Awkward Moments

Why do I feel like my life is a parade of awkward moments that will never end?

The two that come to mind right away that happened quite recently are as follows:

The day I was talking to my dad about how secure I felt with my job, I got an email letting me know that the show I've been working on is going on a two-week editing hiatus. This was while I was on my week vacation mind you. So instead of trying to figure out how to survive without one week of pay, I found myself having to figure out how to survive without three weeks of pay. Big difference there.

The short notice and nonchalance that this message was delivered to me, made me a little angry. But I was okay. Then I talked to the other assistant, who was lucky enough to recieve a phone call, who told me he wouldn't be surprised if it was extended past that. And then, speaking to another assistant, confirmed my fears that this company seemed to have a bad reputation for these sort of unexpected surprises.

So, in fear of living on the street, I started looking for alternate employment. Temporary, if I was lucky. I applied for a couple of week/two week jobs, but didn't hear anything back. A friend got me an interview at the company he works for, and although they deal more in promos and behind-the-scene specials, I thought I'd go to the interview and check out what sort of hours/pay/work I'd be dealing with.

Well the interview went great. Which would usually be a good thing, but not really in this case. They could only offer me what I was making now with lots of overtime factored in. They also stated, "If assistants can make it here, they can make it anywhere." Which to me was the equivalent of them saying, this is the hardest, longest hours job that you could take in a thirty-mile radius. If this was an editing position, then sure, I'd be up for the challenge. But this is an assistant job which usually is pretty mundane work. I knew pretty much at that point that I wouldn't take it.

But they loved me. I left the interview pretty secure that I landed the job. Which sucked. I should have tripped the interviewer on her way out or asked if it was okay if I had every other Friday off.

I weighed my options, and knew that if I stuck out these two weeks, then I'd be in better position in the long run. And in this field, it's hard not to think of the long run. So I put my faith in mankind and optimism and hoped that two weeks would all the hiatus would be.

Of course, my phone rang the next day. Why is it that when you want a job, you don't get it, but a job in which you don't want, falls at your feet? Well, I answered, rehearsing how I was going to let her down easily. Sure, now I can think of a thousand things to say, but in the moment, I was nervous and knew I'd babble, and just wanted it to be over.

The first, and I mean first, thing she said when I answered was, "Don't tell me you found another job!" in a cheerful, playful tone. Ouch. One of those. And everything I had planned to say just flew out the window.

"Umm," I said, trying really hard to be eloquent in such an uncomfortable situation.

I felt her face falling.

"Unfortunately, I did," I said stupidly and filled with guilt.

It was just awful and awkward and I know she'll never use that as an opener ever again! Just awful. Man, I still slap my forehead when I think of it. Ultimate grimace.

Second uncomfortable situation is completely and totally my fault. I bought these amazing shoes the other day. I mean they are dressy and flat and patterned and have a dragonfly on them. I bought them before I went home for the wedding to wear to the rehearsal dinner. Well, they were a little small, but I figured they'd be fine.

I wore them the night before the dinner, to a family dinner thing, and almost immediately I felt pain when I walked. Squeezing toes, tell-tell rubbing on my heel. I knew it would be a long dinner.

By the end of the night, I was limping. Actually limping. My feet were seconds away from bleeding and I threw the shoes forcibly into the backseat when I got into the car.

I was forced to wear much more casual flip flops to the rehearsal dinner. Feet still aching and cursing me.

So upon returning to LA, I decided that I'd wipe the bottoms of the shoes down and try and exchange them for a bigger size.

There wasn't much wear luckily, but before I got to the store, I checked for blood stains once more.

I went into the store, shoes back in the box, in the bag, with the reciept, and asked a salesperson if I could exhange my shoes. He took them out of the box and inspected them. They passed the test! Home free! So he goes to the back and finds the bigger size, bringing them out to me. I put them on, and Viola! These shoes weren't made to hurt! They felt great! It was amazing. So I told him so.

Then, for some unknown reason, perhaps a miscommunication between brain and mouth, I go on to tell him how the other pair messed up my feet so badly. And THEN, if that wasn't enough, I went ahead and showed, yes showed, him my blisters.

Okay, so at this point, he's looking at me like I'm crazy. I don't realize I've totally just ratted myself out until a few seconds later. I immediately start backtracking, pretending I was talking about another pair but he totally didn't believe me. He's STILL looking at me like I'm insane. Because I am I guess. Who does that???

I innocently hold up my bag holding the old painful shoes in one hand and the new box in the other and ask timidly, "Where do I do the exchange?"

I could tell he was having an internal battle. Finally, and amazingly, he directed me towards the register. Somehow, I was still able to exchange my shoes. I did turn to my friend next to me "Ohh-ing" and "Ahhh-ing" over some other shoes and then proclaiming I would never shop anywhere else for shoes. Once he showed me the register, he disappeared rather quickly. I can only assume he was doing me a favor by doing that.

Let's hope lessons were learned from these experiences.