Dear Recruiter for Widget Company,
Thank you for spending time interviewing with me. I was surprised when you reached out to me regarding working as a Widget Manager for Widget Company, but I was happy to talk about a potential offer.
I went through two interviews, with you and with the Regional Widget Manager, and when you called me, you suddenly dropped the possibility of being an Assistant Widget Manager. Never mind that I've been working as a Widget Manager for another company for YEARS. Never mind that I'm educated far beyond the average Assistant OR Widget Manager. Never mind that I haven't been an Assistant Widget Manager for nearly ten years. I am far and away overqualified for the Assistant Widget Manager position, by any metric. I *hire* Assistant Widget Managers.
When you called me back, you told me that Widget Company had decided to move me forward as an Assistant Widget Manager. I'd take a 30% pay cut, have my bonus slashed, and you could assure me all day, every day that I wouldn't be in the position long... but you don't understand that I spoke to your associates in the TreeTown location. The Widget Manager there had been with the company for six months, but the Assistant Widget Manager had been there for six years.
I had a choice, either to stick by my principles and hold out for the position I was actually interested in, or take my chances with something lesser, hoping that it would pan out in my favor eventually, and effectively losing a third of my income.
Even though I knew that if I tried holding out for the Widget Manager position I was originally *recruited for* that it wouldn't go anywhere, I couldn't just gamble my life away. I have rent and bills to pay. I have dreams and goals, and taking a step back in my career would be a huge setback for them. I wouldn't be able to use the skills and talents I had developed, and I'd frankly be miserable every day, and that misery would turn into resentment.
I'm glad I didn't make it easy for you. I'm very glad that when I called to follow up, I made you tell me why Widget Company wasn't moving forward with the initial role we talked about (because I don't have a really "out-there" personality. I'm sorry, I was told that it wasn't a good idea to be drunk during interviews), and I'm ecstatic that I had the balls to ask you if you realized that I'd be taking a 30% pay cut, especially when we had discussed salary and you knew approximately how much I was after. And I'm glad I passed on it. I'm a little upset that I spent so much time, money, energy, and gasoline on interviewing with you people, and I'm upset with you for thinking you could just bait-and-switch me with no repercussions. You should be ashamed of what you were complicit in. And finally, I'm upset that you didn't even try to sell me on the position. You made a couple feeble references to the Assistant Widget Manager position being a "fabulous" job, but you didn't even bother trying to be enthusiastic about it.
Please don't call me again. If I'm going to waste time, I'd rather have fun doing it.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Monday, November 18, 2013
To My Fellow Con-goers...
Now that another con season is dead, and preparations for the next begin anew (working on a chevron headscarf... my man wants to go to Dragon*Con as Ezio, and I'm making an assassin gypsy!), I wanted to write something that I have really been mulling over for some time.
There's a lot of back and forth among cosplayers and the people that love them/hate them/rant about them on the internets these days. "They're portraying characters and therefore objectification is okay!" "I'm a person, goddamnit, and it doesn't matter what I wear! A costume isn't a badge that says it's okay to talk solely to my boobs/abs/junk!" "I LIKE TALKING TO BOOBS OKAY I CHOOSE MY CHOICE" "WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO MY BOOBS???" "Maybe nobody should cosplay ever, because we can't agree on how to deal, so obviously we Can't Have Nice Things."
I propose a middle path for all of us. A way that those of us who are in love with fandoms and express it with a desire for interfacing, moldmaking, and hunting down the precise shade of Assassin White can still exhibit their passion on their bodies in a safe environment, and where cosplay-viewers can still appreciate a rockin' bod underneath all that chainmaille.
(To get the haterz out of the way, I shall show you my Geek-Fu. I know zilch about computers/HTML/programming, but I have an appreciation for math, physics, and chemistry. I'm currently playing a 5th-level elven cleric in a 13th Age game [created by Rob Heinsoo, who worked on D&D], and a Blood Talon Elodoth in a Werewolf campaign. I'm down like a clown with comics [LOVE the work done on The Uniques, but I also hang with mainstream titles], I speak Japanese, have lived in Japan because anime [loved it anyway], and I almost flunked out of college due to an EverQuest addiction. Yes, I'm a geek, yes, I'm old, move on)
FOR THE COSPLAYERS:
First of all, to a varying extent, you want attention for your creations. Admit it, own it. Attention, and the desire for it, are not a bad thing in and of themselves. It's awesome having people stop you for your picture at cons, it's awesome having people compliment your work, especially when you went to fifty fabric stores for the aforementioned precise Assassin White. It's a rush. You're at a con, and you will be getting some looks and comments simply based upon the costume.
Sometimes, it's not so nice. You might hear people saying things behind your back about poor quality construction, styling choices, the character you chose, even how fat/ugly/awkward/skinny YOU look. It can hurt. But, sadly, that's the way the cookie crumbles. There's some sucking-up of one's own ego that has to happen because you're putting yourself and your work out there. Also, some people may not give you the level of attention you desire because of reasons. That's something that comes with the territory as well, sad to say.
FOR THE VIEWERS:
Stalking, harrassing, groping without invitation, sexually assaulting, or otherwise harming a cosplayer is just as bad as in real life. Which is really bad, and you should be ashamed of yourself if that's how you spend your evenings. But barring that, please remember that above all, there are people inside the costumes. Treat them politely. A good rule of thumb is that if you wouldn't want your mom/boss/romantic partner/a police officer seeing how you're behaving, it's probably a bad idea to behave that way to begin with.
That's not to say you can't enjoy a rockin' bod in a costume. That's not even to say that you can't take a pic at a con and adjourn to the bathroom to masturbate to it, if that's what you're into. Ask for pics, don't just take them randomly. And if you have to compliment, please keep it to the costume itself. "Great fabric!" is very endearing. "YOUR ASS. I'D LIKE TO PUT THINGS THERE" is creepy.
Finally, please remember that the entire con floor is not a LARP. It's generally assumed to be OOC vs. IC. True story: I was wearing a Young Justice Miss Martian costume that my mom helped me with (my mom is awesome!), and wandering around a merch area, contemplating on buying a steampunk watch part bracelet for Day 2. Someone came up to me and yelled at me for breaking up with Superboy, told me that Superboy really loves me, and I'd never do better than Superboy. I was pretty off-guard at that moment, so I'm pretty sure I just said, "Dude, I'm an assistant manager at the Target in Chicago." Because I wasn't LARPing as Miss Martian.
TO EVERYONE:
Just... try to be excellent to one another. Bill and Ted might not have been especially bright, but they hit the nail on the head with that one. Thank you.
There's a lot of back and forth among cosplayers and the people that love them/hate them/rant about them on the internets these days. "They're portraying characters and therefore objectification is okay!" "I'm a person, goddamnit, and it doesn't matter what I wear! A costume isn't a badge that says it's okay to talk solely to my boobs/abs/junk!" "I LIKE TALKING TO BOOBS OKAY I CHOOSE MY CHOICE" "WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO MY BOOBS???" "Maybe nobody should cosplay ever, because we can't agree on how to deal, so obviously we Can't Have Nice Things."
I propose a middle path for all of us. A way that those of us who are in love with fandoms and express it with a desire for interfacing, moldmaking, and hunting down the precise shade of Assassin White can still exhibit their passion on their bodies in a safe environment, and where cosplay-viewers can still appreciate a rockin' bod underneath all that chainmaille.
(To get the haterz out of the way, I shall show you my Geek-Fu. I know zilch about computers/HTML/programming, but I have an appreciation for math, physics, and chemistry. I'm currently playing a 5th-level elven cleric in a 13th Age game [created by Rob Heinsoo, who worked on D&D], and a Blood Talon Elodoth in a Werewolf campaign. I'm down like a clown with comics [LOVE the work done on The Uniques, but I also hang with mainstream titles], I speak Japanese, have lived in Japan because anime [loved it anyway], and I almost flunked out of college due to an EverQuest addiction. Yes, I'm a geek, yes, I'm old, move on)
FOR THE COSPLAYERS:
First of all, to a varying extent, you want attention for your creations. Admit it, own it. Attention, and the desire for it, are not a bad thing in and of themselves. It's awesome having people stop you for your picture at cons, it's awesome having people compliment your work, especially when you went to fifty fabric stores for the aforementioned precise Assassin White. It's a rush. You're at a con, and you will be getting some looks and comments simply based upon the costume.
Sometimes, it's not so nice. You might hear people saying things behind your back about poor quality construction, styling choices, the character you chose, even how fat/ugly/awkward/skinny YOU look. It can hurt. But, sadly, that's the way the cookie crumbles. There's some sucking-up of one's own ego that has to happen because you're putting yourself and your work out there. Also, some people may not give you the level of attention you desire because of reasons. That's something that comes with the territory as well, sad to say.
FOR THE VIEWERS:
Stalking, harrassing, groping without invitation, sexually assaulting, or otherwise harming a cosplayer is just as bad as in real life. Which is really bad, and you should be ashamed of yourself if that's how you spend your evenings. But barring that, please remember that above all, there are people inside the costumes. Treat them politely. A good rule of thumb is that if you wouldn't want your mom/boss/romantic partner/a police officer seeing how you're behaving, it's probably a bad idea to behave that way to begin with.
That's not to say you can't enjoy a rockin' bod in a costume. That's not even to say that you can't take a pic at a con and adjourn to the bathroom to masturbate to it, if that's what you're into. Ask for pics, don't just take them randomly. And if you have to compliment, please keep it to the costume itself. "Great fabric!" is very endearing. "YOUR ASS. I'D LIKE TO PUT THINGS THERE" is creepy.
Finally, please remember that the entire con floor is not a LARP. It's generally assumed to be OOC vs. IC. True story: I was wearing a Young Justice Miss Martian costume that my mom helped me with (my mom is awesome!), and wandering around a merch area, contemplating on buying a steampunk watch part bracelet for Day 2. Someone came up to me and yelled at me for breaking up with Superboy, told me that Superboy really loves me, and I'd never do better than Superboy. I was pretty off-guard at that moment, so I'm pretty sure I just said, "Dude, I'm an assistant manager at the Target in Chicago." Because I wasn't LARPing as Miss Martian.
TO EVERYONE:
Just... try to be excellent to one another. Bill and Ted might not have been especially bright, but they hit the nail on the head with that one. Thank you.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Dear People with Children,
Hey. I'm one of those unnatural childless women who have no maternal instincts. And I hate your kids.
I don't want to kill them or anything, or even see them come to any harm. However, I do not want to interact with them, and I really wish they would leave me and mine the hell alone.
No more do I want to see little faces peering into my windows hoping to catch a glimpse of my cats or tapping on them to get their attention. My cats aren't child-friendly, and no, little Aidan, Braden, and Makayla can't come in to play. My home is just as child-unfriendly as the cats are, and I don't want the little bastards inside. I like things like swear words, fire, knives, and porn. My home is not an extension of their playground.
I ache inside when they're running around at restaurants or during adult-only events. Just this evening, I was at an adult dance class, which I pay for and dearly enjoy. I do not enjoy my dance teacher having to tell a posse of random children that they had to either sit quietly or go back in the room. Nor did I enjoy having to strain to hear her over the din of exclamations at how cuuuuuuute the snots were. I pay for these classes. I pay for nice meals when I can afford them with my partner (not all the time, knives are expensive). And one misplaced tot can really put a damper on my enjoyment of what I purchased.
Maybe I'm being too harsh. Maybe it's not the kids that I should rail against... it's the parents. Yep, you, stay at home Mommie Dearest, and you, Checked Out Workin' Dad. You, who act like every shit the kid takes is a miracle delivered from the heavens. You, who insist that the kid is the next Stephen Hawking even though Taylor can't even fucking read. SHE'S NINE. You, who dress them up in designer clothes or prostitot gear, and reward their attention seeking crap with lavish praise and toys. And then you whine how parenting is sooooooooo haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrd and it's the hardest, most demanding job in the world, and you should get PAID for it, damn it! Well, bitch, in order to get paid, you have to produce something of value, and I'm relatively sure little Dakota isn't the Messiah.
You turn your noses up at me, even though I'm the one that covers your slack at work (assembly? Li'l Spinners Pole Dancing Classes? Parole hearing? I've heard it all), I'm the one that gets held up in line when I just want to get some beer or tampons, I'm the one that subsidizes schools I won't be using so you can have somewhere to put Jacen during the day. But, you either think that I'm some dumb little thing that just doesn't get it and doesn't know her own mind (even though I'm well over thirty, graduated college with honors, and spent exactly three months unemployed during the recession) and will eventually succumb to the Baby Rabies that infects every woman ever, or I'm the spawn of Satan, an avatar of selfishness and psychopathy without any capacity for love or joy (um... no). I love deeply, give freely of my heart and time (and porn!), care tenderly for the people I love, and am supremely happy with my choices. My relationship is awesome, my cats are the best, I work hard and I have buckets of friends and experiences and memories and dreams. The only problem you have with me is that I chose differently from you. My choices don't impact you in any way. Choosing not to multiply does not diminish anything of your life.
But your choices impact me. You added a disgusting little human to the world, and they invade my space without any intervention from you. They violate the sanctity of my private space, upset the beings with whose care I have been charged, add complications to my plans. They knock over the balance of things, and turn fairness into a joke. Because of the kids, you piss and moan every time I have an advantage over you (able to work longer hours and thus get promoted faster, able to find adequate, affordable housing, able to do things with far fewer logistics required), but you greedily latch on to any advantage you have over me (government assistance, tax breaks, flex time... The list goes on). Sorry you're jealous... I'm kind of jealous too. But you don't see me running down to the sperm bank so that as soon as I'm pregnant, I can have free government avocados.
I really just wish you and yours would leave me and mine alone. We have a wonderful life, and if there was a way to wholly avoid children or parents, I'd take it. But, I have to deal with you... and you have to deal with me.
I'm NOT babysitting.
I don't want to kill them or anything, or even see them come to any harm. However, I do not want to interact with them, and I really wish they would leave me and mine the hell alone.
No more do I want to see little faces peering into my windows hoping to catch a glimpse of my cats or tapping on them to get their attention. My cats aren't child-friendly, and no, little Aidan, Braden, and Makayla can't come in to play. My home is just as child-unfriendly as the cats are, and I don't want the little bastards inside. I like things like swear words, fire, knives, and porn. My home is not an extension of their playground.
I ache inside when they're running around at restaurants or during adult-only events. Just this evening, I was at an adult dance class, which I pay for and dearly enjoy. I do not enjoy my dance teacher having to tell a posse of random children that they had to either sit quietly or go back in the room. Nor did I enjoy having to strain to hear her over the din of exclamations at how cuuuuuuute the snots were. I pay for these classes. I pay for nice meals when I can afford them with my partner (not all the time, knives are expensive). And one misplaced tot can really put a damper on my enjoyment of what I purchased.
Maybe I'm being too harsh. Maybe it's not the kids that I should rail against... it's the parents. Yep, you, stay at home Mommie Dearest, and you, Checked Out Workin' Dad. You, who act like every shit the kid takes is a miracle delivered from the heavens. You, who insist that the kid is the next Stephen Hawking even though Taylor can't even fucking read. SHE'S NINE. You, who dress them up in designer clothes or prostitot gear, and reward their attention seeking crap with lavish praise and toys. And then you whine how parenting is sooooooooo haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrd and it's the hardest, most demanding job in the world, and you should get PAID for it, damn it! Well, bitch, in order to get paid, you have to produce something of value, and I'm relatively sure little Dakota isn't the Messiah.
You turn your noses up at me, even though I'm the one that covers your slack at work (assembly? Li'l Spinners Pole Dancing Classes? Parole hearing? I've heard it all), I'm the one that gets held up in line when I just want to get some beer or tampons, I'm the one that subsidizes schools I won't be using so you can have somewhere to put Jacen during the day. But, you either think that I'm some dumb little thing that just doesn't get it and doesn't know her own mind (even though I'm well over thirty, graduated college with honors, and spent exactly three months unemployed during the recession) and will eventually succumb to the Baby Rabies that infects every woman ever, or I'm the spawn of Satan, an avatar of selfishness and psychopathy without any capacity for love or joy (um... no). I love deeply, give freely of my heart and time (and porn!), care tenderly for the people I love, and am supremely happy with my choices. My relationship is awesome, my cats are the best, I work hard and I have buckets of friends and experiences and memories and dreams. The only problem you have with me is that I chose differently from you. My choices don't impact you in any way. Choosing not to multiply does not diminish anything of your life.
But your choices impact me. You added a disgusting little human to the world, and they invade my space without any intervention from you. They violate the sanctity of my private space, upset the beings with whose care I have been charged, add complications to my plans. They knock over the balance of things, and turn fairness into a joke. Because of the kids, you piss and moan every time I have an advantage over you (able to work longer hours and thus get promoted faster, able to find adequate, affordable housing, able to do things with far fewer logistics required), but you greedily latch on to any advantage you have over me (government assistance, tax breaks, flex time... The list goes on). Sorry you're jealous... I'm kind of jealous too. But you don't see me running down to the sperm bank so that as soon as I'm pregnant, I can have free government avocados.
I really just wish you and yours would leave me and mine alone. We have a wonderful life, and if there was a way to wholly avoid children or parents, I'd take it. But, I have to deal with you... and you have to deal with me.
I'm NOT babysitting.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Sayonara, asshole!
You're really a terrible roommate.
I'm so glad I don't have to deal with you ever again. Your cat has cost me a lot of money with everything it's peed on, and your laissez-faire attitude towards the utilities has cost us our cable and internet.
You're unemployed more than you're employed, you bitch about not having friends in the area but you don't make any effort. You're always around, and you never shut up for five minutes. Everything I do is in some way about you... if I get a good job, you bemoan your terrible luck. If I'm in a relationship, you wail about your lack of an SO (even though you don't really want one). You're always the victim, you've never done a thing wrong, and everyone is out to get you.
I've heard your complaints about me too, so I know I'm not perfect. I'm never around (because I'm tired of you being all over the apartment and I need space), I'm messy (legit, you knew this), I don't clean (because I'm never around), and everything I do is wrong (even though I've been more successful at work, have a thriving relationship, two well-adjusted cats that don't pee on everything, pay the bills on time, and can afford to live by myself). I'm the awful one. I get that.
Well, you won't have to deal with my messy incompetent ass anymore, so please be grateful. Me? I'm going to hang out in my own place, where it's quiet and peaceful, without you lolling all over my sofa while half-dressed and sweaty.
Sayonara, asshole!
I'm so glad I don't have to deal with you ever again. Your cat has cost me a lot of money with everything it's peed on, and your laissez-faire attitude towards the utilities has cost us our cable and internet.
You're unemployed more than you're employed, you bitch about not having friends in the area but you don't make any effort. You're always around, and you never shut up for five minutes. Everything I do is in some way about you... if I get a good job, you bemoan your terrible luck. If I'm in a relationship, you wail about your lack of an SO (even though you don't really want one). You're always the victim, you've never done a thing wrong, and everyone is out to get you.
I've heard your complaints about me too, so I know I'm not perfect. I'm never around (because I'm tired of you being all over the apartment and I need space), I'm messy (legit, you knew this), I don't clean (because I'm never around), and everything I do is wrong (even though I've been more successful at work, have a thriving relationship, two well-adjusted cats that don't pee on everything, pay the bills on time, and can afford to live by myself). I'm the awful one. I get that.
Well, you won't have to deal with my messy incompetent ass anymore, so please be grateful. Me? I'm going to hang out in my own place, where it's quiet and peaceful, without you lolling all over my sofa while half-dressed and sweaty.
Sayonara, asshole!
Dear People Who Are Not Being Invited To My Wedding,
Hi. It's the bride.
So, there's been some blowback towards me and Groom about how you're not invited, and that's sooooo fucked up, and that's soooooo unfair, and we're not friiiiieeeennnnnds anymooooooore and don't we care about faaaaaaaaaaaamily or the chiiiiiiiiiiiildruuuuuuun and all this noise, and whyyyyyyyy, my god, whyyyyyyyyyy? WHYYYYYYYY?
Well, here's your answer!
1) It's not unfair. I haven't been in elementary school for a long time, and I don't have to invite everyone in the class or keep it a secret. It's an event that's about the wedding between Groom and I. We've decided to keep it small so we can pay for it ourselves, and we've chosen our nearest and dearest friends and family to share it with.
2) If you're our friend and we didn't invite you, this doesn't mean that we don't like you. It means that we are just closer to other people. I mean, when was the last time you called, texted, emailed, or saw one of us? If it's been over a year, don't expect an invitation. We reserved those for people who have laughed with us, cried with us, helped us move, helped us find jobs, helped us feel better after a bad day, who have opened their hearts to us and been true friends in every way. If we just get drunk every so often, or I just see you at a hobby we both do, that's not really true closeness. Sorry.
3) If you're an old friend and trying to hold me to some promise I made before puberty to be bridesmaids in each other's weddings... have I spoken to you since high school? No? Have you even met the groom? No? So... what's the deal? I don't even know you anymore.
4) Family. Okay, I know that blood is thicker than water (supposedly) but some of you are awful. It's just a fact... some of you are composed entirely of pus, and we don't want you anywhere near us. Some of you haven't seen either of us since before college, and haven't met the other person getting married. Some of you couldn't pick us out of a lineup. If I don't know you, don't know anything about you, and have no idea if you'd even be interested in attending our event, it is not a slight.
5) People with kids. We aren't kid friendly people. We're not paying for a kid friendly venue or kid friendly event. And we have invited several people that do have children, but understand that their kids aren't invited to absolutely everything. You, however, have demonstrated you can't be trusted, and will unleash your poorly behaved offspring on us no matter what we try to tell you. Parent however way you choose, it's no hair off my ass if you're "Raising Up A Child" or doing the attachment-parent extended-breastfeeding indigo-children thing or whatever. They're not welcome, and if you have a track record of bringing them places they're not welcome, neither are you.
6) Facebook people. Just because you friended me out of the blue and occasionally like my status updates, or Groom's muscle-flexing pictures (hey, you have good taste), that doesn't make us besties. I don't even know where you live. Is it in this state?
7) People that we've had a falling-out with. This is perhaps the most ridiculous group of people that I've heard backlash about our small wedding and our limited invite list from, because it makes absolutely no sense. You think Groom is a dick. You think I'm a blonde-headed bitch. And one (or both) of us thinks the same of you. ON WHAT UNIVERSE WOULD IT MAKE SENSE FOR ME TO INVITE YOU? You think I want you to write nasty remarks in our guestbook or get drunk on our tab for free? I've given you your space. Please respect mine.
8) Finally, people that have awkward FEELINGS for either of us. There are only a couple of you, but we've both been keeping our distance from you because you can't stop staring at one of us like we're on the menu. You're good people, but we're not about to give you a venue to let it be known how much you LURVE one member of the wedding party.
To sum up, Groom and I have worked hard on an event that is just the way we want to be married. We worked hard to make a guest list that reflected this, and all of the people on it are those that we love. Yes, it sucks that you don't get to go to something you really wanted to, but this wedding is not about your tender little fee-fees. The only fee-fees that are important to us at this juncture are our own. Sorry, it's the truth. Hope you're willing to catch up after, but if you aren't, well, I guess we'll have to live with that.
Signed,
The Bride
So, there's been some blowback towards me and Groom about how you're not invited, and that's sooooo fucked up, and that's soooooo unfair, and we're not friiiiieeeennnnnds anymooooooore and don't we care about faaaaaaaaaaaamily or the chiiiiiiiiiiiildruuuuuuun and all this noise, and whyyyyyyyy, my god, whyyyyyyyyyy? WHYYYYYYYY?
Well, here's your answer!
1) It's not unfair. I haven't been in elementary school for a long time, and I don't have to invite everyone in the class or keep it a secret. It's an event that's about the wedding between Groom and I. We've decided to keep it small so we can pay for it ourselves, and we've chosen our nearest and dearest friends and family to share it with.
2) If you're our friend and we didn't invite you, this doesn't mean that we don't like you. It means that we are just closer to other people. I mean, when was the last time you called, texted, emailed, or saw one of us? If it's been over a year, don't expect an invitation. We reserved those for people who have laughed with us, cried with us, helped us move, helped us find jobs, helped us feel better after a bad day, who have opened their hearts to us and been true friends in every way. If we just get drunk every so often, or I just see you at a hobby we both do, that's not really true closeness. Sorry.
3) If you're an old friend and trying to hold me to some promise I made before puberty to be bridesmaids in each other's weddings... have I spoken to you since high school? No? Have you even met the groom? No? So... what's the deal? I don't even know you anymore.
4) Family. Okay, I know that blood is thicker than water (supposedly) but some of you are awful. It's just a fact... some of you are composed entirely of pus, and we don't want you anywhere near us. Some of you haven't seen either of us since before college, and haven't met the other person getting married. Some of you couldn't pick us out of a lineup. If I don't know you, don't know anything about you, and have no idea if you'd even be interested in attending our event, it is not a slight.
5) People with kids. We aren't kid friendly people. We're not paying for a kid friendly venue or kid friendly event. And we have invited several people that do have children, but understand that their kids aren't invited to absolutely everything. You, however, have demonstrated you can't be trusted, and will unleash your poorly behaved offspring on us no matter what we try to tell you. Parent however way you choose, it's no hair off my ass if you're "Raising Up A Child" or doing the attachment-parent extended-breastfeeding indigo-children thing or whatever. They're not welcome, and if you have a track record of bringing them places they're not welcome, neither are you.
6) Facebook people. Just because you friended me out of the blue and occasionally like my status updates, or Groom's muscle-flexing pictures (hey, you have good taste), that doesn't make us besties. I don't even know where you live. Is it in this state?
7) People that we've had a falling-out with. This is perhaps the most ridiculous group of people that I've heard backlash about our small wedding and our limited invite list from, because it makes absolutely no sense. You think Groom is a dick. You think I'm a blonde-headed bitch. And one (or both) of us thinks the same of you. ON WHAT UNIVERSE WOULD IT MAKE SENSE FOR ME TO INVITE YOU? You think I want you to write nasty remarks in our guestbook or get drunk on our tab for free? I've given you your space. Please respect mine.
8) Finally, people that have awkward FEELINGS for either of us. There are only a couple of you, but we've both been keeping our distance from you because you can't stop staring at one of us like we're on the menu. You're good people, but we're not about to give you a venue to let it be known how much you LURVE one member of the wedding party.
To sum up, Groom and I have worked hard on an event that is just the way we want to be married. We worked hard to make a guest list that reflected this, and all of the people on it are those that we love. Yes, it sucks that you don't get to go to something you really wanted to, but this wedding is not about your tender little fee-fees. The only fee-fees that are important to us at this juncture are our own. Sorry, it's the truth. Hope you're willing to catch up after, but if you aren't, well, I guess we'll have to live with that.
Signed,
The Bride
Thursday, August 22, 2013
From the Kitchen Slave
Dear Kitchen Overseer,
I put up with getting 7am texts telling me about how I screwed up cleaning the kitchen. I put up with your mini me acting like he was the greatest in the world and I was worthless. I put up with all of your stupid policies and terrible hours.
People had come and gone, I'd stayed. I was willing to get home at 4am and never see my wife. I was willing to put up with always having fewer hours than everyone else. I even did the random dish shift without complaining.
You screwed up when you fired me.
Especially because you fired me for stealing when the stuff in question never left the building.
Double especially because I'm friends with some of your providers.
And guess what, now they know exactly why I don't work there anymore.
I know they won't put up with that kind of bullshit.
Your Former Kitchen Slave
I put up with getting 7am texts telling me about how I screwed up cleaning the kitchen. I put up with your mini me acting like he was the greatest in the world and I was worthless. I put up with all of your stupid policies and terrible hours.
People had come and gone, I'd stayed. I was willing to get home at 4am and never see my wife. I was willing to put up with always having fewer hours than everyone else. I even did the random dish shift without complaining.
You screwed up when you fired me.
Especially because you fired me for stealing when the stuff in question never left the building.
Double especially because I'm friends with some of your providers.
And guess what, now they know exactly why I don't work there anymore.
I know they won't put up with that kind of bullshit.
Your Former Kitchen Slave
Locked in the Dish Pit
Dear Asshole Owner,
You kept me locked in the dish pit. You fired me when I asked about working in another location.
The only good thing you ever did for me was berate me and give me so much more shit than I'll get anywhere else that no other kitchen can crack me.
Where I'm working now I had 1 day of my new boss giving me shit to see if I could handle it. He mentioned how well I took it. I told him that I used to work for you.
Haven't had any tests again because you are the worst in town.
Your Old Whipping Boy
You kept me locked in the dish pit. You fired me when I asked about working in another location.
The only good thing you ever did for me was berate me and give me so much more shit than I'll get anywhere else that no other kitchen can crack me.
Where I'm working now I had 1 day of my new boss giving me shit to see if I could handle it. He mentioned how well I took it. I told him that I used to work for you.
Haven't had any tests again because you are the worst in town.
Your Old Whipping Boy
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