When Keeping It Real Gets Expensive

New York City is an expensive place to live. Expensive to eat, expensive to drive, expensive to go out, but most of all, it is expensive to get your hair done. Now I know all you ladies out there are prbably saying, "Girl, go to the Dominicans! They can hook up a roller set for $25!" Well, my hair is too short for a roller set right now (or at least one that will look halfway decent), so I am stuck with going to my friend's stylist (who is actually quite good, just very expensive by VA standards). After getting my second paycheck of the new job, I have come to a very disturbing realization: I cannot afford to keep my hair up here the way I did at home (weekly trips to the salon with healthy tips for good service). So I have decided that I will have to work in monthly trips back to VA where I know I can get exactly what I want while simultaneously leaving with enough money to eat and put gas in my car. In the meantime, I have decided that keeping the real hair is just too much trouble, and I have been wearing wigs that my stylist at home made for me before I left. Of course everyone at work (all the white people and various people of Western European lineage) thinks that it is just "so cool the way that your hair curls up like that!!!" (like in the graduation picture from a previous blog). I guess only I know that my own hair is nestled comfortably underneath in a tight wrap :) So this morning, I switched it up and went straight. Oh Lord, why did I do that? "Oh my God!! How do you get your hair so straight?" "Oh Monique, I just love the blonde on top - you look kinda like... what's that rap girl.... Keshia Knight Pulliam?" (no, Becky. Her name is Keyshia Cole, if you must know). Or I also got, "Oooh... your hair is just so...." and then she made this gesture with her hand that I guess was supposed to mean "wow" or "ooh, ahh." SIGH.... when keeping it real gets expensive, sometimes you have to take one for the team (here's the hair from today).

Oh No She Didn't!!!

This post comes complements of Jameil who requested (at her own peril, I'm afraid) that I keep yall up to date on the NATO meetings that take place in my office every weekday from 7:30 to 6:00 p.m. Okay.... so there are now four residents (one decided, for whatever reason, to arrive two weeks late). We are all crammed into this little ass office with no windows. Originally there were only three desks, so when the carpenter came to make the fourth desk, he made it EXTRA big. Now I've probably mentioned this before, but I am an extra big (extra TALL, not extra fat, in case you were snickering behind your hand!) chick. So when I saw the opportunity for the big desk, I snatched it. The down side (which I didn't realize until I had moved all of my things) is that there is no phone jack or computer connection on that side of the room (I know, I know: God doesn't like ugly!). So I have to wait an indeterminant period of time to get both of those extremely important pieces of technology. That's probably just what I get for getting all greedy and eager beaver with the big shit, but hey! It's that damn only child syndrome rearing its ugly head again.
Because of the computer and phone shortages, we are supposed to take turns with their uses so that everyone could get their responsibilities taken care of. So this morning I had to write some reports for an 11:00 meeting. Not check my email, not cath up on yall's AMAZINGLY HYSTERICAL lives via blogland, but to ACTUALLY do what they are paying me for. Don't you know that the Chinese one says to me: "No, you need to use the computer in the hall. I have something to do on MY computer." Actually, it came out more like this: "No, you use compootah in haw. I hah someting do on MY compootah." Now first of all, the last time I checked, these COMPOOTAHS belong to the medical center. And second of all, did she just tell me to move to the equivalent of the back of the bus? The computer in the HALL? Oh hell naw!!! Did I mention that she proceeded to not even do any work on her computer? She just sat at the desk and pushed a couple of keys every few minutes to make noise. After I went into the hall (seething the whole way), I realized that the computer there isn't connected to the network, and I ended up having to use her computer after all. So after much ado, she gets up, but issues the warning that "I need to hurry up because (she) has work to do."
Now here is where the "oh no she didn't" comes in. When I finish using the computer and go back to my desk, why does this child break out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and the box of Kleenex and proceed to thoroughly WIPE DOWN her entire work space including the phone (which I didn't even use)? Oh okay, so the latest guidelines from the World Health Organization with a cc'd copy to the Centers for Disease Control stated that Negro is a stage IV contagious disease now? I mean, cause that's exactly how she was acting. So for the rest of the day the dumb ass hasn't been able to look me in the eye. OKAYYYYYYYYYYY.... so when she got back from lunch, I was strategically placed at her desk with my feet propped up on the desk drawer, my ear plastered to the phone (talking to my boo, the DIAL TONE), and my fingers stuck to her keyboard, all the while writing this post for you guys' entertainment. So you want to wipe some shit down? WIPE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. (written a few hours later) And now the Russian wants to know where I am going and why I am not staying until six o'clock. I AM NOT YOUR SUBORDINATE!!!!! WE ARE EQUALS... except I speak the language fluently. LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!! Sorry, guys... PYT says that I should be more positive and not emphasize the negative all of the time, so I will try my absolute hardest to make this my last negative post about my job (or least to counterbalance every negative with a positive). Sorry, but that's the best I can do :)

Employment is Overrated

Okay, I know that I am late to this whole "work for a living" game. Many of you have already graduated from college/graduate school and have been in the worforce for quite a minute. But as someone who has only ever worked part-time in various somewhat interesting and moderately well-paying jobs, this shit is FOR THE BIRDS!!!! I always knew that I wasn't cut out to punch a timeclock, and this residency has already reinforced that decision to the tenth power. My co-residents speak VERY heavily accented English (when they aren't reverting back to their native tongues - that would be Korean and Russian, respectively). They seem to have already formed their own little "minority, but not really" clique in the office, so here I am, the only Black woman in the DEPARTMENT, and the only resident not eligible for Social Security. Okay, so I am exaggerating on the age thing. But both of them do have children who are seniors in high school, so either way, they are WAY old compared to me. Together they have decided to map out our entire year on this really ugly wall calendar... I mean, they have the schedule written in all these different colors and codes.... UGH!! Can I at least decide which health plan I want to sign up for and whether I plan to drive or take the train every day before they plan my freaking lunch break on January 3, 2007 out for me too? WOOOOOOOSAHHHHH!!!!! I just keep telling myself that once they unleash me on some patients and I can spend my entire day out on the floors actually impacting peoples' lives (I mean, isn't that what they're paying me for?) that I will feel a lot better. One can only hope... because right now, I am splitting my time between (1)deciding whether or not to slit my wrists here in the office or out in the main pharmacy and (2) what lie I can tell my supervisor so that I can leave early and catch a glimpse of Beyonce outside the 106 & Park studio tomorrow night. Ahh, the life of the working poor :)