ADVICE: Don't hate your job, Talk to the Owner About It

Wait... Is that really sound advice? Well, it was, indeed, the sound advice given to me today. And at that point I realized I had completely misjudged my co-worker and put my foot in my mouth.

On the other hand, I had the best fortune I've had yet at this interior design job-- A Field Trip! It almost didn't happen but, indeed my co-worker and I set about convincing the project manager that it would be essential to review some of the competition's work and steal ideas (not lamps or terry cloth robes from the model homes because those things are glued down). So you might understand how I felt like my co-worker and I were on the same wave. Yet, as it happened, the moment played out in the midst of Santa Ana (say San-Tana if you're in) and across from the romantic Santa Ana Train depot. We had been stuck in traffic when I blew my cover about, well, hating my job. She had the good graces of have her step-father introduce her to the owner of the company and therefore, side-stepping, the whole interior design assistant world. But, after a much promised blog concerning the secret report and lifestyle of such a position, I have to say that it sucks. Image such an antiquarian system such as handwriting receipts for furniture purchases for two full eight-hour days. It kind of grows old in the wee hours of the afternoon or when your hand cramps and you can't control the little seizures that cause your fingers and forearm to tremble. I'm not a fool (not completely or at least only 5/16th of the time) and I understand as much as the next underdog that a girl has to pay her dues but, after a month and a half of this same sort of tedious work, I hate it. In fact, I've already researched ten different restaurants to serve, bartend or clean freaking dishes at-when I realized my cell phone was dead. I couldn't even fool myself about getting a different job that day. & I couldn't even call to limo to whisk me away! I'd have to stay in order to take the train back home.

Which brings me to my next point, I love the train. I'll swear to you that in my lowly and exciting life that the high points are at the regular interval of about 7:00AM and 6:00PM. I'm en route with the train. It's a cinematic experience everytime and I have yet to stop being fascinated with the whole process of travel. That is even to say when on Tuesday, the bus that was meant to pick me up and take me to that train, failed to stop and pick me up, and left me crying for an hour and a half on the street until I was picked up. But, those tears were more about disliking my job and the current state of my affairs then anything else. Yes, everybody needs a moment of "woe-is-me." However, the sweetest man in the world rescued me from the cold streets of Aliso Viejo. He got my address under my sobs of distress and went on to tell me his the quick version of his life story. In a nut shell, he left the Philippines and his wife and four children and arrived in Irvine. I was alarmed at this point because this street smart girl had seen pick-up lines. Thank goodness, he kept talking. He worked hard so that by the end of the first year he was able to bring his wife to America. The following year, they had both raised enough money to fly their children to Orange County and live by Disneyland. Now, they like to eat sushi buffets as a family. He also was quite impressed that the home that he and his wife bought at $187k are now selling for $547k. He finished his story by saying, "See, now you don't have to cry any more." He followed his advice with a sweet little laugh. I had stopped my tears long ago. Really, I started crying again when this private little shuttle bus pulled up to take me home. I had been standing on cold street, looking at beautiful stars, and wondering where I had gone wrong. My moon is suppose to be in Jupiter! Whatever, that means! But, it's supposed to be a time of good luck. I guess I will just keep waiting for luck to orbit into my universe. But, maybe the bus driver had after all made a point.

Standing with my co-workers and menacing project manager, I fell in love with these sweet lofts that had already sold out. The whole get-up reminded me of my old Chicago days. Who isn't interested in a loft when a sweet little detached home starts at a million in the Orange County area. Maybe I was so heavily romanced by the model homes because I wasn't sitting at my cubicle and stapling receipts to purchase orders!

I looked at my watch and I had to run to catch the train. The mean project manager (or insensitive project manager, I'll let you choose adjective's) said, well, miss brunette, won't you be happy getting home early, wait, what time do you usually get home from work? I said 7:00-7:30. She gasped that it took me an hour and half to get home. Honestly, what OC girl can avoid traffic? I think she was asking these questions so I'd miss my train and have to wait an extra forty minutes. But, I gave them the hand (all the fingers at once) and my most dashing and sincere smile (note my profile shot). I was off and running in no time.

I ran to the station. The romance of the pueblo cantina styled train station had brought me back to the early days of Santa Ana's history. I had one minute left so I dashed through the lobby and out to the tracks. But, something was wrong. Too many people were milling about and the white lights were flashing. A man in a members-only jacket said that the southbound train track had cracked and that only one train track was available. My luck....

You know what....I had a great time listening to the real horror stories of train delays. Trains crashing into cars, people jumping in front of trains, and general train malfunctions. It wasn't the stories that made it great. It was that sense of camaraderie. An epiphany clicked in head. Aha! Camaraderie and common courtesy are some of the very things that any person hopes to experience at work. The train arrived only a few minutes late and I had a total stranger show me how she knits on the train. My final question is: What does it say of a business if a girl finds a better environment in the streets and on public transportation routes than at the office?