To be honest, I didn't want to do it in the first place.
I reluctantly filled-out the application online thinking OK. If I worked here, I could actually get health benefits. I could open like 3 or 4 days a week and be done by like 9 or 10 and have the whole rest of my day available to audition and do other job, I could transfer wherever I'd like...and get free coffee all the time. This really might not be terrible.
Still, when I got the phone call that they wanted an interview, I felt an overwhelming sense of Mehhhhhh come over me:
How much did I really truly want to work for corporate-America (even if it was only part-time)?
But I went to 17th and Broadway at Noon and figured What the hell. If anything, I'm overqualified. This'll be fine.
...
...So, group interviews are weird.
They sat three of us down together, "they" being Mr. Manager-guy and Ms. Interviewing-Employee--who hated my life from the get-go. I found her when I first walked-in and said Hi, I'm here for the group-interview, and she told me that I could go have a seat & asked if I wanted anything to drink on the house while I waited. Sure! Can I please have a skinny vanilla Misto?...
This apparently was the wrong thing to request. She stood there and glared at me for a moment, and then slowly turned to start making my drink, while I slunk off to the corner where the other two interviewees were waiting. Super.
So, we sat: Mr. Manager-guy & Ms. Interviewing-Employee in front of Candidate #1 (Mr. Blonde-I-Went-To-Journalism-School-and-Have-Never-Worked-In-A-Service-Environment-Before-But-I-Know-How-To-Smile-guy), Candidate #2 (Ms. I-Love-D-&-D-And-Have-Practiced-All-The-Right-Responses-To-Say-In-These-Kind-Of-Settings-chick), and Me (Ms. I-Don't-Think-I-Want-To-Be-Here-But-I've-Baristad-Before-and-Goddammit-I-Need-Another-Job-girl). They would pose a rhetorical question to us and then go down the line and see how we responded--assuring us that there was "no right answer". ...Well.
Question #1: "Why do you want to work for Starbucks?"
Candidate #1: Something something about him thinking it would be fun and he comes in here all the time any way as a customer so...yeah, it'd be neat. (Ms. Interviewing-Employee smiles at this.)
Candidate #2: Something something Starbucks has an incredibly friendly environment and they always seem to treat their employees well and with dignity and it's like walking into a dream with coffee-scented clouds...yadda yadda yadda. (Ms. Interviewing-Employee says "Awesome! Right on!")
Me: Well, I've been a barista before and it's a lot of fun...and I love coffee. And I really do like the atmosphere in here as well. (...Glare.)
Me: And the music. (...Glare. And silence.)
Question #2: "Can you tell us about how you deal with being overwhelmed in the work-place?"
Candidate #1: Something something about taking lots of deep breaths and patiently working through the pain...and smiling. (Ms. Interviewing-Employee smiles right back. While my inner-monologue screams Oh my god, just THROW yourself at him, why don't you!)
Candidate #2: Something something about when she worked at Halloween Adventures that customers were frequently mean and she would just remind herself that the customer is always right and that she was there to serve them...yadda yadda yadda. I love Starbucks, I love people, I can take the heat. I'm going to show you just how ideal I am, I am so ideal. (Ms. Interviewing-Employee says: "You are so right! Good job!" Gross.)
Me: Um, I actually just don't get overwhelmed. (A glare. A pause. "What?") Truthfully, I just kind of keep a cool-head and if things start to get remotely stressful, I just remind myself that whatever happens at work isn't like life-or-death. Ya know?
... Ms. Interviewing-Employee apparently didn't know, and proceeded to pose a bunch of hypotheticals for me: "Welll, what if this happened?" Well... "What if that happened?" Umm... "What if what if what if?" ...Yikes.
Later on, sweet boyfriend just kinda laughed at me over the phone. "Angela, for future reference, I feel like if they ask you a question about you being overwhelmed, you should probably tell them about your being overwhelmed."
...Well, I WAS BEING HONEST, DAMMIT!! Isn't that the best policy?
No. No, at Starbucks, it is not.
#1: I am never ever late. Ever. ("Ooh.")
#2: I was late once, and I was late by 30 seconds. And my managers told me to never do it again, and from that moment on, I was always 45 minutes early. With Starbucks-lattes for everyone. ("Yayyy!!!")
Me: When I worked in the Upper West Side last year, the trains were really off during the winter and I showed up late a few times to my opening-shifts. But, I certainly called to pre-warn them ahead of time. (..."Umm, so, you didn't have like any repercussions for this? Any?!") No. I mean, it was the trains. It was the TRAINS! And I would even leave my house 35 minutes earlier than I should have! (...Steely steely steely glare.)
They asked us a grand total of eight questions--EIGHT! holy crap--and I tried to turn on the charm, and it simply did not work. Their smiles grew wider towards the other two candidates, and didn't even flash in my direction at all. Not a once. They said Thank You, and that they'd be in touch within 24 hours.
...
I mean, I knew that they wouldn't be. I KNEW. And I walked out of that coffeehouse in disbelief. How had I, a triply-degreed chick with a wealth of barista-related knowledge and a hell of a lot of enthusiasm and spunk failed a Starbucks-interview?! How?! Can't anyone get a job there?! Isn't that where 18 year-olds and career-unfocused folks go, waiting on corporate yahoos and serving them burnt coffee and burnt espresso-concoctions?!?! (OK, not EVERYone is career-unfocused there...or as young as 18...and everyone has to start somewhere...but STILL!!!) GOD!!! I mean, look at me! I have focus!! Lots!! And I'm...slightly older than 18!!! Isn't that...
...
...OK, yeah, this is fine.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
How a Starving Artist Seeks Out...Sustanance? Sustainability?...Yep. That.
So, I recently spent two months out of town working on a show (Hooray, Kansas City!!), which was glorious. But, that meant that my return to the city was both stupid exciting and stupid terrifying. Why? Well, a few reasons.
For A) Being removed from any one place for a long time--specifically a place as gi-normous as this particular town--can be a little disconcerting.
What the shit can I expect from this place once I get back?
...I mean, I don't know.
Will it have forgotten about me?
Noooo, not if you kept reminding people that you exist during your absence...But otherwise, yeah, probably.
Will I be overwhelmed?
Noooo, not if you weren't before. ...But if you WERE before, then yeah, probably.
Do I actually really belong there?
Well, that all depends on the feeling you get as you're officially flying back in over the city. If that feels good--then you're good. ...OK, I guess that's specifically just how I judge things.
So, there's that.
For B) The job-factor.
I have had some kind of job pretty consistently since I was 14ish, so when I don't have a job, panic ensues. I need a job. I don't come from the kind of family where there's parents who can just cover your financialness for however long you ask them to, I come from the kind of family who says "Here's a Target-gift card and a jar of your favorite Wegmans Reduced Fat Peanut Spread--love you!" And I love that, and I love them for that. But, that reasserts the fact that I'm a bitch who Needs. A. Job. Fortunately for me, I have some pretty amazing friends who pretty much always find a way to never ever let this kind of panic last for too long. (PS, I love you and THANK you!)
So, I do actually have a job. And I'm working for my friend (awesome) at a certain NYC-based theatrical institution (awesome) where I have the most flexible hours in the universe (awesome awesome awesome). However, whereas the hours are flexible, there aren't many of them--and the pay matches this much. Which means that I need a second job. I am not unaccustomed to this kind of thing, in fact, I almost feel better when I'm running myself ragged between two jobs. (Masochist.)
But, I have been on the search for a second job for three weeks now, and not only is it proving incredibly difficult to find, but I've noticed a surprising change in Me in the process:
For the first time in my life, I am being picky. Job-wise. I am being picky job-wise. And very, for that matter.
I want to find a job that both affords my life (which isn't expensive by any means--rent, bills, coffee, Thai food...and plane tickets so that my boyfriend and I can sustain our 1100 mile-wide relationship...ok, so not necessarily cheap) but also affords me the flexibility so that I can do these things that I moved to the city to do: Audition & Act. Maybe I'm delusional, but I feel like this shouldn't be a ridiculous thing to ask. And I am steadfastly sticking to it. Why?...
For C) A story:
Last year, I got a job that I loved. A job at a cute, quirky, whimsical establishment that had a million other theatrical types working at it. It seemed perfect.
I got hired as a barista. Hooray!
I loved the people that I worked with. DOUBLE-Hooray!
I was getting a crap-load of hours. TRIPLE-Hooray!
...And then I stayed a barista. And watched as a bunch of other people were promoted around me. I missed serving, I wanted more money, and I was bummed...but it was something that I was willing to overlook (for the time being).
...And then I was still a barista. And I began to notice that not only was no one really trying to advance me, but they were locking me further and further into a 5-6 day-a-week schedule with no possible coverage for my position. But, I figured that these were all things that I'd deal with when I absolutely needed to and was, therefore, still willing to overlook. Less so, but still.
It was when I started heavily-auditioning for things and booking them and booking more of them...and getting a less than pleasant response from the higher-ups at this place that I knew that it was my time to go. Not their fault, certainly. But, the fact of the matter remained that I did not move to New York to become a barista.
I moved here to become a Starving Artist. Dammit.
And so this time around, I'm prioritizing a little differently. I'm not just looking out for a job that'll help me to get by, I'm taking Me into account first and foremost. (Blech, I know, I can hear the "lame" in that sentence, too, but it's true.) And I have to have hope that the right road by which to do all of this will reveal itself to me eventually. But, in the meantime, I'm just going to submit to my pickiness...and submit to Backstage, and PB & J, and exorbitant amounts of yoga.
For A) Being removed from any one place for a long time--specifically a place as gi-normous as this particular town--can be a little disconcerting.
What the shit can I expect from this place once I get back?
...I mean, I don't know.
Will it have forgotten about me?
Noooo, not if you kept reminding people that you exist during your absence...But otherwise, yeah, probably.
Will I be overwhelmed?
Noooo, not if you weren't before. ...But if you WERE before, then yeah, probably.
Do I actually really belong there?
Well, that all depends on the feeling you get as you're officially flying back in over the city. If that feels good--then you're good. ...OK, I guess that's specifically just how I judge things.
So, there's that.
For B) The job-factor.
I have had some kind of job pretty consistently since I was 14ish, so when I don't have a job, panic ensues. I need a job. I don't come from the kind of family where there's parents who can just cover your financialness for however long you ask them to, I come from the kind of family who says "Here's a Target-gift card and a jar of your favorite Wegmans Reduced Fat Peanut Spread--love you!" And I love that, and I love them for that. But, that reasserts the fact that I'm a bitch who Needs. A. Job. Fortunately for me, I have some pretty amazing friends who pretty much always find a way to never ever let this kind of panic last for too long. (PS, I love you and THANK you!)
So, I do actually have a job. And I'm working for my friend (awesome) at a certain NYC-based theatrical institution (awesome) where I have the most flexible hours in the universe (awesome awesome awesome). However, whereas the hours are flexible, there aren't many of them--and the pay matches this much. Which means that I need a second job. I am not unaccustomed to this kind of thing, in fact, I almost feel better when I'm running myself ragged between two jobs. (Masochist.)
But, I have been on the search for a second job for three weeks now, and not only is it proving incredibly difficult to find, but I've noticed a surprising change in Me in the process:
For the first time in my life, I am being picky. Job-wise. I am being picky job-wise. And very, for that matter.
I want to find a job that both affords my life (which isn't expensive by any means--rent, bills, coffee, Thai food...and plane tickets so that my boyfriend and I can sustain our 1100 mile-wide relationship...ok, so not necessarily cheap) but also affords me the flexibility so that I can do these things that I moved to the city to do: Audition & Act. Maybe I'm delusional, but I feel like this shouldn't be a ridiculous thing to ask. And I am steadfastly sticking to it. Why?...
For C) A story:
Last year, I got a job that I loved. A job at a cute, quirky, whimsical establishment that had a million other theatrical types working at it. It seemed perfect.
I got hired as a barista. Hooray!
I loved the people that I worked with. DOUBLE-Hooray!
I was getting a crap-load of hours. TRIPLE-Hooray!
...And then I stayed a barista. And watched as a bunch of other people were promoted around me. I missed serving, I wanted more money, and I was bummed...but it was something that I was willing to overlook (for the time being).
...And then I was still a barista. And I began to notice that not only was no one really trying to advance me, but they were locking me further and further into a 5-6 day-a-week schedule with no possible coverage for my position. But, I figured that these were all things that I'd deal with when I absolutely needed to and was, therefore, still willing to overlook. Less so, but still.
It was when I started heavily-auditioning for things and booking them and booking more of them...and getting a less than pleasant response from the higher-ups at this place that I knew that it was my time to go. Not their fault, certainly. But, the fact of the matter remained that I did not move to New York to become a barista.
I moved here to become a Starving Artist. Dammit.
And so this time around, I'm prioritizing a little differently. I'm not just looking out for a job that'll help me to get by, I'm taking Me into account first and foremost. (Blech, I know, I can hear the "lame" in that sentence, too, but it's true.) And I have to have hope that the right road by which to do all of this will reveal itself to me eventually. But, in the meantime, I'm just going to submit to my pickiness...and submit to Backstage, and PB & J, and exorbitant amounts of yoga.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Starving Artist on a Tuesday.
I've noticed that every time I take the train back and forth over the Manhattan Bridge--every time--I find myself staring out at the Manhattan-skyline. Because (clearly) it's still gorgeous. And because I think in some strange way it forces me to constantly ask myself "What next"...
...I think I need this.
...I think I need this.
How a Starving Artist Tends To Prioritize (In the Middle of January...When It's 18-Degrees Outside...)
1. Wake up.
2. Wake up for real after hitting snooze 5 times.
3. Snuggle in bed for 7 minutes.
Mmmm, Cuddly. Bamboo. Thirty per-cent…off… … …zzzz.
4. Wake up for the final time like a shot because you’re now 42 minutes behind schedule.
5. Make oatmeal (for the 12th day in a row) and PB & J for later as it cooks (you’re 28…you eat like a child…it’s fine) and pour coffee and take time with these things. You will ultimately feel warmer and fake yourself out that you’re not really all that hungry all that quickly later on if you milk this moment for all it’s worth.
6. Keep milking it. Indulge yourself in dog show-trivia and something-something-Dr. Oz-recommended and the truths about high-fructose corn syrup (Shit, I plopped a spoonful of jam into my Irish oats. How bad was that? WAS that bad? IS Peanut-Butter and Jelly a square meal or square-shaped calorie-clogged death?...Oh my God, are my thighs swelling?...). Milk this until you hear:
And, that’s right, twenty-one degrees here in Manhattan, with temperatures as low as Eleven—ELEVEN out in Islip this morning.
God. Dammit. Let’s get this over with.
7. One hour and four minutes after your alarm goes off, you begin to sprint around your apartment like a mad woman and have your face washed/teeth brushed/ass dressed/hair thrown into a puffy-frizzy something or other all within 6.1 minutes. Genius! With the quickness!
8. You panic at the notion of leaving the house without make-up, even if you do only need some concealer…and powder…and mascara because your eyes look like hell (holy crap, how OLD is this stuff?) …There! Good.
9. …That took 8 minutes. Run.
10. Your nose begins to run like a faucet on your way to the train, and you realize that you did not, in fact, shower post-yoga the night before as you had thought you did. Un-fortunate.
11. You buy a Single-Ride Ticket for the train. You do this because A) it’s cheaper—and you get paid on Thursday so you can spend the $30 on a week-long pass then, and B) because you’re only taking 2 trips today, so what difference does it make? None. That’s what.
12. Work happens.
13. Train trip #2 (…) to a spontaneous audition! YAY!
14. Friend wants coffee. She’s 25 blocks away...save the $2.50 so you can spend it on a Misto and take the trek on foot. In the sub-zeroness. Hating yourself.
15. Train trip #3 to yoga. Morning ticket-plan is already a bust.
16. Do your Vinyasa while wearing your stocking cap. It’s freezing, by god.
17. Realize 10 minutes in that that was dumb because you’re still bare foot and wearing next to nothing else and for a room that’s supposed to be hot it’s STILL only like 48-degrees in here and oh my god I almost kicked that person in the face but there’s so many PEOPLE in here I can’t help it and my hip is so not popping and WHY! CAN I NOT! BREATHE! INTO ANYTHING?!?! I am failing at yoga!!
18. …That yammering is not helping anything. Breathe.
19. …There’s still yammering. Crap.
20. Slink out past the sideways glances at your floppy yoga-unfriendly stocking cap, and pre-plan a considerable-sized donation into the yoga-collections once pay-day happens.
21. Train trip #4…
22. Fore-go original plan of a dinner of PB & J for soup with white rice (aka, HIGH-FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP for NON-WHOLE GRAIN CARBS!!!). Eff.
23. Freezing temperatures can lead to hasty decision-making…and an over-sized mug of high-fructose hot cocoa it is.
24. Buzz your way awake til 2am. Research plane tickets to Buenos Aires. Lots.
25. Doze. Briefly.
26. Realize I haven’t submitted myself for a THING today! And peruse Backstage for 45 minutes.
27. …And then Actors Access.
28. …And then the AEA-website.
29. …And then CraigsList. Which you give up on quickly.
30. …Did I shower? … …bam-boo sheeeets…thirty per-cent…off… …zzzz
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