The Patriarchy

Can't sleep, the patriarchy is trying to kill me. 

- Mary Lambert

At first, being the only woman in really important work meetings was exciting. I'm a feminist, I'd think all proud of myself. I'm making a difference; I'm paving the road; anything these men can at least do just as well, if not better. The stuff I do matters, and I'm a woman doing it- the stuff that matters.

As time went on though, the comments began and continued. It's an uphill battle out there.

Its presence is not only at the place where I make on average per-the-state-of-Utah $0.67 to the man's dollar, despite having the same quantitative amount and better qualitative amounts of experience; despite outputting more accurate and resourceful work; and despite my great personality that makes me a fun human being to do work with and around. No, its presence is not only at work.

It's everywhere. It's suffocating.

And, it's not all about me either.

The worst part though? Is when the patriarchal stereotypes are correct.

*Shudders*

How Emily's First Week of New Job Went

This post is to serve as a humorous coping mechanism to my new current 'Most Embarrassing Story' of my life.

Many of you might know that I got a new job recently! Many of you probably also didn't know. Well, I got a new job! I was super sad to leave my old job and super scared to start a new job mostly because 'it might be scary and hard and what if they don't like me'. 

-- I also want to clear up any confusion about what I do. Yes, I have worked at 3 MLM companies now. No, I do not actually sell anything. I am not a distributor or presenter or associate that sells the product. I've worked at the corporate offices of these companies. For some reason, part of this "Silicon Slope" movement in SL/UT [oh my gosh that spells 'slut'!!! hahaha] counties also includes gazillions of MLM companies. Whatevs. So before you like unfriend me on FB or something, I work at the corporate office and I won't spam you. --

 Ok, back to the story. 

So, first day of work at new job:

As I am driving to work on my first day, the recruiter who got me to switch companies calls me and is like "Oh, we just found out that they actually want to fly you to a conference in LA today. Just so you know before you get there."

And sure enough, I get there, and I set up my brand new laptop and stuff, and then basically my boss is like:

And so I'm like:

And then he tells me to go home and get ready to leave. So I do, feeling super cool that I get to go to a conference with my new laptop and new job and stuff all by myself like a real adult with their shiz together. Also new company just dropped more money all in one day than I paid in one semester's tuition for me to go to this conference.

I go home, and I eat myself a nice turkey wrap with onion and chive cream cheese. I pack, and then I basically watch TV with the hubby until we have to leave for the airport. All the while, I start to feel super nauseous. 

We are about to leave, when I go throw up in the toilet. So of course, now I'm freaking out. 

Ultimately, I decide that that incident could have been a one-time thing, and I felt a lot better now, so maybe it would be okay and I could still go to this conference. So, Hubby drives me to the airport and drops me off. I'm still feeling fine, and I go to print out my ticket. 

Ticket won't print for some reason. So I go up to the front desk, and ask for some help. Basically, they told me there was something happening with the payment still, and so I called my new company's travel agent so she could check it out. She asks me to go back up and see if they can accept a payment over the phone. I do. 

And then I proceed to run to the nearest trashcan, which I actually just watched the poor janitor just take out a few minutes ago, and throw up (no, #thisisnotanannouncement). Hard core. HARD CORE PUKING. 

All I can say is at least I made it to the trashcan. 

Seconds after this escapade, my new boss calls me to ask me how the ticket-problem is working out. I tell him. 

 (Yes, those were my approximate exact words.)

He tells me to not feel bad if I have to stay at home, and that maybe if I made it to LA and was still feeling sick, then they would just fly me back home. I tell him that I would sit on this bench for a few minutes and see if I felt any better and then I would let him know. The whole time, people at the desk with whom I just spoke are still watching me. 

So I sit on a bench for a bit, willing with all my will to make this sickness go away. Well, it doesn't. Travel agent calls me back, which is when I decide that I shouldn't go.

She actually feels really bad for me and is really nice, but I'm mostly just mortified and feeling nauseous. I text Hubby to turn around and come back and get me. He does, and he takes me home, where I proceeded to live (or die) in the bathroom for the next 12 hours. 

Did I make the right decision by not going? Yes, audience. Yes. 

After the food poisoning ran its course, I went back in to new work. Everyone was super nice about it and felt so bad that I got sick. My boss wasn't mad at all. We found out a few days later that our entire fridge was broken, which is probably why I got sick. (Fridge is now replaced. I am still suspicious of most food that is not iced.)

But here is my new identity at work, which has persisted into Week 3 now:

And while my new job has been awesome since then, this is my most embarrassing story. The End.

Respectfully, a Millenial with Her Act Together

Dear Mr. Gen X,

I see you post a lot of comic strips, articles, pictures, and/or memes stereotyping and insulting my generation. Of course, by 'you,' I am not referring to a single person, but rather an entire group of adults who exhibit this type of belittling behavior towards an entire generation of people (if this is you, please also see my post about adult bullying).

Even as a millennial, yes, I too have also had to work with lazy and entitled people.

 After all, I went to school with them. Many of my own grades depended on them in the form of the 'Group Project.' Actually, some of these millennials very well could be your child.

I am not going to waste my words here to prove to you that "I [and many of my friends and peers] am the exception to the stereotype." I know who I am. I spend a lot of time, effort, and conscientious thought into proving to those around me that I do not deserve that negative stereotype. And, after all, you didn't explain your credibility to your audience when you announced on your Facebook that you were hiring for entry-level positions and needed the millennials to get their act together so you could hire them.

What I do want to talk about how we can all possibly work together in the coming years.

Mr. Gen X, have you seen Zootopia yet?

If not, you should. And I will still take the time to summarize it for you:

Once upon a time, there is a place where "anyone can be anything." In this place, there is a determined bunny named Judy who dreams of being a police officer. Bunnies are not usually police officers, when there are elephants and lions and polar bears who obviously look more qualified to do the job. However, Judy works through the stereotype, and graduates at the top of her police academy class. Everyone is so proud of her, and she moves to the city where she can finally live out her dream of being the police officer. Unfortunately, once she gets there, her boss doesn't take her seriously because she's a bunny, ignores her obvious qualifications, and puts her on parking duty.

Though disappointed, Judy works through it to prove to her boss that she can excel at being a police officer by doubling the amount of parking tickets that he doubts she will ever give out in a day. Then, she spots some mischief going on, is finally but reluctantly given a chance at real police work, and the rest of the movie happens.



At the top of her class, yes, Judy was probably very good at taking tests. However, in the end, she still had a lot to bring to the table, and she helped solve problems that the rest of the police department couldn't crack themselves. But this wouldn't have happened if her boss hadn't let go of his original stereotype.

Judy says this at the end of the movie, kind of as a summary of lessons learned (it's a kid movie, what do you expect?):

"Life's a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life is messy. We all have limitations. We all make mistakes. Which means, hey, glass half full, we all have a lot in common. And the more we try to understand one another, the more exceptional each of us will be. But we have to try. So no matter what kind of person you are, I implore you: Try. Try to make the world a better place. Look inside yourself recognize that change starts with you."

Mr. Gen X, I implore you to let go of the millennial stereotype. Because right now, no, I will not be applying to any of your posted jobs, nor will I refer my friends to work for you. My friends and I will go work for great employers who don't discriminate, like the employer I have now. All of the millennials left to work for you will be the sloths that you expect. As Harper Lee wrote: "People generally see what they look for and hear what they listen for."

I wish you well, Mr. Gen X. I hope that you will let your stereotypes go and find employees that will support you fairly.

Respectfully,

A millennial with her act together.

Emily vs. The Cub Scouts

I volunteer as a cub scout leader. For one hour, every Wednesday, a co-leader and I lead an activity for ~11 boys, who are eight years old.

A typical activity begins with entertaining the boys whose parents dropped them off on time, usually by asking them to help set up the room or giving them a crossword puzzle. 

When the noise comes to a dull roar, it's time to start the real activity.

There are a lot of fun and active games that we try to play with them. Unfortunately, these games require a few more instructions than the average 'go play.'

Some activities go better than others.

Don't worry about their communication skills though, I know they still have them.

They say a lot of crazy things. It escalates quickly.

It's difficult to tell if our efforts make a difference in their lives at all.

But occasionally, there is a reward.

Starbucks Lovers

There comes a time in every parenthood when the affection of the offspring is directed towards someone else.

And you try to teach the offspring to be mysterious and play hard to get.

And offer all kinds of dating advice, like "just be yourself."

But then, you just have to take a step back and let the relationship progress.

Lucky for us, before this thing gets too serious too fast, there are a few things that come between these two. Like walls. And a window.

Only time will tell what becomes of these star-crossed lovers.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Squeeze The Juice on Your Dead Car

This is the story of our life after our car suddenly decided to go to the Big Car Garage in the Sky.

In the last year, after buying new brakes; in the last two months, after buying new tires, a new battery, a new fuel pump, new coolant fluid, and new engine oil; and in the last 24 hours, after filling it up with a new [summer gas prices] tank of gas, Car's head gasket blew, and Car went smokily into limbo on its way to the Big Car Garage in the Sky. Luckily, no humans were harmed in the process.

Unluckily, Car was 100 miles away from our home when this happened, and it needed to get to a shop fast. Smoking profusely, and on its way to the nearest repair shop 3 blocks away, a police officer decided to intervene.

Luckily, he just gave a "warning" and the car made it to the repair shop, where we met yet another really helpful person for our situation.

Soooo, we left the car at that guy's parking lot until we could figure out what to do and where to tow it. We started calling dealerships, traders, junk yards, evaluating potential trade-in values, drop-off values, and sell-on-our-own values.

It was like having vultures circling over you trying to eat your car for as little money as possible and trick you into spending the most money possible on your new car.

Still haven't really figured that part out, but we did go buy a new car!

Tonks's Diary

Dear Diary,

I've decided to send my current human away to Georgia. Although she took me away from animal-infested "Humane Society" she just sent me to the Vet's office, where they shaved off the fur on my stomach while I was asleep. I will no longer live with someone who willingly put me through such humiliation. I will put up an ad on KSL for new humans tomorrow.

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Dear Diary,

A young, crazy cat lady has responded to my ad. I think she will be a good fit because she will cater to my every need. Hopefully she will like it when I pretend to bite her for fun. She is also married. I will jump on her husband's face while he sleeps to encourage good behavior from him.

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Dear Diary,

Yesterday my new humans picked me up. I was quite upset with the way everyone treated me during the process. My previous servant drove me in the car for a long while, jerking and swerving all over, for forty minutes, to a strange dark parking lot near a fast food restaurant. The whole way, I was trying to say goodbye, but she just listened to the radio. She brought me out to my new servants' car during a ferocious and dangerous wind storm. There was dirt and sand flying everywhere, and it messed up my fur. Once we were in my new humans' car, they tried to bribe me with treats. I refused to eat while my fur was in such a state. I spent some time exploring the new car for faulty or dangerous conditions as my old servant instructed my new servants on how to serve me well. I said my final farewell to my old owner and wished her a happy life in Georgia, and then I was subject to another drive for another thirty minutes. I took that time to sing for my new owners to they could learn to recognize my voice. I sang the whole way back.

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Dear Diary,

It has been a few days since I moved in with my new humans. They insist on calling me "The Babiest One." I appreciate having a proper title, actually. Their small dwelling contains many fun toys that I enjoy. I pounce on the bathroom rug, as it resembles a much wider and flatter version of a slug. I also enjoy pretending that there is something of vast importance that fell in between the cracks of the sofa and that I must get it out. My new owners have also provided these amusing chairs that give me a ladder to to climb in order to speak to them face to face. I also thoroughly enjoy batting at my female owner's long hair. During the day, they give me my own personal room to sleep in while they go to work in order to provide for our lifestyle. I requested much funner toys, like q-tips or sheets that have feet underneath them, but instead they have only given me a scratching post that dangles a feathered bird off the top. As it is not what I requested, I only use this toy while they are away.
All in all, I like my new humans. They cater to my every need quite promptly, and their dwelling is small enough that I can monitor their every move at all times.
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Dear Diary,

Today I am moody with my humans. For some reason, they think that when I jump up on the platform beneath the window to watch the birds that I actually want to be picked up and placed on the floor. This is the opposite of what I want. They do not understand, for they just reply "No kitties on the counter!" which makes no sense to me. I want to watch the birds. They are so loud and obnoxious; I would really like them to be hunted down.
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Dear Diary,

My owners have bought me a mouse! It is a tan mouse, full of catnip. I loved it for quite some time, until I decided that getting it stuck where I couldn't reach it was more fun. If I lose my mouse underneath the refrigerator, I get to watch my owners serve me and get it out. That is a lot less work on my part, and it amuses me to watch them lay down on the floor.
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Dear Diary,

I HID MY MOUSE IN THE BEST HIDING PLACE. My owners will never find it.
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Dear Diary,

Today, my owners left me at home for thirteen hours by myself. At first, I enjoyed a nice, long nap. Upon awaking, I realized that I wished that I did not hide my mouse in such a difficult place, because then I was very bored. Honestly, I was very sad that they were gone, and I was worried that they were never going to come back. I decided to dig out of my room so I could find go find them Alas, the floor was covered in this "carpet" that I could not dig through. After a long and lonely day, my owners finally returned. I showed them my gladness by rubbing against their legs, singing, and tripping them. They better not leave me for that long by myself again.
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Dear Diary,

I have figured out that the trick to looking out the window is to look while my owners are asleep! I soothe my owners into slumber by purring loudly while laying by their heads on their pillows. After they fall asleep, I sneak away, sit on the counter, and watch out the window. I just love to watch the birds and plants. Sometimes I daydream about being outside with them.
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Dear Diary,

I DO NOT LIKE THE OUTSIDE. NOT LIKE IT. IT'S THE WORST.
On Friday, my owners drove me to Salt Lake City in the car. They put me in a plastic enclosure that had a door and holes in it. I did not like it, either. I told them this the whole way, but they did not listen. Then, we arrived at a large mansion of a dwelling. I was very nervous, for I have never been in a house so big in all of my 7 months of life. They finally let me out of the plastic enclosure. I began to explore, but there were very many things and people that were scary. That night I slept on top of my female owner's stomach for safety.
The next day was terrible. There was much loud noise and stomping around and crashing. I hid behind the bed all day, until after lunch. Then my owners decided it was a good time to take me outside because it was sunny and bright and windy and warm. They put a protective leash on me, which messes up my fur and alters my gait pattern. They then took me outside and set me down on a DIRTY LAWN OF GRASS. It was green and wet, and cold to my paws. The wind was blowing and messing up my fur even more! I started to shiver because I was so cold. I meowed and told them I wanted to be put back inside, where there is heavenly carpet and walls. Eventually, they complied, and I returned to my hiding place behind the bed for the rest of the day. I hope I never need to go outside again.
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Dear Diary,

Today I retrieved my mouse from its hiding place in an effort to give my owners a hint about where it was hidden. They know that it must have been somewhere near the couch. I will hide it in the same difficult hiding place tomorrow and give them a chance to find it for me.
In the time that I have not been watching my owners look for my hidden mouse, I have been exposed to the most wonderful new toy! It is called "the Q-tip." I love all the Q-tips! For some reason my owners keep them either under the sink, where it is closed off to my un-opposable thumbs, or in little white buckets. Then, they bury the Q-tips in the white buckets with tissues and other stuff. It's pretty inconvenient, because then I have to knock over the whole bucket and sort through all of the other stuff in order to find a Q-tip to play with.
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Dear Diary,

I've decided that I am old enough to have my own bed. I used to sleep on my male owner's pillow, or snuggled into my female owner's shoulder, but I've grown up since then. I now prefer to sleep on the table. They do not like this, they insist that I do not be on the table. So I wait for them to go asleep themselves, and then I put myself to bed on the table. They will never know.
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Dear Diary,

This last weekend, my owners were in and out of the house all day. It disturbed my sleeping schedule very much, and then I was very grumpy. I showed them my frustration by biting and climbing up their clothing using my claws. I hope they learned their lesson. First, they would wake up with me, and then sit on the couch doing "homework" and then leave for an hour to "take a final." During that time, I would decide to start my afternoon nap, but then they would come back home after only an hour! Then the whole process repeated. It was very distracting and I only got 5 hours of sleep instead of 10 hours.
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Dear Diary,

My newest favorite toy is the little plastic ring from the milk jug. I played with it for hours today. I enjoy pretending to stuff it into the couch cushions and then stopping it from getting lost. In fact, I've chewed through three of them this last week. I like them even more than the Q-tip. 

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Dear Diary,

I taught my parents a new game. They try to pet my head, and I pretend to ferociously attack their hand. It's a pretty fun game.

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Dear Diary,

I woke up like this.

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Dear Diary,

My parents have started this strange pattern of behavior where they are putting everything in a cardboard box. By so doing, they have revealed many new hiding places for me. 

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Dear Diary,

Remember when I told you that my parents were packing everything into boxes? They are even packing all of the food! I also figured out that they put all of my catnip and treats into a cereal box. I can open the box by myself. So then they put the box up where I can't reach it. Barely.

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Dear Diary,

Today our family moved into a new apartment. It's quite nice; I particularly love the hardwood floors. They are fun to slide on when I run. It makes playing with my mouse a lot more fun. When we first moved in, I found the best hiding place: in between the walls. There was a small hole in a closet that I found, and my parents spent ten minutes trying to find me. The next day, the small hole was gone. 

I really like this new place. There is a large window just for me to look out the window to watch the birds. 

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Dear Diary,

I just love my new family. And my mouse. And this blankie.