2.0somethings

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Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Sick as a dog

Posted by Chris in , , , , ,

All hail the McMuffin

I am writing this with my puffy eyes closed, breathing through my chapped lips because my nose is clogged with more debris than a Big Dig tunnel, my ears ringing like the cast of Charlie’s Angels are being interviewed deep inside my ear canal (an old reference, I know, but do you remember these three chattering airheads on the talk shows? The most annoying television I’ve ever seen. Sorry, I’ve been waiting years to get that off my chest) and my head throbbing like — I don’t have the energy to think of a clever way to finish that sentence. In short, I do not feel well. It is something of a milestone: my first semi-debilitating illness in New York (if you want to send me a congratulatory cake to commemorate the achievement, send the editors an e-mail and they’ll give you my address).

There are major differences between the suburban cold and the urban cold. A suburban cold is treated with plenty of fluids and bedrest; the urban cold is treated by staring at your gaunt, pale face in the mirror, popping a few Advil and telling yourself to suck it up. The suburban cold is an opportunity to get under the covers and add or shed layers of clothing until you are perfectly incubated in your own little womb-like cocoon or cocoon-like womb (take your pick); the urban cold is a losing battle between the heat you can’t control and the bitter wind that ices you all over no matter how little you open the window. Basically, the suburban cold is kind of nice, when you think about it, while the urban cold blows big time.

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Tuesday, February 5, 2008

I may be losing my job

Posted by Chris in , , , ,

Artwork by Katie Bassett

Editor’s Note: Let’s extend a hearty 2.0somethings handshake to our newest columnist, Chris Sartinsky, who will be providing some insight into the life of a recent college graduate trying to survive in Manhattan. Greetings and thanks to Katie Bassett as well for providing the lovely artwork you see above.

To supplement my Coveted Unpaid Internship (from this point forward my “CUI”), I got a job at a big chain bookstore just down the road from my apartment. Because I applied at the end of October, I was on the books as a seasonal hire, though Christmas came and went and no one mentioned anything of it, so I figured I was in. Until the Saturday in January when one of the other seasonal hires didn’t show up because he had been let go and then one of my supervisors pulled me aside and told me don’t worry, because you’re on the schedule tomorrow. Which was nice to hear, because I had been planning to show up anyway, and it would have been an awful mess if I had to ask someone why I couldn’t punch in and that person had to tell me that I didn’t work there anymore.

“It’s just a manner of coming up with the hours,” he said. “We’re trying to find a permanent place for you.” He assured me that it wasn’t a question of the quality of my work — “of course we want to keep you around.” It was just simple economics. I smiled and nodded and said I understood and when our little chat was over and he let me out of the office back onto the floor, I didn’t know what to do, or more accurately, how to feel.

I knew it wasn’t a question of my work. I am a good bookseller; many people have told me this. Not that it’s an accomplishment. I am polite to strangers and I know the alphabet — these are my qualifications.
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