Posts filed under: ‘The Fam‘




Can I Go Back to Aruba Now?

Two weeks ago I arrived back from Aruba, and the depression set in the moment before we landed. You know? That moment where the plane is enveloped in so much smog that you can’t see out the window? God, sometimes I despise L.A. soooo much that I can just… well, smell the smog. One day after our arrival, in the midst of our cranky back and forth bickering, J announced that he would embark on a mission to find a job in Aruba. I told him that I’d kill him if he didn’t take me with him.

Once Monday rolled around, it was back to work. I felt relatively refreshed from my trip, and even had a tan! I was ready to focus and make things right at a job I hated passionately. Somehow, I rid myself of my back from vacation depressions. No more thoughts of frozen strawberry margaritas under a hut on the beach, no more thoughts of how much fun I had with my boyfriend AND my rents, (I know! Shocking!), no more thoughts of fro yo on a daily basis, no more thoughts of the most mouth-watering Argentinian steaks, no more thoughts of all the pretty ‘lil lizards trying to be your friend poolside, no more thoughts of being able to work out any time I wanted, no more thoughts of having been able to leisurely read an entire book in a week, and no more thoughts of how much I missed my parents. It was time for Korlina to get back to reality and just deal.

By the time 1pm rolled around on that first Monday back, I wanted to cry (and to drink at least 3 Amstel Brites. Why don’t we have Amstel Brite in the U.S.????).  I can’t recall what was so horrible on my Monday back, but I do know this. EVERYTHING was horrible. Not only were the majority of people I now worked with assholes, (well, two, particularly), but I also did not fit in at all. I couldn’t even fake acting like I wanted to fit in here anymore. The one friend I had on the show worked next door in the writer’s office and, clearly no one I worked with in my production office favored him. I was doomed. I knew I was doomed, and I didn’t know I was doomed all at once. Yes, my life IS filled with such paradoxes.

May we please rewind to the Friday when I left for Aruba? I gave my direct boss the news a week in advance that I would have to leave no later than 5pm on that Friday, or else I’d miss my flight. Now this boss is/was (I pray I will never have to see him ever again!) a weird, weird dude. He takes “uptight” to a whole new, terrible level. Remember in “Farris Bueller’s Day Off” when Farris is describing how uptight his friend Cameron is? Yeah, that line that goes something like, “if you stuck something up his ass it would turn into a diamond?” Well, this dude, if you had stuck something up his ass, it would have been the sharpest diamond ever and gone into the Guinness Book of World Records for sharpest stone ever found.

Ahem, moving along, out of the 80’s and back into my life, my boss was uncharacteristically understanding, and even said (GASP!) that I could leave whenever I wanted because he knew the feeling well of worrying about missing a flight. Score! I thought. Of course once the Friday was upon us, he was singing a different horror movie type tune. Long, stupid story, but the incompetent a-hole decided, in front of BigBoss, to blame me for losing a post-it with “crucial” contact info on it for the staff and crew list. I.did.not.lose.this.post-it. He took it back from me. Not only that, but he hadn’t even written contact info on it. He gave me the post-it to put on a friggin drive-on for a person to get into the lot. Sigh.

BigBoss did not like the sound of this all too important contact info being lost (umm, it was probably ONE of the least pertinent things for the staff and crew list at that moment). His eyesbrows got all high on his forehead to the extent that he looked like a Sesame Street muppet. He let out a weird groan. I turned back to less important/direct boss. His eyes burned through his thick glasses. He ordered me to go through every trash basket in the office to find the post-it. I kind of threw up in my mouth a little. I could not believe what an idiot this kid was (I call him “kid” because he’s only 2 years older than me. That makes him a kid, right?). He was an idiot for saying this to me because a.) He didn’t realize what a butt hole he was b.) He was demanding that I do something SO incredibly demeaning that it is arguably harrassment in the workplace c.) EVERYONE (even PA’s) know that in a production office, you go to the accounting department when you need a crew member’s contact info. But not this KID. Fucking KID wanted me to go through the trash ’cause fucking kid is SOOOO afraid of BigBoss.

Instead of doing the right thing, (I now question what state of mind I was in, but I was brought up Catholic. We like to make things harder on ourselves) I announced in a loud voice so that everyone in the office would hear me… “Okay, I’m not above going through the trash. I will GLADLY look through the trash. Well folks, I didn’t do this activity with a smile on my face, AND I didn’t find the damn post-it. I marched into the accounting office after washing off all the garbage filth from my hands. The accountant gave me the number immediatelty, and shot me a “can you believe that dude?” look. I couldn’t wait to be on that plane for Aruba & I would be drinking HEAVILY on the plane.

My mom made dinner our first night in Aruba. My mom is an excellent cook, even when she makes something as simple as pasta and meatsauce. I told my parents about the post-it saga. My mom said I had let them win by going through the trash. I already knew this. I moaned to my parents that I so badly wanted to quit this job. “But Kristen,” my mom uttered between bites of rigatoni, “You wouldn’t be able to receive unemployment insurance. Oh, yeah, that. “Then I hope they fire me!” I announced. J laughed at me, and my dad had rolled his eyes. You know that saying? Be careful what you wish for?

The Thursday before the 4th of July, BigBoss quietly asked me to step into his office. He shut the door behind us, which surprised me. Then, he ushered me over to his white couch. This surprised me even more because I had, in the past three weeks since I started working there, always sat in the seat in front of his desk. I suddenly had to pee VERY badly.

BigBoss sat on the adjacent couch and shrugged his shoulders, gave me a simultaneously disappointed and guilty look, and said nothing. I couldn’t take it anymore, and was about to burst with pee (sorry, but it’s true!). “BigBoss, are you not happy with the work I’m doing here?”

Oh, you should have heard the sigh that BigBoss let out. “I don’t think this is going to work out.” My urge to pee disappeared, and I felt SO relieved. I nodded my head in agreement, but then BigBoss continued his speech. “You just don’t fit in with this group of people. You’re a sweetheart, and everyone loves you, but it’s a personality thing.” Yikes, now my face burned. I didn’t like being told that I didn’t fit in. I went through years of not fitting in, and being told I didn’t fit in, in high school. I didn’t feel like reliving those days in BigBoss’s office. Shudder. I also really didn’t like being called a sweetheart. It immediately made me think of Valentine’s Day candy hearts… those things with the useless expressions on one side that don’t mean anything really, and fade off when you touch them. Those things that are made of such artificial crap. That’s what being called a sweetheart by a boss in the middle of firing you is… fake crap. He didn’t like me, and direct boss didn’t like me. Therefore, I was doomed. Therefore, I was fired.

My ego got the better of me. Instead of shaking BigBoss’s hand, leaving his office, and collecting my stuff as fast as possible, I wanted to open my mouth & defend my years in this industry. “BigBoss, I’ve never been fired before. As much as I know that I don’t fit in here, is there anything that I did wrong? Anything that I could learn from this? I take pride in my work. I’ve thrived on multiple series…”

BigBoss cleared his throught, “Well, no. You came in every morning and wanted to make things work, but I just didn’t see you meshing well with this team. You should view this as a very good day. I got fired from a hit show years ago after the first season, and it’s the best thing that ever happened to me!” I nodded my head, surprised at myself for not having cried yet. Maybe I could make it to my car without anyone having seen me cry.

Bottom line, it is a good thing that it happened. I would have been miserable working there and, I did get what I had so desperately wished for when I was in Aruba. Sure, it hurts my ego, and makes me question myself a little, but I know I will be okay & get another job. It sucks not having a job now, and not having money to play with, but I have my health. I definitely would have lost my mental health working at that job.

So, here I am at 4:30pm on a Friday drinking a Corona and revisiting my blog. I have time for you now, bloggy blog. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, no?

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2 comments July 11, 2008

Aruba! In June!

This is just awesome! It’s now official! At the end of June, I am flying to Aruba & meeting my family there for a week of heavenly & overdue vacation. Oh, and J is coming as well! He’s met my parents once before, but now he gets the privilege of meeting ‘Lil Sis. I have a feeling that they will hit it off for some bizarre reason. Why is that bizarre? Well, ‘Lil Sis and I have always had quite an… umm… tumultuous relationship. But yup. They’ll like each other!

As I sit and type at my desk, killing time & [trying to kill] my desire to snack, I giggle with anticipation about the trip, regardless of the fact that it’s months away. I try not to think about the “months away” part for I do rather prefer having something to look forward to (besides my birthday, also in the fun June month. presents are always welcomed!) that tops “The Hills” or “American Idol.”

Now my mission must entail getting fit and fab for the quickly approaching June journey. The clock’s clicking, Korlina! Okay, I know I have a penchant for talking in the 3rd person at times. I promise to [try to] monitor it, but note that often times it’s an involuntary reflex; a sneeze I cannot hold in.

One thing I have been “holding in” on my blog is elaboration on my “blushing disease.” I mentioned it many blogs back (specifically, in “The Skin I’m In”) and, yes, I know this post is entitled “Aruba! In June!” but thought I’d take the time to elaborate on it now on this fine Thusday that I wish could be a Friday.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had a secret talent. I could blush at the drop of a dime! Noo, nooo, it wasn’t as simple as turning slightly pink when a teacher called on me in class. Noo, nooo, noooo, I didn’t (and I don’t) become Crimson Face only in the presence of crushes or folks who make me nervous. I unsuccessfully battle the blushes every day now, just as I battled them growing up. I will gladly give you an example of all the blushing I’ve done (that I can remember) this week. Here goes…

(INT. OFFICE. AFTERNOON- Korlina, at her desk, takes deep breath as she prepares to pour her soul out).

Monday: It’s morning. Naturally, there’s Starbucks. Naturally, the girl at the counter comments that she likes my shirt (what? it was a cute shirt!). Then, very naturally, I BLUSH before I can even say thanks. My blush grows deeper as I wait for my coffee at the far counter. Why can’t I get this under control? Why can’t I take a compliment without having to look like I’ve been out in the sun for 2 whole hours without sunscreen? Why? WHY?

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: Whenever someone/anyone in my office building that I’m not too close with tries to engage in a conversation with me, I get so uncomfortable and blush. It’s not like I have crushes on these individuals, or that I crave their respect. I.just.don’t.get.it. This entire phenomenon forces me to be quite withdrawn at work because I’m so ashamed of my fire engine red face in these situations. One time I even went so far as to pretend to see something outside my office window, so that the person who was attempting a convo with me didn’t have to witness Big Red Korlina (damn, I hope that’s not kinky slang I don’t know about).

I saw an episode of “Grey’s Anatomy” once where a little girl had a medical condition that made her blush whenever anything set her off. Although it was sort of adorable the way she, like I light switch, would turn beat red whenever Dr. Alex Karev checked in on her, I also felt bad for the girl! Scratch that, I empathized with her! All she wanted was to be normal. She felt as though her blushing was getting in the way of her everyday life. Thus, she opted for surgery. I sometimes wonder if I have a similar or identical condition. I wonder if I need surgery (along with Acutane. weep.)

I also know that, despite the plethora of zits & the uncontrollable blushes, I’m a happy girl. I’m going to Aruba after all, the first time in 4 years I’ve been able to take a vacation! What’s there to bitch and moan about when you have that? Now I just need to get my ass to the gym!

1 comment March 27, 2008

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