Things that aren’t okay in a professional setting (or why I hate my job)

  • I’m pretty sure my boss has it out for me.
  • Like really. She’s treating me beyond poorly, focusing all of her bad energy on me for no apparent reason.
  • It really harshes my mellow.
  • Also it’s not really appropriate to treat someone differently in the workplace just because you don’t like them.
  • Judge me on my work, not your personal opinion of me.
  • Kay thanks.

not only that, but also:

  • Some of my older managers do not understand that my name is “Liz.”
  • It’s not baby, or babe, sweetie, sweetheart, honey, pretty girl, or anything else.
  • It’s Liz.

And then there’s the kicker:

  • The dress code there is that everyone must wear ties.
  • This wouldn’t be a problem if it only was to make sure everyone looked the same, because that’s the point of a uniform.
  • But here’s misogyny in action: it’s because someone in corporate thinks menswear is more professional than womenswear.
  • (I’m not even joking. It’s in the official printed dress code.)
  • Because saying menswear is more professional than womenswear, that it is more indicative of a “business professional” look, they’re effectively saying that the traditional (and very, very wrong) belief that men are more professional than women is correct.
  • Also my store director said I didn’t look professional and then told me to buy mens pants and to stop at a “big and tall” store.
  • the term is plus size.
  • and I can buy clothes at Target, thank you very much.
  • So basically, my workplace is a function of the patriarchy.

Misogyny in action, everyone.

Let’s take this outside

I am not quite sure why the weather around here has decided to be so ridiculous, but it has. It’s the middle of April and we’re still supposed to be expecting snow for at least another two days. I had to brush the snow off my car far too much for spring.

If it doesn’t start being actual spring soon, I’m going to have to start taping large pictures of spring scenes across my windows so I can pretend it’s nice out. And then never leave my house until all of the snow is gone.

But with my window cracked I can at least pretend it’s spring. We have a ton of birds around here, and when it’s not geese squawking around then it’s a little easier to pretend you can see the grass and the sun. (When the geese fly by it’s just a reminder of how terrifying geese are. There is no reason for a bird to chase a person through a park but they still do it anyway, all the time, without question. Not okay geese.)

But spring can feel free to get here as soon as possible. I don’t like pretending.

I’m running on about three hours of sleep and a coffee I got earlier today that did almost nothing, so my head is basically filled with unnecessary information just waiting to be let out to an audience who doesn’t really need to know it.

For instance, did you know that the fur colour on siamese cats is temperature sensitive? Or that there is a super great list of cats on wikipedia? or that the cats from Aristocats are actually the cutest?

I promise I don’t only talk about cats.

(But you have to admit they’re adorable.)

On an entirely different subject, my phone now recognizes when I’m trying to type “broski.”

I think it’s gaining sentience.

Although my phone might not even exist outside of my mind, according to an 18th century Irish philosopher named George Berkeley. One anthology of readings in philosophy called him the greatest Irish philosopher ever. He theorized that nothing exists except when perceived by someone. Kind of like “if a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?” except it’s a little different. It also means that other people don’t actually exist unless you perceive them. Like, the way you experience your best friend is a reflection of how you perceive them, so they don’t really exist outside of that perception.

I don’t buy it, but it’s fun to think about (like most things from 18th century Europe).

Also my younger brother recently told me that on a microscopic level, you can’t actually touch anything – you think you touch it, but it’s just energy or static electricity or something that makes you think you’re making contact with it.

These are some of the reasons I’m an art student.

… I think I need another coffee.

Spaghetti

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you want to make me spaghetti?” is a question I hear at least once a week. Usually at times when your average person is asleep. Mostly because my roommate has a serious addiction to spaghetti.

Seriously. We went out for pizza the other night, got a giant pizza, and she still ordered a side of spaghetti. It’s ridiculous.

Let me tell you a little about my roommate. 

  • Her name is Arianna
  • she is 20
  • We met like 7 years ago in physical science class
  • we had the best way to remember how to spell molybdenum when we were memorizing the periodic table
  • she moved in over the summer 
  • she has tiny feet.
Image

aww look at this cutie.

So I walk in after I get home from work, 12:15 a.m. and big shocker almost immediately she asks me to make her pasta. And I’m a pushover. And the best time to make any kind of food is after midnight. And last time I didn’t get her food when she asked she looked up the word “snack” in about 30 different languages and sent them to me until I caved.

So I’m making the pasta and choosing to take this as an opportunity to pretend, at least for 20 minutes, that I don’t have a paper due in 11 hours.

Because procrastination and pasta are the two most important p words you’ll ever know.

I suppose you need to know me

Part class project, part attempt to do more than reblog pictures of cats on tumblr, In The Early Hours is my third foray into the world of actual blogging and definitely the only one worth reading.

First, an intro. I’m Liz, a 21-year-old university student studying journalism and art in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I eventually want to work for a non-profit in suicide prevention. I like vinyl and loose-leaf tea. I don’t sleep often enough, and I rely on caffeine much too often to be healthy.

What you’ll find on this blog:

  • unnecessary lists
  • run-on sentences
  • fuzzy pictures from my phone
  • exciting tales of dumb adventures
  • and probably a little bit of me waxing poetic over shows on the BBC.

So yeah. Enjoy the ride.