My 80-year-old business grandpa is hilarious.
My 80-year-old business grandpa is hilarious. You never can tell what will come out of his mouth next. Here are, what I like to call Vernisms:
“I was more nervous than a whore is church.”
“You outta put the fuzz on him.” (About a client that he said was trying add me as “another notch on his belt.”)
“I need that as much as I need a paper butt.”
“That guy-he couldn’t find his own ass with a map.”
“That one-she’s crazier than a pet coon.”
I have run into some issues in the workplace. When I began my career in printing sales, I found that it was surprisingly easy to meet managers and business owner. As a 26-year-old female with long blonde hair, I found it especially easy to get to male decision makers. The only problem with this is that they expect more.
I do my best to present myself as an intriguing likable person, which is an invitation for them to ask me out. The problem is although I’m not married and don’t have a ring, I am not single. My fiancée resides in a small town in Brazil and I am here working to make enough money so that we can start a life together.
I have decided to start wearing a fake ring, because I have lost a lot of business to men who have asked me out and when I had to explain that I wasn’t interested in them in that way, I lost the sales business. Therefore, I wasted time forming what I thought was a business relationship.
Do any other women have this problem?
Recently returned from Brazil, the remnants of days at the beach still linger on my skin as I button my blouse covering the faded, yet still perceptible, lines from tiny bikinis. My sun-streaked hair still stretches down my back to meet the top of a high-riding pinstriped pencil skirt. I curl the ends and throw it over my shoulders, slide a pair of big funky earring on to add color to the drab outfit. I drive to the office tapping my haviana flip-flop clad feet to my Brazilian favorites: Armandinho and Cidade Negra. A moment before I enter the office, I kick them off and slide my feet into black or tan pumps that cover my bright orange toenails.
I am living in two worlds.
Today I crossed paths with an awful man. I truly can say that I dislike him and there are not many people I dislike. Most people with qualities that are not as desirable can be summed up as undesirable becuase they are facing a personal issue or insecurity that they take out on others. Perhaps that is the case with this man.
Anyhow, I am taking over the accounts of the older gentleman I work with. I have picked up on things quickly and done my best to please everyone. Today, he took me to lunch and the sore of one of our biggest clients.
The first thing the man said when he apprached us was, “I’m taking all our printing at Alphagraphics.” I don’t know this man, and sarcastic people are not ones I deal with well. My mentor had already warned me and told me that he would try to push my buttons. He flat out told me I was going to be fired before I even starting working on his account. He said, ”Well I only work with you printing company because of Vern, so as soon as he goes, you’ll lose my account. And then your boss will fire you.”
Now perhaps some quick thinking witty people would have come up with a quick comeback as my mentor had instructed I do, but I wasn’t able to. I just stood and gave a little laugh, “Is that so?” and hpoed he was joking.
In all honesty, I would have liked to say to him, if that’s the case then I might as well just be fired since I wouldn’t want to work for someone who would fire me for the likes of you.
My mentor was quick to brag about all my world travels. Most people respond with interest, but not this guy. He asked how I thought all my world travels would help me print for him.
My mentor quickly responded before I got a chance that my travels helped me deal with all kinds of people, people like him.
Actually, no they hadn’t, because I had never met anyone quite as rude as this guy in all my experiences. I could have told that to the man, but perhaps that would have been an ego-boost.
Today, I learned that in the business world, it’s not always easy to be liked by everyone. There were two sales people in the office before I came. A woman, late forties, probably over ten years at the business, and an 80 yea rold millionare that sells printing for fun. The latter took an imediate liking to me and was actually the man who talked the boss into giving me a job. He uses all kins of great phrases, like “She’s a flithead.” and “We’re going to kill a fat hog.” He loves business. It’s like a game to him. He’s going to make me his business grandfather. He calls his clients and tells them about his new little firecracker/smart cookie he’s got here.
The problem is this: Today he informed me that before I came waltzing in, a 26-year-old, with zero business experience, waving around my resume that lists samba and fishing for piranha with toes under skills, the other female salesperson would have gotten all of the accounts that my business grandfather is planning on me taking over. Ouch. Should I feel bad?
I am trying very hard to find deeper meaning in my current work. I am feeling like a puzzled piece stuck into the wrong box. I have just come from a place where they catch fish to eat them for breakfast. The live in homes with extended family. They don’t wear shoes and they smile a lot.
Today, my 80-year-old “mentor” drove me around in his Mercedes pointing out his high-rise condo. He’s doing a remodeling–about a half million worth of work inside his unit , just the basics–carpet, paint etc..
He also pointed out other condos he is planning on buying. He went on a vacaion this past weekened but returned when the service wasn’t top notch.
Now, I’m trying to find balance between these two worlds.
After living in South Korea, Spain, and Brazil, drinking ayuhuasca in Peru and riding in Rio’s taxis with coke dealers, I felt I would be severely disappointed taking a job in printing sales in Phoenix, Arizona.
Yesterday, I cried the whole way home after I spent nine hour punching holes in spiral notebooks for binding. And the silly things probably won’t even get read.
Today, I am rubbing my palm together in delight, after realizing there is adventure to be found in my new job. After a very serious business meeting at a shiny-topped conference table, my boss treated me to a cheeseburger and milkshake at McDonald’s. But the real treat was when he informed me that our design guy is sometimes a girl and the two printers are rednecks. Interesting equation to add into the printing workflow.
So, today was the third day of my first job in the United States since college. Trying my best not to mess up at work, however I did have a little homework oopsie. Here’s how the conversation went with my new boss when I returned my hiring paperwork and health insurance application.
“Do you like coffee?” I smiled sweetly.
He gave me a strange look. ”Yes, I like coffee.”
“Oh good, cause I left a little here on this paperwork for you.” I held out the brown-stained crumpled papers.
My second week in Korea.
I am still learning new things everyday. This week I learned how to use the restroom, or I was potty-trained. The restroom in the hagwon I work in is a traditional Korean facility, in which the toilet is a hole in the floor, (there is plumbing, so it does flush). The first time I walked in, I immediately walked back out thinking I had made a mistake and had gone into the men’s (wouldn’t be the first time). When I realized that it was the women’s, I decided that I didn’t have to go that bad and I could wait until I returned home. However, this week I discovered where I could buy iced caffe lattes, so my bladder has not been able to prevail in holding it’s contents all day.
First I double check with Sunny, and once it is determined that this is the restroom that the teachers also use, she explains that you have to squat down but don’t sit on he floor. (Obviously, I would not sit on the floor; I’m not that incompetent.) I enter the small room and stare at the strange opening on the floor wondering how to approach this obstacle in my long dress. ‘I can do this; I do it at the bar all the time…just have to use my leg muscles to stabilize…’ Okay, not quite like at the bars where the target is much higher. I quickly learn that what goes down (from a great distance) will splash back up in revenge, Gross! ….Alright, where is the toilet paper? It’s in the office. I will just go grab some with my underwear around my legs, or better yet, I will call out to the director, “Mr. Soe, could you please bring me some TP, I’m in the third stall.” No, I will drip dry; I’ve done it before, but it’s much more disgusting when you’re not piss drunk.
The kids are amazing. On Monday, a boy bought the entire class, including me, ice-creams from the vending machine. I waited until I was finished with the lecture and finally opened it once the class was doing an activity. It was a little melted so I had to eat it fast.
I take a bite and a white milky substance runs out all over me, (my face, shirt, skirt, hands, arms, hair, everywhere.) I walk to the trash and attempt to dump the remaining liquid. I then bite it again, revealing the strangest thing I have ever seen in icecream—Beans! There are beans in my ice-cream and I am covered in white goo. I throw the disgusting excuse for ice-cream into the trash while the class is not looking, and go to the restroom to wash myself off. Yuck!
On Thursday, Miss Im, a few of the teachers and I went out to a bar. The ambiance was cool; the bar was a lounge on the top floor of a building that overlooked the city. It reminded of the Sky Lounge in Phoenix. I had my first taste of Korean beer and soju. I practiced my bar manners in which one cannot pour their own drink and when pouring another person’s drink you should use both hands. I was also forced to eat a tiny dried fish (bones and all) that is part of the bar snack food (called anju). The bones were chewy so they had no taste, but I still stuck to the peanuts and fruit.
As if the dried fish was not enough, at dinner Sunny announced to me that we were having live fish. I sat and just looked around at everyone’s face in amazement to see if they were kidding. I have been brave and tried everything up to this point, but I just don’t think I can eat live fish. I repeated, “live fish” and made a flopping motion with my hand. “Oh, no I mean fresh fish.” Whew, that was close! I think that she actually meant raw fish. It was strips of what looked like raw fish still in the skin, covered in a spicy red chili sauce and other unknown things. I took a couple of bites and my eyes started to water from the spice. I blamed it on the spice but it was truly the texture and the fact that it still had skin that forced me to eat off the side dishes instead. I am doing a little better with the chopsticks, but I was lucky that we didn’t go anywhere after because one-quarter of my dinner had ended up on my legs. (The table was the traditional low table in which you sit on the floor without shoes.)
I finally hiked the mountain in my backyard on Friday. The trail actually is closer to my door than the Camelback’s Echo Canyon trail to the parking lot. It was a pleasant hike, not too difficult. As I neared the top I stopped and looked off the edge of a boulder at the beautiful mountains and islands of Yeosu. I thought that I was alone when I heard someone yelling. I wondered if someone was hurt. I kept walking, and when I reached the top I realized that this yelling is the Korean style of yodeling at the top of a mountain. I refrained from yodeling, maybe next time I will give it a shot.
I have had to wash my dishes in the bathtub this weekend because my sink faucet is not working. It’s actually is not that bad; I can kill two birds with one stone. I can bathe and wash the dishes at the same time. The bacon grease has proved itself as a quality lubricant, leaving my skin shiny and radiant. I just have to make sure I rinse all the carrot peels out of my hair.
Busan, Dongnae Hot Springs
After stripping down and walking through the large locker room area for a couple minutes trying to find the way to the bath area, a woman guided us to the door. As we stepped into the bath area the bright sunlight shocked me. I hesitated momentarily thinking I had made a mistake and stepped outside. It was like one of those dreams when you go into public and forget to put on clothes. But then, as I walked in further I saw all of the other women. It was like a scene from an old Roman painting. There were pools of clear water, fountains, waterfalls, statues, and naked women everywhere. The ceiling was a glass dome so it appeared as if it was outdoors. There were nude children playing in the water, women lounging around the pools drinking iced coffees, and orange juice. Toward the back, there were women standing under high pressure waterfalls enjoying the water massaging their shoulders and backs. Behind the waterfalls there were young girls playing in a cave. Women were eating, chatting, reading, drinking, scrubbing, washing, and relaxing; and doing all of this in the nude. They are not modest at all, unlike the locker rooms in the States where most people cover up with a towel while walking from the shower to the locker. After the first moment of awkwardness, I too, became quite comfortable walking around naked, hopping from one tub to the next.
After we soaked in the tubs, a naked woman approached us selling facials, shampoos, massages, and body exfoliation. The latter is very popular here; Koreans love to scrub their skin so hard that it comes off in patches. I decided I could use a facial, so I followed her to the area. There were five naked women lying on cushioned tables being washed by the naked women that worked there. I was led to a table in the middle and ordered to lie down on my back. Apparently the woman did not understand me when I asked to a facial, or she independently decided that I needed to be exfoliated. I don’t know, maybe she thought, ‘this dirty foreigner must be cleaned,’ or ‘she is too tan, I must scrub this tan off of her skin, and make her white and beautiful.’ So instead of a facial, I received a good hard scrub down. Now you may be thinking, it sounds like something from a sexy movie, with naked women bathing other naked women, but this is not the case at all. It is more similar to a car wash.
First, a bucket of water was thrown over me. Then, I was rubbed all over with a rough loofah sponge. After it seemed like an entire layer of skin was buffed off, another bucket of water, and I was flipped over. I opened my eyes and glanced at the ladies next to me. I felt like one of the many fish that I saw in the market that day, which was being cleaned, descaled, and ready to be eaten. All of my human qualities had vanished, I was now not a vulnerable naked girl, but a piece of meat, a part of a routine process. After the back of my body was descaled, rinsed, and pounded. I was thoroughly lathered and rinsed again. The enjoyable part was the shampoo; the scalp massage was the best I’ve ever felt. I would have gone through it all again, just for the shampoo, but I figured I’d better wait until the top layer of skin grew back, before I tried it again. I was afraid with another treatment, my skin would be scraped off down to the bone. I went out of the spa feeling fresh and squeaky clean, smelling of soap. Then we went directly to Kalbi. I went out of there feeling even better, smelling of meat, beer, and soju.
