And I tried. I really tried. It was hard. I had never been discriminated against before just for my gender. And it sucked. But I didn’t give up.

Because I can by a nuisance, I just pushed and shoved my way into things. There was no one downstairs that was able to record the post-practice media interview of the head coach? “Oh, lookee here, I have a tape recorder, I’ll go.” And then I’d just go. Not ask. Just go. I didn’t care that up until that moment, in the YEAR TWO THOUSAND, a woman had never been allowed on the practice field in this capacity. Ever.

Sadly, this wasn’t the end of it. But, I was lucky to have a great boss who knew that it didn’t matter what reproductive organs we had, if we could do the job, we should get to do the job. And he knew the importance of baby steps. So I was allowed to continue to do it, every day, as long as I then transcribed it for the website and the beat writers. Slowly, but surely, I worked my way into the heart of Steve Mariucci. He no longer objected to me being there. He no longer ignored me. He talked to me, asked me questions, joked with me just like he did with all the guys in the department. I was in. Dear future generations of women at the 49ers, YOU’RE WELCOME.

(Mooch and I were so close that I bought him a neon pink toe ring for Christmas one year that he proudly displayed on his desk.)

Knowing this, you would think I would be a big ladder climber, trying to get to the top and be the best in my profession. You would be wrong. At some point along the way, I realized I was not meant for management, let alone upper management. I was content being in the middle of the pack, wearing many hats and not being noticed.

Also, if you’ve met me, there are stories like this and this as to why I could never be a spokesperson or be in charge of anything. I have no filter. It’s not a helpful affliction in the workplace. I’m kind of an idiot. An awkward turtle.

I give you this shining example from this week as proof:

I work in a building with lots of people and many floors. Each floor has its own set of conference rooms. I’m on the fifth floor and we generally book all our meetings on the 5th floor. This means that when an Outlook reminder pops up, I look at the room, not the floor number.

(You see where this is going, right?)

So I went to the A conference room and saw two people in there. One was from one of the departments we were meeting with. It wasn’t the representative of that department I thought we were meeting with, but shit comes up and people fill in. It happens all the time.

I sit my happy ass down and introduce myself to the other person in the room that I don’t know. I tell her my name and what department I’m in. I say to the other person in the room “You know me.” We laugh and sit and wait for the other people to join.

Person I just met starts talking about something that doesn’t even sound remotely familiar. And my co-worker, who left her office the same time as I did, therefore should BE in this meeting by now, is nowhere to be seen.

Then it hits me – I’m pretty sure I’m in the wrong conference room. I bet we’re on a different floor.

Instead of looking like an idiot, since I’ve been sitting there for five minutes, I say “Oh, I forgot to grab something.” And I get up and leave, run to my desk and realize we’re meeting on the eighth floor.

I recall all this to my co-worker later, who just laughs and laughs.

Her: “Why didn’t you just say you were in the wrong meeting?”

Me: “Well, because I didn’t want to look stupid!”

Her: “Don’t you think they assumed you were coming back? And they might see you later on and wonder why you ditched? Or assign you something?”

Me: “Well, I figured I don’t see them all that often and they are busy. They will forget!”

Her: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Later in the day, though, I had to go up to another floor to give something to someone. And lo and behold, who do I run into? The woman from the earlier meeting.

Her: “You never came back to our meeting.”

Me: “Um, that’s because I was in the wrong meeting. We were on 8, not 5. And since your co-worker was who I was supposed to meet with, I just thought you were filling in.”

Her: “Ha!”

Me: “And I was expecting not to see you for a few weeks so you would forget all about this. And that you wouldn’t bring this up. And I wouldn’t have to admit how dumb I was.”

Her: “Hahahahaha!”

Me: “Thanks for calling me out on it in front of everyone!”

And this is why I’m not destined for management.

Don’t try and correct me. There is no use. It’s a Rahm-mendment.

(Now I’m like Henrietta Pussycat from Mr. Rogers who used “meow-meow” as every word in the English language.)

Anyway, since I’ve been out drinking wine all evening with her, and I need to put up a post, I thought I would just share who I saw today! (I bet you’ll NEVER guess!)

SQUEEEEE!

You guys have no idea how much I love this man! And how sexy he is! And also how excited I am for him to be running the city of Chicago! He’s going to do great things! He makes me love my city even more than I already did. Which was A LOT!

Also, can we just mention how much I LOVE my job because I get to go to things like this and see Rahm? GAH! It’s only because there were hundreds of people there that I didn’t rush the stage and bear hug him.

I’ll save that for a later date.

I wanted to share a glimpse into my life and why sometimes I think that either a) I should have my own TV show or b) why I should be kept inside at all times.

At a meeting last week at work, the following conversation occurred:

Me: I’m Kristin, nice to meet you!

Him: Kristi?

Me: No, Kristin.

Him: Christian.

Me: No. Kristin. CHRIS-tin.

Him: No, my name is Christian.

/scene

And then I may have crawled under the conference table until the meeting ended.

At least I’ll never forget his name!

Other than that, I can’t share much. I would love to share everything about the job with you, but well, I learned that lesson once. But just know it’s awesome!

The biggest challenge with this job so far is the time I have to get up in the morning. See, at my old job I didn’t have to be in until 9. And it only took me about 30 minutes to get to the office. So I had perfected getting up at 8 and then leaving the house at 8:30. So when last Monday rolled around and I had to get up at like 6 AM, it was like a punch in the face.

But, did you know that when you like your job, it’s a lot easier to get up before the sun? WHO KNEW? I even did it for a whole week, no complaints!

The unfortunate thing about last week was that it coincided with the week before my monthly visitor, Aunt Flo, was coming to town. And it took me until Friday to realize that the tiredness I was experiencing last week wasn’t all due to the earlier wake-up time, but because of said visitor. You would think that since I’m seen Aunt Flo many, many times over my life, I would learn her patterns.

But I really missed commuting and taking public transit to work. So even though, it takes longer to get to work, I just get to sit there and not worry about traffic or anything and read my Kindle, check Twitter on my phone or play a game or three of Words With Friends. Plus, with the money I’m saving on not buying gas for my car every week, I feel totally justified in my $2 cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee every morning! That coffee will get even a lazy ass like me out of bed!

Every time you leave a job, whether forced to or not, I always wonder if the next job is going to be the right job. I mean, that’s the case with every major decision you make in your life. If it has a big investment on your end, you want to make sure it is perfect. I have to admit, that for the first time in a long time, I didn’t second guess this decision once. Yes, it was hard to leave my old co-workers who became friends. And yes, the comraderie on the last day made me wonder for a hot second if it was the right choice. But on my first morning at my new job, I knew it was right. I was so excited! And it just felt right. It was like a scene out of Annie:

I think I’m gonna like it here!

That’s right, kids, I GOT A NEW JOB!

/smattering of applause

If you know me outside this blog at all, you know this is really huge! And also very awesome! And I’m super excited! I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.

That’s all I’m going to tell you. Because that’s all you need to know. But just know I’m really excited about the opportunity and I’m happy to be working downtown again and to be able to take public transportation to work!

In preparation of my new gig, I have already purchased a new lunch tote. I also bought a new purse. And I have wrapped up a lot of my projects at work. And now I’m a little bored, but know this is temporary.

This is only the second time in my life that I have quit a job. Seeing as this will be my sixth job since college (and fifth since starting this blog), that goes to show I get laid off quite frequently (three times!). And while I don’t prefer being laid off, I have to say, it is much easier on the nerves and stomach. Because giving notice is not fun. Even if you know you’re making the right move, or you hate your job/boss/co-workers, it isn’t fun to drop that bomb on anyone.

Add to that the fact that I am the world’s biggest people pleaser, and you can see why my stomach was in knots about just the THOUGHT of doing this. Once I had to actually do it, I almost vomited all over myself and my keyboard.

But I put on my Big Girl Panties and got it over with. And it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be (it never is). So now I just have to finish out this week and I will be on to bigger and better things.

YAY!

But I do love coffee. I am addicted to it. I NEED to have it in the mornings. I’m convinced that if I don’t drink it, I’m more tired throughout the day. And in the winter, it is non-negotiable since it is so cold in this office, I NEED the coffee to warm up me bones.

So the only options are really to buy coffee every day or drink the crappy coffee here in the office.

Back before the holidays, one of my lovely co-workers brought in some flavored creamer, this kind Peppermint Mocha. And I was hooked. I even wrote about my love of this creamer over at Food Lush because now that it is almost spring, I’m having a hard time finding this particular flavor.

Since I started Weight Watchers, I’ve been bringing in a measuring spoon for my creamer. Two tablespoons is two points and I can afford that each day. But no more than that. And let’s be honest, my lack of being able to eyeball measurements is how I got into this fat mess in the first place.

All these words are to say, I know how long my creamer should last. I mean, a serving is a tablespoon and the small bottle is like 32 tablespoons. If only I am using this bottle, the bottle should last three weeks.

NOT SO MUCH.

I brought in a small bottle of creamer on a Friday a few weeks ago and by Wednesday, I noticed it was more than half empty. This bottle is in the community fridge, but clearly marked with MY name. And I’m the only Kristin here.

There is another girl here who also brings creamer and I asked her if she noticed her stash was a little lighter than normal. She thought so, but couldn’t be sure. So I was all “I MEASURE it out each day, so I know! SOMEONE IS STEALING MY CREAMER!”

The next day, I got up to go grab a paper towel from the kitchen. At this time, I see one of the consultants in the IT department USING the creamer. (My co-worker and I have the same flavor, so I don’t know whose it was.) He poured it in his tea (BARF!) and then put it back in the fridge.

And then I proceeded to tell everyone in the office that this asshat was the thief!

I figured since he SAW me when he was stealing the creamer, this would stop. I would be wrong. Because the next morning, when I went to get coffee, I pulled out my bottle of creamer and there was nothing but an EMPTY bottle with my name on it in the fridge! EMPTY! He used up the rest and put an empty bottle in the fridge! MOTHER FUCKER!

This had to stop. The culprit sits near me. I came back from the kitchen all ragey, and I turned to my cubemate and we had the following conversation all while the THIEF was standing 2 feet from me:

ME: So, co-worker, did you hear about how someone is stealing my coffee creamer?

CW: No! That totally sucks!

ME: Yeah, the interesting thing, though, is I KNOW who it is!

(turns to glare at the THIEF who looks right at me, like he’s going to crap his pants!)

CW: You do???

Since then, I have had to resort to bringing my creamer in in a sports bottle and hiding it in the fridge. But I think it has solved the problem. Good thing he’s a consultant and isn’t going to be here much longer.

I still take every opportunity to loudly chide him whenever possible, though. Oh, and I’ve told everyone in the office he’s the THIEF! He’ll be so thankful when this consulting gig is up! HA!

So this past Sunday was July 5. It marked an anniversary of sorts for me. Because 10 years ago on that day was my first day working for the San Francisco 49ers. Ten years. I can’t even believe it. Man, I’m getting old.

People always thought it was odd to start on July 5. But it was a Monday. And also, when you work in the NFL, usually the 4th of July is your last opportunity to take any vacation for the rest of the year. Because training camp starts just a few weeks after that and it is time to get focused and get ready for the season.

(Side note: I once went home mid-July, very close to the opening of training camp, because my sister had just had a baby. My nephew was born on June 26 and I HAD to go see him before the season started. I wasn’t going to go a whole 8 months without seeing my first nephew. And believe me, I got a rash of shit for taking vacation so late in the summer.)

I can remember almost every single thing about my first day. I remember exactly what I was wearing. I have a perfect visual in my head of me standing in the Public Relations office, knowing that at that moment, life couldn’t get any better.

I was so nervous. It had been awhile since I had started a new job. And this was my first REAL job. And I was living all by myself, in a state where I didn’t know a single soul, 3,000 miles away from my family. And it was the fucking San Francisco 49ers for Pete’s sake. There were Hall of Famers walking around me all the time! It was nothing like working in college sports or in minor league baseball when you could say you knew those stars before they were famous.

At the time of my first day, I was staying at a hotel around the corner from the 49ers facility in Santa Clara. It was all very new to me. I had just driven up that weekend from Arizona (I had to pick up the rest of my stuff from college that I had stored) and couldn’t move into my apartment until later in the week. My friend Connie caravaned up to California with me from Arizona. And we splurged and went to Togo’s for dinner and sat out on the lawn of the hotel and watched the fireworks being set off from Great America on the 4th of July.

My friend Teri, who is the wife of my old boss at the Niners, she always makes fun of me about that first day. She always makes fun of me for many reasons, but she used to always joke about me on my first day. When I got there, when I asked how I was doing, I apparently said “I’m nervous. It’s my first real job.” Which, hey! I’m just being honest. But Kirk must have told Teri and she laughed because she’s old and she doesn’t even remember her first job because it was so long ago. (Actually she probably does. And if  you get her drunk enough, she’ll tell you all about it. And she’ll probably serenade you with Paradise By The Dashboard Light by Meatloaf.)

Most of the day was a blur. Frozen in my memory is the image of me standing right by my desk, the one I would sit at for three years, trying to look professional in my blue dress shirt and black pants, hoping I wouldn’t throw up from the nervousness.

My one memory that will stand out from that week was as I was sitting at my desk with my head down, proofreading the media guide probably, someone came up to me, stuck his hand out and said “Hi, I’m Bill.” And as I looked up, I was staring into the face of Hall of Fame coach, the LEGEND, Bill Walsh. And I think I told him my name. And probably shook his hand for an inappropriate amount of time. And kept it to myself (until now), lest Teri make fun of me for something else.

Working there was an experience. It is an experience I wouldn’t change for all the money in the world. It was hard work. I struggled with so many things. I made a lot of mistakes. But I also learned a hell of a lot. I am the worker and the person I am today because of the six years I spent working there. I made friendships that will last for a lifetime. I had to be strong because I was literally all alone when I moved there.  I grew up. A LOT.

I think back to my almost-22 year old self and I almost wish I could be her again. I wish I could have that rampant ambition, that slightly less jaded outlook on the world, the feeling that the world and thousands of opportunities were just waiting there, at my feet, waiting for me to take hold of them and run as fast as I could.

I wish I could shelter her from a lot of the stuff she is going to go through. I wish I could tell her to worry less and enjoy life more. I wish I could tell her that having a big mouth is no longer endearing in the professional world.

But I can’t. And that’s OK. Because she survived, she grew, she learned, she enjoyed life. She had to go through these things. She had to learn, had to get knocked down a few times to learn how to brush herself off and move on. She had to experience LIFE.

And I wouldn’t tell her to do anything different because I think we’re both pretty happy with the way it has all panned out. No regrets.

I do this with the simple phrase “at my old job.”

I know that I do it because it is my way of telling people “oh, yeah, I totally know what I’m doing. We did that at my old job.” It is my way of letting people know that I really am competent. That I was hired for a reason. And that I’m willing to put my nose to the grindstone and hit the ground running and all kinds of other cliches.

I’m guessing the only time I never did this was my first job, which was when I worked with my dad and didn’t know a damn thing about working in an office. But I’d imagine since I was an angsty teen, most of the words that came out were whiny and made people stabby.

When I started at the Niners, I don’t think I did it a lot. My job prior to the 49ers was working in the Arizona State Sports Information department. So while still sports media relations, college and the NFL were a little different. The best difference was clips were printed out on the computer, NOT pasted to gold pieces of paper. I would venture to guess those student interns at ASU are still cutting clips and pasting them to the same gold paper. Over 10 years later.

But I was young! And fresh! And impressionable! Also, if something wasn’t done how I was used to doing it, at the Niners I just CHANGED the way we did it. Oh to be 22 and have your first job again and not know about office politics.

When I left the Niners, things were a lot different. So many people assumed because you worked in sports, you couldn’t work in the corporate atmosphere. Like working in the NFL is just naked men and sexual harassment and free shoes galore! Well, it is like that but we did do actual WORK. The same kind of work that people in PR agencies and corporate offices do. Just different clients.

For six years in the NFL I had to prove that I was more than a woman, that I was a capable PR person, that I wasn’t there to sleep with players. Every new coach that came in was another time I had to prove myself. I proved myself with my work and with my not sleeping with players. It got old, let me tell you. Before I left, the 49ers had hired Mike Nolan. And there we were, his first day on the job, and every time he needed something, he looked around me and asked for a guy. Looked me right in the eye, as a Public Relations MANAGER, and asked me to get someone lower than me to do something for him because that person was a male. After six years of that, I had ENOUGH. And also, I’ll always think Mike Nolan is a ginormous douchebag because of this. I was so happy when he was shit-canned.

(This was so not the direction I had planned for this post, FYI. Yay for stream of consciousness.)

Once I got out of football, I had to prove myself on other levels. I had to prove my knowledge of products and services outside of first downs and nickel defense. I had to prove that I was competent. I had to prove that the person they interviewed was the person they had indeed been hired. I had to come through.

It’s a hard pill to swallow. When you start a new job, you’re coming off an old job where you proved yourself and, hopefully, they trusted you. So part of your brain thinks that you can just step right in and it will all be the same at the new job. But every company is different. And you have to learn how thing are run.

I swear I’m not trying to be a dick when I mention how things were done at my old job. I’m not trying to make things run the same way just because I don’t like change. I honestly think it is because when it comes to proving myself, I’m always going to being that female in a man’s world of football and having to prove myself over and over for all the wrong reasons.

It is Wednesday night and this has already been a tough week. It has been a LONG week. And it is just half over. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get the hang of this waking up early and going into work thing. And also, winter? You suck balls. Even more so when one goes from 30 degree temps outside to 40 degree temps inside the office. I can never get warm!

I know you’re all sitting there saying to yourself “oh, shut your stupid complainy hole, you ungrateful tramp! YOU ARE NEVER HAPPY!” (Actually, that was just Slynnro saying that last part.) And I know. I KNOW! I am not complaining. Well, I am just a little. But only because I’m tired. And when I’m tired I’m whiney and annoying. As opposed to when I’m not tired when I’m just annoying.

I am happy to have a job. I am happy that I was able to have a little mini-vacation and still be able to pay my bills. I am happy that there is still severance left and I can pay off some debt. I am happy with my job.

But, I am tired. And out of my routine. And it takes a lot out of me. I don’t remember how I did it before, just a few short months ago. I mean, the last time I was employed and doing this waking up early everyday thing I was going into a job that did not want me. They no longer needed my services and yet made me stay for 60 days. Which seems like an OK deal, but was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through career-wise.

I just needed to share. So now I’m off to bed. Because that dip for our potluck isn’t going to make itself.

Hey! So I had my first day at work on Friday. I will not go into any details on here, but would like to say THANK YOU to all of you who wished me luck! My first day went really well. I learned a lot and everyone is really nice. Right before I left on Friday, I spun in a circle in the lobby and sang “I think I’m gonna like it here” a la Annie. (I even wore a red shirt.)

It was nice to start on a Friday and get my feet wet with the being alert and paying attention and using my brain on more than “Me hungry. Need food. Call for burrito. NOM NOM NOM.” It was a packed day with the learning and a really good way to get back into the working world. Because when the day was over, BAM! it was the weekend!

The only problem with that was that I fell right back into my old unemployed habits as soon as I got home. I came home and drank a lot of wine and then stayed up too late and then slept in late on both Saturday and Sunday morning. I didn’t try to get back into the routine or anything. And now it is Sunday night and I’m not even tired. Monday will be a blast. Thank God we have a Starbucks in the lobby.

I’m sure this full week coming up will be rough come Friday when I’ve had to use my brain for five whole days straight. And then I will feel I have earned a weekend of sleeping in. As opposed to this weekend where I was just drunk and/or lazy.

:::::

In other weekend news, I actually missed unemployment when I went down to do my laundry on a Sunday afternoon. Did you know that like EVERYONE does their laundry on Sunday afternoons? Or is that just my apartment complex? Oh, mid-weekday afternoon laundry time, I miss you so.

:::::

I also spent too much of my leftover severance money on clothes today. I wanted to go shopping last week, but didn’t get around to it. (I also apparently didn’t get around to doing laundry in the middle of the day.) So I figured since it was freezing out today (oh, yes it was people. IT SNOWED!) that I would do a little shopping online. I found some cute things and I’m sure that some things won’t fit right and I’ll have to return them, which will make the amount I spent a little less obscene.

But this way maybe I’ll be able to do The Working Closet, hopefully without Slynnro openly mocking me in front of strangers. Now I just need a full length mirror.

:::::

What else did I do this weekend? Not a whole lot. I cried over Dr. Mark Greene coming back to ER. (Seriously people, he didn’t even have to say anything, he just showed up and the tears, they were a flowin’.) And I’m happy to know that I have fellow ER lovers/sobbers on Twitter to commiserate with.

Oh, right, and I signed up for online dating. (GASP!) At Chemistry.com. It is one site I have never tried. It’s like eHarmony, what with the personality matching and stuffs. But since eHarmony tends to lean more conservatively, I figured I’d try this one. Right now I’ve only done the test and uploaded my photos. I’m trying to go in with an open mind and not be so Judgey McJudgerson. WHICH IS HARD TO DO, letmetellyou.

Which brings me back full circle to the headline/blog title thing. Because I NEVER know what to write on those online dating profiles. I always go full cheese, people. Because I think it is funny. But then I forget that if you don’t know me, you probably think I’m the LAMEST PERSON EVER. Well, actually you may think that if you do know me. Bygones.

Like for instance, my first “headline” was “Snarky, Sports Fan Looking For Her Go-To Receiver.” Which I can’t even type without either laughing or vomiting. I finally changed it to “Loves To Laugh.” Which, too, is lame, but kind of cute, and also something I repeat in my profile part. Because I do love to laugh. Mostly at my own jokes. I’m fun at parties.

I went for not a lot of info in the profile. I’ve never done that before. I’m going to see how this works.

Really I should just write:

Look, I love TV and am a lazy slob. Also, I like to drink a lot of alcohol. Different kinds – wine, beer, whiskey – so clearly I don’t discriminate. I don’t like to work out, my pants are too tight and sometimes I talk to my two cats. (Yes, TWO.) I’m really funny. I love to laugh, especially when people fall. I have a blog, so don’t do anything stupid, or I will have to talk about you. I like sports, but not playing them. (Read above where I mention being lazy. Please don’t fail the reading comprehension portion of the exam.) I prefer watching sports in a bar, which combines my three loves – TV, sports and alcohol. Do I sound like your kind of girl? Hit me back, you.

P.S. I’m tall, so midgets need not apply.

I wonder how well that would go over?