…that really should be.
So I was in the basement at work all of last week. By myself. Every morning. For 4 hours at a time. My co-workers were actually forbidden to come help me.
I think it might be because I am just SO amazing that my boss is worried it might be contagious. So you know, we’ve got to keep that shiz confined, man. Because what if it spread?
So, the basement. I was there, and I was supposed to be stuffing open enrollment packets. But after my 487th paper cut, I was like, “SCREW THIS”. And I started thinking about said amazingness, and how much quicker I could be employed elsewhere, and not in a basement, if my resume was Michelle-ified.
So, yeah. I can use a computer. And I can type stuff without looking at the keyboard. But, these people would seriously be falling all over themselves if they knew….
- I know all the words to the theme song from Fresh Prince of Bel Air. My ten year old is particularly impressed by this. So much so that I’ll be downstairs embroiled in a particularly intense conversation, and without warning, the boy will run down the stairs, blasting it. “Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down…” And you can’t keep that stuff in. So I’ll start white girl pseudo rapping. With made up hand signs and strutting and all of it.
- I once knew a guy who was going to school to become a Paramedic. He was obsessed with Garth Brooks. All good so far. But he was convinced that “Standing Outside the Fire” was about him, and he was super passionate about it. Because sometimes, he had to literally stand outside the fire. Because he was an EMT and not a fireman. I’m not joking. He’d get really drunk and play the song over and over and sing at the top of his lungs. I will never hear that song and not think about that guy.
- The first time I encountered hazing was not in college. It was my first time working an office job as a “grown up” (this word is in quotes because we were allowed to wear oversized overalls to work with tube tops). Shortly after I started, we got a new sales guy. Mr. Sales guy seemed a little quiet, looked a little homely, and I didn’t think he’d last the day. My boss came into the sales room with a boom box, and told the guy he couldn’t get his list of leads until he sang a little song. He pushed play, and “Eye of the Tiger” started. Mr. Sales guy took off his glasses, stood up on the table, and started singing his giant heart out. It was amazing. Never judge a book by its cover, people.
- Sixth grade. Height of the early 90’s and boy bands, aqua net and purple eyeshadow. I was feeling my hormones something fierce and was emo before it was even a thing. There was a lot of really bad poetry happening in my Beezus and Ramona diary. And it needed to be shared with the world! Or my family. So that year, for Christmas, I used all my babysitting money to buy 8×10 frames. And I outfitted these frames with my amazing poetry. One of the poems was “Lost in my Best Friends Eyes”. I have no idea where the fodder came for these terribly amazing poems, but every stanza ended with “…but you were lost in my best friends eyes”. On some level, even I knew these must be a little heavy for the occasion, so I decorated the poems in puffy heart stickers. My sweet aunt threw that bad boy up on her wall. She was the only one.
- Every time I’m in an interview and they ask where I see myself in five years? I really want to say that I hope I finally know how to do the entire Thriller dance. Because that would be amazing.
Can you imagine if I had these on my resume? With maybe some puffy heart stickers and some glitter thrown in for good measure? I’d be so hired. And not in a basement, either.