Swear. Ta. God.

One person should not have to do this much to prove she isn't a racist.


IsweartoGodI'mNotRacist from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

The road to Hell

I spend a pretty decent amount of time at work being belittled by the general public, I really don't know why it still bothers me so much. I mean, I do the job of a seventeen year old high school student, but do people have to rub it in all the time? Isn't that in itself enough? Of course not.
Recently, a woman came in for an appointment, and she was blatantly ignoring everything I was saying to her. She hardly spoke to me while I was trying to do her pre-testing. I asked her to have a seat, and she just stood there, waiting for the doctor. But the doctor was going to be a few minutes, so I insisted she have a seat, and she wouldn't. People think that just because I work in retail, I'm a second class citizen. Or because they've got a PhD in some obscure subject they can treat me like crap or pretend I'm invisible. F them. After she was finished with her exam, I was asked to help her with her glasses, and, wouldn't you know it, she's a deaf lady.

So, I'm really making strides in purchasing my reserved seat in Hell.

Miscommunication

Its not often that I actually try to look like an ignorant racist, it usually just happens.

I love the nail salon next to my apartment complex. Its run by two ridiculously nice Asian women. I went in there one time the first week we were in Davis, and when I walked in yesterday, they remembered me. Thats all it takes to be 'ridiculously nice' as far as I'm concerned.

One of the girls, Kaylee, makes excellent small talk. She asked me what I was doing for the holidays, and when I told her I was going to the East Coast to visit my family she told me her family lives in Buthan. I thought, thats cool. I've heard of Buthan. Couldn't point it out on a map, but I've heard of it. I'm assuming its someplace in Asia, thats probably safe bet. Well, as it turns out, she was saying "Boston". Her mom and dad live in Boston. She's actually from New Hampshire. Which, along with being one of those "wow, it's a small world" things, also explains why she had such a terrible grasp on the English Language.

Welcome to the World of Video

Here is my very first Video Blog entry. I know I can't stop making weird faces, just be nice.



The Truth about Teleconferencing from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Awkward Flashback

I don't have anything to write about today, so I think I'll just enlighten you as to why I turned out the way that I am today. One of many reasons.

Remember that awkward phase I went through-- the one I never exited from? Well, it started early and came on strong. And I'm not talking about when I had to wear three diapers when I was a baby; I don't even really consider that awkward, just really unfortunate. Anyway, my mom remembers me being the same height as all the other kids when kindergarten started, but by the end of the year, everyone had grown and I was still the same height. By the first grade, I was a head shorter than all the other kids. That was the same year I was in a car accident and I had to have all my hair cut off in an attempt to hide the giant bald spot, which if you're interested, I still have. Over the course of two years, add dark non-symmetrical freckles, big pink enameled Medicaid glasses, and braces. But before you add those braces, add one of those mouth spacers that is suppose to widen your jaw, because that spacer gave me a lisp that lasted all through junior high. I couldn't say anything that had a 'K' sound. And, my name is Kimberly. I still get anxious around cookies. AND I lived in a trailer-- Which was the point where I really have to say enough already. God, What the hell were you thinking? You're telling me that you created a braces wearing, glasses clad, pee-wee ginger with a lisp, and then you said "Hell, I'm going to make her poor too; that'll be a riot."

Now, in case you're suffer from the common misconception that such an awkward little girl would be 'cute',because for some reason everyone reacts that way, I would like to introduce you to this image from AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com because when I saw it, I was SO SURE that this little girl was me, that I had to do background research to make sure it wasn't. Again, this image belongs to AFP.com.

Birthday Gaffe

At what age are people suppose to stop asking you how old you are? I mean, how old does a woman have to be for it to become impolite to ask her age? And when people stop asking me how old I am, should I be insulted? Wouldn't it suggest by not asking, I must be an age worth hiding? Or am I just a big ball of crazy?

And at what age do people start trying to impress you with how old they are? Where is the switch there, where for sixty years a woman denies her age and then suddenly shes waving it around like a big old flag.

I think its safe to assume that regardless of age, I will continue to make an ass out of myself for the rest of my life. Because if I haven't made any of the necessary steps towards growth by now, that train has left the station.

Last week was my birthday, and a family member asked me how old I was turning, and, because I don't know the proper protocol, I decided I would be safe, and not tell her, and her response is "Heck! I'm 40 years older than you are, it hardly matters!"

And this was the dangerous spot. I knew I was excepted, socially, to scoff, say no, you aren't, you look too young, that's impossible. But then, what if by scoffing, I'm patronizing her(mathematical, it makes sense for her to be 40 years older than I am, am I suppose to just ignore basic math?!). Wouldn't it more insulting to be patronized by a younger generation? But by this point, I'd been standing doe-eyed for about 20 seconds, and all that I could come up with was "I.. am not surprised by that." It was probably not the right thing to say.

Full Disclosure

I need to learn that every time I find myself thinking, "This is the perfect time to have this conversation!" I need to ask myself first: How drunk am I? If the answer is any variation of "very", I should shut up. Because remember kids, buzzed pontifications are drunk pontifications.

But its a dry heat...

Have you ever entered a conversation, and the topic immediately, and suspiciously, changes? Not like the, 'shush, here she comes!' sort of change, but like today, when I walked over and the conversation switched to "Don't you hate when this humidity makes your hair all frizzy and poofy?" Which is how I found out my hair was all frizzy and poofy today.

I was already ready to run and find a hat, but of course it wasn't enough to just point out my poodle-do, what made it worse was one of my other co-workers tried to hypothetically defend frizzy hair. "I think it looks natural." ...I was now beyond find-a-hat embarrassed, by that point I was ready to go find a rock to hide under.

When I was younger, I had this image of myself outgrowing that awkward stage I was in. No. More than that. Everyone-- EVERYONE reassured me I would outgrow that awkward stage I was in. Turns out, I AM that awkward stage. I can only hope that someday I'll go through a stage, however brief, where I'm cool, or smooth. Or at least not hide-under-a-rock awkward. But I doubt it.

Highlights of my work week...

In honor of Friday, its time I look back on my week. Here are just a few of the highlights:

I tripped over some old lady's artificial leg, multiple times.

A five year old girl belched in my face.

I had the same dream every night that I was being chased. Not directly work related... but I feel it contributed to the overall climate.

I yelled at a ten year old. While she was already crying. In my defense, I was yelling at her to stop crying.

I suggested to a man in a wheel chair he should go 'run away' someplace.

Someone brought reese's easter eggs into the office. I fucking love reese's easter eggs.

My co-worker cut her hand on a bloody scalpel, we're pretty sure she doesn't have some terrible old man disease now, but we're keeping a close eye on her, just in case.

A patient told my co-workers he saw a picture of me on facebook and he wanted to know how I could 'bend that way'. I'm still trying to decide which was worse: my 50-something co-worker jumping on facebook so she could find it, or me doing that.


I had to yank an overweight patient out of the waiting room chair she was wedged in. I have to do that nearly every day, but it never gets old.

Office Christmas Party

I didn't go to mine. I was encouraged to go, because it was open bar (still not completely sure what my co-workers meant by " What do you mean you're going?? You have to! Its open bar!"), but that was exactly the reason I didn't go.

Let me explain. Its not like I'm not easily persuaded by an open bar, or I don't like my co-workers, but sometimes you've got to make the right decision for the greater good. And being the youngest employee of an otherwise middle-aged company is hard. You've got a job to do- and not just your actual job- you've got a reputation to withhold. For starters, you're fun. And cool. And you can drink a ton and wake up the next day unscathed. And just because all those things are true- just because I can drink a ton- doesn't mean I can control myself afterwards.

Case and point: A friend of mine who also happens to be the youngest employee at his company, and yet despite efforts to prevent embarrassing work experiences, continues to attend office parties.

Last year, he went to his office Christmas party and after hitting the open bar, he commented to his boss that his credit card company was "Harder to get rid of than a dead hooker". So of course, this year, wasn't going to let that happen. .. Until the CEO of the company suggested they do shots.

Side note: Shots are every could-be-party-disaster's weakness. We can't say no. Sort of like how vampires can only enter your home if invited. If its offered, we've got to take it.

So, a few shots later, he's laughing and joking with his bosses, and his boss comments that he likes his hat. So he says "Yeah, a lot of people say it makes me look gay. But I figure it couldn't make me look any gayer than the gay sex does."

I'd be surprised if his girlfriend lets him go next year.

Sneaky Pity

Four days ago, I went to my parent's house to pick up some of my mail, because yes, even as an adult, my permanent address is still my parent's house, and at the time of arrival, I felt pretty good. I had been out of work for two weeks, but I was returning, my bills could wait, life was good. My mother and stepfather starting asking questions about my employment. Whens, and wheres, and how long. Its shocking how quickly a conversation with my parents can go from innocent curiosity to ruthless bullying. Anyway-- I cried. Not even really cried though, just sniffled, teared up, and made a quick exit. Eight miles later I was at home, and I'd forgotten all about it. My mother however, had not. She called me a half an hour after I got home. Just calling saying 'hi'. Hi. My mother never calls just to say 'hi'. So, I said my hello, my awkward 'so, whats new?'.. and hung up. The next day, I had two e-mails in my inbox from my mother. One, a story about a pig being adopted by a family of dogs. Ok... I like pigs, I like dogs, that's totally an appropriate story to send me. I guess. The second was a series of pictures with warm, uplifting captions, characters from Winnie-the-pooh hugging with a flowery 'friends forever'' under it; cats looking into mirrors seeing lions ' its whats on the inside'... Ok.. moving on, I got up and saw my phone had a text message. From my mom. 'I love you. Mommie.' And then it hit me: My mother thinks I'm going to off myself. Super.

I have since received a phone call every evening, a text, and an e-mail every day. Just to say hi

Fitting

In leau of lunch today, I went to a bridal shop to buy a dress for my brother's impending wedding. Much to my surprise, you need to order these things 8 weeks in advance, my brother's wedding, however, is in 4 weeks. But for a small fee, they are able to rush the dress. How good of them. The shop was small, it had been a coffee shop before this, and before that it was an antique store, and the owner of the shop was on the phone with the police, telling them about a stolen necklace... but I was dress shopping. I found two nearly identical dresses, tried both on, took pictures with my phone, and decided that the more expensive one looked best. Of Course. Now, designer dresses run large, especially wedding related dresses, which is a topic I can't even bring myself to get into right now, another time maybe... But, as I am being sized, fully clothed, the woman tells me, "You're about an eight hip, but a six bust..." and then she realized that I may have been offended by the suggestion that I'm pear shaped, and maybe rightfully so, I've never considered myself pear shaped... So she says quickly "Well- Thats okay though. We can just put in *a little* padding, and you wont even need it altered." and I reply, flattly, "I'm already wearing padding."

Foot still in mouth

Today, trying my hand at idle conversation, I told a patient she looked well. She told me she was stressed. Hoping to salvage the short answer to my pathetic attempt at conversation, which I should know by now isn't worth it, I said she should be happy, her blood pressure was down the lowest it had been since 2007. She said she was shocked, between having to move and taking care of her husband in the hospital, she was completely worn out. This is the point where I should have stopped. Instead I said,
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about you husband." And then, THIS I should have ended with that. but I said "Is he doing better?" No, she said. He passed in April.

Then I really should have stopped, but out of my mouth flopped "Well, at least he's stable now."

Oh Horriffic Embarrassment

Getting your foot in your own mouth is a universal problem in the greater New England area. In the rural areas, the fault lies in people who have poor conversational skills attempting to make meaningful conversation. It should be enough to ask me how I am, and then confirm that they too are doing well, but it never is.

I was pushing my grocery cart up to the casheir counter, and the 30-something casheir says to me, "Isn't it so hard to try to diet on a budget?" And I looked at her, then into grocery cart, then at myself. What was it about any of these things that said I was on a diet? Or, worse, what was it about me that said I was on a budget?!

------

I was buying scrubs for work recently, and the casheir said to me, "Oh, you must be a nurse!" And its true, I do work in the medical field, but I'm not a nurse. My boyfriend says, "No, she's just planning on getting fat."

-------

Which reminds me...
Ever have a sex dream about a co-worker, then when you're at work and they give you this look, this 'I know what you did, you sick pervert.', look? Or worse, you feel as if they're tormenting you, you ask for a pen and they say "Yeah, you want it??" And even though its completely impossible, you still can't help but wonder to yourself 'how do they know this?!' and then you promptly avoid eye contact for the rest of the time you're working there.

Joke of the day: All the girls I knew in college were bi. I'd mention sex and they'd just raise their hands and say 'Bye!'

Black Out

As you probably already know, I'm a terrible fan of domestic abuse.

A few months ago I was sitting on the T, on one of the older bench style underground models on the orange line, and this girl sits down across from me and she's had one black eye, and -- I kid you not-- a fist shaped bruise on her right cheek. And I'm wearing my dark sunglasses, so I can pretend that no one knows what I'm looking at. Not that anyone would notice what I was looking at; we're all gawking at the human meat bag sitting across from me. Regardless, it made me regret not paying more attention in Spanish class, so she would understand me when I yelled, "Bet 'cha wont do THAT again!".

--- On a related topic...

Today, at work, I was completing an intake form for a woman with a bruised chin and two black eyes, and being the naturally curious but non-threatening person I am, I asked her "So, what happened?" And she told me that on Sunday she slipped getting out of the tub, and I said "Oh, is THAT what they're calling it now."

I do believe God gives us second chances.