Archives for posts with tag: international

My roommate and I talked for two hours last night as she ate her KFC and I drank my expensive Japanese beer with lemon in it.

It’s a home-made remedy of mine– expensive beer and lemon– to ease the symptoms of if not cure the common cold.  I’m not sure how exactly to pull it off, I’m not sure the right dosage of ingredients, but I am sure of the timing and I do listen to what my body has to say.

The lemon (or lime) is full of Vitamin C, the small dose of alcohol from the beer, and … the hops?  This combined with a nice, hot bath where I sweat said substance out of my pores usually does the trick if I catch the burgeoning cold in the scratchy-throat stage.

We talked about her homeland, Kenya, and prices of real estate.  I mentioned that it would be a good idea to leverage American dollars to buy real estate in foreign countries, Kenya for example.

She said her ex-boyfriend did that.  Once I realized that people _really do_ make a living doing this I was struck with the realization of how stuck I currently am, how unhappy I am at my current job, and how limited my thinking is.

I had the idea a few months ago to buy things from wholesalers in China and sell them on eBay.  I eventually narrowed down the category to “cosmetics” and was, of course, overjoyed when I saw MAC available.

Multiple emails and a returned Paypal payment later, I learned these were _fake_ MAC cosmetics.  Counterfeit.

I was #surprised, #frusterated, #upset, and #depressed all at the same time.  It was bad enough I had to avoid scammers who would take my money and run– now I’d have to watch out for scammers who wished to sell me fake MAC cosmetics.

Attempting to research eBay for other potentially profitable categories was equally frustrating.  eBay’s API was lacking and the only end-of-sale data I could come up with was either searching specific categories and specific search terms by hand or behind a paywall– inexpensive, yes, but I’d just been delivered an offer for full-time work and pushed off signup because of lack of use.

Needless to say, the whole idea fell by the wayside and for the last six months I’ve been too focused on my job, how tired it makes me, and which distraction I will consume next.

It took talking to my roommate in our kitchen to realize how focused I am.  Focused in areas that don’t bring me close to any palpable goal.

I do believe it’s possible.  I believe that I’ll enjoy it.  I enjoyed the few months I had working for myself.  I enjoy the freedom.  I enjoy not having the constant and underlying fear of being fired, of pushing myself to perform.

I don’t even know where to start.  I’ll ask  🙂


I’ve decided that I want to become an international flight attendant.  I’ll work for AlItalia or Delta or something since I’m bi-lingual English/Italian.

And why, you may ask, have I chosen this potentially dangerous and stressful career?  Why do you want to put yourself through putting up with people’s endless and outrageous demands?  Why do you wish to inhabit what is potentially Twin Towers bullet?

The answer is simple and may disgust you:  the outfit.

Let me explain.  Very simply put, it’s a job where you -have- to get dressed up every day (instead of being in a stupid warehouse *cough*), do your makeup and hair nicely (self-maintenance is part of doing your job), and you get to wear those pretty uniforms and get hit on by horny travellers (the latter being the least desirable of the perks).

An alternative would be working at the MAC counter in Nordstorm.  I’m sure it would require -far- less training and be -far- less stressful with no less need to dress up, look good, and makeup, of course, is a MUST.

Do I really think it’s going to happen?  Probably not.  Don’t I have to go to flight attendant school or something?  I wonder what that costs.

I don’t mind staying overnight in new places, either.  I think the airline has designated hotels that the attendands and pilots stay and and maybe I can even get a couple of days off to walk around the town.

Sounds exciting!

And I don’t mind serving people, either.  Some examples may include:

“Miss, can I have more peanuts?”
“Hey, bring me a pillow, toots.”
“$7 for headphones, are you shitting me?”
“Why the fuck is it taking so long to get off the ground?”

I’m a pleaser, I admit it, I’d make sure my passengers were well-attended and their every need met.  I’m nice, I’m patient (with people), I can put my “best foot forward,” so to speak, and remain calm when someone is being an ass (I’m very used to it from my work).