Phone Interviews

Right now, I am sitting next to my cell phone and computer eagerly awaiting a phone call from a company where I applied for a job as an office administrative assistant. The interviewer is now twenty-three minutes late in calling me. Not only was I looking forward to this phone call all weekend long and I even took the time to thoroughly research the company and prepare myself for this phone interview, but I am also a very impatient person when it comes to this sort of thing. My mind starts to go to all sorts of negative places and I can’t stop it. I start to think, “What if I gave her the wrong phone number by accident?” So I go and double check the cover letter AND resume that Ii sent her, both of which contain my cell phone number. Nope, it’s the right number. Then I go to check our email correspondences to see if I mistyped the number there. Nope, still the right number. So, in all three documents she has the correct phone number to reach me.

Then I start to worry, well what if she just forgot that we had a phone interview scheduled today at 10am? What do I do then? Do I call her and see what’s going on or does that make me seem far too desperate and over-eager for the job? I have no idea. Do I email her instead? I really have no idea what to do, but I am starting to get irritated and here’s why.

In my opinion, a job interview, whether it’s in person or over the phone is not just meant for the interviewer or potential employer to judge their prospective employee; it’s also an opportunity for the prospective employee to gain some insight into the company firsthand from someone who works there. Basically, the impression that the potential employers project onto the interviewee is just as important as the impression that the interviewee gives to the potential employer. In other words, the candidate is not the only one being interviewed; I am also interviewing the potential employer. That’s why, at the end of the interview, when they ask me if I have any further questions, I always make sure that I have some prepared before the interview.

Tardiness, in my opinion, is not a good first impression. Unless, of course, there is a good reason for it. After all, my time is just as valuable as theirs and as I sit here impatiently awaiting a phone call that, at this point, seems like it may or may not happen, I need to constantly remind myself of this. I need to constantly remind myself that this is a big company I am interviewing with and I just need to be patient. I mean, it’s no different than when I go to an interview in person and they keep me waiting in the lobby for about twenty minutes, right? By the way, as I am typing this, this phone call is now precisely thirty-five minutes late. In this time, I have navigated through the company’s entire website and under the “Our Team” heading, I’ve managed to find the name and picture of the woman from HR I was emailing.

I think I’m going to wait until about 11-ish and then just send her a quick email stating that I hope she didn’t get pushed on the subway tracks and die a horrible painful death on her way to work, which would then be a viable excuse as to why she wasted my time. Because, even though I am the one seeking out employment from this big wig company, that doesn’t give them the right to keep me waiting so damn long, does it?

Or am I just WAY too impatient? Well, I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I expected her to call exactly at 10 am on the nose or anything; a few minutes late is fine. Fifteen minutes late is fine. But now it’s pushing forty minutes late and sorry, but I do have other shit to do and errands to run before my shift which starts at 1pm.

Anyway, I just called because I decided to throw caution and all of my inhibitions to the wind.

So, apparently I was just being crazy and presumptuous. It turns out she sounds like one of the nicest people EVER on the phone and the reason she wasn’t able to call me on time was because she was having technical difficulties with her computer and she was in the middle of getting it fixed. However, she will email me again today and set something up for tomorrow. And once again, I can rest assured that I still have a chance of getting this amazing job. Whew.

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Karma is NOT a Bitch!

Lately I’ve been trying to “find myself”. I put that in quotation marks because I don’t even really know what it means to “find myself”. All I know is that I’m looking for something I don’t have right now, something that’s missing from my life. Is it just me, or do I do that every year this time of year? I think that this time of year is very rejuvenating in the sense that it’s a season of transformation. Not just in terms of the climate, but also in terms of changing moods and attitudes. I know there’s a science behind it or some kind of explanation, but I won’t get into that. Anyway, I’ve got quite a few new opportunities that have been popping up recently that I am very excited about, so I am going to focus all of my energy on working towards those and making good things happen. Hopefully all of my hard work pays off. But I’m also not oblivious to the fact that these past few days I’ve been very fortunate in the sense that I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

For instance, I wasn’t supposed to work on Sunday. It was my day off, but one of my coworkers texted me a few days before to switch shifts with her. Reluctantly, I agreed. (I was reluctant because I had already been working five days straight which means I was also neglecting my exercise regime, but I decided to help a sister out anyway.) So, I took the shift and in exchange she offered to take one of mine. Naturally, I pawned off my loathed 6am shift on Wednesday because who the hell ever wants to be awake before the crack of dawn? Anyway, karma must have been on my side because literally the precise moment I gave her that shift I got an email from a job I applied to asking if I would be available for an interview that day. Not only that, but on Sunday I also ran into my best friend’s aunt at my work (which would not have happened if I hadn’t accepted that shift change) and I told her about my current job search predicament. She then informed me that she just recently became a registered life coach and wrote down all of her contact info and told me to email her my resume so that she could forward it to her colleagues. Of course, desperate as I am for a new career, I did just that as soon as I went home. The next day, I received in which she had forwarded my resume to a bunch of her colleagues. So, as you can see, sometimes the tiniest changes in life can cause a ripple effect. Hence, everything really DOES happen for a reason! Because of this one shift change, I was able to network AND schedule a job interview! Needless to say, I am quite excited right now because after all of my hard work and stress, good things are finally coming my way! Fingers crossed!

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Birthdays

My birthday was a few days ago. I just turned 25. So…why do I feel so old? Why do I feel like I have so much that I yet to accomplish in my life? It’s not for lack of trying or anything like that. I feel like I do nothing BUT try. So, why do I s1till feel like I am stuck in a sort of limbo?

And why do I feel like I am the only one despite the fact in my mind I know that there are countless other 25 year olds out there who are in the same position as me? I know this because most of my friends are stuck in the same limbo as me. Yet, I still feel like my experience is somehow infinitely and profoundly unique even though rationally, I know it’s not.

I guess I am just wondering how I can remedy this situation. I know there is no quick and easy solution, but I was just hoping my life would be different by now; that I would have reached at least SOME level of success or that I would have been on the path to reaching said success. I’m working hard, I am constantly pursuing new opportunities and challenges and yet, somehow, I always manage to remain at square one. I mean, what more do I have to do to get ahead in this life?!

Maybe I’m just too honest and well meaning in all of my endeavours. Maybe that’s it.

On the other hand, I’ve been told on numerous occasions that it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. If that’s really the case, I am royally screwed because, to be frank, I just don’t know a lot of people. At least, I don’t know a lot of people who can help me achieve my life and career goals. But I am working on that. I am trying harder to socialize and network.

All I really want out of life is to have a lucrative job and a writing career. Now, if I could just find a way to combine the two things, I’d be set.

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What’s the First Thing People Notice About YOU?

Ok, so I just took this online quiz that apparently helps determine what my most immediately discernible personality trait is to people I’ve just met. As we all know, first impressions can be very important in most situations (i.e. a job interview), but that’s not to say that first impressions are necessarily set in stone. Obviously, people are like onions and they have layers (a little something I learned from Shrek that always stuck with me). It would be ludicrous to assume that our first impressions of other people are completely accurate when it comes to assessing who they really are as a person because there are so many extenuating and mitigating factors that come into play. For instance, what if you just happened to catch someone on a particularly bad day and they came off as a total prick to you? A lot of people claim that when they met certain celebrities, they were very rude or acted like they didn’t want to be bothered. And who knows, maybe this is true. But is it really fair to judge that person based upon that one momentary and brief interaction you may have had with them? Maybe in that particular moment they didn’t want to be bothered. After all, even celebrities are human, aren’t they? Except of course Tom Cruise. We all know he’s an alien, although he did fool a lot of people for a very long time. Well done, Tom Cruise. Before you jumped all over Oprah’s couch you had us all deep within the palm of your hand.

Anyway, in case you’re wondering, the result of my quiz rendered me a rebel. Ha. I’m not sure what to even think of that. To be honest, I don’t really consider myself much of a rebel anymore, but there was a time when I was a teenager when I identified with being a punk. I still listen to a lot of the same music that I did back then, but my tastes have evolved a lot since then. You could say I’ve broadened my horizons. I’ve stopped fake-dying my hair outrageous colours and gone are the spiked belts and bracelets going up to my elbows. I did get into my fair share of trouble with my friends at my side though. Man, those were the days.

However, I was still surprised that based on my answers, this algorithm behind this quiz still somehow managed to render me a rebel. If I really think about it, I guess it makes a little bit of sense. I know that a lot of my opinions and ideals certainly don’t always conform with conventional ideals. Example: I think marriage is a totally antiquated ritual and many people seem to have conveniently forgotten that its original purpose actually had nothing to do with love. Now, I understand that perceptions change over time and now marriage is meant to join two people in a blissful union. But, let’s not forget it started out as a business transaction, a means for a father to essentially trade his daughter to a man more than twice her age for commercial goods. Why do you think the person officiating asks, “Who gives this woman away?”. But, I digress.

The point is, even though I don’t look like a rebel on the outside, in a lot of ways I guess I am one. It’s not that I am purposely trying to go against the norm just to be different. It’s that I am just so sick and tired of having to pretend that I agree with a lot of norms just to fit in. I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I just don’t give a fuck about fitting in anymore. If I have an idea, I am going to express it, not force it on you, just express it. And if you happen to agree then great, this will be an easy friendship or relationship. If you don’t happen to agree, then we can still be friends and; we’ll just engage in a lot of friendly debates, which is also great. After all, variety is the spice of life if you ask me.

Here are the results of my quiz in greater detail. If you’re interested in taking the quiz as well, please feel free to post your results in the comments and let me know what you think :). Do you think it’s an accurate assessment?

Rebellious

http://www.playbuzz.com/stephanies15/what-is-the-first-thing-people-notice-about-your-personality?ff=1

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Why Bother With a Social Life?

My Retail Nightmare for today is that I am working a 6pm-10pm shift…ON A SATURDAY NIGHT!! What.the.actual.fuck. Like the title for this post asks, why even BOTHER with a social life? Why even bother making weekend plans when I am given such incredible working hours like that? Oh, the retail life really does pay the ultimate price of suckage. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give me, a young woman trying to make her way in the world while paying (a lot) of bills, such a shitty shift, I would just like to say please go ahead and shove it up your ass. That goes to you, Mr. Douchebag from HR. Not that my other crappy retail job is any better. Anyway, that’s my rant for now. But don’t you worry. I’m sure that I will come up with even more inane things to rant about during my four hour foray into hell tonight. 

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Solitude

I sit upright,

Gasping for air

As I scramble out of bed

For the life of me.

That pen is the life of me.

That paper is the life of me.

They are the tools that breathe life into me.

As these four giant walls close in on me.

As this bed slowly suffocates the life out of me.

Breathing becomes a chore.

Something pushes me from within.

“Get up!” It screams.

“Get up!” It commands and I involuntarily obey.

It controls me, it drives me like a vehicle in which I am merely the passenger.

No one but other passengers understand

This ride I am conceding to.

I am the hostage and It is my captor.

If I don’t obey, I will surely die.

It will kill me slowly and painfully from within.

Organ after organ, vessel after vessel will erupt,

Languishing in my failed mission to save them all.

My penmanship is rusty. This is a very bad sign.

I’m forgetting how to write.

Technology has won many of the battles,

But the victor of the war is yet to be determined.

Love me, or leave me. This is who I am.

My hand is cramping up much faster than it used to.

Another bad sign, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

The sun shines through the windows, beckoning me.

But it’s too cold to go outside, too bright.

And I’d feel dumb being fooled by the sun’s taunting rays.

Instead, I remain in bed and finish my sentence,

Accepting this confinement as a part of my life.

My birth bed and death bed have become one and the same.

And I’ve accepted that.

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What Voice Am I Feeding?

What Voice Am I Feeding?.

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What Voice Am I Feeding?

I was just on the phone with a good friend of mine (she knows who she is) and we were discussing the difference between people’s desires and their needs–aka wants vs. needs. The essential question we came across was this: is what I want really what I need? Or am I just feeding a part of myself that is eternally selfish? It wasn’t in so many words, but that’s pretty much the gist of it.

Then my friend mentioned An Old Cherokee Tale of Two Wolves. It’s a famous story that I am all too familiar with, but it’s worth revisiting for the sake of this discussion. The story is about the age old battle that goes on within all of us: the battle between good and evil. As simple as the meaning behind this story is, I feel that it’s applicable to practically every aspect of life. Every decision that we make comes down to one thing: the distinction between what we want out of life and what we need out of life. In this case, we were talking about our health. She was telling me about this cleanse she’s been doing for the past few weeks, how difficult it can be when you lose sight of the fact that sometimes the things your body craves are the very things that are destroying it. It’s a self destructive cycle to get yourself into and one that is extremely difficult to break. It’s especially difficult when you lack the aid and support of the people who love you.

They think that just because they are giving you what you want, that they have your best interests at heart, but sometimes we just need a good old healthy dose of tough love. This is something I’ve been trying to prescribe to myself for the longest time, but sometimes I feel like I am failing myself when I give in to my cravings. Every time I pick up a Sun Chip and bring it to my lips–I like to eat the slowly to savour them–I wish someone would just slap it out of my hand. It may be aggressive and I may be momentarily pissed, but in the long run, you’d be doing me a huge favour.

In order for that to happen, though, I’d need someone to constantly monitor my eating habits, which is too unrealistic. I am, after all, a grown woman and I should be able to control myself, right?

Well, I recently watched the premiere episode of My 600 Pound Life on TLC and was profoundly disturbed by what I saw. A woman who was confined to her bed due to her sheer size, not to mention severe health problems. The episode was about her quest to undergo weightloss surgery because she was so certain it would somehow magically increase the quality of her life. The surgery itself, however, can only remedy the symptoms of the problem; it doesn’t tackle the root of the problem itself. Clearly, there was something in her life that made her the way she is. Something must have happened to bring her to the point of weighing six hundred pounds. People aren’t just born obese. The sad reality is that far too often people in these kinds of situations don’t always get the proper emotional or psychological help they may need in order to cope with the true nature of their problem. They think that a mere physical solution is all they need to absolve their problems and relieve their suffering. But what good is weightloss surgery if the person is simply going to gorge themselves again if they feel sad or depressed?

I’m not trying to be mean. I’m actually speaking from experience. Okay, I may not weigh six hundred pounds, but I do know a thing or two about dealing with certain financial struggles, self esteem issues as well as self deprecating behaviour. In other words, I know what it’s like to be unhappy. And I also know that different people deal with their misery in different ways. We all have our demons that we have to face and many times, we are left to battle them alone. I’ve had those days where the only thing that can satisfy my emotions or make me feel better is stuffing myself silly with food. The one drawback is that I always end up hating myself even more after binge eating. It never really dissipates the problem or makes me feel any better…it’s just a temporary non-solution to a very complicated issue.

In many ways, writing has been the junk food of my soul for as long as I can remember. Every time I’ve had a problem, felt depressed or was angry about something, I wrote about it. Every time, I had something on my mind, I wrote about it. Every time I couldn’t orally verbalize my thoughts or ideas, I simply wrote about it. I’m starting to think that my relationship with writing is just as addictive and self destructive as that obese lady’s obsession with food. It’s not that I only have negative feelings associated with writing; it’s just that usually when I write, it means that there is something on my mind. Usually whatever is on my mind has been eating away at me for a long time and this is the only real way to let it out. If I don’t set it free, it will continue to eat away at me until I am nothing but a hollow shell of a person. The only thing left is a vast nothingness deep within me. I write to stay sane. I write because I have a voice. I write because even though it doesn’t completely abolish the pain and struggle of everyday living, it nourishes my soul. It satisfies that strong hunger deep within me. That hunger is the fire lit beneath me that makes me want to trudge on in this world.

While I was talking with my friend, she brought up another important food-related question: “When I eat, what voice am I feeding? The one of want or the one of need?” I could ask myself the same thing about my writing. When I write, what voice am I feeding? Do I want to write or do I need to write? It’s honestly hard to say.

Sometimes, when I lay awake in my bed at night, tossing and turning endlessly the only thing that soothes my troubled mind is finding a pen and piece of paper and scribbling down some words. It could be mindless dribble or some of the most profound late night ramblings I’ve ever recorded. All I know is that if I don’t let it out, if I don’t wreck that paper with my relentless ink stains, I can’t sleep. I’ve struggled through nights where I was just too tired to get out of bed to write…and I hated myself in the morning for giving in to my own human setbacks. How dare I be too tired to write. I’m not allowed. I’m not allowed to refuse to indulge in one of my favourite forms of self indulgences. Because if I do, I feel inadequate the next day. I feel melancholy. I feel listless. And then I hate myself because I end up trying to compensate for my inadequacy by forcing myself to write something, but it never comes out right. It never compares to the masterpiece I would have composed if I had just been able to drudge myself out of bed the night before to write whatever was on my mind. That moment of desperate inspiration is gone never to return. Whatever sentences I would have composed are lost forever.

I know I sound overly dramatic. But I truly think that’s what addiction is like. It give you a small taste of self empowerment and then just as swiftly pulls it from under your feet unexpectedly. Don’t be fooled though. This is a false sense of empowerment. It’s an illusion. Feeding the bad wolf may make you feel well rested for the time being, but it will never be enough to satisfy your soul. You may feel a temporary sense of joy, but that doesn’t mean you should buy into it. Just like all those nights I chose to sleep instead of write. I have plenty of regret about that because, now instead of having an extensive body of work under my belt, I am sitting here writing about what could have been, pitying myself and feeling nostalgic. I’m sure every writer goes through this. It’s the reason so many artists are insomniacs. Our minds dictate when we are allowed to rest and when we must trudge through the exhaustion and work. Too many times I feed the evil bad wolf and let myself sleep in the same way that six hundred pound woman literally and figuratively fed her addiction to food.

I need to make a change. I need to feed the good wolf. I need to write more, but I need do it in a controlled manner. I need to become the master of my own domain and choose when I am going to write and what I am going to write about. No more waiting for inspiration to come around. I am going to make it happen. I am going to find ways to inspire myself. That is my new year’s resolution. I am tired of being unhappy and the only thing that makes me happy is writing. The only sound that brings me any sense of resolution and absolute joy is the sound of the keys clicking against my keyboard. There. Now I feel empowered.

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Why I Watch Award Shows

As we all know, last Sunday (January 12th), the Golden Globes awards show took place. Now, I’m not going to lie, I am an absolute SUCKER for Hollywood awards shows, the Oscars included. Not only do I enjoy watching all of my favourite performers and film and television show makers receive the acknowledgement and credit they deserve, but I also like seeing their reactions to receiving such accolades. Really, I couldn’t care less what any of them are wearing.

I just like to see that they are humble, regular everyday individuals who just happen to be making their dreams come true. In some odd way, it gives me a sense of hope that someday, I too, can achieve my goals to become a well known writer. It lets me know that hard work and dedication does pay off, even if it takes decades in order to give credit where credit is due. Another reason I enjoy watching award shows is, believe it or not, when someone I admire wins, I am actually genuinely happy for them. As some of my followers on Twitter might already know, I am a huge fan of Breaking Bad and so when Bryan Cranston won the award for Best Actor and then the show won for Best TV Series, I was ecstatic. For some reason, for diehard fans such as myself, it seems like a personal victory. You just want so badly for a show like that to be recognized for how great it truly is, especially after being snubbed numerous times in the past.

And of course, I can’t forget about Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. Those two together are just a dynamite comedy duo. What I love about their performance is that even though it was all thoroughly planned out, they somehow still made it all seem very genuine. I think this is because as a viewer you can tell that they truly have fun doing what they do and that they very close friends. Let me tell you, as someone who has performed on stage a few times, it is NOT easy to be that funny in front of all of those people. Sometimes jokes that seem funny in the writer’s room or during rehearsals just flop in front of a live or tv audience, especially some of the more risque jokes they were telling. Like this hilarious remark made by Tina Fey as she was introducing Leonardo DiCaprio:

“Like a super model’s vagina, let’s all give a warm welcome to Leonardo DiCaprio”.

Gotta love Tina Fey! The quote comes in at approximately 1:09, but I suggest watching the whole thing just to see Jennifer Lawrence awkwardly and hilariously photobomb Taylor Swift. I could not contain my laughter when I saw the look on Jennifer Lawrence’s face as she tried to discretely creep up the stairs behind Taylor Swift while she was being interviewed. Jennifer Lawrence is one of those Hollywood stars who I actually greatly respect and admire simply because she is not afraid to be herself and just says whatever is on her mind…and she’s always hilarious! Not to mention the fact that she promotes a very positive self image for young women everywhere, having been quoted as saying that she didn’t want Katniss Everdeen to be portrayed as some extremely thin, blond Hollywood caricature; but as a real person going through real struggles in life who is also determined and strong enough to overcome them. She insisted on a very heavy work out regime before commencing filming on The Hunger Games because she wanted Katniss to look fit and strong, not thin and frail.
Anyway, I could go on drooling over her for ages, but that’s content for a different post altogether. Here’s the link to the video (don’t mind the two annoying commentators, this was the only video I could find with the right footage):

Another great choice was Amy Poehler winning the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a TV Comedy. And I’m not just saying that because I am a very biased fan of Parks and Recreation…okay, so maybe I am. But anyone who has seen the show will understand why she deserved to win! It is such a cleverly written comedy. I don’t know what the formula is for writing funny and well timed comedy, but the writers of the show have certainly figured it out and have it down packed. Amy simply brings their hilarity to a whole new level, as does the rest of the cast. (By they way, I’d also like to see Aziz Ansari, Rashida Jones and Nick Offerman win a few awards for their work on the show as well!)

There were, of course, quite a few other worthy (in my opinion) winners that I should at least give honourable mention to, but since I am too lazy to type out all their names (ain’t nobody got time for that!) and CNN already did it for me, here’s a link instead:

http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/12/showbiz/celebrity-news-gossip/2014-golden-globes-winners/

And now, I leave you with the reason that I watch Parks and Rec. Two words: Ron Swanson.

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Eavesdropping in Public Places (Oh yeah, I do that shit)

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a coffee shop in Toronto discretely eavesdropping on a group of “older” friends as they were chatting about their lives. When I say older, I mean they were probably in their forties to sixties; at least, that was the discernible age range. There were about four or five men and a woman. From what I could tell, the woman was the youngest because she was the only one who only had a hint of grey in her hair. The men on the other hand all looked like they could double for mall Santas.

Anyway, as I was sitting there giving up all attempts to read John Irving’s In One Person (fantastic novel, by the way!!), I couldn’t help listening to the contents of their conversation. Well, they were sitting right next to me…and talking extremely loudly, I might add.

So the man sitting closest to me–he looked to be about in his mid-fifties, about my dad’s age–was bragging to his friends about how he was dating some young twenty-something year old blond with, as he put it, “a rack so phenomenal it puts all three of my ex-wives to shame”. I must admit, I chuckled a little to myself when I heard this. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! I even noticed out of the corner of my eye, as I was still pretending to be reading, that he even glanced in my direction to see my reaction to his rather crude remark. Well, in all honesty, I thought it was pretty damn funny that a man that age was sitting there bragging to his friends about what seemed like the absolute perfect conquest. As the conversation carried on, the man continued talking about his “live-in twenty-something year old girlfriend” (he knew her precise age, of course, but it eludes me now). He said something along the lines of: “But you know, as much as the sex is AWESOME, she’s just not as emotionally mateur as I want my woman to be. But then again, I guess at that age, they’re only really good for one thing”–and here, he proceeded to wink in my general direction. Again, I pretended not to notice and that I was completely enthralled by my book. But, I was curious to see how his friends and/or colleagues would respond to this disgusting display of sexism.

You see, I could tell that this was no ordinary group of creepy horny old men and their Elaine (Seinfeld reference); these people, from what I gathered, were academics! They had stacks and stacks of books with them and they mentioned that a few of them were doing research at the University of Toronto, the downtown campus which was mere minutes away from this famous coffee shop franchise. Needless to say, I was a little taken aback by the reactions of this man’s friends/colleagues, but nonetheless intrigued as well. I always think it’s interesting when older people are progressive and openly disclose the details of their sex lives because, well, in my culture people just don’t discuss those things with their friends or anyone for that matter. In my culture, discussions of a sexual nature, to my knowledge, simply don’t exist or are reduced to meaningless or harmless jokes.

This man, however, was more candid about his sex life with his twenty-something year old girlfriend than necessary. I mean there were some details that he simply did not have to share. There was another young man sitting on the couch across from me and I could feel him cringe when he heard some of the things this man was saying. Poor guy. I would have suggested he move, but then my cover would be blown and besides, it was already noon at this point and you know how busy these famous coffee shops can get at that time of day when most people take their lunch or coffee breaks.

Anyway, as I was saying. This man just went into full blown detail about his sex life, his girlfriend’s appearance and, on numerous occasions, made a point to mention that he wasn’t exactly dating her for her intellectual capacities. A small part of me was amused by this, but an even larger and insurmountable part of me felt the strong urge to douse this man and his horny colleagues with my scalding hot caramel macchiato. Okay, so I was at Starbucks. I was just so awestruck at how these seemingly intelligent and progressive people could be so boldly and disgustingly inappropriate when talking about this woman, who from what I gathered was studying to be a marine biologist. From what I know, that is not an easy field to get into so I can’t imagine how these people were commenting that this girl is unintelligent. Either she was failing out of school or they were those elitist types of academics who think they’re better than everyone else. You know the type. At U of T, they’re a dime a dozen and they’re the reason why I despised socializing in university. Everybody thinks they’re so much damn better than you.

What shocked me most I guess was the fact that they all seemed to have met her at one point or another because they were agreeing with the man’s descriptions of her looks and equally bashing her intelligence. Basically, they were playing up the whole dumb blond, big breasted, great in the sack stereotype and telling their friend that he deserved much better than her because eventually her looks would fade. Ironically, none of them commented on the fact that their friend was a cradle robbing pervert, but they seemed to be perfectly accepting of that dynamic.

I guess the reason that I decided to regale this story was because I was just in such shock. I still can’t believe that people–especially of a certain generation that use young people are supposed to respect and admire–can be so utterly crude and sexist. What disgusted me most was that the woman, who was an academic as well, seemed to be going along with everything the men were saying. I mean, perhaps they were right about the so called blond bimbo. Maybe she wasn’t that smart and this man was just using her for her looks and her youth, but if you ask me that is not something that other highly intelligent women should condone. It’s hard enough knowing that men engage in that kind of locker room banter in public, but to hear a seemingly intelligent woman engaging in it with them, that was just horrifying. These people didn’t realize how entirely uneducated and ignorant they sounded to the people around them. Moral of the story: be careful about what you say or do in public places and how loudly you speak because even if you think other people aren’t eavesdropping are just minding their own business, they’re really listening to every word and judging the hell out of you.

DISCLOSURE: I actually wrote this post in around October 2013, but saved it in my drafts and forgot to publish it. I recently came across it again and decided to publish it.

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