arithmatic, arithmatock.
It's been a very strange week. I went to all my classes, and although that shouldn't feel like such an accomplishment, it really made me feel like I fulfilled my job as a student. I can't say I gave my professors 100% of my attention, but I "participated" in a few of my classes, which made me feel like I made up for it in some way. I took Amanda with me to A&F to get her some spring break outfits. When I walked in, even though it had been so long since I worked, I felt sad that I didn't work there much. I went up to the office to schedule some hours, and renew my discount card. People who I didn't think even knew I existed were saying hi to me and remembering my name. I guess I made more of an impact there than I thought. The office guy said to come back Saturday, to check for hours. So I did yesterday, and one of my old managers saw me in the office. He goes, "Oh, Kara! I think they terminated you." He's saying this all in the tone that someone would say, "Oh, Kara! You won something!", as if it were no big deal. Terminated? Jesus, what are they going to do, blow me up? It sounded a little intense for a job that consisted of standing around, smiling, folding, and unlocking fitting room doors. Anyway, I don't think I was really terminated or else they wouldn't have told me to come back on Saturday, but when I printed out my schedule, I definitely have no hours for the next week. It really doesn't matter though, because it's far away and I can still work at the one at home.
I may or may not have a job tutoring a 7 year old Chinese boy in English. This would mainly be helping him with homework and reading. He does speak English, but not very well. I've already had some mis-haps with his mother, the owner of a nail salon on Church Ave. I called her nail salon and spoke with her a few days ago, and after a few minutes of struggling with the language barrier between us (she speaks very very broken English and I'm sure she couldn't fully understand me either), it came to the conclusion that I was to meet her at her nail place on Thursday between 4 and 5. So I got on the train at 4 and arrived at 4;30, the exact "between 4 and 5" time. I asked for her, and two asian women with surgical masks over their mouths and noses kept givng me muffled "Amy's not here"'s and "You want manicure?". No. I do not want a manicure, I am here to see Amy about tutoring her little boy. I tried as hard as I could to not make myself sound like I were speaking to them as though they were a couple of idiots, but they really couldn't understand me. Finally, they sent me away with a phone number. The people who set me up with the job, Matt's former landlord, know Amy because his wife gets her nails done there regularly. So the next day, Matt gets an email from his old landlord saying that I never showed up, etc, because that's what Amy told his wife. She forgot to mention that she wasn't even there when she said she was going to be, and I traveled for an hour to get there. Psh. So I called her again yesterday, and she said she'd call me back to let me know about it, and she still hasn't. I'm beginning to think I need to find a real job.
You honestly don't have to read all this, it just makes me feel better to have it all written out, my side of the story, because I know I went and I know I got there on time. Grrr.
I took a bunch of clothes to Beacon's Closet yesterday, figuring I'd come back with at least $30. Wronnnng. I brought three shopping bags full of clothes, and if you know me, you know I'm very picky about what I wear. Which means even my rejected clothes are pretty cute, but usually I'm just sick of them or they never fit me right. So I had three bags of cute clothes with bags and shoes. Really cute bags and shoes, might I add. Anyway, when I returned after they do the thing where they sort everything, I went to the pick-up line and there were the three shopping bags, waiting for me, looking about the same as when I dropped them off. They gave me $19.50, but that's really only 35% of what they price the things at. So I was like a little insulted, honestly, because I thought I did a good job weeding out what they'd take and what they wouldn't take. But anyway, I told them to keep the rejects and give them to charity. Now I'm regretting that sort of, because I saw they didn't take these really cute red shoes and I could have sold them on ebay. Oh well. Someone is gonna rock those for next to nothing from Salvation Army, which is cool with me.
Now it's time for me to get a life and clean my room. Ciao.
I may or may not have a job tutoring a 7 year old Chinese boy in English. This would mainly be helping him with homework and reading. He does speak English, but not very well. I've already had some mis-haps with his mother, the owner of a nail salon on Church Ave. I called her nail salon and spoke with her a few days ago, and after a few minutes of struggling with the language barrier between us (she speaks very very broken English and I'm sure she couldn't fully understand me either), it came to the conclusion that I was to meet her at her nail place on Thursday between 4 and 5. So I got on the train at 4 and arrived at 4;30, the exact "between 4 and 5" time. I asked for her, and two asian women with surgical masks over their mouths and noses kept givng me muffled "Amy's not here"'s and "You want manicure?". No. I do not want a manicure, I am here to see Amy about tutoring her little boy. I tried as hard as I could to not make myself sound like I were speaking to them as though they were a couple of idiots, but they really couldn't understand me. Finally, they sent me away with a phone number. The people who set me up with the job, Matt's former landlord, know Amy because his wife gets her nails done there regularly. So the next day, Matt gets an email from his old landlord saying that I never showed up, etc, because that's what Amy told his wife. She forgot to mention that she wasn't even there when she said she was going to be, and I traveled for an hour to get there. Psh. So I called her again yesterday, and she said she'd call me back to let me know about it, and she still hasn't. I'm beginning to think I need to find a real job.
You honestly don't have to read all this, it just makes me feel better to have it all written out, my side of the story, because I know I went and I know I got there on time. Grrr.
I took a bunch of clothes to Beacon's Closet yesterday, figuring I'd come back with at least $30. Wronnnng. I brought three shopping bags full of clothes, and if you know me, you know I'm very picky about what I wear. Which means even my rejected clothes are pretty cute, but usually I'm just sick of them or they never fit me right. So I had three bags of cute clothes with bags and shoes. Really cute bags and shoes, might I add. Anyway, when I returned after they do the thing where they sort everything, I went to the pick-up line and there were the three shopping bags, waiting for me, looking about the same as when I dropped them off. They gave me $19.50, but that's really only 35% of what they price the things at. So I was like a little insulted, honestly, because I thought I did a good job weeding out what they'd take and what they wouldn't take. But anyway, I told them to keep the rejects and give them to charity. Now I'm regretting that sort of, because I saw they didn't take these really cute red shoes and I could have sold them on ebay. Oh well. Someone is gonna rock those for next to nothing from Salvation Army, which is cool with me.
Now it's time for me to get a life and clean my room. Ciao.