A bitch got my political canvass on this past weekend.
It was hot as the third level of hell and humid on top of it, so it wasn’t as much fun as could have been. But it was, as always, a rather satisfying experience. If you haven’t volunteered in support of a cause or campaign this year then you need to find something, get off your arse and get to walking!
And don’t forget to bring lots of water and a good pair of walking shoes.
Anyhoo, after several hours of canvassing a bitch headed over to the north side to visit my mentee Miss Thang. I’ve been kind of a distant mentor of late because visiting my mentee was bad for my high blood pressure.
Well shit! My mentee is 15 years old, lives with a dysfunctional apathetic parent in conditions I struggle to come to terms with every time I visit her and she still has a hard time thinking beyond next week much less planning for her future. Trust that our visits are not filled with never ending happiness and non-stop joy. Rather, they are filled with extreme realness…and that shit can be bad for a bitch’s still high but under control now blood pressure.
Where was I?
I took Miss Thang to lunch at the Bread Co. and listened to her chat about everything and everyone who has wronged her since our last face to face visit. At some point the issue of a summer job came up and Miss Thang then went on a rant about trying to find a job and how folks don’t ever call her back when she applies for one.
I gave that some thought whilst sipping my iced green tea (yum!) and then decided to keep my advice as real as the situation called for.
Shark-Fu, after sipping iced green tea… “Um, have you ever called yourself and listened to your voice mail?”
Miss Thang (MT)… “Huh?”
Shark-Fu, in explanation… “The reason I ask is that your voicemail is…well, it’s not very attractive.”
MT… “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that when someone calls you to follow-up on a job application they shouldn’t have to listen to the musical offerings of Lil Wayne then suffer through a long ass beep followed by the music of someone named Chris Brown. If you want to be considered a professional you need to act like one, so I recommend changing that voicemail greeting until you get a job.”
MT… “Oh. Okay. But you don’t have to hate on my future husband like that.”
Shark-Fu, on a sigh and searching for strength… “Which one?”
MT after rolling her eyes… “OMG! Chris Brown!”
We went on to discuss some other shit, but damn if I didn’t Google Chris Brown when I got home to find out who the hell that child is.
What ever happened to normal voice mail greetings…music a bitch can groove to and understand the words too…shit, the motherfucking ‘90s?
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