Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smart-Ass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry a Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office : A Memoir by Jen Lancaster Read Free Book Online
Authors: Jen Lancaster
bubble gum pink and Kelly green striped, and instead of a boring old knit collar, this one was constructed of crisp and immaculate white cotton. This shirt spoke of prep schools and old money and summers on the Vineyard and the kind of old-boy networks that don’t exist on the plains of northeast Indiana. I knew the minute I put that shirt on, I’d immediately be catapulted away from my painfully average Midwestern roots. To this day it is singularly the greatest shirt I’ve ever seen in my life. Also? I knew that Shelly Decker would shit itty-bitty alligators the minute she saw it on me.
“Danny, sweetie”—really meaning fucktard —“I have to go in the house and you can’t swim alone. You need to get out of the pool right this second.” He giggled and screeched and ducked his head under water. This time his splashing hit my book.
OH. NO. HE. DIDN’T.
When he came up for air, I brushed the pageboy out of my eyes and retied my tartan hair bow, careful to do something with my hands to keep them from making choking motions around the hell spawn’s neck. It was time to break out the big guns…Jen’s Babysitting Axiom #578: Don’t Get Mad, Get Medieval.
I leaned in close and whispered, “Danny boy, you are coming out right now. Or else I’m going to take that radio from the table, throw it in this pool, and electrocute you.”
Tell me that little bastard didn’t fly out of the water.
Harsh? Perhaps. But I finished the dishes, got the extra tip, bought the shirt, and wore it on my first day of eleventh grade. Shelly was beside herself when she saw me. In a deliciously ironic twist, my best friend, Carol, had been named editor in chief and she appointed me to be the new features editor. My first order of business? Scrapping the Muffy strip, of course.
As for Danny, he’s all grown-up now. But I have to wonder if any time he sees madras plaid, he doesn’t die just a tiny bit inside.
You know, the corporate world really isn’t that different from babysitting. It’s all a matter of understanding when to kick off your loafers and take charge. 27 Plus, most of the people I work with act like children, so the transition to the professional world was practically seamless. No wonder I rock it so hard.
However, I will concede that working for a nice company makes things a lot easier. I am so much happier at Corp. Com. than I ever was at my last job at Midwest IR. The work environment is really positive and the pressure is way less intense, even though I have to put up with Will’s antics. What a colossal washout he is. Although I report to the head of my product line in New York, I had to interview with Will because he runs Chicago. And what do you think his selling point was in my interview? Room for advancement? Stock options? A generous 401(k) match? No. Will loved Corp. Com. because they gave employees free sodas. Yes, and so does McDonald’s but you don’t see people lining up to work there.
My problem with Will began on day one of my employment. I arrived sporting a smashing tweed Tahari suit trimmed in striking black fringe, ready to get down to business.
“Hi, Jen Lancaster, pleasure to see you again,” I said, extending my hand.
“Yeah, um, hey, Jenny, I, uh,” he started.
“It’s Jen ,” I interrupt. 28
“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, yeah. So, um, welcome. Yeah. You want a soda or something? They’re free!” he reminded me.
“Thanks, no. I’d just like to get started. I’ve got a lot of ideas to flesh out, so if you’ll be so kind to show me the way to my office, I can do just that.”
Will nervously looked around, pulling his collar open with one finger. “Um, yeah. There’s a slight problem. I, um, kind of turned your office into a storage room.”
“What?” No. No, no, no! Part of the reason I agreed to join the organization was because they promised me my own office. I was NOT about to rejoin the land of the cubicle dwellers.
“Yeah, I accidentally ordered too much
“Danny, sweetie”—really meaning fucktard —“I have to go in the house and you can’t swim alone. You need to get out of the pool right this second.” He giggled and screeched and ducked his head under water. This time his splashing hit my book.
OH. NO. HE. DIDN’T.
When he came up for air, I brushed the pageboy out of my eyes and retied my tartan hair bow, careful to do something with my hands to keep them from making choking motions around the hell spawn’s neck. It was time to break out the big guns…Jen’s Babysitting Axiom #578: Don’t Get Mad, Get Medieval.
I leaned in close and whispered, “Danny boy, you are coming out right now. Or else I’m going to take that radio from the table, throw it in this pool, and electrocute you.”
Tell me that little bastard didn’t fly out of the water.
Harsh? Perhaps. But I finished the dishes, got the extra tip, bought the shirt, and wore it on my first day of eleventh grade. Shelly was beside herself when she saw me. In a deliciously ironic twist, my best friend, Carol, had been named editor in chief and she appointed me to be the new features editor. My first order of business? Scrapping the Muffy strip, of course.
As for Danny, he’s all grown-up now. But I have to wonder if any time he sees madras plaid, he doesn’t die just a tiny bit inside.
You know, the corporate world really isn’t that different from babysitting. It’s all a matter of understanding when to kick off your loafers and take charge. 27 Plus, most of the people I work with act like children, so the transition to the professional world was practically seamless. No wonder I rock it so hard.
However, I will concede that working for a nice company makes things a lot easier. I am so much happier at Corp. Com. than I ever was at my last job at Midwest IR. The work environment is really positive and the pressure is way less intense, even though I have to put up with Will’s antics. What a colossal washout he is. Although I report to the head of my product line in New York, I had to interview with Will because he runs Chicago. And what do you think his selling point was in my interview? Room for advancement? Stock options? A generous 401(k) match? No. Will loved Corp. Com. because they gave employees free sodas. Yes, and so does McDonald’s but you don’t see people lining up to work there.
My problem with Will began on day one of my employment. I arrived sporting a smashing tweed Tahari suit trimmed in striking black fringe, ready to get down to business.
“Hi, Jen Lancaster, pleasure to see you again,” I said, extending my hand.
“Yeah, um, hey, Jenny, I, uh,” he started.
“It’s Jen ,” I interrupt. 28
“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, yeah. So, um, welcome. Yeah. You want a soda or something? They’re free!” he reminded me.
“Thanks, no. I’d just like to get started. I’ve got a lot of ideas to flesh out, so if you’ll be so kind to show me the way to my office, I can do just that.”
Will nervously looked around, pulling his collar open with one finger. “Um, yeah. There’s a slight problem. I, um, kind of turned your office into a storage room.”
“What?” No. No, no, no! Part of the reason I agreed to join the organization was because they promised me my own office. I was NOT about to rejoin the land of the cubicle dwellers.
“Yeah, I accidentally ordered too much
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