Prepare for landing

Summer 1996 (?)

For Christmas, my parents gave me a pair of interchangeable rollerblades. Totally cool. The bottoms of the rollerblades could be changed from ice skates, to trick skis, or to the traditional wheels for rollerblading.

My childhood best friend, Kari, and I decided to go to the top of my neighborhood’s hill so that I could rollerblade down. Kari was rollerblade-less and held my dog, Daisy, by the leash as I attempted to ascend and descend the hill. As a kid, everything appears to be bigger than it actually is, so I imagined the hill to be a mountain.

I was ready to rocket down that hill. Kari and Daisy watched as I began my descent. Halfway down the hill, I felt something funny under one of my feet. I looked down. The wheels were gone on one of my skates.

In less than a second, I thought to myself, “Just put your foot down and prepare for landing.”

Crash. Topple. Skip. Scrape. I had survived! I stood up. Kari and Daisy darted toward me. Not one tear dropped out of my eyes.

I hobbled up my driveway. My mom came rushing out. She took those skates and immediately threw them in the trash.

Totally cool? No. Totally killer.

Egyptians created the Pyramids. Americans created the Pyramid Scheme.

October 8, 2010

I woke up at 4:00am to get ready, left my place by 5:00am, caught one of three buses I had to take by 5:24am, and arrived in Englewood by 7:45am. I had to be there by 9:00am, so I figured earlier was better. Around 8:30am, I waited in the office for my second interview along with two other candidates. Both were female and around my age. One had a sort of mohawk. First bad sign.

At 9:30am, I met the person that I was shadowing for the day, “Bob” (name removed for confidentiality). My first impression of Bob was “frat boy” because of his long scruffy hair and beer belly dressed in a cheap suit. We left the building and headed to our transportation for the day…his Jeep. Usually, the business or company wants to impress their prospective employees. At least that is what I thought until I took a seat in Bob’s jeep. It reeked of cigarette smoke and looked like it was his personal dumpster on wheels.

Bob told me we were going to Arvada, which is his territory for selling. We stopped by a convenience store for snacks. I purchased a diet coke, while Bob purchased a pack of cigarettes and two fried “somethings”. As I walked toward the car, Bob started to light a cigarette and told me he had to smoke it before we left. I said, “Ok”.

As we drove to Arvada, Bob proceeded to blast blue grass music, wore a baseball cap slanted, and texted on his cell phone while driving. My take on professionalism at this point was basically close to none. Once we arrived in Arvada, Bob told me he was going to meet with clients that he had closed the deal on. The deal was that the business accepted to purchase office supplies from Q***, the company Bob was assigned to sell in Arvada.

Suddenly I realized I was working at Dunder Mifflin (the Office). So we proceeded to meet with these clients. Well, the first five clients were not in the office. To sum up the morning: we drove in loops around Arvada, listening to blue grass, me inhaling secondhand cigarette smoke, me gagging every time Bob hocked and spit a loogie, and walked into businesses where the clients were unavailable. Blisters started to form on my heels.

Lunch time. Bob took me to Smiling Moose and treated me to lunch. Oh, how thoughtful. We then discussed how I would be paid if I decided to join the company. My choice was between salary or commission. Bob recommended commission because salary did not meet his satisfaction. He showed me the structure of the company. It was separated into four categories formed into a pyramid structure. You gradually work your way up the ladder earning more money as you go. Once you are at the top, you are able to relocate to a different city, choose your clients to sell to other businesses, and hire people to work for you. May sound a tad confusing, but it screamed scam. I asked Bob who created this business structure. He didn’t know and didn’t care.

Once lunch was finished, Bob told me we were going to try to find new businesses to sell office supplies to. Yippee. We parked at one end of town and walked. We stopped by every building that appeared to be a business that seemed to use a decent amount of office supplies (i.e., law firms, insurance agencies). Every door we opened had a giant label reading, “NO SOLICITORS”. I think Bob truely believed he was not a solicitor. Oh geez. Almost every business we entered turned Bob down. The kicker: Bob would try to use ice breakers such as, “Hey guys, I heard it was happy hour here. What are your drink specials?” or, “Hey, I’m here with the IRS and I need to collect. Where is your accountant?” It was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. He said those lines with no enthusiasm and he thought that he was being clever or funny. AHHHH!!!! People do not want to hear that kind of stuff. He maybe was able to get two businesses interested in buying office supplies from Q***.

Oh yea, the marketing company (not Q***) does not give out business cards. Their theory, one of many idiotic theories, was to keep people in a state of fear. If you don’t leave a business card, then the prospective business will think that they missed out. No. The business will completely forget about the offer and continue to buy their office supplies from Office Max or Office Depot.

Finally, I thought to myself, “I want to get the f*** out of here.” I had enough and I was wasting my time. It was about 3:00pm when I told Bob that I was not interested in this job. I asked if I could leave. He told me that his boss, “Sheila” (named removed for confidentiality), would like to talk to me at the end of the work day and there is some liability involved. In my mind I was thinking, “Liability? What liability? I didn’t give them any of my information except my name and resume.” I also didn’t want to burn any bridges, so I sucked it up and continued to follow Bob around as he continuously got rejected. I kind of started to find amusement out of the whole experience. This is what door to door salesman go through on a day to day basis. How do they enjoy it???

We arrived back at the office by 5:00pm. I took a seat and waited to speak with Sheila. Two minutes later Bob comes out and tells me that I can leave. What?! I didn’t actually have to talk with Sheila. Figures. I darted out of the office and immediately called my Dad to vent. Bless his heart. He chuckled at my story, but reassured me that I did the right thing by going to check it out. I guess he is right.

Icing on the cake: I was locked inside a fenced in area that I had mistakingly got myself trapped in while searching for the bus home. There was no way out. I had to climb the fence. In flats.

So, here I am still on the hunt for a job.

I’m from Maryland and I hate Old Bay

Summer 2004.

Higgins Crab House. All you can eat crabs for $24.99. My two best gal pals Sue and Ash.

We took our seats at a picnic table outside and began to prepare for the feast. Mallets in hand and ready to chow down.

“AHHH!!!” I felt an abrupt sting in my left eye. Old Bay seasoning had been shot into my eye socket. For all non-Marylanders or non-crab eaters, seasoning can be quite disastrous. When feasting, feast with caution because Old Bay is a mixture between spicy, salty, and tangy. In my opinion, goggles or any type of eye protector should be worn at all times while eating crabs.

The waitress brought over a miniature bowl of water for me to rinse my eye. Didn’t really help. My own tears helped cleanse that wicked substance off my eyeball.

One crab in and Sue says, “Hey Kay, I’ll give you a dollar if you eat a spoonful of Old Bay.”

Deal on. No hesitation. I swallow the spoonful and gag.

Ash takes note and says, “I’ll give you $20 if you eat the whole thing.” The “thing” was a 3.5 oz container of Old Bay and salt crystals. Few seconds of contemplation, and I shake on it.

I prepare for my dare by ordering a giant glass of Mountain Dew to help wash down the evil, yet edible seafood condiment.

Timer set. Go. I scoop my first spoonful and put it into my then unharmed mouth. My taste buds instantly reject my food selection, but I fought back. Twenty bucks. Totally going to be worth it.

Scoop one down. Sip the Dew. Scoop two down. Sip the Dew. Gag. Scoop three down. Dew. Oh, I did the Dew.

After six or seven scoops within 4 minutes and 11 seconds, the Old Bay in the container had been relocated to my then cast-iron stomach. My arms shot up in the air and I stood for applause.

Boom! No applause, yet a sudden wave of nausea cast over me. I clenched my gut and ran for the restroom inside. If I were three seconds late, I would have wallpapered that bathroom door with my newly ingested Old Bay.

Ok, brace yourselves, but I am not kidding you…it was projectile. I had never seen or believed that a human being could have puked that much that far away from a toilet and still manage to have it land in the toilet bowl. There I was standing over the porcelain thrown vomiting my victorious dare.

I stayed in the bathroom until I thought every last drop of stomach acid had exited my body. Heading back to the table, I felt proud of myself. I took my seat.

“Hey, Kay. How ya feelin’?” Sue says.

“Ugh..,” as I give a thumbs up.

“Hey, Kay, I’ll give you five bucks if you eat this knife,” Ash says.

“Hey, Kay, I’ll give you five bucks if you eat Ash’s car,” Sue fires back.

Gag. I dart to the bathroom again. This time I have company: Ash’s camera in my vomiting face. My friends care about me. That is why they document our adventures.

We get back to the table. I can’t even stand the smell of the food around me. I gag, but there is nothing to gag left in me. We leave in Ash’s inedible car. Sue and Ash drive me back to our hotel. They leave me there in my delusional state due to the dehydration and tell me that they’re going to go get me some Pepto Bismol. Door slams. I’m alone. Within ten seconds I’m sitting on the hotel room’s toilet. I will spare the details, but I will tell you this: it burned like hell.

Back in bed I lay there debating whether or not it was worth the $20. Hell yea it was!

Hours pass. I start to wonder where my friends could be. Did they leave me here to rot? Are they out partying without me? How dare them!

Door opens and Ash tosses me some Pepto Bismol tablets.

“What took you so long?”

“We had to drive to Delaware to pick up some cloves.” Ash said unfazed by my dehydrated condition.

“Just eat the Pepto. We have to get ready for Power Hour.”

I finished 24 minutes of that Power Hour in which I am incredibly proud to admit before passing out on the hotel floor.

I despise Old Bay and my hostility for the seasoning has made me hate all kinds of condiments. Except ketchup.