Around this time last year, I started itching for Spring Break. So me and two of my friends decided to keep alive the tradition of ditching all responsibilities for a week and headed off to Las Vegas. That vacation was great and included one very drunken night at the only Irish pub on the strip that left us hungover for the rest of our time in Sin City, lots of sing-alongs to “Damaged” by the band formerly known as Danity Kane, and one very interesting experience at Cirque du Soleil. 

This year, I don’t have the funds (not like that stopped me last year) and it turns out that instead of planning my own Spring Break, my company has done it for me. On Thursday morning, I will depart for Key West for a long weekend of sun, sand, and Kenny Chesney on repeat on my iPod. 

Explanation for this little getaway: each year my company has a sales incentive competition. Last year, the top 10 salespeople won a long weekend away in Puerto Rico. This year, it is a long weekend in Key West, Florida. And since I had a hand in planning the excursion (aka all the flights, all the meals, all the hotel arrangements, the shuttle service, and even the guest’s beach activities), I get to tag along. Yes, I am pretty much their travel agent. 

But I am more than over the moon about this trip. Not only is it 80 degrees right now in Key West (and it’s about -13 here in Chicago), but I get some free time while I am there as well. The first few days we are there we have dinners and meetings that I have to deal with, but come Sunday I have free time to lounge by the pool, drink strong margaritas, and add some more freckles to my already over-freckled skin. 

And that’s not all! My company is allowing me to bring a guest, so Thursday night one of my best friends from college is going to be flying in from New Jersey so we can hang out and maybe convince a few of my colleagues to take their ties off. 

I’m sure this trip will inspire a story or two, so stay posted for an update on my excursion down south on Monday! 

In high school, I was a big procrastinator. I would wait until the last possible minute to start studying for finals and term papers…let’s not even go there. In college I was the same way – and I hate to admit this but a lot of the time it was with articles I would write for the student newspaper. My dad tells me I inherited this from my mother, who was also an editor and extreme procrastinator. 

Meeting Notes is a weekly feature. Here we will dish on tidbits, news, and important things we think you Working Girls should know. So scroll down to hear what we think you should glean from this work week.

• It’s a fact that unemployment numbers are through the roof, but there are a few states that are staying more afloat than anyone else. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, 22 states are recored at lower employment rates than the national average. The top five include: Wyoming, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Utah.



• The founder of Take Your Daughters to Work Day, Nell Merlino, has a new book out entitled Stepping Out of Line: Lessons for Women Who Want It Their Way in Life, in Love, and at Work. In the book, Merlino talks about focusing on what you’re good at and what’s important to you to enjoy your job more. Here are seven of her top tips as reported by U.S. News.

• Happen to catch my post on how Disney sweatshirts at work make me dryheave? Well, if you happen to see women in your office who are having the same problem, we suggest you send them over to WorkChic.com. The presidents of the company, Megan and Jennifer, created this website and blog to help women be creative with their wardrobe while still looking professional. My kind of women!

• Seems that Stewart Bradley, the NFL lineback for the Phildelphia Eagles, has joined in on the celebrities becoming magazine interns. Stewart has joined Elle as a fashion intern. I’m baffled…and slightly attracted (I only said slightly, don’t judge).

I’m the baby sister of my work family. I’m 23, almost 24, and I am given a hard time because of it. When I complain about turning 24, I’m put in my place. When I talk about having worked at my job forever, I’m put in place. Promo Girl often says things to me like, “It’s just like in Clueless…have you even seen that movie?” Yes, Promo Girl, I have. I’m not that young. As if!

I’m old enough to drink, to enlist in the army and to drive. But I’m not old enough to drive a rental car. Okay, I am old enough in most states. But, not without an additional fee.

Seriously rental car companies, seriously?

I have been driving since I was 15-years-old. I haven’t gotten a single speeding ticket and I’ve never been in an accident. I should be able to rent a car and drive it at the same price as any 25-year-old.

I’m a serious Working Girl who is going on a business trip on Monday and needs a rental car. My boss is also going on this business trip but asked me to take of the rental car. So imagine how mature I felt when I had to book the car in her name because I’m too young and the company doesn’t want to pay an additional fee. Super mature.

This week has been crazy busy (and I was seriously bummed when I found out it was Wednesday and not Thursday – isn’t that the worst?). And sometimes when I’m crazy busy or just plain tired, I don’t make sense when I speak, I forget what I’m talking about halfway through conversations, and essentially become brain dead. Thankfully, I am still able to put together a sentence when writing e-mails otherwise I wouldn’t be able to communicate.

So this morning when I was running around printing 100 copies of a worksheet for a training session and making sure the 20 people who my company is taking to Key West next week all had their jet ski tours and deep sea fishing trips booked, I walked over to the copier and saw our legal assistant wearing a Disney pullover.

And I did a double take.

Mainly I did said double take because I was so delrious that I thought, ‘Ok, now we can add hallucinating to the Tired WG2 Brain Dead Snydrome’.

But no, my eyes had not deceived me. The legal assistant was wearing a white fleece pullover with Winnie the Pooh on it. And the best part…she was wearing it with white leggings circa 1992 (which I’m pretty sure I also owned and wore at the wee age of seven).

This picture of a Minnie sweatshirt is a marked improvement over what our legal assistant was wearing. Yea, think about that. Sending shivers down your spine?

So my question is how did she get up in the morning and think this outfit choice was ok? Sure it’s comfortable…for a Saturday afternoon spent on your couch (because yes I’m guilty of wearing some pretty gross ensembles while lazily lounging around my apartment)! But for a professional day of copying documents and manning the phones? Sorry, I think not. What if a client saw her dressed like that? In Disney attire…most likely purchased at a theme park! This is a working fashion don’t if I have ever heard of one.

And sadly, I don’t think I will ever be able to take the legal assistant seriously ever again. Because she wore a pullover that made me dry heave.

My advice to all Working Girls is this: Do not wear Disney themed clothing to work. Ever. If for nothing else, so you don’t make your co-workers dry heave.

First, some housekeeping. For a while now, I’ve referred to my bosses as my female boss and my male boss. They haven’t had super cool blog names like Chicken Noodle Soup Boss or Facebook Friend Boss but now they do. Promo Girl and I have been calling them Mom and Dad for quiet some time now because our little marketing department really is like a family. There are 9 kids and mom and dad. Dad even calls us “kids” when he walks into the office every morning. So now, they are Mom Boss and Dad Boss.

Now that that is out of the way. It’s review time at work which means Dad Boss gets to critique my job performance in about 2 weeks. But first, I had to complete self-review online. Last year, Chicken Noddle Soup Boss was the only on reviewing me and she said, and I quote, “Just put ‘I think I’m going a great job.’” So that’s what I did and I received a good review.

This year, Promo Girl scarred the crap out of me. Dad Boss is the hardest interview everyone is my office has experience. They all say that if you can survive and interview with him, you can survive an interview anywhere. Except for maybe WG2 in about 10 years. My dear friend is going to make one scary boss.

Unfortunately, I never interviewed with Dad Boss and am therefore unprepared for many interviews to come and for my review. The only interview I had was for my internship and that was with Mom Boss. Although they are both my bosses, Dad Boss is handling my review. Dad Boss is critical, asks tough questions and looks at you funny as you answer. Like real funny. Makes you want to crawl under your chair and hide funny.

I submitted my self review last Tuesday. I think I’m pretty freaking awesome at my job but it’s one thing to write that here and a completely other thing to write about it in a formal form for my boss. Once you submitted your review, you couldn’t go back and add thoughts or edit a sentence. Promo Girl reminded me of this several times thus making me increasingly nervous. Since I submitted it, I thought of several more points I’d like to make and a few things I’d like reword or just flat out delete.

I’m obviously totally looking forward to my review in a few weeks. Hopefully I wont end up hiding from Dad Boss under my desk.

This past weekend, I dragged my dad to see Confessions of a Shopaholic with me. And just as the opening credits were rolling, he leaned over and asked, “Is this making you homesick?” 

The film was shot in New York…my old home. And I think what I was so taken aback by in that question was that when he said ‘home’, I instantly thought of New York. I do think of myself as a New Yorker (or Jersey girl really, but for the purposes of this post let’s just say New Yorker). New York is where I did my growing up and a lot of soul finding. It’s where I left behind some of my closest friends and greatest memories. It’s where I had my first job. So I think New York will always be home to me. 

Which leads me to my answer, which was yes. Yes, I am homesick. I think it’s hard not to miss the things that are the most familiar to you. I miss being able to go out to dinner with my NYC friends on a moment’s notice. And I can’t even tell you how jealous I was that everyone just drove to Mohegan Sun to celebrate our friend’s 24th. I miss being comfortable with the subway system, and confident that I’m great at my job. 

Moving to Chicago has not been easy. It’s a daily struggle. And I know I’ve said over and over that I’ve made the right decision (to about anyone who will listen), and I know it’s not just to convince myself. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and I’m proud of myself for coming to a city that I barely knew and reforming those friendships with my high school friends, and healing my relationships with my family and for getting a new job, and trying out new things (like Match.com yikes bikes). 

At the bar this weekend, as I was sipping from my beer tower, I realized that I started over. And it was hard. And some of it was easy because I had my family and old friends. But a lot of it was hard, and it still is. But I started over…how cool is that?

Last night I baby-sat for my cousins (one of whom is my goddaughter) and it was so nice to just be there in that moment. To have them know my name, which wasn’t always the case every time I came home for the holidays in the past, and for my goddaughter to fall asleep on my stomach as we watched Hannah Montana – the greatest show ever made. And then when I got back to the city, my dad drove me home and told me goodnight and that he loved me – in person. And I realized that yes, I did make the right decision. Because if I left them, if I left Chicago, I would be homesick. For the first time in a long time I would be homesick for Chicago and all that I had left behind here. 

(I have to apologize for this post because I know it’s not about work, and this blog is about…work. But I’m running on about five hours of sleep because this is my hell week at said job and I had a brain fart about what to write about. And then this popped into my head and I just went with it. So enjoy my sincerity and this picture below of New York and Chicago blended together like they love one another). 

Valentine’s Day has always been pretty rough for me. I’ve never had a boyfriend to speak of when the holiday rolls around. And this year has been no different. 

I called in sick to work yesterday. But I wasn’t sick. I lied.

After my root canal, I was not done with all the required dental work. I need a post and core and then a crown. I got my post and cord and then I was told I need a crown lengthening. The dentist did a horrific job of explaining the procedure to me. “Will it hurt?” I asked him. “No, no, you’ll be fine. Standard procedure.” Fine, no big deal, I thought.

Now, WG2 has enforced a strict policy that I am not allowed to visit websites like WebMD. I’m a bit of hypochondriac. But since WG2 moved halfway across the country, she is unable to jump across the living room and grab my laptop out of my hands when I say something like “omigod, I think I have malaria,” I Googled crown lengthening.

I read about the procedure, the recovery and the complications. It was right between the recovery and the complications that I felt faint and began to sweat. I found a health message board and a woman posted a message asking if a crown lengthening was necessary. Several posters wrote back that they were told by one dentist that they need the procedure and then by another that you don’t. It was then that I started crying.

After calling my mother and telling her that I’m never going to the dentist again because they scared me. To comfort me, she scheduled me an appointment with my dentist from high school. On a Monday. My dentist from high school is in New Jersey. And I’m not talking close to the city, hop a train Jersey. I’m talking close to Pennsylvania, take a bus because no trains go there Jersey.

I didn’t want to waste a personal day travelling to New Jersey and going to my dentist so I planned to call in sick. My catholic school guilt set in immediately and I hadn’t even done anything. All week I contemplated just taking the personal day. Or just giving one my bosses a heads up that I’d be calling in sick cause maybe she’d be ok with it? Yeah, I didn’t really think so either.

I made my way to New Jersey on Saturday and spent the weekend with my Mom. Monday morning, my alarm went off at 7:30, per usual. I went to the guest room and turned on my mom’s desktop. It took a million years to turn on and a million more for my Webmail to load. I drafted my email, told my bosses I had felt sick all night and didn’t feel any better in the morning. They both wrote back to feel better.

Today, they both asked me if I felt better. I felt awful. So guilty. I looked fine, not like I was recovering from any sort of illness. I felt like a nun was going to crawl from under my desk and slap my knuckles with a ruler. I told them I felt better and that was that.

As bad as I felt, the calling in sick was totally worth it. I didn’t waste a personal day. And I don’t need a crown lengthening. In fact, I don’t even need a crown. But if I ever want to do this again, I’m going to need a more convincing excuse.

So I never really did figure out if Jay was asking me out or not.