Sunday, January 15, 2006

A Killer New Beginning

Leaving Orange County via freeway, I found the start of my year headed on a lonesome highway to a beautiful remote farm community on the flip-side of Palm Springs. Like most things beautiful and wild in California, developers know where people want to live. Farms were quickly being bought and developed. I had trouble finding the location of the new model home tract. But, I made it.




I spent the first week working from 7:45AM to 10:30PM without a ten or fifteen minute break, food and water was what I managed to sneak into the construction site. This brunette was in the mood to kill.






Most of the work consisted in managing the moving company by placing all the furniture, lighting, and accessories into four models homes. My project manager, which had me selecting furniture (her job) and ordering the furniture (my job) from the first week of working with the company, became a monster. It was tragic to watch my project manager enjoy the crass power of mistreating people. Every piece of furniture that was built or placed was always the fault of the moving company. Her attitude was something I had grown acquainted with over the months. Yet, when I had a member associated with the project install that was outside of the company ask me why my project manager treated me so debasing and rudely, I had several loose elements of thoughts clicked into place. But there were a few perks when my project manager forgot about the tasks she assigned to me.



Determined to stay at a safe hotel, the firm had bought hotel rooms at the South Coast Winery in Temecula. Since they weren't giving us breaks or even a proper thirty minutes to lunch, I felt it was fabulous staying in villas that were sprinkled throughout wine country. Not that any of the girls were enjoying it.



On Wednesday evening, I was exhausted. It was 10:45PM and we had yet another day of illegal work hours. I was exhausted. The project manager went to use the restroom and I asked the rest of the team when we might be wrapping up. My room mate back at the hotel, who happens to be 20 weeks pregnant, perked up at the idea leaving. She made the suggestion that she would ask the project manager when she returned. The project manager returned back to the model home kitchen and pulled another Bud Light from the 24 case. Her nose was red and rosy like a holiday lush. My room mate politely asked "What time we were expecting to wrap up?" The project manager flipped the beer can open and said, "When we're done."

I have the bad habit of falling asleep when I drive too late and I felt it wasn't appropriate for me to take the chance of crashing the company van. Since it was still a thirty minute drive on a dark two-lane highway, I told her that I wouldn't be able to continue working for the evening. Oh, the disgruntle and sour faces from all of team members. But, hey, since the owner of the company told me that I was "getting paid as a professional and salaried creative employee at a non-living wage" I knew that meant that I wasn't getting paid over time. I was back at the hotel by 11:30PM. I took a bath and I went to sleep.

The remaining team mates returned back to the hotel by 1:30AM.

The alarm buzzed at 7:00AM the next morning.

The passive-aggressive nature of the business was already in effect. As a subtle means of further pushing me outside of the group, I was told to sit in the hotel room and wait for a package to arrive. I asked twice for information concerning the parcel like who was sending the package and what were its contents, but I was told to just wait. A brunette always like a little mystery even if its before breakfast. Next on my agenda was, of course, breakfast. She told me to eat before returning to the construction site. Hmmm...My exile-esque punishment sounded too good to be true. I pulled the drapes back and it revealed double French doors and patio furniture. A good girl always enjoys a bit of punishment! South Coast Winery is akin to a five star hotel! You couldn't keep the grin off this Brunette.



Let's make a long story short.

I had the hotel forward any calls to my cell phone. Outside the villas, there were several hot air balloons over the vineyards that were so low that you could almost touch their wicker baskets and lift into the sky. The morning sunshine was preparing for eighty degree weather. I took breakfast at the lodge, received impeccable service, and leafed through Travel Savvy Magazine while staring at Villas in the vineyard. On returning to the hotel without a single interruption, I changed into my bathing suit and lounged in the patio furniture and watched the morning mist burn off in the distance. I spent the next three hours working on my novel and soaking up a tan. I didn't get a call until 11:30 to return back to the installation. As it turned out, the package had been delivered to the hotel at 7:00AM but to a different office. Sometimes, life does you little favors.







I spent the rest of the week working hard and diligently like every day in which I work at the company. On the final days of the installation, I detested that everything that was ordered into these homes were promptly destroyed in order to prevent theft. I didn't enjoy working illegal and non-paid hours. I really was angry that the passive-aggressive nature of the company environment would allow a pregnant woman to work long and hard hours without rest, food, or water. Mostly everything about the company, wasn't inline with my values and my work ethics. I finished the work week.

Monday morning I handed in a four-page resignation letter.

My project manager had told me that my sweet and dear pregnant room mate/colleague had worked herself to the point of being bruised and swollen and it hadn't helped her situation that she was already carrying her child in a low position. She was at the doctor while I was packing my things.

Darling, if I can communicate anything, its this: Create your Dreams. I thought back to the vineyards of Temecula. I could remember in my childhood listening to neighbors talk about the ambitious vineyards outside of Riverside. The idea of vineyards in Inland Empire never seemed as poetic as a drive up the coast to Napa. I watched the adults scoff at the concept and laugh at their endeavors. But, as I had walked through the scraggly thin vines of this emerging vineyard, I came across a cluster of delicate and petite green grapes. The urge of life and growth was in the soil and it was seeping into me. The vineyards are an attestment in faith. A bird I had never seen before with a bright yellow chest flew to a nearby fence. Birds never question the future. They work hard to prevent hunger and the deal with the environment. I had not spent my first adult years to work at environment such as this. That single morning supplied countless ideas and dreams that I intend to create.

I took my things at lunch and I left the interior design firm. Most of the people at the company had told me that they were extremely disappointed I had chosen to leave.

But, they are more beautiful horizons to journey forth and see.

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