I was waiting for a chance to sit in some cozy coffee shop with a 12 oz double shot mocha to write this post ~ mainly because I thought I would need drugs to get through it. ha. But here I am at 4 pm on a Sunday afternoon, with my life seeming in shambles, but feeling completely cradled in the hands of the giving God who gives ~ The Lord, who is good to all and whose mercy is over all that He has made. And my best friend needs to postpone our FaceTime chat for about an hour, so whatever comes up is what I’ll post.
So. “Uh Oh Shirts”. For the sake of me thinking it’s classier not to slander this place by giving it’s real name. ha. Never mind the fact that I’ve had enough interviews in the Bay Area in which people glance at my resume and ask, oh is this __ shirts? How do you say that? And then I tell them and explain why I dipped.
So here’s why I dipped: that place was the worst. But I got a lot of good stories out of it, and met one my favorite humans that God ever made, among some other dope folks…So there’s that.
In all seriousness, though, that I ever lived through working there is laughable and there should have been cameras for how often we all Jimfaced each other.
Once upon a May 2013, I turned down the offer for a part-time gig with a semi-retired judge in the Berkeley Hills because I decided that Walnut Creek was life itself, and I had this grand plan of how I should get a big girl job and relocate as soon as humanly possible while still being professional and considerate of my future employer. The next day, I got a call for a same day interview with a “dynamic” “start-up” in Downtown Berkeley. So I put together what I thought was a hipster goldmine of a business casual outfit, my brand new pink & purple hipster glasses and pumped my way down to Milvia Street on like, a Tuesday afternoon I think it was. It didn’t take long for me to realize how awkwardly overdressed I was, as I was greeted by no one but an entry way full of stacked boxes and Gildan Cotton tee shirts everywhere. After being interviewed by the General Manager who was unashamedly in love with Drake and New York City, I met with the owner of the company who just smiled awkwardly and asked me to name something I thought everyone else was wrong about. For a split second I almost said Jesus! ha. But then I was like, nah, too soon. So instead, I said that no one ever believes me when I tell them that the perfect topping for vanilla ice cream is Kellogg’s Fruitloops. Which, y’all. It totally is.
So then, I got the job. And that was a thing that happened. And I was so excited and just knew that this was going to be amazing. And it was for a while there. But it was just a job, and life on earth is broken. So eventually I realized that “dynamic” mean chaotic and “start-up” meant seven years old and poorly managed. And I realized a lot of other things about myself and my naievity and my entitlement and my expectations. And God’s faithfulness, and long suffering and grace.
For all of it’s cons, that place really attracted the best kinds of people. To this day, “uh oh shirts” takes the cake for best co-workers in the Bay. It was one of those very particular experiences that was terrible while you’re in it, and laughable when you leave. Like high school. And it honestly felt that way while we were there. Too many random regulations, too much time on our hands, too small a pond for all of the rainbow fish children of the 80s and 90s swimming around getting caught up in its kelp. But also, some really good days and some really hilarious memories; and some of us were more content than others.
I feel like I hardly even talked about the job itself at all, but I also feel like doing so would be the equivalent of dragging the spouse you met in college to the weekend long reunion: a story and a picture here there would suffice, and you don’t really want to relive those days yourself. ha.
All that to say, this was an insta-post that turned out nothing like I thought it would and maybe I should have waited for drugs, and maybe there will be a second installment.