JOB-HUNTING (just as hard as quail hunting, if not harder)

I will begin this post with two statistics that have guided my week:

1. Out of about 53 metropolitan areas in the U.S., Chicago ranks around 47th in "Ability to Find a Job" aka "Chicago you are the 47th best place to be unemployed aka the 6th worst."
2. Out of 53 metropolitan areas in the U.S., Chicago ranks 3rd in "Places for Singles to Connect! <3 <3 <3!" which means "Chicago you are seeping with single people, from your buses to your pizza restaurants."

So with regards to number 1, my job search, as Brandy described yesterday, has been difficult. I began by searching for nannying jobs with this online site that seems pretty good(pretty good= anything other than Craigslist nannies). But the crazy part has been... NONE of these families are what I expect when I end up meeting them. They'll have these completely normal or completely bizarre profiles on the website and then be completely bizarre or completely normal. I have been grilled about my ability to sleep coach infants, quizzed on infant CPR, and lectured on how to discipline a child... all in my "meet and greet" sessions. Then there was the family that just left when I showed up and left me with their kids and their dog. Their child proceeded to try and milk me, all while calling me "GRANDMA." Most of the time, these situations involve me thinking "What the hell am I doing in this strange person's house, why have they left me with their child, and why did they give their child a glass bottle during his 'throwing' phase?"

But on the whole, I think I just come across as a very untrustworthy person, because the majority of my nanny meet and greets have been total busts, despite my summer nannying experience, my work with infants and pregnant woman, my years of neighborhood babysitting, my fluency in French, and my Notre Dame degree. I don't know what these people want. A 47 year old woman?

I have found a few families I really like though. The family that contacted me because "they liked that I went to Uganda" and the mom who lives down the street. These families reassure me that I don't give off child predator vibes. So that's comforting. If nannying fails, my next courses of action include possible ushering for the Joffrey Ballet (bahhh I WOULD LOVE IT), waitressing at a Dutch pancake house, or making sandwiches where Mallory works. Today, I feel better.

So we'll move onto number 2. The Chicago singles scene.

Last night, for Sasha's birthday, I reaped the fruits of the desperate singles scene. We all went out for pizza at Piece, this trendy little pizzeria/brewery in Wicker Park. I had planned to buy myself a whole pizza and then scrounge it for the rest of the week like the cheapo I am, but like the starving artist I am, Mallory and I inhaled the entire pizza at the restaurant. We also made friends with the rando guys sitting next to us... it was clearly one of those situations where the guys are hitting on you. But they offered us some of their pizza and talked about their lives, so we listened and generally humored them, at a distance. When the guy I was talking to went to the bathroom, his friend was like, "So my buddy! He's pretty cute, huh? Huh? Whaddya think? Huh?" I did what I always did in Uganda: I made up a boyfriend/husband situation and told him that I hoped their kindness was out of friendship as well as lust for me (in maybe not so many words). They seemed okay with it.

AND THEN. THE BEST THING EVER.

THEY GAVE ME ALL OF THEIR LEFTOVER PIZZA.

THIS was the best thing that could possibly happen to me for so many reasons.
a) It was barbecue chicken pizza.
b) It was free.
c) I am poor.
d) I had told them I "had a boyfriend" so I didn't have to feel guilty about mixed singles or owing them a date for giving me pizza.
e) FREE PIZZA
f) They weren't following me home so roofie pizza would have been pointless therefore I felt very safe.

SO THAT WAS GREAT. Anyway, I've got a big weekend planned. We all do. But I've got a few babysitting jobs, plus I'm running the gift shop for my theatre's show this weekend. WOOP. Oh yeah, and we're having a rager. I'm simultaneously terrified and excited. WOOP.

Keep in touch!

love, Lisa

sorry about any typos this may contain