I also took a job at a a fancy boutique hotel to pay the bills as I searched for the perfect ad agency job I'd envisioned while I was in college. The hotel was near Southern Methodist University and in Highland Park, one of the most snooty and pretentious neighborhoods in Dallas. And that's saying a lot because if you asked me for one word to describe Dallas, I'd say Massively Snotty with a HUGE Stick Up It's Ass. (Yes, that's actually 9 words and yes, it absolutely must be capitalized.) Oh girl, the stories I could tell. If you ever wish to see grown men and women regress back to childhood, work at an upscale hotel. No kidding. I'm talking temper tantrums, name-calling, tears, threats, and the inability to do ANYTHING for themselves including but not limited to cleaning up the dog poop their precious Muffy left on the lobby floor, turning on the television, getting something they left in the car, paying their bill etc. etc. etc.
In case you're wondering, nothing is anonymous at a hotel. We know when you ordered porn. And we know exactly which porn you ordered. We know when you're having an affair with your co-worker. And when you bring in a prostitute (yes, it happens all the time). We know when you're doing drugs. And we know that you're the one that left that obscene mess and your dirty underwear (ewe!) in the men's bathroom. We see celebrities all the time. Some are delightful. Many are ridiculous assholes. But we know it all. Someone should seriously write a book about working in a hotel. Again for your entertainment I really wish I would've been blogging back then. I could seriously have written a whole themed blog on the ridiculousness of the "Nouveau Riche". Lucky for you, I actually do still work there part time answering some phones to earn a little extra cash, so maybe I'll have a good story to tell from time to time.
Ok, so, about 4 or 5 months in to working at the hotel I was going crazy and honestly thought I might reach across the front desk and strangle one of the temper tantrum throwing
Lo and behold, I ended up stumbling across an open position at a small ad agency. I had two interviews, got the job, and my dream was realized. My new title? Advertising Assistant. Oh I should've known right then that they really meant Office Bitch Who We Sometimes Let do Advertising Stuff Just To Keep You Here. But I didn't and I happily accepted the position for way too little pay just to get my foot in the freaking door.
So here I am, 1 year and 4 months later, still an Advertising Assistant making next to nothing. I will say I've learned a lot, for which I'm greatful. I will also so say that I feel like I'm much smarter and more capable than that job allows me to be, that I work really hard for little recognition and pay and that more than anything I'm BORED. Part of me worries that it's the industry that I actually don't like. But another part of me argues that it's just this job and this company and I should give the industry one more chance. Not sure what exactly I'm going to do in the future, so I'm just letting it play out for now.
Also, I'm over Dallas. And it's just not me. Not my personality at all. I'm more of an Austin sort of gal. But it's too hot and humid down there, so that won't work. Anyway, I'm not bashing Dallas (well, not too much) but I'm just sick of having to dress up to go to Target, and spending tons of money I don't have just to fit in, and driving, driving, driving everywhere. I'm sick of the horrendous pollution, the ridiculous traffic, the "I'm better then you in every way, just look at my BMW and Jimmy Choos and by the way, I'm just a secretary with a $25,000 salary, thank goodness for Daddy and my credit cards" sort of attitude. I'm sick of the fake boobs (did you know that second only to LA, Dallas has more plastic surgeons than anywhere else in the country?), the Cougars, the douchey douche-bag, Ken doll, Fraty McFraterson guys who won't look twice at me because I'm not 5'4", size 0, blonde-haired trendster that I need to be to be accepted as an appropriate Texas girl. I'm SO sick of the materialism, the Republican till we die mentality, the Texas is better than ANYWHERE in the world, the anti-green, anti-save the world, drive our SUVs to the house next door, Hook 'Em Horns people that overrun this city.
So, that being said, I'm moving. I'm moving to Chicago. At the end of December. (Yes, I know it's dead in the middle of winter. I guess I just might be a bit crazy) And I couldn't be anymore excited. And scared. But really excited.
Now, if you're Texan, and you live in Dallas, please don't take offense. Texas has many a redeeming quality. As much as it drives me crazy, I actually do love the pride that Texas has for itself. I love the rough and tumble rancher meets the city sort of guy. I love country music and now, thanks to Texas, I don't mind going two-stepping from time to time. I love the Hill Country, and Austin, and the blue bonnet. And Blue Bell ice cream. And the shopping. Oh the shopping. The Big D has some phenom shopping. And thanks to Dallas, I've become sort of a foodie. I now love feasting on international goodness from all over the world. What will I ever do without Central Market? I love that Dallas is full of fun activities to do at all times. I'll really miss Addison, and Fort Worth, and Ikea. Most of all, I'll miss my beloved friends. I have been oh-so-blessed to meet some amazing people and it hurts my heart a bit to know that I might not see them again.
So there you have it. My Big News. I'm moving to Chicago. I've been dying to tell all my readers at the other blog, but since I haven't given notice to my work yet I can't. I feel bad, dropping the big "I quit" bomb right before the holidays, but I know if I tell them now they'll just let me go right away. And I need the $$.
Anywho, now that you've read the Longest Life Story in Blog History, I hope you'll swing by from time to time. I'll need loads of love and encouragement as I take this big step. And if you think I'm crazy, then tell me that too. (nicely please!)