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Posts Tagged ‘possibly racist

Had a session yesterday with my trainer, and I’m doing sit-ups on that stupid incline bench holding a 10 lb weight. I’m always scared I’m going to drop said weight onto my face, body, somewhere. It doesn’t help that he makes me laugh while I’m doing these:

Me: “What’d you do last night?”

Him: “Just went to this little place for dinner, sat at the bar*, had some tequila and beer. But I left early because the cops come out and I didn’t want to be driving when they’re looking for people. And, I didn’t want to leave my car there, because it’s sort of ghetto just a block over. I didn’t want the Mexicans stealing it.”

Me (pulling myself up, laughing): “You are SO racist!”

Him: “No! I don’t have anything against Mexicans! It’s just that they’d steal my car!”

I had the giggles, which is really not conducive for doing any sort of situp. Also, his defense of his non-racism is not helping his cause, but it is true in that neighborhood that the car probably would be stolen. By which race, I’m not sure, but stolen definitely. *Also, every time he tells me a story, he’s by himself. So no girlfriend. More weirdly, no friends either.

So we move on with the session and, of course, there’s an older guy (in really good shape) using this arm bench-press machine with a massive amount of weight on it.  My trainer just looks at me, smirks, and says: “Some people make me laugh.” SUPER LOUDLY.

Like, come on. This guy can totally figure out that you mean him! So I told him to be quiet, as I have to do multiple times each sessions.

Him: “But he’s got no extension! He’s not even using it right!”

Me: “Fine, but unless you’re going to help him, I don’t think making fun of him is very nice. God. You’re mean and racist!!!”

 

 

Gran_Torino_poster

 

 

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I have always known this. A few years ago, I had to FIGHT for a raise when I got a promotion. I was actually told by my manager at the time (who was a woman) that “a promotion doesn’t necessarily come with a pay increase.” Then… why am I taking on extra work? Because I’m a sucker?

I negotiated myself +2%.  And the promotion I took? Into management. I took on a team of 7, plus hiring responsibilities plus added meetings plus current daily duties (all of this without any training, of course). AND I GOT 2% AND SAID “THANK YOU” LIKE A FUCKING MORON.

As I was being moved into management, I had a friend who was being hired to come aboard. We were chatting one day and he told me what their salary offer was and what he ended up with… it was equivalent to mine. And I was his boss. So basically, he was making the same pay as me for half the work.

Fast forward to today. I left the old position about 1.5 years ago because I was ready for something new and moved into the job I currently hate. But it was more money and less responsibility and international travel, so I took it. Moving into a new company always offers more negotiation room than staying in the same one, so I managed to get myself +8%. Not bad… I was happy with it…

Until today. I accidentally found out* that someone I USED TO MANAGE took a VERY similar job with the same company I’m at and is making approximately $6,000 more than I am. That’s without the management experience, without the same work ethic, without the same quality of work and … without being a girl.

There are some differences between us (he works in a different division than me and has his medical degree (from another country, he never practiced in the States)), but, work-wise, in our field, I AM THE BETTER EMPLOYEE. I have more experience, I have better references and I KNOW MY SHIT. And to brag about it, I’m in really high demand for what I do. Also, I don’t think he got a 20% salary increase with the new job, which means he was probably already making more than me WHEN I WAS HIS FUCKING BOSS.

So why am I not being paid an equivalent salary??!?!?!?!?!?

WHY AM I BEING PAID LESS FOR THE SAME WORK?!?!!?!?

WHY WAS I BEING PAID LESS FOR MORE WORK?!?!?!!?!?!?

It’s not fair and I’m fucking livid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*How I accidentally found out (this is pretty funny, actually):  This afternoon, I got a voicemail from some HR guy telling me about a possible new position at a different company and asking me to call back. He thought he had properly hung up the phone, but hadn’t (HUGE fear of mine!!!!), so I heard the rest of his conversation with his coworker: “Yeah… he makes $XX,xxx… (some mumbling) really like her… she sounds American…exactly what we want in management…. voicemail was short and good. She’s what we’re looking for…

HAHAHAHAH. I sound AMERICAN. I guess that could be racist, but I just think it’s super funny. And I’m sort of flattered I sound good on my outgoing voice message, because I think I sound like I’m six years old! As my friend, F, said maybe they think I’m “a small American child who is a super genius!”  😉

Not sure where it's from originally, but I got it at: http://www.cpsu.org.au/issues/news/19431.html

Not sure where it’s from originally, but I got it at: http://www.cpsu.org.au/issues/news/19431.html

I spent a very relaxing few days at home for the Thanksgiving holiday. No wedding stress, no houseful of people, no kids running around – just me and my parents. That meant *I* called the shots and Mom made all the food *I* wanted to eat… awwwwwww yeah 🙂 (In case you’re wondering, Mom’s homemade falafels are THE BEST!)

We did some Black Friday shopping (in the afternoon, not when the crazies are out) and I saw this shirt at Kohl’s that I really wanted (let’s ignore my last post):

 

So I took it over to the checkout line where my dad was standing – and he looks at it and says to me: “What is that!? It’s so short! How can you wear it?!?!  WHERE will you wear it?!!?!”

Me: “Daaaaaaad! It’s not a dress!!! It’s a TOP! I’ll wear it with jeans! I’m not going to wear it alone!!!”

OMG. It was hilarious. Even the guy behind us in line was laughing.  Did he think I was going to wear that with no pants, showing everyone my chaaddies*?!!?   (*chaddies = underwear)

Then, we went and saw Skyfall. It was GREAT! Loved it. Daniel Craig is SOOOO HOT.  So we finish the movie, we’re walking out, and Dad says:

“It was a good movie. But I don’t like this new James Bond. He’s too short. He looks funny when he runs.”

I could not stop laughing AND totally agree! Turns out we’re not the only ones. (Also, I have to just say, I know that Bond’s supposed to have a back story and be broody and moody and all that… but damn. I like the Bonds that only cared about shooting the bad guy and fucking the girl on the yacht. Sean Connery, wherefore art though?!!?)

THEN…because this weekend was all about Dad – we went to his bank where he was having a problem and had to talk to the manager. He lost his cool and started telling her, for approximately 10 minutes, how “the AMERICAN system” is so flawed and how she was lying to him about certain things (which, i totally think she was) and how AMERICAN banks don’t care about their clients anymore.

All of that is true – I completely agree with him. However, at the end of his whole rant, when everyone’s calmed down and we’re about to leave, the manager asks, “So, where are you from?”

And he stands up and says, pretty proudly, “I AM AMERICAN.”

So we leave and he gets in the car and says, “SHE WAS SO RACIST. HOW DARE SHE ASK WHERE I AM FROM!”

Ok, seriously?!?!!  I actually agree that she probably is slightly racist. But for 10 minutes he totally yelled about the “AMERICAN SYSTEM” – what else was she supposed to think except for that fact that maybe he’s not from here?!?!?!?

I didn’t point that out to him, but come on. You can’t complain about something and then be offended when someone assumes you’re not the same thing you were complaining about!!!!

Sometimes I think I should change the name of this blog to “Shit my Indian Dad says.”   🙂

 

 

 

Just talked to my parents….

Dad: “Did you see the news reports about the pickpocketers in London?”

Mom: “You better be careful! Keep your passport close at all times… Watch your purse!!”

Dad: “Yeah, they’re all Romanian so they’re white and you can’t tell them apart from the locals. It’s hard to know who’s going to steal your stuff. Plus they’re doing it on the tube when it’s crowded. Just watch out, ok?”

Me (after I quit giggling at my dad’s racism, which is kind of true): “Um…. I didn’t see the report, but we’ll be careful, I promise. If I need to, I”ll just do like Mommy did on the train!”

So in 1987, we were in India (and on a side note, my fucking God that feels like an eternity ago) and we were taking the train in Bombay. It was really crowded, and we were all sort of spread out in the area where you stand. My mom was just a few people away from me, and my dad/brother were on the other side, a few people more away, and my sister was somewhere near me.

Some guy behind my mom raised his hand, and apparently, to my dad, looked like he was going to steal my mom’s gold necklace (off her neck). He yelled: “{CurryLove’s Mom!} Watch out! He’s stealing your necklace!!!”

My mom turned around, looked so shocked AND SLAPPED THE GUY BEHIND HER! SHE JUST SLAPPED HIM!

He was SO STUNNED and looked at my mom, and says, “Bhen! {respectful way of addressing a woman your age/means sister} – I was just pulling out my notebook!!” And out of his pocket he takes out a notebook that held phone numbers or addresses.

Me, my sister and my brother COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING. Even my dad was laughing. I don’t think he expected my mom to HIT SOMEONE!!! We all had the giggles. My mom’s still shaking after slapping this random stranger and apologizing profusely for hitting him and explaining that she thought he was going to steal her stuff.

TO THIS DAY, this story is told in our family. There are, of course, two possibilities:  1) For all we know, he really could’ve been trying to take her necklace. But she hit him so hard, right across the face, that he would’ve never done it again. OR, 2) he was totally innocent and my mom slapped a stranger who was just getting something from his pocket.

We prefer going with the second version when we tell it. 🙂

Guys – Dr. Dallas called and said he wanted to marry me. I said yes.

HA HA. Just kidding.

This is actually about the one good thing that came out of Dr. Dallas’ visit – I fell in love with Atlanta again. You know how it is when you live somewhere so long and everything seems stale and lifeless and you just hate it and think everywhere else in the world is better? Even the huts in the African bush? (Maybe that’s just me…)

Well, taking Dr. Dallas around the city reminded me how much fun it can be here. Consider this your virtual culinary tour of the place I’ve lived for way too long now 😉

Saturday: He got in around dinner time, and because he has to eat every 2 hours or has the vapors, we went straight to get some food — went to Virginia Highlands and had dinner at Surin of Thailand. SO YUM. The Ginger Martini was amazing – totally loved it. After dinner, we walked around (not holding hands, of course, because god forbid we touch) and he noticed a sign for a wine bar at Murphy’s. Murphy’s is known to have the best brunch in town, but I’ve never hung out there. We went to the wine bar, which is literally 6 bar stools at this half-circle and ended up having a fantastic time there! The ‘bartender’ (wine guy?? he wasn’t a sommelier) was awesome and had just come back from living in Cape Town, so we all chatted about that, had fantastic wines and then… the dessert… OMG. The TollHouse Pie is fucking amazing. It’s rich and sweet but not TOO rich or TOO sweet so that it gives you instant diabetes. It was just delicious!

Sunday: Picked him up (yes, I drove him around all weekend AND paid for everything – he did offer, but I figured since he had to buy a plane ticket and hotel, it was only fair) and we went to the Decatur Arts Festival. The first thing we did was look for food, because yeah… We had lunch at Raging Burrito – my quesadilla was really good, and my drink, the Drunken Golfer was even better (Sweet Tea Vodka with Strawberry Lemonade). Walked around the festival, chatted with the artists – he took a lot of business cards since he couldn’t really buy anything, and I ended up purchasing a small piece that ended up in my guest bathroom.

After a brief respite, I picked him back up in the evening and we headed to Inman Park for dinner at Barcelona Wine Bar.  I wanted to sit at the bar (it’s my favorite thing to do) but he preferred an outside table, so there we went. Sunday’s are half-off bottles of wine, and you know I can’t resist – we got an excellent recommendation from the waiter (Godello) and both of us really enjoyed it. Also, service was impeccable. And not in a snooty hoity-toity way, but a really nice, friendly, local type of way (if that makes sense).  Food was great – I love the tapas there and they actually have a really great veggie selection (which was why I chose the place). Dessert again was awesome – I liked the pie better, but the crepes were different and still yummy.

Monday: Our final lunch together — took him to Antico Pizza, and got a simple Margherita Pie. He thought it was the best pizza he’s ever had.  So we’re eating and he says, “I’m surprised it took us this long to get to pizza.”   Me: “Why?”   Him: “Because usually for vegetarians that’s the staple.”

Ok… he knows I am vegetarian too. Why wouldn’t I know the good food options (for me, which means by default him too) in the city I live in? Where did he think I was going to take him? The Brazilian Steakhouse? For a doctor, he’s kind of dumb.

We did the CNN tour before he left – I had forgotten how kind of cool it really is.

So after dropping him off at the airport (we did hug goodbye – the only contact all weekend), I met up with friends to de-stress – my friend picked Tavern at the Phipps. It’s not my favorite place, but I figured I’d get there about 30 minutes after them, so I called in my drink order and expected my rum and coke to be waiting for me when I got there. Um… no.  So, Tavern is a popular place – not because the food is good or the drinks are amazing, but because the girls wear next to nothing. Which is fine – eye candy is never a bad thing for anyone. But when they can’t actually do their job, it’s fucking ridiculous. Like I said, I get there after my friends did and what did they have in front of them?  Waters. Which they had to ask for. And apparently, the waitress had never come back to get any of their orders. We waited 5 more minutes and I couldn’t make eye contact with any of the waitresses that walked by. Apparently, I’m beneath them (although, considering they wear 5-inch heels to serve in, everyone’s beneath them.)

My friend, F, asked one of the girls if we could get some service. Her exact words: “We’re short staffed, so you HAVE to be patient.”

Um, actually, we don’t, bitch. See ya. We left. (Also, there were 4 waitresses and about 6 tables that were taken, so….)  My girlfriend, T, looks around and asks, “Do we have to pay for the waters?” HAHAHA. NO! We do not. Let’s go. Fortunately, this was the only bad service I encountered all weekend, and honestly, that place is notorious for it. And possibly being racist, which if you ask me, played a part in things. It’s hard to prove but we noticed that other people around us, who weren’t the same color as us, were being served…whatever.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what you wear while you do your job, but if you can’t actually do said job (which, how hard is it? Take the damn orders and bring out the food), you suck. And if you purposely choose to not wear underwear under your short skirt in order to get more tips, don’t be offended when people look. (But of course, they bring in a rich older-male clientele that tips heavily based on being able to just look, so good for them, I guess.)

We went down to Twist, the bar at the end of the mall. And thank god, because the weekend was saved. We had a fabulous waitress who was attentive and sweet and funny and fun and educated (because we actually talked about that with her!), AND it was half-off bottles of wine! WOO HOO! So we went through two, because I’m a bad influence. 🙂

All in all, it was a great “foodie” weekend, although I use “foodie” loosely. It was a good reminder for me of the eclectic and diverse neighborhoods that are around and how I should take advantage of where I live, instead of being sad about it and wishing I was overseas all the time.

 

ok – the city’s not as pretty as this makes it seem, but hey… let the post-Atlanta love glow last for a few more days before I go back to being mad I live here

 

 

I bought these hotties at Target this weekend AND they were on clearance for only $15!!! WOO HOO! (Side note: The amount of time I spend in various Targets is ridiculous. Turns out they don’t all price things the same which means I find something at one store, then go to another and see if I can find it for less, buy the second one, return the first one and on and on. It’s like I have OCD to see if I can find the cheapest whatever I’m looking for. I love it. It’s my own personal game.)

So, I wore them on Saturday night for Cinco de Mayo with a super cute pair of short (but not too short) shorts and a 3-quarter sleeve blouse. I was adorable, if I do say so myself. And actually, I am only saying it myself. How sad.

I did get told I have great legs though – which is partly due to the 5-inch heel and the fact that by the time we got out, basically everyone else was already super drunk since they started in the afternoon. Nothing like frat boys and blonde girls in sombreros and fake mustaches doing their 7th tequila shot. Ole!

Anyway, my friend, A, picked me up at the beginning of the night and we had to park a little further than I expected, so I weeble-wobbled my way through the pothole-y streets and cobblestone-like sidewalk (because of all the cracks, not because Atlanta is fancy) and watching where I’m stepping cause the vomit was already out in full force.

And A is annoyed with me because I’m in my super high heels (which he hates) about 3 feet behind him and he’s wishing I would just hurry up. He’s Asian, I’m Asian…come on, I’m just doing my womanly duty by being behind!

We get inside to East Andrews, and seriously, we are the only sober people in the place. Just the two of us. There are, however, plenty of scantily clad women dancing together and falling all over each other and putting on quite a show. So we took a seat and watched.

There was a girl in front of us who had a phenomenal body. I could not stop looking at her. I pointed her out to A and his exact words were, “She’s ok.” OMG! She’s cute! She’s got a great body! She has a cute dress on! She can dance! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?

Him: “I start at the face, and if that’s a no go, nothing else matters.”

Apparently, he’s dating supermodels when we’re not hanging out.

So I point out a few more girls who I think are really attractive (and I get that everyone does not have the same taste in women) and none of them are up to his standards.

Then, he points out this girl who had a really large bag and goes: “I would never date her. Why do you need a purse the size of luggage?”

Which totally made me laugh and he’s right BUT HOLY FUCK. Could he (and all the other guys I was with that night) be more critical? It’s not enough that I have to do my hair and my make up and make sure I look decent, but I also have to worry about the purse I carry because that might turn you off?

I CANNOT KEEP UP WITH THIS.

So now, not only is he dating supermodels, but they must all carry their money, tampons, phones, cigarettes and condoms in a purse the size of the wallet. Which they then walk around with clenched inside their vagina so that nobody sees it, because god forbid it offends someone. And, they always wear flats.

SERIOUSLY. I JUST CAN’T.

I think I am going to take myself to the nunnery. And I’m going to wear these under my habit, because I also picked them up this weekend, at Target, for $15.  Booyah.

I’ve drank at the same bar at the hotel almost every night since I’ve been here. A little (ok, a lot of) harmless flirting with the very young, but verrrrrry cute, bartender makes it all worth while. Plus the free drinks he hands out every now and then. I’ve had more blow-job shots this week than I ever have before in my life… Although, I think that count was zero before this, so it wasn’t so hard to beat. But anyway, I’ve also met some super cool people who I count as friends now.

I met a girl, A, who is half-Angolan, half-Namibian and we have had a lot of fun together. She’s engaged to be married, but honestly, I don’t think she ever will marry him – she said as much herself. She wants to be committed but not really with him – she wants her freedom. He’s going to be heartbroken pretty soon, I think.

I also met a member of the Canadian Cricket Team. He’s cute, funny and surprisingly intuitive. The three of us were chatting tonight and he said the following about me: “CurryLove is really thoughtful – she doesn’t speak just to speak. Her words have meaning. She really means what she says too, she doesn’t just say things.”

I was super flattered but also really surprised. I’ve had other people tell me the same thing, especially at work. One of my best compliments ever was from a colleague who said: “You know, you don’t really speak a lot in meetings, but when you do, what you say is really important and worthwhile.”  I try to measure my words and not be careless. I’m glad that comes across, even to strangers.

On a kind-of separate note, I’ve about had it with the stupid ‘new-colonial‘ attitudes that still exist in the work I do and it is driving me nuts. This whole ‘careful’ speaking may go out the window pretty soon. I went to dinner with some coworkers – all of who are really nice, that’s not the problem. I had to leave the table for a bit and when I came back, one of my coworkers was talking about how the Native Americans were so disenfranchised because for so long they were just the “other” category when data was being represented and how awful it was and OMG isn’t it sooooo sad for them.

It basically took all my willpower to not say anything, but what I really wanted to say was, ‘Bitch, do you know how long in my life I’ve been “other”????’  From grade school until high school, I was the “other” category. There were three choices on standardized tests: White, Black, Other.  

It never really bothered me that I wasn’t represented on the forms, it made sense. My constituency just didn’t have the presence to warrant being there. It changed as I got older but good god, I was never a lesser person because of it. It didn’t shape me or my thoughts and I certainly didn’t need anyone else to fight my fights for me.

I love traveling and I love being out here, but fuck if most everyone at work doesn’t annoy the crap out of me. I am sick of the attitudes that are condescending and falsely encouraging, all at once — a different coworker told me today that she wanted to help develop capacity, so I said that’s great! Maybe we can help write papers – she said, no, the staff isn’t that good.

Are you fucking kidding me? So you’re here to ‘save’ everyone but don’t think they’re smart enough to do it? Fuck off. Again, it took a lot of willpower for me to not just bitch her out in the meeting. I know I didn’t do a good job hiding my disdain, but I don’t give a shit.

What is wrong with people?? These people, always white, come here and think they’re going to save the poor Africans from themselves. How do they not see what they’re really doing? How are they so oblivious??

 


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