Tag Archives: Job

My Dream Office

Me and my husband are moving. And if you’ve ever lived in Los Angeles and had to move, you know how much life is sucking for us right now. The stress of finding a new place has taken its toll but there is one beacon of hope guiding me ever so gently to the peaceful shores of… peace. And that beacon – dear reader- is the promise of my new office.

Right now we live in a two-bedroom with a king sized bed in the master and a full sized bed in the spare. The spare room has a tad bit more room (because the bed is smaller) and in that teensy-weensy corner of space, we managed to connect a shelf to the wall and put a big-ass computer on top of it. We scooch a chair up to this shelf and work on the computer, pretending that it’s a desk. Pretending we have an office. And pretending that we can get work done in this cramped up bit of space.

One day (a few months ago) while prepping the spare room for a video shoot, we had to take down the bed. And while the bed was out of the room, seeing how much space we’d deprived ourselves of, we decided immediately that an office would be in our future. It felt like that scene in Step Brothers where Will Ferrell enthusiastically exclaims “We can get so many activities done!” A new world had opened up for us. And from that point on, the clock was ticking until the moment we could be rid of that bed and replace it with a desk.

And now that day is quickly upon us and here’s how I’m thinking it’s going to change my life.

**Drum roll please**

It will give me the feeling of going to work again. As many of you know, I’ve quit my job. And there’s something about not having to wake up in the morning and be somewhere at a specific time or else you’re going to be fired or yelled at that takes the wind right out of your sails. I mean, at first it was cool and the gang. I’d wake up and stare at the ceiling in bliss. Stretch and roll over, taking my sorry ass right back to the magical world of sleepy-time dream-world land. And while these kinds of mornings will never get old for me, they’re not productive AT ALL. They usually lead to a day of playing catchup. I try to get into work mode, but find myself lounging on the couch with the keyboard on my lap, wearing a t-shirt and panties and fighting every instinct to just turn on the TV and catch up on Empire. And guess what? Lucious’s shady ass always wins.

So with this office space, I’m hoping I can jumpstart myself into “office mode.” Sure, I don’t have a commute anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a nine to five. Yeah, I don’t have supervisors to answer to but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a responsibility to do my job in a thorough and efficient manner. And when I really think about it, I do have a supervisor. Myself. And if I can trick myself into following an unnecessarily stingy grocery budget (which I have for the past few weeks), I can surely create an arbitrary corporate schedule for myself to follow. And so with every waking moment, I plan out my days as if getting ready to start a new job. I anticipate waking up early and doing yoga. Taking my shower and doing my hair and makeup. Putting on my work outfit (nothing too formal) and getting to the “office” at nine A-M on the dot to start my workday. I’ll have my coffee on my desk and sift through emails, before reaching out to people and working on new projects, reading scripts, writing scripts, writing other things (blogs, articles, proposals, etc.), reaching out to new contacts and maintaining old ones.

It’s going to be glorious and I can’t wait to bully myself into submission.

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Exodus into the Job Abyss

I’m leaving my place of employment and here’s the dealio. I’m feeling good about this decision but I don’t know that I’ve ever given y’all the details.

So here’s some things concerning my premature ejaculation…

from my job:

 

WHEN?

My last day is this Friday.

WHY?

I’m leaving this gig because I’m overqualified. That’s prettymuch what it all boils down to. I could break down all of the little things that make me want to leave but every grievance, complaint, annoyance, mistake and/or confusion within my workplace experiences centers on the fact that I am overqualified to be doing what I’m doing.

WHAT EXACTLY AM I DOING?

My job is to help someone else to do their job. Again, I could break down my position and give you my official title and every single requirement but this is really another ‘bottom line’ element which everything else boils down to. There is not one thing that I do on any given day that is independent of my helping another person to achieve their professional (and many times personal) goals.

Which is totally fine…

…but that’s not what I want to do. And more importantly, I’m not gaining skills that could help me to get a better job.

WHAT DO I PLAN ON DOING?

Well, I’m glad you asked! You’re so considerate… we should really do coffee sometime.

I’m leaving this job so that I can pursue personal projects. My goal is to produce short films, feature films, web series, hell… maybe even a TV series. I want to do my own thing.

And that is where ish gets scary.

Because despite the fact that I followed my dreams up to this point, I’ve always done what I’d like to call “asking-for-permission-ass” jobs. (An asking-for-permission-ass job is pretty explanatory, I think. Just imagine a grownup version of the game “Mother May I.”) Anyway, I’ve spent 10 years ‘paying my dues’ and asking Mother if I could take a few bunny hops forward only to be told, “nah Peggy… but you can stay your ass where you at tho”. The shit is old. And I can’t imagine spending another year not having a job where I can work from home. Or take a client to lunch. Or fire someone.

So here I am.

HOW TO DO WHAT I’M DOING

First of all, I ain’t doing shit yet. I could fail miserably and come crawling back to my current job, begging for a chance to be in the building again.

Just as – you know –  a janitor.

I don’t need my old job back, Marie, I swear. I just need a job. Any job ya got!

**Picks up mop**

See, look at this. I’m mopping the floor. Ain’t too proud for this, Marie. I know it’s a carpet… just… come on! Work with me here.

So don’t copy offa me because I have no idea what I’m doing. Anywho, it really helps that my hubby is working again. Otherwise, my other go-to would be to live in my car. I think about living in my car quite a bit, actually, dunno why.

But my hubby is taking on the brunt of our bills because he knows that I got the goods and will probably be a pretty decent Producer. We’re going to rely on his paycheck and thank God he’s been able to find more freelance work recently because, I planned on quitting no matter what.

So I’m ready to give this entrepreneurial life a try because I’ve done everything else and can’t fathom spending another day wondering “what if?”

How to Not Be a Weirdo

Why are people so weird?

Like for realz.

Sometimes I just want to set y’alls weird asses free.

And to be honest, I’m an introvert so I totally get awkwardness. Awkwardness is when you don’t know how to get your shit together in time to be normal around other people. Someone catches you off guard and you’re like, “holy shit…let me hurry up and act like I’m a fucking human being.” I get it. Trust me, I do.

But it seems like some people don’t know how to function to the point where you want to just throw them off a fucking cliff. And I find that I experience this wayyyy more than I should. (I’ll get into that later, I promise.)

Like I’ll pass someone in the hallway at work and they’ll go through five different facial expressions before finally regurgitating a “hello” from the pits of their bowels.

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I promise you… if you’re guilty of this, it’s because you’re thinking too hard.

Confidence is the key. And I say this because – like I said – I’ve been there before. I used to have to practice interacting with people in the mirror. I thought I was the weirdest person in the world. And I probably was. But the thing is, you have to get past what you THINK you look like/what you THINK other people are thinking and just deal with the reality of what’s actually happening.

For example: I wish these awkward ass people could know how tired I am. I wish they could know that when I go into the office kitchen to grab a snack, I’m singing a Prince song that’s been on rotation in my head all day and I’m probably also thinking about my best friend forever… food.

In other words, the odds of me thinking about you are slim to none. But I still have to be hit with this fucking face…

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…as soon as I open my mouth to say “excuse me you’re blocking the water cooler.”

And then there are the people who do the I’m smiling so I don’t get fined face. You know, one of these…

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And I be wanting to tell these people not to even fucking bother. My boss is good at this one. She will hit you with that creepy ass, manic smile fifty feet before she approaches you to talk. So that means I have to look at her shitty-ass, pseudo grin for at least ten “Mississippi” seconds before I’m hit with a “good morning.”

How is that fair to me? I’m not the one that doesn’t know how to register a normal resting face while in the presence of other humans. So why should I be coerced into what someone else perceives to be an awkward situation. It’s not like we’re going to serenade each other. We’re not going in for a kiss. I don’t feel weird. Why are you trying to make this weird?!

The people who are desperate to make every situation awkward are the more harmless breed, though. You’ll come up to them and they’ll give you a conspiratorial ‘aren’t we both feeling awkward‘ face. These types, you just ignore and then eventually they’ll realize that you ain’t thinking bout them and they’ll practically fade into thin air.

The worst kind, however, are the ‘it’s not me, it’s YOU‘ weirdos. They’re the type to look at YOU like YOU’RE straight up bonkers, thereby sucking you into their vortex of weirdness. I used to fall victim to these people all the time.

You’ll hit’em with . . .

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And here they go . . .

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An interaction with this type will send you running to the bathroom to check your nose for boogers or to make sure you’re zipper isn’t down. And these types are persistent. It took me years to figure out that I wasn’t the crazy person in these interactions. And as a recovering weirdo, I still have moments where I question my sanity.

But usually, I realize that unless I’ve done something extreme – walking around naked, murdering someone, etc. – I’m probably fine and the person who’s looking at me like I’m crazy for acknowledging them is living within their own personal hell.

So why do I seem to run into these people a lot? My theory is it’s because I’m Black and a woman. People tend to expect us to be loud, crazy and funny. And that’s not my steelo. I can be funny and loud at times, but not in a professional setting. I’m just not that chick.

And I can feel the disappointment when White coworkers interact with me. I’m very friendly so they think I’m going to be their ‘homegirl.’ And I’m not. (That’s actually this Black chick named Rhonda that works down the hall.) And because I’m confident but not walking around grinning like a got-damn fool, it makes other people dive deep into their feelings and they always come back up for air with the idea that I’m judging them. And I’m not. I’m thinking about food.

So get it together weirdos. It’s okay to say, “hi” and “bye” without turning the situation into a skit from Saturday Night Live.

That’s all I got!

Have a good weekend!

(…and don’t be scared to comment below!)

The Suite Life of Working Fo’ Yo Self

I remember one day when I worked in retail selling eyeglasses, one of my coworkers was clocking in and I asked him how he was doing. I didn’t expect anything out of the norm but he stopped and turned toward me. Looked me dead in the eye and said this…

“I just finished sitting in my car for twenty minutes. I stared at this building and asked myself, ‘do I reeeally want to do this? Today?'”

This man’s words from three years ago still resonate with me because I think everyone who’s ever had a job has asked themselves this question at some point.

And with the title of my blog, I think it’s clear that I ask myself this question every single day.

This year, however, I will finally have a chance to actually work toward my dream of entrepreneurship. I’ve graduated with a masters in entertainment from a prestigious institution that has given me a ton of connections. My husband is working and will be able to support us soon. I don’t have any children. And there’s really no time like the present.

My goal is to start my own production company – producing my first feature film OR TV show (whichever comes first) – while branding myself through my writing and videos. I’m currently gathering projects and seeking talent in order to work toward these things.

Not sure if this will work but crazier things have happened and I refuse… REFUSE to waste another year of my life helping someone else to live their dream. And that’s basically what every corporate job is.

It’s just not an option for me anymore.

Every day is filled with research and preparation for this move. And while I’m sure it will be filled with many failures and mistakes, it’s going to be successful.

…and I’m excited.

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Bear Necessities

So whilst watching The Nightly Show on Comedy Central last night – they were doing a sketch where one of the women comedians danced around in a bear costume –  I wistfully mumbled something out loud. Didn’t even realize I’d done it. It was actually like I sighed out some words. My husband asked what I was talking about.

I said, “wha-huh? I didn’t say anything.”

Him: Yes, you did. You said ‘I wish I had that job.’

Me: . . .

Him: What job do you wish you had?

Then it all came back to me. For a split second I’d wished that my job was to dress up in that very bear costume (the costume completely hides the face, of course) and dance with people.

Not sure if that’s a low point, but it’s definitely a bad sign. Time to get cracking on these scripts.