As many of you probably know most of my life I have been planning on going to law school. I have also lived my life so far unaware of monetary issues and what the rest of the world calls "Fiscal Responsibility". You could also say I am a spoiled brat that has had Daddy bail her out all her life. I however prefer the term "fiscally irresponsible". Well much to my surprise about a month ago, I was informed by my dear daddy that he would like to retire within the next 50 years and therefore cutting me off. Including co-signing for student loans... and since I have only had like 2 kinda sorta real jobs in my life (Both of which I just decided one day to not show up.. dunno if you would call that getting fired or voluntary termination)I am unable to go to law school at this time.
Since I doubt my eBay, designer apparel, mikimoto pearl, and Kate Spade habit would be conducive to a homeless girl lifestyle, I decided to GASP! get a big girl job. I decided after watching all the Sex and the City episodes on my On Demand, that New York was the place for me. Luckily, and thanks to pageants, I have several connections in the Big Apple. I made a few phone calls and like a hundred e-mails and in about a month I had successfully lined up 3 interviews.
The first was with a division within the Ralph Lauren Brand called Club Monaco. This was on Wednesday. I walked in, the girl was stunning and I fell in love with the idea of working in the fashion industry. I was so excited about my new opportunity, I decided to celebrate with a night on the town with one of my best girl friends (Hayley's shout out here) that lives in the city. When we are together, lets just say its a coin toss to see which one of us can accomplish the sketchiest act imaginable...so needless to say I should have seen an interesting evening on the horizon.
Hayley is going to have to fill in the blanks and names because all I remember is ____ bar for drinks with her boyfriends Dad and sister. _____ bar for more drinks with two additional friends. APT...lots of Sapporo..lots of tequila...more vodka....and them a dancing club, and finally a random guy putting me in a cab at 2:30am.. or maybe that was the cab fare? Anyways.. after a few drunk dials, I stumbled my way to my hotel room fought with the key and finally passed out fully clothed.
I awoke in the morning to my alarm and wake up call my dear mother set for me. Scrambled like crazy to pull my hair back, wash my face, brush the alcohol off my teeth, get dressed, and make it to my interview with the largest commercial real estate company in the US ..maybe the world by 11 am. In the midst of getting out of my cab that morning, I happened to look at my feet. BIG mistake. I had the same shoes I was wearing the previous nite on and apparently I had lost the buckle on the top of one of them... probably my interviewers first indication I was not sober.
She wanted to walk to breakfast. GREAT. On the way, I dropped my only lifeline, My coke on the ground which soaked my BCBG dress pants...(Damn it, guess I'm not returning these for those killer shoes). When we finally get to the restaurant and sit down she orders and omellete. Ever girl can agree.. you cannot let a girl order food your trying to impress and you order nothing.. it makes her feel fat..not good. So I follow suit and later begin to believe that God hates me.
The omelette's come out, eggs are not fully cooked, runny. If you close your eyes spin around the room 10 times as fast as you can and then flip your head up and down 25 times you might get the same sensation I felt...complete nausea. The rest of the meeting was spent with me trying my best to not vomit on her. I went back to my room with every intention of making it to my final interview... God did hate me.... like 3 times...didn't make it.
Obviously not only and I fiscally irresponsible... I'm irresponsible in every aspect of my life...and now one step closer to begging for change on the street.
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