the smack factor

If you’ve been keeping up with the ongoing (sometimes overdramatic) saga that is my life, then you know I finally bit the bullet, sucked up my “but I went to school and have 7 years of experience in a large multinational high tech corporation that blows” pride, and went into a temp agency with my biggest “Sure, I’ll answer phones all day” smile on.   I finally got the call yesterday morning that Dior would be needing help with a mailing from noon - 5:00PM.   My stomach dropped as scenes from “The Devil Wears Prada” raced through my mind.  I said absolutely I would help and readied myself for evil women, evil men, and clothing that would cause my own outfit to cry all day.  It was the exact opposite.  Can I just bullet it out for you?  I do love bullets:

• ironically or coincidentally or an evil jab in the ovary by fate, the Dior building is right across the street from the IBM building uptown.  You bet I mooned it.
• I stood at the front desk next to a 6+ft tall red head in a beautiful, thick black winter trench tied tightly around her tiny waist.  Her metallic Dior bag was also gorgeous not gaudy and her red chunk curls licked blissfully at her white skinny face.  She looked bitter and hungry, but dripped with elegance and money.  I don’t think I hated her.
• We hopped into the elevator at the same time.  WAit, let me rephrase that.  She floated into the elevator and I loafed behind her in my threadbare, lining hanging, Gap black coat circa 2001.
• The doors opened in the 18th floor and my day began.

I’m done with the bullets now.  I walked through the door and met Patty, my manager for the day.  She was upbeat, really sweet, and a recent transplant from Chicago.  Her job is to write all the education materials for sales and insiders about Givenchy and Guerlain  .  This includes writing the copy for all print materials, education, training, presentations, the whole shebang.  She showed me one of her publications and it was all glossy and full of makeup.  Killer.  I was charged with, now don’t freak out, it was a very special chore…. filling out Fed Ex airbills, bubble wrapping mascara (”they have to arrive perfect!”), constructing the Fed Ex small boxes, affixing the labels, and then stacking the boxes in the outgoing mail.

I kid you not, this was my job for the day.  Everyone I talked to asked where i was working, what i was up to and when I told them i had worked at the blue something for 7 years the shock on their faces was heart breaking.  I wanted to cry at least 3 times.  Why?  Because I knew they were wondering why someone with that much experience would be spending 6 hours at $12/hr packing and shipping.  But you know what?  I smiled, I said that I am interviewing and i wanted to just get some money coming in in the tweener time and I went about my business.  Talk about sucking up pride.  I think I fooled them.  An added bonus was that the outfit i had scrounged together in my closet and my hairdid got rave reviews. Everyone thought I was adorable and funny.  so there you go.  Everyone was great, I really enjoyed the experience.  I did.  but it also reminded me that there is no way that this is it.  I am too skilled to stuff envelopes and pack-n-ship.  Keeps me motivated to kick ass in interviews.

At least I can say that everyone at Dior thought I was adorable.