The best things about my new job

In case you didn't hear, I decided on a whim to get a job at a teen/young adult clothing resale store called Plato's Closet because I wanted to spy on and copy the business model and then open my own similar store, then decided that simply opening one of their franchises would be the better way to go, however upon researching the start-up investment required I've determined that certain areas of our financial portfolio need strengthening before we can make that dream a reality, yet in the meantime I have been thoroughly enjoying this silly little minimum wage, part-time job.

Here's what I like about it:

1. I finally feel fashionable again. Originally I planned to write, "There was a time when I cared about what I wore..." but emphasizing the past tense would not be accurate. I have always cared about my clothing choices and embraced a desire to be fashionable. It was only recently that I really grasped the idea that fashion continued moving forward without me, while I thought I was hip enough (for a mom, I guess) wearing the same things that were cool five--or yes, even ten--years ago.  Multiply this phenomenon by the following facts:  A. For seven and a half years I have worked in a fitness center where I don naught but yoga pants and T-shirts each day.   B. Along with the "Mom" title came a continually morphing, foreign body shape and a stipulation that comfort and durability trump style.  C. When the branches of our money tree aren't heavy with fruit, emulating a page of Marie Claire's "Summer Style Secrets" falls pretty low on the list of financial priorities.  Working at Plato's Closet has provided me with precisely the three elements I needed to catch up to today's current trends: opportunity, education, and economy.

Opportunity~Logically, Plato's Closet associates are expected to reflect the styles we want to buy for the store.  I get excited each day I have the opportunity to concoct a cute outfit to wear.

Education~One of my primary roles at Plato's Closet is sorting and inspecting clothing and accessories that our customers bring in and ultimately select the few items we'll buy.  This part of the job is by far the most fascinating to me, and I have gained remarkable insight on what's hot and what's not, and learn more about current trends every day. I'm asked to make an instantaneous style judgment even on crumpled up garments, and I now know subtle differences in brand qualities as well as names of designers I'd never heard of.  I find this education very interesting.

Economy~The clothing at Plato's Closet is priced at about 30% of the original retail value, and we strive to purchase only items in excellent condition. It's the perfect place for a budget-minded consumer such as myself to update her wardrobe.

2. I get a discount and time to shop three days a week.  I just mentioned that the merchandise is priced cheap. But I get to pay even less! I must intentionally exercise restraint in the store, but it is thrilling to see new items every day I work and find those gems that can be mine for a small fraction of what they cost new.

3. I am not in charge. Don't get me wrong. There are benefits of being the boss. But I get to do that enough to know there are at least as many challenges that come with that territory.  I must admit it is very freeing to blithely punch my clock (so to speak), do as I'm told to the best of my ability, and go home with little more than a whisper of care for what occurs in that building when I am not inside it. The satisfaction of a job well done without strings attached is divine.

4. Learning new skills is fun.  Not much more to say about that. I just love the opportunity to learn something new and apply it. I have never worked in retail, and the Plato's concept is absolutely unique even in that category.

5. It's easier to eat healthfully at work.  This one might sound like an odd thing to love about my job, but it's true. While I sip my protein shake in the morning, I conscientiously put together a healthy lunch for work. It's easy to make better choices in advance, rather than when I feel starved at lunchtime. I record the meal in MyPlate before I leave so I'm confident that I've left sufficient calories to be enjoyed for snacks and dinner.  Since I can't eat lunch until my break, there's no inadvertent snacking when I feel hungry. At lunchtime I thoroughly enjoy my carefully planned and packed lunch, and can't be tempted by everything else in the various nooks and crannies of my well-stocked kitchen.

Sounds pretty sweet, eh? Okay, it's not all rainbows and butterflies. Soon I'll fill you in on the aspects of my silly little job that aren't so rosy.  Can you relate to any of this? What's the best part about your job?

Confused by the brown thing in the toilet

Pulling up behind this van at a stoplight, I couldn't help but fixate on the image.  I couldn't imagine what kind of business would promote itself with a photograph of a toilet full of poo. Even a plumber would have more decency than that, right?

Which means it couldn't possibly be a picture of poo. And since I was stopped directly behind this van and had to squint to decipher the image means it isn't very effective at conveying their message. Although my confusion led me to actually read about the business, but I still find it odd that a company specializing in leak detection would opt for a picture of a lumpy brown mouse climbing out of a toilet. It just looks like poo. 

I like to say poo. 

Mini Movie Reviews take center stage

Providing insight and quick quips about the movies I watch is one of my favorite aspects of this blog.  But it's really tedious to maintain them on the sidebar, especially because I eventually copy each one to an archived post.   In addition, I realized that all that work and occasional cleverness goes unnoticed by anyone who views Beyond Mommy through Google Reader.  I figure that placing my Mini Movie Reviews front and center creates a default opportunity for a real post, allows me to write a tiny bit more when two or three sentences just aren't enough, and may even incite discussion about the films from readers, which is much more fun than just putting my own opinion out there unchallenged.

I'll divide the 13 movie reviews I have to write into multiple posts as time permits. By the way, each image is linked to the movie's profile on IMDb. Please share your comments!

I found the protagonist old man distractingly unattractive. The concept of the flying house obviously requires willing suspension of disbelief, but even within the realm of the fantasy, glaring inconsistencies were hard to ignore. However, the execution of the canine language translator concept was hilarious, and the wordless montage depicting the lifelong romance between the man and his late wife was possibly the sweetest of its kind.

Knowing that this tragic tale actually occurred makes it that much more fascinating.  The gripping story was rounded out by Angelina Jolie's perfectly understated performance (and I'm not usually too keen on her).

Awww, this was a nice little romantic comedy. No complaints really, but nothing to rave about either. 

Oh boy. We almost turned it off more than once. But sometimes you just need to see a conflict resolved, no matter how my beloved Napoleon Dynamite's acting skills suffer outside his legendary breakout role.

We actually DID turn this movie off, as no conflict ever emerged which was worth seeing through to resolution. Perhaps if I don't finish a movie I'm not entitled to write a review, but I figure that maybe I can caution others from wasting that half hour of their lives that I'll never get back. The rather pathetic central character grows so livid about car alarms going off in New York City that he starts bashing in windows and leaving a card identifying him as "The Rectifier." I bet New York has problems that need rectifying far more than errant car alarms. I'm disappointed in you, Tim Robbins. Very disappointed indeed. Even the tagline on that poster is dismal: "The story of a guy who had it up to HEAR." Really? Ugh. 

This one will probably make my "best of" list for this year. Tender, funny, clever, and hooo boy can that Irish accent melt my heart. 

I welcome recommendations for good movies to add to my Netflix queue--and ones to steer clear of too!

Where I've been

I despise this post. The one where I list all the excuses about why I haven't written anything on my blog for--ugh--over two months.  So I'm not going to do that.

I imagine that those individuals who have (or find or make) time to blog consistently are irritated by posts like this in the same way that I detest hearing people explain why they don't exercise regularly.  Exercise is a non-negotiable part of my (almost) daily life--and sometimes I have to sacrifice to make that so.  Waking up before the sun rises. Lacing up my runners to the sounds of rain berating my windowpanes. Squeezing in a few miles after dark. Postponing important work projects.  I bet some people make sacrifices like those in order to keep their blog entertaining and up to date.

The fact is, we all have the same number of hours in a day. While I don't think it can be argued that each person's workload and time commitments vary significantly, in the end, everyone has an opportunity to choose how we spend at least a portion of the minutes in our day.  I could easily list benefits of both regular blogging and regular exercise, but the exercise list would be far longer, so it is a higher priority, along with work and family time.

The hardest part of an extended blog absence for me is getting started again. Just like when someone stops exercising: the motivation and familiarity has diminished. Also, when I'm not writing, I'm also not reading--even my favorite blogs (don't take it personally). But I'm kind of compulsive about not missing anything, so be prepared for a slew of comments from me on your older posts one of these days. 


So while I don't intend to list all of my excuses for not blogging, I did want to share with you one reason that my already limited spare time has recently decreased further: I got a job.

But I already have a job, right? Yes, I run a business, which is definitely a lot of work. But what I'm talking about now is a real live jay oh bee JOB. I have to show up at a specific time to punch a clock, do what I'm told, and earn a meager hourly wage. Now why on earth would I go and do such a thing? Primarily, for research purposes. Basically, I'm spying on a business concept that interests me for the future. But please don't tell my boss.

That's where I've been working for the last three months. And I actually really love it.  After 7+ years of being the boss, it takes a little getting used to not being "in charge." But truly, that is part of the joy of this fun little venture.  If they'd let me, I would be happy to be paid in store credit, actually.

So now I have a part-time job, run a high-functioning business and a team of 8 employees, take care of a household, and be Mommy to a 3-year-old. Oh, and exercise almost every day. Thankfully my husband is very helpful and supportive. Between all that and family time and reading an awesome new book, I'll try to get back on here and form all the ideas I have for blog posts into something coherent.

Thanks for checking in!

What more do you want from me?

Here's what happened at the grocery store last week.  I loaded up a cart FULL of items I needed for a party we were throwing at Curves where over 100 guests were expected. Mainly my list consisted of large, heavy ingredients such as about 10 jugs each of cranberry juice, ginger ale, and lemon-lime soda.  It was one of those annoying shopping trips where I didn't manage to find everything the first time through the aisles and so ended up zigging and zagging back through the store a couple of times pushing an overburdened and unwieldy cart before ultimately completing my mission.  For the sake of convenience, I threw a handful of items needed for my own kitchen into the cart as well.  Three-year-old Madelyn was being relatively tolerant and well-behaved considering the circumstances.

When I had finally collected everything on the list, I surveyed the checkout lines. They were all similar--about 3 people in each with relatively equal conveyor belt loads. So I just picked the closest one, and when space became available, began hoisting my goods onto the black rubber belt.  Madelyn loves to help with that part.

My cart was more than halfway unloaded when the old lady behind me piped up.

"Isn't this the EXPRESS LANE?"

My heart dropped into my stomach as I looked up to see that little lighted square sign indicating that her words echoing in my head were indeed accurate.

I was mortified. And remorseful. Which should have been made apparent by my subsequent actions, in which I first apologized genuinely and profusely.  Old lady's response to this was, "they may as well just take down the sign."  I then explained my blunder to the cashier (who was still ringing up the groceries of the customer in front of me) and asked if I should move.  When she assured me it was fine and she would take care of me, I still hesitated to finish unloading my cart, and offered--no, implored--the cranky lady to go ahead and check out before me, since she only had a handful of items and my transaction was going to be lengthy. For some inexplicable reason she refused and repeated her indignant opinion that they should remove the Express Lane sign, as it was clearly doing her no good AT ALL.

By this time there were a couple of other people behind her in the un-express lane, so it was with nearly tangible penitence that I laid down the black plastic order separator and added my "personal" groceries to the conveyor belt to be purchased separately from the business-related groceries.  Now not only had I committed a cardinal sin of grocery check-out etiquette, but added insult to injury by having to make two distinct transactions.  Hey, I had warned Ms. Cranky and tried to insist she go first. And by the way, my second purchase totally fit the criteria of the Express Lane, so there.

In spite of that fact, I completed my two misguided purchases feeling as though eyes were boring into the back of my head.  Even the cashier, who had told me it wouldn't be a big deal, didn't offer any consolation. And my lovely daughter, who continued to be patient throughout this process, seemed to give everyone more of a reason to despise me--that mom who brings her annoying little brat to the store and gets in everyone's way making a mess and being too loud--rather than eliciting the usual pleasant, entertained responses.

I apologized in words. I apologized with my facial expressions. I all but pleaded with the old lady to check out ahead of me.  What else could I or should I have done?

Bumper wisdom

Yesterday I saw this bumper sticker on the back of a big truck:

THIS IS AMERICA.

SPEEK ENGLISH.

At first I chuckled, thinking that the misspelling was intentional.  A bit of ironic humor.  But then I determined that it was not a comedic bumper sticker.

And that is a sad, sad mark against English-speekers everywhere.

My daughter, the magician

I would have thought this feat impossible, as a simple knowledge of solid matter, time, and space would suggest.  But Madelyn either found a way to defy them all, or has mastered the fine art of performance illusion. 

We had just returned from picking Madelyn up at preschool.  I set her new Mickey Mouse plate on the kitchen table, and Madelyn climbed up into the stool to survey the various options portioned out between Mickey's big head and two little round ears.

Madelyn was fully dressed from her morning at school, including the Hello Kitty underwear she likes in spite of the fact that they really are too big. As she climbed up on her stool, I was reminded of the way they constantly stick out above her pants and look a little silly.  But looking a little silly is low on my list of concerns while trying to navigate the treacherous parental waters with an opinionated 3-year-old.

While Madelyn began picking at her lunch, I turned around toward the counter to put the finishing touches on my own sandwich before joining her.  My back was turned for approximately eight seconds before I heard Madelyn dismount her stool and shout, "My underwear came off!"

Incredulous, I turned around to see her running gleefully toward me, holding above her head the very underwear that I had noticed on her body, under her jeans, only moments before.  I was speechless. What could I say? I would have laughed except I was busy trying to figure out how it could have possibly been accomplished! And then, how could I possibly not play THIS scene in my head?:

See the expression on Bart's face while Grampa reads his underwear? I can relate.

My assumption is that when she used the restroom by herself at school, her pants and underwear fell off her dangling feet. When she put them back on, she got her feet into the pants holes, but didn't line them up with the underwear holes, so her underwear was simply riding along behind her, tucked neatly inside her jeans. The error wasn't noticeable since this particular pair always looks that sloppy.