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IamNY
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Country: United States
Gender: Female
Interests: big cities, traveling, becoming the female version of huston smith.
Expertise: hiring and firing
Occupation: Research and development
Industry: Business
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
11/3/2003
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| Today is my one-year anniversary at Clarity. I've lived in this city for one year and three weeks, been promoted, signed an apartment lease, won a cooking contest, and retired my red bra. I feel grown-up.
I am happy.
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| The Story About Me Finding Clarity
Let’s rewind time. Let’s go back 8 months. May. Middle of May. Around that blissful time of graduating. Endless possibilities. Every cliché and overused phrase imaginable is being thrown your way, making you dizzy and annoyed and pestered. And yet the same cliché responses exit your own mouth. You don’t want to admit it. You’re a dreamer. You’ve just graduated. Big things are about to happen. Monumental, you think.
“So, now that you’ve graduated, what are your plans?” – Nameless person with cliché question.
And as you give your clichéd answer, you think to yourself, yep, I’m gonna make it. It’s gonna happen. Here I come world…
…and then the world comes. And bites you in the rump.
I set off for New York City on my 22nd birthday, courtesy of my parent’s money, luggage and eagerness. I can’t remember, but I’m sure I dressed up for the occasion. I’m sure I said a prayer over Texas as I flew over it. I know I wrote about how giddy and ready and nervous I was in my journal while in the air. I remember walking into my apartment for the first time, throwing my things down, opening the fridge to immediately notice that my new roommate apparently enjoys prunes and figs, and then ordering a pizza. A pizza pie, if you will.
I went into my room. Got settled into bed. I set my alarm clock, two interviews the next morning. I checked it. I reset it. I set the second alarm. Checked it. Rolled over. Tossed. Checked the alarm. Rolled over. Pondered the noises outside my window. Heard an argument. Heard a car. Checked my alarm.
And a few hours later, I awoke to my alarm, put on my super special and carefully picked out interview outfit and went on my merry way to interviews 1 and 2.
It was raining. I was wearing heels. Hellish heels. My umbrella was not made for high winds. You have to love being the person on the sidewalk with the inverted umbrella. I was an hour early to the interview. I stopped in a Starbucks, nauseous. Didn’t order anything, just sat there. Watched a young girl, about my age, be interviewed by some frightening and intimidating older man. I think she got the job. She was quite confident. Legs crossed. She looked at ease though. Poised and professional, yet friendly and courteous. I took mental notes. Smile, I thought. Don’t forget to smile in the interview. Be confident. It’s in the bag. No problem.
I walked into R.R. Donnelly 20 minutes early. Went through security. Had my picture taken. Had my picture with “Mandy Smith, RR Donnelly, Floor 22” then stuck on my left boob. Found the floor, waited, tried to stay calm. Met my interviewer. Apologized for looking like a wet dog.
And 30 minutes later, I left. Feeling relieved. It wasn’t so bad. I knew I didn’t get the job. I knew I didn’t want the job, either. Fair enough.
Went to a diner. Reviewed my resume. Ate in a hurry and then went to my next interview. Clarity, LLC. A boutique search firm. After signing in with security, I made my way to the 5th floor. I felt a little more at ease, although now my hair was doing something unexplainable and definitely not delightful.
And 30 minutes I left. Feeling confident. They had my resume. If anything good came up, they’d get me to interview for it. Sounded good to me. The ladies seemed nice. Genuine. I was a recent grad in a very, very big city. A little help finding a job was just peachy. I had already been looking obsessively since 5 months before I graduated.
Another job interview the next day at a nonprofit. Loved the job description. Thought I had a good chance. Called the development director a few days later. She said sorry, but they had gone with someone else. Someone with more PR experience. Fabulous, I thought.
But everything just fell into place soon after.
Turns out that little boutique staffing firm, Clarity, saw a little spark of spunk in me. I was hired three weeks later as a HR Coordinator and become lady #11 in the Clarity team. I was hired to hire. I was now in the world of HR.
So what about publishing? (I've been asked this question frequently). Welll, it is a good question. I did go on a publishing interview. Three days before Clarity extended me an offer, I was in the offices of Penguin. Yes sir. Yes ma’am. I was the giddiest, most frantic and nervous gal you’ve ever seen. There I was…facing everything I thought I could have ever wanted…I was sure it was all around the corner…an office with a window…shelves and shelves of books everywhere…people rushing around, focused and deadline-driven…and a beautiful, beautiful title – assistant production editor.
Only the editor was a very unhappy and snippy man who clearly didn’t like his job…the offices were bland, tiny and depressing. There weren’t books everywhere. It was strangely quiet.
30 minutes later I walked out and 30 minutes later I was home e-mailing Clarity. I wanted them to know I was highly interested in their position. And when they extended the offer, I accepted. I told Penguin to keep my resume. But now wasn’t the time. There was no chemistry there.
I guess I’m explaining my getting a job process a bit late. But now that I’m here, now that I’m comfortable, now that I’ve been working for a good 6 months in one place, I feel…settled. And free to finally write about it. A good friend of mine is moving up here next week and is in much of the same situation as I was when I first arrived. A place to live, but three months to get a job…after that, you’re out of money and out of options. I’m confident my friend will find something she loves. Thinking about her and her anxieties just led me back to how I felt when I first got here, and how bitchy I must have been those first weeks…desperate to find a job.
I love my job. I love the ladies I work with. I love my desk. I love the windows. I love that we have a table that is always occupied with sweet, tasty goodies. I love that we’re women-owned. I love that we openly yell “fuck” when feeling exasperated. I love that we get thank-you letters from people we interview. I love to interview. I love when I get someone a job they love at Christian Dior. Or when Gucci calls and needs a temp. Or when Martha Stewart decides she'd like to use Clarity as an agency. Or when someone calls before an interview and asks me to calm them down because they are feeling too nervous. And really, I love walking to work every day with the crowds of New Yorkers rushing by. I love it.
I think I may start blogging about my job – about the world of staffing and HR. About the people I’ve met, the crazies I’ve interviewed, the situations our candidates get into, the way we have to handle it…I find it all very amusing. I probably spend half of my day laughing about it.
It's not what I imagined - I imagined deadlines and books and editors. But honestly, I think I've found something better. Not to say I won't venture into publishing someday. I may. But for now, I've found something I love.
And that’s that.
p.s. This book is phenomenal.
p.p.s. I miss you all. I'd love to hear about your adventures as well.
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| One of my favorite memories of sophomore year revolved around laughter. Nicolette, Sarah and I were at Memorial, eating dinner. Someone (probably me) thought it would be funny to add ingredients to someone's Dr Pepper. Like salt and pepper. And gravy. And other substances found on everyone's plates. I remember looking up after taking a sip of the concotion, and being completely astounded by how carefree and happy these two girls next to me looked. It was absolutely perfect. Sure, it doesn't sound funny now, it just sounds immature...someone putting random ingredients in a drink and taking a sip. But it was hilarity at its finest on this night. We laughed for what felt like hours. I slapped my knees and held nothing back. I'm sure people heard us from outside. We were three friends, in a state of complete laughing rapture.
One of my favorite memories of senior year revolved around laughter. Sarah and I were at dinner at Case Ole (probably because like every other Friday night at 8, La Fiesta was too crowded, so we opted for Casa Ole). I remember we were in the middle of our section of the restaurant, and I don’t know how it started, but one of us got to laughing, and then the other thought the other’s laugh was humorous, so it spawned more laughing. Next thing I knew, we were laughing because of how funny our laughter sounded. And our laughs changed and we snorted and giggled and chortled and snickered and it became this perfect laughing-fest that wouldn't end. And we didn't want it to end. When we paused, trying to get air, one of us would accidentially let out a small giggle, and the whole thing would begin again.
One of my favorite memories of my childhood revolved around laughter. It happened late one night while my cousin, Brandi, and I were having a sleepover at Grandma’s house. We were up and it was really late, and we had a reputation of being way too giggly when it was just the two of us late at night. Well, we were reading something with the name “Bartholomew” in it. I tried to pronounce it, and Brandi found it funny. So she tried. I thought the way she said it was even funnier, and better. So we went back and forth, just saying Bartholomew, over and over, laughing, louder and louder and louder. Grandma yelled at us from her room "Girls! Stop that giggling!" But of course that only made it escalate. Until I finally fell off the bed, landed on a toy and hurt myself.
And one of my favorite things about my family revolves around laughter. When my family laughs, we laugh with our whole bodies. I love that about us. It’s loud and obnoxious and surely annoys the hell out of people who happen to be near us in public places. We snort. I’m not the only one. It’s a family thing. My dad turns bright red and starts gasping for air. And then finishes with this giggle – yes, a giggle. My mom will start cracking up, and tears will fall. She has a million laughs. And each one varies depending on the situation. My sister has this wonderful, cute giggle. And she’ll exclaim, “Guys…stoooooop!” and threaten to throw a fork at those of us who are about to fall out of our chairs (meaning me and Max). He has fallen out of quite a few chairs. It’s hilarious, which only gets me laughing harder, which leads to snorting, which leads to my Dad giggling and his face turning red and my Mom looking at him all crazy because his giggle was girly and because his face is way too red and he needs to calm down before he passes out, and then Kenzi will laugh at Mom’s reaction, and then I’ll try to pull Max off the ground, but then he’ll surely fart or something, and when that happens, it’s all over.
It’s just a big happy giggly farting mess. (And I miss those messes)
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home sweet home in this big beautiful city. | | |
| There has been more on my mind in the past three weeks than I can possibly cram into a xanga entry. I’ve been an emotional freak, (the usual to the fourth power) and I’m working through all the emotions by train wrecking it with other emotions.
I’ve been excited, joyful, sad, depressed, anxious, afraid, confused, upset, giddy, etc etc etc etc etc.
So, I’ve been going back and thinking about each year. And I’ve compiled my favorite things of those years. It’s not complete, of course. But it’s fun to look back.
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Freshman Year
Me: Conservative, Bush-supporter, Christian
Roommate: Kandyce, best friend from home.
Song of the Year: All I Want For Christmas Is You, Mariah Carey
Movie of the Year: It
(meaning most memorable song/movie of the year, not best movie made during that year)
Favorites:
Pulling our mattresses together and making a very uncomfortable couch, watching It! backwards, hot chocolate, snicker doodles, buying scarves because it suddenly became cold, Port Charles, visiting a new church every week, Coffee Shop Café, working at the library at 7 in the morning, meeting Jessica, Carosa, Heather and Jesse. Late night prayers, losing a close high school friend, going to our first college party (BYX), Penland cafeteria, marinara sauce, cheap movie theater, our spot off Bosque in front of the lake, all night conversations with Phllip while pacing up and down the hallway, strawberry cake and olives (and the horrible consequences), Chris Tomlin, Focus, dealing with Kandyce’s boyfriend, a weekend at Motel 6, Jennifer Lopez, hanging Christmas lights, Valentine’s day flowers, biology lab, dealing with a certain army boy, Common Grounds, our first fight, Kandyce pouncing on me, IHOP, waking up in the middle night and leaving to get taquitos, late night reporting project with Jesse, helping Kandyce and Kate film a Spanish video, crying everyday after French class, academic probation, Kandyce telling me I smelled like pond water (after a shower), spending every minute with Kandyce.
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Sophomore Year
Me: Without Kandyce, still Conservative, in need of some change.
Roommate: Nicolette Wilson, the change I needed.
Song of the Year: The McDonald's Girl
Move of the Year: Lagaan
Favorites:
First half: The frequent change of my haircolor, including a catastrophe that left me looking like a pinkish pumpkin, experimenting with my bangs, weather channel, going to Orlando, IHOP, being extremely loud, the haul from the car to the room to put away groceries, Peter the PeePee Pot, toilet paper, celadon, down comforters, Nicolette making me dinner, trips to Memorial, meeting Tinkler, taquitos, Hindi music, changing outfits three times a day, more experimentation with my bangs, meeting Ana and Amanda, attending a Methodist church, the quote wall, walking in with the lights off and Nicolette curled up in the bathtub, talking to her grandmother and mom on the telephone, stacking our dressers, toes peeking out of the comforter, Taco Hell, Nicolette waking up with me beside her, avoiding foreign language classes because of French, hateful neighbors, taking Nicolette home for Thanksgiving, getting accepted into NY program, flamingos, trips to Corsicana, Sephora in Austin. Second half, in NY: Eighteen roommates, beautiful city, intimidating bosses, Arel, Mets, SoHo, learning more about sex than I ever cared to know, my fading conservativeness, studying world religions for the first time, independent study with Mr. Murchison, Pleasantville, NY Public Library, walking alone at 4:30 a.m., falling in love with a city, Dr. Kickasola and the classes, postmodernism, the computer room, grocery shopping, Easter dinner, Little Italy for Valentine’s Day, karaoke for the first time, underage drinking, dancing.
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Junior Year
Me: Moderate, a little sad about leaving New York.
Roommate: Sarah Tinkler, my friend of all friends
Song of the Year: A Better Son/Daughter, Rilo Kiley
Movie of the Year: Moulin Rouge
Favorites:
Betty, green carpet, picking Pickle, being introduced to Rilo Kiley and other bands :“who is this, Sarah?” … “The Shins, Mandy, The Shins.” Having to pay bills, getting my job at the Wacoan, more experimentation with my bangs, Homestyle Bakes, all the food…so much food, Sarah making breakfast, mornings with coffee, Quiet,Lovely concert, getting drunk for the first time, rum, Elton John concert with Joey, dancing in sheets, Black-Eyed Peas, magazine ads all over my wall, finally getting some sexy red sheets, going to bed just as Sarah was waking up, our conversation in the closet, DVR, the tampon wrappers outside the window, Sarah’s evolving hairstyles, photo shoot with Slusher, tattoos, profanity, taking Spanish class at 8 in the mornings, buying flowers and cards, sweater vests, fainting after really hot baths, learning about Beckett, walking around campus drunk with Tinkler and Ana, taking thousands of pictures, Ryan teaching us all about wine - and his fish named god, the night with the stars in the middle of nowhere, standing out in the rain with Sarah, eye makeup, watching the Mets in bed, late night conversations with Arel, all Kandyce visits, getting fatter, days with Meier, Barnes and Noble, crazy toilets and a leaking roof, dancing in the kitchen, spending hours to get ready with nowhere to go, falling down the stairs, getting drunk and going dancing, Nicolette's dinner parties, turning the music up and cleaning with sarah, jewel, interpretive dancing, laughing at our laughter.
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Senior Year
Me: Liberal
Roommate: Kirby Shea Madori
Song of the Year: I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That), Meat Loaf
Movie of the Year: Me and You and Everyone We Know
Favorites:
My own cute apartment, an uncomfortable couch, Joey’s globe, no dishwasher, finally having a collection of books, a plant (that died), my birthday party, camping, car wreck, candles, Slusher’s parties, Cleopatra, writing for the Lariat, hearing about all my friend’s weddings and babies, getting a Mac, meeting Josh and Josh’s musical tastes, kissing all my girlfriends, a lot of alcohol, Baris, Lupitas, Beretta Lynn’s troubles, picking the bitchiest cat in the litter, food critiquing with Jessica, 20-page papers, obsessing over my resume, weekend trip to Austin, Lariat Christmas party, dress up dinners that ended in pj parties, twister and imaginif! sleeping on Ana and Amanda's couch, learning the proper way to drink a beer (thanks to j-man), crazy hair, day in Gatesville, late nights with Sarah, tea kettle fire incident, 4 minute hot showers, 8 minute naps, meeting Jenny, the Paul confusion, concerts, Scruffy’s, Long Island iced teas, getting hit on with my hair in a bun, buying sexy pjs with Nicolette, browsing Toys of Babeland, all night cuddling session with Joey and Tinkler, Project Runway with Kate, getting in the car and just driving with Sarah, a big tv with no channels, studying Judaism, memorizing my friends.
I drove around a little today and felt content. I wouldn’t change anything, I just wish I had met all of you sooner than I did. But that’s life.
I think the only consistent thing about me over these four years is the continual experimentation of my bangs. And they're still not right.
I say we party it up every day. (two words. not an adjective)
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