Third Time's the Charm

If you've read my previous post about my lackage of fundage, you'll know that I was pursuing some additional employment. I mentioned that I'm tutoring and working at a local department store.  Tutoring is going well, but the department store is no more.  It just wasn't working out for me, so I stepped down from my position.  THANK GOODNESS.  Now I'm employed as a server at a local pub, and couldn't be happier.  A few months ago, my sister Amanda and her husband Matt came to visit Liz and me in Kalamazoo.  Matt wanted to go to Shakespeare's, a local pub (and one of my favorites), which was owned by his uncle.  While there, I decided to fill out an employment application.  I didn't hear back, and honestly I had forgotten about it.  Not long ago, though, I received a call from the manager, and we scheduled an interview for a server position.  I interviewed the next day and was hired on the spot.  It's a fun job, complete with wonderful management ("comfortably professional," I like to call it) and friendly/ helpful coworkers.  A welcome change from other places where I've recently worked/ considered working. 

My first "secondary" job prospect:

Hairless rat

I applied for a job listed on Kalamazoo Craigslist (I know, first clue, right?  But hear me out).  The job listed was for a sales associate at a local pet store, and it actually sounded completely legitimate (I've seen some very sketchy job postings out there).  "Must be comfortable handling all types of animals" was in the job description.  I thought "Okay... dogs, cats, rabbits, the occasional bird... I can handle that."  An interview was scheduled, and I was instructed to show up at Extreme Petz in Portage (second clue).  Though I'd never been to the actual store, I knew the general location-- in a nice area, very close to my sister's house.  I arrived, prepared for the typical interview questions.  However, the manager introduced me to John, who would introduce me to all the reptiles shown at this store.  We started at a tank containing a ball python.  For you reptile aficionados, you may be thinking "It's just a ball python..."  Keep in mind, however, that I'd never touched a reptile before in my life.  All I heard was "python," and I thought "There's no way you're getting me to touch that thing."  I told him we were going to have to start with something smaller, so he took me to a small boa constrictor.  I proceeded to hold my very first snake, facing my fears, and I felt like I might just pass out.  We moved on to a few more reptiles, and then I held the python, still feeling terrified.  The manger asked me how I felt about rodents.  I considered running to my car and driving away.  I said "I do NOT do rodents."  She pulled a hairless rat from behind her back (can you say shocking and CRUEL??)  and offered it to me.  I backed away, and very quickly the distance between us increased from 2 feet to 10 feet.  This rat looked like something out of a biological horror movie.  I don't do REGULAR rats... what makes this lady think I can do bald ones?  She asked me what scares me most about the rat-- is it the fact that it has no hair?  The teeth?  The tail?  The claws?  The beady eyes?  "CHECK, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK.  All of the above, lady.  That thing you're holding is possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen in my entire life."  She assured me that this rat was harmless, and a popular pet for people with small children.  WHO BUYS VERMIN FOR THEIR CHILDREN TO PLAY WITH???  Visibly disturbed, I said "I could never hold that thing."  She said she understood that I don't do well with live rats, but then asked how I might do with frozen dead mice?  I felt like I want to cry (possibly the vegan in me rearing its anti-animal-cruelty head) and told her that not only could I never touch a live rodent, but there's absolutely no way that I could transport one to its death in the freezer.  Nor could I take a frozen mouse and feed it to a snake.  She told me that she'd love to hire me but it might not work if I can't handle the rodents (you think??).  I thanked her for her time, left the store as quickly as possible, drove home (shaking and crying on the phone to my mom the whole way), vented to my roommate Garrit, took 3 shots of vodka, and showered thrice.  Chalk up another Fear Factor day for Lanie.

My second "secondary" job prospect:

I was hired on the spot as a seasonal associate in the fine jewelry department of a local department store.  Cookie-cutter corporate training went well, and I spent a day learning about gemstones and precious metals from the regional manager of the fine jewelry division.  This is a commission job, and as I was only seasonal, I was instructed to work in the watch/ "cheap" fine jewelry sections, so the regular full-time associates could sell their diamonds and gemstones.  My first (and only) two days on the floor at this job were terrible.  No one would train me in practical things, like where to find the tools to change watch batteries or how to add/ remove links from a watch.  On my second day, I was given keys to the jewelry cases and worked on the floor for an hour before I was instructed to go to the back and watch training videos on customer service (because that'll help me on Black Friday??) for three hours.  I completed the video training and realized my shift was almost over so I headed back to the jewelry counter to turn in my keys.  Upon handing over my keys, I was bombarded with questions. "Where did you get these keys?"  "Who gave these to you?"  "What was her name?"  I said that the manager had issued me the keys, but I wasn't sure of her name.  "Was her name Melanie?" they asked.  Confused, I said no, and turned in the keys.  They informed me that some girl named Melanie had signed those keys out, and no one could find Melanie.  They had even gotten every store manager involved, and they were scouring the premises for this Melanie girl who had "stolen" the keys.  They had been calling Melanie and couldn't get a hold of her, and no one knew where Melanie had gone.  It's true-- they didn't know my name, and had forgotten that one of their employees (the notorious "Melanie") was in the back watching training videos.  A quick flash of my nametag (MELANIE) and a roll of my eyes later, I handed off the keys, left the store (having received no apology), and checked my voicemail (to find the 3 angry messages from my coworkers about how I needed to return the keys).  A couple days later, I called to quit.  And after being on hold for 23 minutes and hung up on twice, Melanie was successful.  Mission accomplished.  Thanks for the opportunity, but no thanks.

My third "secondary" job prospect:
I'm working at the pub and loving it so far.  Third time's the charm.  Fact.