of money.  Once I knew I was clean and they certainly wouldn't find either of those things, I said yes.  After a few minutes of an empty search, they thanked me and drove off.  Auggie was staring at me with his wares, the others came over and we all kinda said what the fuck.  I held it together much better than I expected, which was fantastic considering how unprepared I was.

These memories stir up every few years, sometimes when I see a police car or hear about an actual haunted house.  I don't know the roads that could take me there now, despite wanting to TOTALLY go back. I hope other kids heard the tales and were braver than us.  Despite much searching on the internets, I found no documents of the house or events that supposedly transpired. So kids, if you find out, please write a lil' something and help this old lady out.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

I studied under a Henson...

Sort of.

I was 9 1/2 (cuz evey 1/2 month totally counts) when my parents packed my whole life into some moving vans.  It was my first Indiana Jones red line and music moment.  Heading from Simi Valley, CA to Palmdale, CA, it was April 1990.  Before the move, I had only ever known one home, one city, one private school, and one set of friends.  I was happy.

That all changed the first time I set foot onto my new educational institution.  I had never gone to public school and I was nervous, but imagined it would be similar.  right?  I had no other frame of reference to think differently.  But sadly, that would not be the case.  It was the last two months of my 3rd grade and I was starting over.  None of the kids wanted to like me - one boy even made a gagging motion when I walked in.  rad.  There was one exception - my new teacher Mrs. Henson, whom I naturally gravitated towards because who else was gonna be my friend.  She was a woman in her 50s, quiet spoken and very sweet.  She administered tests to gauge my skills from the other school and pleasantly reported I was already further ahead than most kids.  swell.  I'd have no friends but hot damn, I can read & spell like a champ.

I don't remember if she offered the information or I asked, trying to learn about my new pal, but she said she was Jim Henson's sister in law.  I spent a lot of time tonight googling words to find some reference to her, but came up short.  Queue back the 90s.  say wha, wha, what...!  I loved the Muppets and the Fraggles and the things.  I remember asking if Jim was nice, lightly laughing she said yes.  And with that, the extent of all conversations pertaining to the family was over.  haha geez, I know.  That was IT you say!?  But like many of my stories, the buildup out shines the resolution, so i'm sorry this will likely happen again.

The full impact would hit me later, wishing I had been a little older and a little wiser.  She was the first kind person I met and it would have been super knowing her better and possibly learning some part of the family trade.  But, it wasn't meant to be.  I hadn't thought of her and that first school experience in a while.  But I read today one of Jim's children, John Henson passed away from a sudden heart attack February 14.  That really sucks.  I didn't know him so I can't classify him a cool cat or not, but I keep reading about heart attacks happening to younger people.  It makes me scared.  So hearing about the passing reminds me of the kind lady who helped make 3rd grade a little better and how important it is to keep ourselves healthy - physically and sometimes more importantly, mentally.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Tell You Thursday: $11 and hour was worth it. almost.

Way back whennie in the summer of 2003... I was laid off from a job I really enjoyed because the change in management didn't agree I was a good fit.  It was a weird transition but screw them, their loss.  I had work experience, a mixed bag of college classes, but no degree.  poops.  That grown up whisper had me figuring out whether I would go back to school, get any ol' job, or whether I wanted a career.  ... I was 22 for something sakes!  Of course it was time to figure that out!

When I was first released, looking for jobs in the newspaper was still a fully viable option since the internet was still finding it's way.  I had submitted to a few companies online that were ahead of the curve, but it was more about lucky Antelope Valley Press GO!  Unfortunately after a few weeks it became apparent the paper was home to mostly construction or IT postings.  Surprisingly, my experience in those areas is null.  There was, however, one item which always stuck out to me.  "Credit Card Operators needed for morning, evening and late shifts.  $10 per hour / $11 per hour midnight to 8am" or some such words.

I'd seen this ad every day for the last two weeks; I had no prospects and no where to be, so why not.  I can punch numbers at midnight (those extra dollars would totally get me a new thrift store sweater) and if paid, be a pleasant chit-chatter.  I called and spoke with a really nice woman who was happy to give me an interview.  Sweet!  I was scheduled to meet the manager at 10am, I believe on a Tuesday.  As it so happened, the morning I set the first appointment I received a call from a company I had applied to online.  They also scheduled an interview that same Tuesday, just in the afternoon.  I was gonna win Tuesday!

Tuesday morning arrived like clock work and I dressed in my best ill-fitting professional clothes and headed to interview one's location, feeling optimistic.  The building was located on a main street I traveled often.  I remember the too-large gold mirror greeting me when I first opened the glass doors.  There were stair cases on either side and this gaudy thing in the middle.  It was sunny and reflecting oddly on my skin, so I fled up the stairs to the large common business park double doors.  I walked in to an empty reception desk.  hmmm.  A few minutes later a women walked out from behind another set of double doors, smiling, and introducing herself as X (I don't remember, not the band.)  Before the second double doors closed, I saw several ladies on headsets in front of computers and machines, so far everything is checking out!  I can do this!

Girl X started me on the application and gave a brief explanation of the job before the manager would see me.  She said it's pretty simple; I would take credit card numbers from customers, process the information, and send them to the queue.  Cool, simple.  Oh and every once in a while I would need to talk to the customers if the other girls were busy.  I said talk to them about what - thinking it must have something to do with what ever product they were trying to buy.  She paused a beat, smiled and said the business was an adult chat line, so when the queue is full, sometimes the operators have to talk.  But there are scripts, so it's easy!  hahaha, what!?  I became so nervous! Not because it was phone sex but because acting frightens me and there was no way I'd be any good!

Girl X wanted to make sure I was ok with that, which I truly had no issues with, so I just laughed and said it wasn't a problem.  But the acting piece was crawling up the nervous part of my brain.  I mean I would turn red and shut down speaking in front of a few people, let alone a whole office.  And then having to be sexy to boot - sorry, no AVN award for my public performance.  I put my scaredy comfy pants illustratively on.  In the moments leading up to the manager introduction, there was something else drawing me away from the job.  For no particular reason, I felt they would hire me so I had to quickly figure out my answer since this would just be a job.  The interview scheduled later in the afternoon was for a great company, more money, and was likely a good career move.  But it was a gamble.  Something locked in now vs playing the do they like me game.  I had only met with the recruiter but from our phone discussions, I was a strong candidate.  Gah!

I decided to speak with the fella and at least hear what he had to say, which was not much.  Hahah, my meeting with him was shorter than girl X.  He was really friendly but offered nothing new.  Was I ok with the job, was I interested, yatta yatta yatta.  Decision time.  I wanted to be as professional as I knew how, so I started off by thanking them and smiling.  Yes I was interested, but I had another opportunity later that day which would help me decide.  I promised I would call them by tomorrow morning with my answer.  They both felt that was ok, and so it goes.

I went to Travis' place and relayed the whole story and his advice aligned with mine - if job two doesn't work out, headset ally here I am!  or here I come (rimshot x 2)  That afternoon I met with and was subsequently hired by my current, legally cannot be discussed company.  Although I didn't find out I had the job till the next morning, I did call girl X back right after.  Much to my surprise, she was bummed I wouldn't be joining the "really great team."  Pretty amazing to feel sad after meeting a person for 10 minutes.  I guess I rule harder than I thought.

I still drive by that ugly building on a pretty street, gold mirror still blazing and wonder if they still reside there.  If they do, I wonder if they need part-time help cuz I haven't been thrift store shopping in a while.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Tell You Thursday: My very first job, what I learned, and why lunch doesn't always mean food.


I have been to many “going away” parties, although they are usually bittersweet for someone who has been laid off.   However, I’ve never been to a retirement party.  Up until my current job, I was never at one place long enough, nor was I high enough up the chain for that to even be a consideration.  But last night, I attended my first.  Working at the same company for just over 37 years, a guy named Rick will have his last official day tomorrow.  Rick hired me 10 years ago, with the company I still work for, but under a job title I haven’t been assigned in 9 years.  I moved on in different ways, although our paths cross every so often.  I didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation, but initially was at a loss for words for sending my congratulations.  I mean what do you say to someone you only see during work hours, knowing they are starting a totally different, hopefully prosperous next phase of life.  It’s kinda monumental to feel you have to say something poignant.  When I saw him last night, in a suit (which he never wears,) my first thought was lordy, that will not be me.

This Timely Thursday isn’t about the retirement party or my new career goals  – that will come another time.  But seeing him recount a 37 year legacy got me thinking all the way back to my first job in (I think) 1997.   I have a 17 year mixed bag in how I've supported myself.  In that time I've only held one crappy job, which was more due to management not the position.  Although I did try getting hired where my friends were working their lame jobs, because SOMEONE WOULD PAY ME FOR THAT?!  But things didn't happen that way.

Our high school had a program that allowed Juniors and Seniors the opportunity to only attend four morning classes, leaving at lunch, as long as we were enrolled in a college class or had a job.  Gah those last two years would have dragged on...  I initially took classes at the jr. collge such as business English and basic accounting, but decided those don't put green in the bank.  I was ready to get a job!  I started my search for either an intern position (which also worked) or my first paid gig.  I didn't know what kind of job I wanted or really how to go about it.  But I put on my best ill-fitting clothes anyway and awkwardly went to local shops.  I do not miss for one second that feeling of being a goofy teenager, going place to place asking for job applications.  I hated trying to convince the manager I was a hard worker, who is nice and very willing to learn.  Not that I was lying, but I was shy in those situations so it was very hard getting over that fear.  One afternoon I ended up in a bookstore, inside an outlet mall, far from everything.  The books weren't used but it was where all the unsellables went after Barnes & Noble was done with them.  I figured I like reading, so what the hell.

I walked in and found the assistant manager behind the counter, all smiles.  That put me at ease.  I stated my business, he handed me an application and I got the pen working.  We chatted and seemed to hit it off.  I can't remember if he gave the good news then or called me the next day after speaking with the manager, but the internship was mine!!  The job was basic and the store wasn't very busy, so the manager & assistant guys taught me proper customer service skills, gave me a couple of responsibilities and organizational tasks.  I learned how to refill my first fax machine, which only used purple thermal paper; it luckily it never received any but prior faxes still got your hands messy.  The guys were fun and it felt swell knowing I was doing a good job.  When it was Christmas time they offered me a seasonal help position!  I think I was paid $3.25 an hour, or something marginal... but it was mine!  Immediately I imagined how grand that first paycheck would be.  I went one day after school, on my day off, and the assistant manager handed it to me.  The working class equivalent of a golden ticket.  It was gonna be so much money, I couldn't miss the opportunity to go shopping!  I headed to Target, stood outside, and opened the check.  For all this time I dopely forgot oh it's a check, I must deposit first before I can spend it.  But oh well, I was here!  I'll use my credit card and repay "with my check!"  I felt so grown-up at that moment.  Cymbols crashed clumsily when that $23.xx amount reflected back to me.  wonk.

Because of the holidays, I was working most Saturdays.  The manager's girlfriend would stop by who I'd never seen during the week.  She usually had a small picnic basket with her, head straight to the back, while he always said "Oh honey, you brought me lunch."  His delivery had a twinge of sarcasm, but I never thought much of it.  I found out a year later she had been lovingly delivering him boat loads of weed.  What the?!? Apparently he had been keeping hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of plants that were seized by the feds.

So as Rick reflected his transition from working dude to retired dude, I reflected on my initiation into the work force.  The education, the experience, feeling like I was making a difference... the free books... and the disappointment of taxes.  I don't think the position afforded my anything that I wouldn't later re-learn, but it was a positive experience overall.

p.s. I don't remember what I bought at Target, but during those days I could have probably purchased the whole store.  It wasn't hip then.