20SB Debates - All adult and responsible-like

What made you feel more like an adult, your first job or you first car?

I’m excited to speak on this topic because, well…  Because my birthday is just around the corner and I’m going to be 25.  If being 25 doesn’t make you an adult, then what does?  As my sister so kindly informed me, from 25 it’s all downhill to 30.  Yikes.

My first job is definitely what made me feel like more of an adult.  Granted, getting my first car was pretty great, but I was only 16.  I still wore glitter nail polish and platform shoes, for God’s sake.  Definitely not adult and responsible-like.  But my first job, be it ever so humble, soul-sucking, and life-destroying, is what made me feel like I’d finally arrived, all accomplished and grown-up.

My first ever full-time, salaried, 9-5 job post-college was for an insurance company.  OMIGOD, how could I ever have been so unbelievabley stupid?  I started out with the grandest of intentions.  I was going to MAKE A LOT OF MONEY and PAY OFF ALL MY DEBT and BECOME THE BEST INSURANCE SALESWOMAN EVER OMIGOD.  Haha.  Then I discovered that underneath all my grand posturing and wild dreaming, I was really just an underachiever.  Not a go-getter at all.  I just wanted to do the bare minimum and get paid the most amount possible.

Hey, at least I’m being totally honest here.

Luckily for me, the more time that gets between me and that soul-sucking shithole I spent two years of my life in, the better I am, and the less my brain is jumbled with useless insurance jargon.  However, I still remember strutting into work that first morning.  Black slacks, ironed with a seam down the front, pointy-toe stiletto heels, professional-yet-sexy collared shirt, carrying a portfolio for all my studious note-taking.  In the first 4 months on the job, I managed to take AND pass my insurance licensing exam, begin a track to a professional certification (ie: three little letters behind my name that for all intents and purposes served no, well… purpose), and straighten up my personal money-troubles by structuring a budget and beginning to pay all my bills on time and in more than the minimum amounts.  Also in those first four months, I determined that it was not the job for me, that I would sit quietly and bide my time until something better came along.  What I did accomplish in the next two years was an understanding of environment is more important than money, and a greater appreciation of an “I-shall-take-no-shit” attitude.

What I didn’t accomplish was all that great money-making.  My bosses paid me no commission, whatsoever.  So really, my pay was not contingent upon my performance, and thus, I had no reason to strive for greatness.

How did this nightmare of an occupation, with all of its insulting by way of my clients, sexism in the workplace, and meager acknowledgments of presence, let alone of accomplishments, make me feel like an adult?

Well, it was after all, a 9-5.  With a salary.  And lots and lots of freedom in the form of two hour lunch breaks, online shopping while working, and coming and going as I pleased.

It’s amazing I didn’t get fired.

But hey, I kinda-sorta grew up in the process.

20SB Debate 3 - Lottery Winner- Secret or Not?

This fortnight’s debate poses this question to myself and fellow 20-something bloggers:

 ”If you won the lottery, would you keep it a secret?”

First of all, let me just be honest and say that I think playing the lottery is a waste of money.  However, I have bought a few tickets before, back when I turned 18.  Why?

Well, I was not a smoker.  In fact, I was dead set against smoking.  So turning 18 didn’t provide the same high for me as for my smoking friends, who were finally able to run to the local convenience store and buy a pack of ciggarettes instead of stealing them or bumming them off of their older (and likely more prone to cancer) friends.  Getting a tattoo seemed way too permanent.  (Ed. note: also, way too likely to piss my father off and cause him to be “disappointed” in me (ie:  the worst thing EVER!) and not speak to me for a few days.)  So buying lottery tickets was my method of choice to feel like an “adult” a few days after my 18th birthday.

Now B, on the other hand, believes that if you play the lottery consistently enough, odds are that eventually you’ll win.  Maybe not millions or anything, but at least a few hundred dollars or so.  B buys lottery tickets every once in a while, usually just the symptom of a random hair up his ass.  But one day, we were sitting in his car scratching away at a few lottery tickets when, wouldn’t you know it?  The motherfucker won $50.

We spent the $50 on going out for steaks that night. 

But I digress…

If I won the lottery, I would most certainly NOT be able to keep it a secret.  Whenever something good happens to me, I get the unmistakable and unavoidable urge to tell someone about it - B, my sisters, my friends.  It always happens.

I wouldn’t go blabbing to everyone, of course.  But I would, no doubt, blog about it (hehe). 

I’d have to tell someone.  Mostly due to the fact that I would be buying things for people.

 Now, if we’re talking MILLIONS here (which I hope we are, duh), then I would be paying off my sister’s mortgage.  Buying my other sister her own house.  Paying the rest of my niece’s college tuition.  Buying B and I a brand new house, two brand new cars, the whole works.

Then I’d pay for us all to go on a fantastic vacation somewhere, naturally.

I’d use the money to help better the lives of the people I love, as well as the lives of those who are less fortunate than I.  I’d donate a significant chunk of money to the Susan G. Komen charity for breast cancer, definitely.  I’d also invest a good sized portion of it into some sure-to-skyrocket stock.  Then I’d do silly things, like buy everyone in my office Starbucks coffee and sweet treats when they’d least expect it.  I would stop over where the homeless guy makes his shelter across from our office and provide him with a $100 gift card to the mexican restaurant he stands outside of all day. 

All of these things would be unbelievably hard to rationalize without bringing up the whole winning lottery ticket thing.  Some people say that lottery winners are cursed.  I guess I’d just have to cross my fingers.

Other 20SB’s opinions:

Electic Closet

The Ink

Donna

Clueless Cat

20SB Debate # 2: New Year’s Resolutions

 Ahhh…thank God for something to post about.  I went to the dentist this morning to have a cavity filled and an old filling replaced.  Needless to say, one whole side of my face is still mostly numb and I actually caught myself DROOLING at my desk.  Gross.  So yeah, the whole idea of having to come up with something to blog about was too much.  Thank God for 20SB debates! 

This fortnight’s debate is: 

It’s time for new years resolutions. What is one thing about yourself that you are definitely NOT changing?

I never really believed in New Year’s Resolutions.  I’ve resolved to lose weight, be less angry, even use profanity less.  They all failed.  I was good at it for the first two months or so, but eventually I wore out and gave up.  According to Dr. Phil, the problem is that I’m not following the right path for resolutions.  New Year’s Resolutions should be specific, measurable goals that you will be held accountable for.  I never dared to set a specific amount of weight I wanted to lose for fear that I’d never hit the 10 or 15 pound mark and then I would feel like a total failure.  How exactly do you measure how angry you are or how often you become angry?  And finally, the only person who held me accountable for my profanity use was myself, and occasionally the random stranger who would scoff in my general direction when they overheard me swearing like a sailor.

So really, what’s the point? 

B asked me yesterday what my New Year’s Resolution was, and upon hearing me laugh and say “Ha, nothing!” he just looked bewildered.  He had a multitude of resolutions:  eat more salads (good idea), less fast food (GREAT idea), work out 5 times a week (okay, really, stop showing off!), wake up earlier and go to bed earlier (who is he kidding?).  I stood in the kitchen, shoulders slumped as always, and responded tentatively with “I don’t know, slouch less?”

He just laughed at me and responded, “Babe, you’re hopeless.”

Yeah, so maybe I am hopeless.  Really, my opinion of New Year’s Resolutions amounts to this:  Who ever really succeeds?  I mean, who else besides the random person who goes on Dr. Phil with the goal to lose 210 pounds (did anyone see that recent episode?  was it yesterday?) ever really succeeds?  And then, it’s only because Dr. Phil is gonna “give it to her straight” and even tape her picture up at the local McDonald’s with a note to NOT SELL HER ANY FAST FOOD.  So really, don’t even get me started.  We’re all set up to fail.  So this debate is something I can do.

There are plenty of things I’d like to change.  I hate my nose.  HATE.  I’ve wanted a nose job since I was 13.  The only thing that holds me back is the amount of money it will cost me (definitely don’t have that!) and the pain I will face (seriously, I’m the biggest wimp EVER).  I have zero patience for people who are late.  I have zero patience for people who don’t tell the truth.  Those things, I’m afraid, aren’t going to change.  I wish I was either shorter or taller, but not this awkward middle height.  Sadly, I was born of “average” height with an ugly nose and zero patience.

Wow, maybe I should resolve to be nicer to myself, no?

The truth is, I have a bit of an attitude problem.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing.  When I say attitude, I don’t mean shitty for no reason or snobbish.  No, it’s more like, if I’ve got something to say, I’m going to say it.  Granted, I still take people’s feelings into consideration, but only if they’re someone WORTH considering.  Examples:  a friend.  a family member.  Non-Examples:  a stranger.  a friend of a friend of a friend.  You get the picture.  Some people call me a Bitch.  I capitalize it because really, it’s not that bad of a thing.  If being a Bitch means that I’m someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself or someone she loves, then so be it.  If being a Bitch means I’m a woman who won’t settle for being dicked over, fabulous.  I’d rather be a Bitch than be some girl who whines when she is disrespected, or worse CRIES, then does nothing about it.

Being a Bitch has it’s good points.

Being a Bitch has gotten me into trouble sometimes.  Once, I was asked to leave a bar by a bouncer on a power trip.  However, the reason was that he was making rude comments to a girlfriend of mine, and I called him out.  Then there was B’s birthday, where his friend basically told him off, told him to choose between his relationship with me and his friendship with him, and I went the hell off.  I turned into Whitney Houston that night, all “Hell to the NO!” and basically told him where he could go.  Sometimes people look at me like I’m crazy, but you know what?  When I see a woman who is being disrespected by anyone, be it man or woman, whatever, and I witness her do nothing about it, I look at HER like she’s crazy.  Especially if she starts talking about women’s rights and how we shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this in this day and age.  Girl, you’re right.  But you’ve got one problem…  Who does you think is responsible for making sure we WOMEN are treated with respect?  Everyone else?  Nope, think again.  You’re responsible for that yourself.

So yeah, I’ve got a little bit of an attitude problem.  I could stand to tone it down a notch.  It riles me up when I’ve had a little bit of liquor (mostly vodka) to drink, and sometimes I need to take a chill pill.  But I’ll tell you what… let some random guy grab my ass at the bar.  He might not get his fingers back.  Let some guy in a power position treat me like shit (ahem, last boss).  He’s going to get some feistiness right back in his direction.

That is definitely one thing about me that I’m not changing.

The nose, however…  That’s still up for debate.

Clueless Cat also commented on this debate.

20SB Debate # 1: Would you tell your friend if you didn’t like his/her partner?

Lisa of I don’t think it’s going to rain posted about this here 

This is totally hitting close to home. 

I’m going to answer in a totally indecisive kind of way and say that I think the answer to the question depends on your relationship with your friend.  If you have a great friendship where total honesty is the cornerstone, and you feel comfortable being blunt with your friend, then yes, I think you should tell them. 

If, on the other hand, you’ve been friends with someone for years and years and you know that they are delicate and overly sensitive, then maybe you shouldn’t.  Or you might lose their friendship.  Oy.

I’m in this situation right now.  A friend of mine who I’ve known for a great majority of my life (I’m not exaggerating, either) is dating someone who I am totally and utterly disgusted by.  I used to find him just okay, which turned into general dislike, which turned into total and utter contempt.  It has to do with a lot of situations, but mostly it’s because of how he treats her.

To make a really long and uninteresting story short:  She supports him financially.  He has a pretty regular and pretty costly marijuana habit (I’m not knocking it — I’m just saying, if you can’t afford to pay your RENT, should you be spending money regularly on marijuana?).  He’s rude to people in authority positions.  He’s rude to people in positions lower than him (waitstaff, etc.).  He hasn’t given her one single anniversary card or present in the 3.5 years they’ve been dating (he doesn’t celebrate anniversaries until married, hmph).  He owns his own business and drowns in the winter, and wonders why.  Maybe it’s because he spends like an idiot in the spring and summer.  On their last anniversary, she got nothing.  The day happened to coincide with the anniversary of his first year of being in business.  He bought himself a vintage sports car.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

Add to that list the following:  He doesn’t want her to ever go out with her girlfriends.  If she tries, he insults it and makes her feel uncomfortable.  He accuses her of cheating on him regularly, while she is the most honest and responsible person I know.  She would never do that to him.  He criticizes her weight.

 I could keep going on and on, but it would get rather boring.

I’ve debated whether or not to tell her.  She comes to me with her problems regarding him, and I’ve offered my opinion.  I’ve offered her help to move out.  I’ve motivated her.  I’ve told her that I love her and that I’ll always be here.  But nothing ever changes.  We never hang out because she’s always busy with him.  Busy?  Busy is a relative term.  They do things, yes, but I feel as though she could be better at making time to spend with her friends if she wasn’t so BUSY worrying that he’s cheating on her.

Our friendship is suffering big-time.

I made a decision this week.  If I tell her, it will only make things worse.  I certainly do not wish for her to make a choice between him and me.  That isn’t right or fair.  But what I would like for her to do is to make a stand for herself and for her life.  I want her to have interests and activities outside of him — which, I would like to include ME because hello, we never do anything together!  EVER!  I would like for her to stop supporting him financially so that she’ll have the funds to treat herself right — buy the shoes she’s eyeing, get new makeup like she wants, come to dinner with me and my girlfriends. 

Nothing ever changes.  And if I went there, really went there, balls-to-the-wall honest about what I feel, it would destroy our friendship.

I’ve zipped my lips.

We haven’t talked at all in 5 days — truly a record for us.