If you’ve been following this blog
for years awhile this week, you know that I work from home. I’ve been telecommuting for the past year, but prior to that, I was part of the daily grind just like everyone else. This was before I started barking at strangers, and considering brushing my teeth optional.
I am not a morning person in the least bit. I was meant to go to bed at 2AM, and wake up at 10AM. Anything deviating from this means you’re not getting me at my best, and by “best” I mean everyone else’s version of mediocre.
This is how my mornings used to look:
- Alarm goes off
- Curse myself for not being born a Kardashian
- Get up and drop a couple F-bombs on my alarm
- Look in the mirror and wonder if science will one day be able to help me
- Wash face/brush teeth/pee while checking Facebook on my phone
- Pick out an outfit that screams “you don’t pay me enough to dress well”
- Head to work vowing to find a rich husband because I’m too awesome to work
- Get coffee because my hypothalamus is bossy as hell
My name is Jennifer Sharp. My online persona is Jen and Tonic, and my friends call me Jen. My youngest sister calls me Jesher, and my hot neighbor refers to me as the girl who stares too hard when he jogs without his shirt on. These are my names.
What’s in a name anyway? I began thinking about this when I Googled myself the other day. I read an article about people losing out on jobs after employers did simple internet searches on them. It got me thinking about what someone would find out about me if they looked up my name.
What I found was appalling. They’d find next to nothing on me; instead, they’d find a wealth of information on other Jennifer Sharps around the world. These women are everywhere in internet searches because they’re doing things, and making a difference in the world. I’m writing this while wearing “Sunday Underwear” (which are called that because they’re holy as hell,) and hair that looks as though it’s terrified of brushes.
Who are these other Jens, and why are they hijacking my identity? Not only hijacking it, but making me look badly while they’re at it. Continue reading
The fact that I’ve been steadily employed since my first job at a Hallmark store is as much of a surprise to me as it is to anyone else. I’m the kind of person who drinks cereal instead of eating it with a spoon, and laughs when narrators say ‘Homo Erectus’ in documentaries. Not exactly the kind of stuff that makes employers jump at the chance to pay me every two weeks.
I started working for a local publishing company in 2009, and in early 2012, they were acquired by a corporation in Boston. Roughly six months after the purchase, our office was closed, and the Portland team members began telecommuting. This day is also referred to as “The exact moment I started devolving as an employee and human being.”
Dedicated working spaces no longer have meaning to me.
One of the greatest joys of working from home is getting to decide where you want to work. Gone are the days of parking in the same space, sitting at the same desk, and shivering from the air blowing from the same vent directly above my desk. Now you’ll most likely finding me sending e-mails while on the crapper, regretting the Indian food I ate last night.
NaNoWriNO Day 11
Topic: What I do for a living
Credit: ENDO Gun Blog
A few years back I had a job that was slowly sucking the life out of me. My boss was certifiably insane, I was pushing paper all day, and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights nearly drove me over the edge. My cubicle offered me a beautiful view of a dead plant, and sometimes I’d get to bask in the scent of Marlboro Reds and Jack Daniels from a coworker who would stop to unload his drama on the guy sitting in the space next to mine. There were days when tying a noose around my neck and ending it all seemed less painful than that place.
I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands and find another source of income. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, just something that would pay the bills and help me avoid feeling jazzed about a hanging death. Let me tell you, when you leave the range this wide open you’ll end up doing some messed up stuff.
My first encounter was an advertisement from a local university offering $500 to participate in a study. I called in, they asked me a few questions about my mental health history, and said they’d call me back. I received a call 10 minutes later. It’s never a good sign when a place that just asked you questions about your mental stability is anxious to call you back. Continue reading
I recently went on a business trip to the East Coast. Let me preface this entire story by saying that I don’t dig business travel in the least bit. Wearing fancy adult clothes (I’m a Pajama Jeans kinda girl) is not my idea of a good time, and well, you all know how I feel about work meetings. Additionally, the travel itself is pretty bogus. It usually involves getting up at an ungodly hour just so some disgruntled TSA agent can take a picture of my highly undesirable silhouette. I don’t even like those people seeing my fake weight when they check my license, why would I want them taking a peek at the hot mess that is my physique? Oh well, their funeral.
But I digress…
I kind of figured that the flight there would blow. I got stuck in a middle seat which means not only would I get screwed on leg space, but I could also toss any chance of elbow room out the window. If I was taking a hopper flight it wouldn’t have been so bad, but being sandwiched between two strangers for that long wasn’t something I’d done since college. Continue reading
I’ve never been the corporate type. I’ve never had a job I needed to dress up for, I don’t try to wiggle my way up the corporate ladder, and I have zero desire to ever be the type of person who is married to her job. My parents must be so proud.
In light of this information, one can imagine how excited I am when I find out we’re going to have a team meeting at work. I always go through the same stages whenever one is scheduled: fear, guilt, excitement, resentment, indifference and finally, acceptance. Sitting around a table listening to “business speak” ranks right up there with having my eyelashes ripped out one by one. I always end up zoning out after a few minutes, and wishing I had opted for a job in retail.