Dings, gay parties & the constant struggle against lazy-arse

what’s the only thing better than filling out a resume on an HR website that only sorta works to apply for a coaching gig in San Diego two days before the closing date listed on the online ad?

Not being able to find the listing on the school’s site when finished, calling their HR dept, and discovering that hey – they listed it wrong on the outside website – instead of being two days from now, the deadline was two days ago.

:insert Flailing Hands of Panic here!:

Luckily, the woman in HR was very nice, and when I sent her the link to the job listing, she was all right with submitting my application for the job, so yeah. We’ll see. :shrug:

In the meantime, there’s a gig as an assist with the juniors’ team I used to volunteer for – I find it ironic that I’m applying for a job that I used to have, but whatever. I think the best part was when I was warned last week that people who rowed in college would automatically be more qualified than I am. On the one hand, I realize that on paper that’s true, but anyone who’s been a coach can tell you that athletic time in office does not necessarily a good coach make… plus there’s the fact that I already did the job well for an entire season. But ya know, it’s fine. It’ll all shake out in the end. I just need to remember to engage my zen breathing and use my words. Good words, that is. Must make sure to use good words.
I’m not gonna lie – hit me in the right moment, and you’ll discover I also have a great talent for bad words. No, really… me! True story!

Dear gay men – thank you for the motivation.
I did two parties on Saturday. The first was for Prem!ValetCo, and it was the party from hell. Run up a straight hill because there was no shuttle, people who got there before we did that parked illegally & made the road a one-way passing, just… ugh. So bad that for the first time in my six years as a valet, I cracked my perfect record and actually dinged someone’s car.

Mortified. that’s what I was. Can’t even begin to describe.

Now, yes, I intellectually know this is not the end of the world – these things happen in our business, and there is a policy, rah rah rah, it was minor so it’s not like I’ll get canned or anything. But still. It’s the principle of the thing.

Of course, right after that it’s a day where I have a second party to go to – this time for the Dolls. I went into that with no small amount of dread.

What I didn’t know was that it was a female valet’s favorite setup – a gay man’s party.

No, I’m really not kidding about that. I love working parties of gay men. And I’m not alone in this. For the most part, the cars are clean and well kept, the clients have manners, we never have to worry about getting hit on, and usually they feed us. Plus, they tip so well. It’s awesome. This was a no-tip party, and guests insisted on tipping us. Not like, ones, but fives! More than one at a time. My favorite exchange went like this:
Disclaimer: This gentleman was actually straight, but it’s just the best one of the lot

Guest: …and this is for you.
Claris: Thank you sir, but we’re not accepting tips tonight – the host has taken care of it.
Guest: Well that’s not right, this is a huge hill. Can’t you just take it if I like… throw it out the window as I pull away? Then it’s just money you found on the street.
Claris: Well, I guess so. We could try – I’ve never had a money bath before.

:Claris turns to co-worker V, thinking it was over. Truck pulls away, and two fives come flying out the drivers’ side window and bounce off my shoulder:

Co-worker V:… did they just throw money at us?
Claris: You know, I think they did. I like this party!

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Meanwhile, back at the Ranch…
Later on that night I was standing there, waiting for the bathroom, and I look around at this beautiful home, where things are neat and clean and smells like flowers, and I had one glaring thought:

God, my apartment is such a dump right now.

Okay, so granted, it’s easier to have a shiny pretty home with an open Japanese zen pool & attached Jacuzzi when you make a certain amount and probably have a maid of indeterminate immigration status to keep things moving along, but still – my apartment could at least be clean.

It was with this in mind that I used my Sunday off to remove the drek from my household. My whole apt. is hardwood floors – I didn’t even bother sweeping, I just borrowed Neighbor!Beth’s vaccuum – it’s the bagless kind — you know, where you just empty the container instead?

I emptied the container three times.

:hangs head in shame:

I think it’s literally been about two months since I truly cleaned my apartment. I moved out multiple trash bags of paper towels that were full of glass cleaner, bleach cleaner, & swiffer pads. (after I vaccuumed, then I polished.)

I tossed my couch covers in the tub with oxyclean, detergeant & really hot water – and had to drain the tub three times before the water didn’t come up black. Oh, I shudder at the dirt & sweat Zoey & I contributed to those poor things.

:sigh: It’s all clean now. Except the dog. I didn’t get a chance to wash her. But I think that might be a Doggie Wash project to be executed at an offsite facility. Good times, man. good times.

So my apartment is once again clean. Incidentally, it turns out that when I actually pick stuff up, my apartment is huge!. I know that shouldn’t surprise me after eight years, but yeah – I often forget this.

——————–

What made me laugh out loud today:

…because it’s so totally descriptive of my constant struggle between good & lazy-ass:

Why I’ll Never Be An Adult
via @janeisjane

Music: En Concert: Bonus Track Version – Jack Johnson