A little bit not cute...

So I know it’s been a long time since my last post… and forgive me, but if I was capable of consistency, I wouldn’t be an aspiring adult, now would I?  Let me take this time to briefly fill you in on the past three months of my life. 

On the last day of my production job I got an e-mail that the one restaurant I applied to wanted me to work there starting ASAP!I galloped around the set telling people to come visit me and tip me big, and mentally pre-spent all my tip money on high heels and hair extensions so I could be a real LA girl. 

Good thing I kept my mental receipts, because day 1 I found out I was hired as a hostess, but could move up.  I was not happy with this, but laziness beat out pride in this situation and I thought I would much rather lay on the beach than look for another job, so I stuck around.  On day 2 I found out that the company was sold; it would be closing for six weeks, and my boss in a fit of panic, would be moving to Hawaii with her boyfriend.  Neat.  Now the person I was supposed to be impressing with my impeccable ability to wipe down menus and stock toilette paper would be leaving. 

It turns out I’m a crappy hostess anyway, so I wasn’t so disappointed when I became unemployed once again. 

I turned to a temp agency to help me with my unemployment needs.  I put on my high water dress pants, stopped at Kinko’s to print out my resume, and got to the interview with minutes to spare! I grabbed a parking spot right next to the front entrance.  I stepped out of the car and realized that my hair was just a little bit not cute... so I got back in the car to fix it. 

When I went to lock the car again (manually because I lost my master key in a less than adult situation a few nights before) the alarm started going off… really loud. I started sweating in a way that’s a little more extreme that “a little not cute” as I tore through my manual trying to figure out how to turn it off.  (Turns out you can’t without the master key).  It shut off on its own, but when I tried to lock the door again (like an idiot) I think you can guess what it did...  This time the receptionist came out to see who’s car was being broken into and he saw sweaty me with still not cute hair, and a suspiciously wet resume, inching away from the screaming car.  He did not seem amused.  It turns out the interviewer had a much better sense of humor… then again, my resume was dry by the time he got it.

The interview went great, and he got me two reception gigs at high profile companies, so I can’t complain.  Now I like to think of myself as a temporary adult… with the option of regression if need be.  Or a 9-6 adult, with rebellious tendencies in the evenings.