I'm Only a Butt-Dial Away

The only downside to having a Blackberry (aside from the disconnection with any real people because you are addicted to your phone) is that you butt dial everyone. Particularly anyone with a name that starts with "P." For me, this means my butt continually calls my grandfather (Pa for short) in the car, walking to work, or at the bar. I'm not too worried considering he never has his cell phone on (why he even has one I don't know), but I'm sure he's listened to many muffled conversations about hair products, daily gossip, and counseling sessions with heartbroken friends.

Personally, I can spot a butt dial from a mile away. Because my name starts with an "A," it's pretty common for me to get a few a week. I typically let it roll to voice mail if it's A) a number I don't recognize, B) a person from high school I haven't talked to in 4+ years, or C) an old coworker.

Aside from everyone's multi-talented dialing derrieres, I've received numerous accidental texts, which I like to call "butt-texts." This is a talent I haven't quite mastered myself. A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a text that was clearly not meant for me. It's too bad it didn't make it to the actual recipient because I think it was an attempt to flirt. Don't worry, it wasn't quite a Brett Favre or Tony Parker text. Clearly uninterested in this kind of discussion, I kindly sent a reply letting him know I received his message. I know he was embarrassed because he quickly said it was a joke text to a buddy (yeah right). I know he was embarrassed; however, it was definitely worth the stomach ulcer I got from laughing so hard.

In the words of Ryan Seacrest, "please dial carefully." I know you do not wish to send me your dirty texts, drunk walks home or cry sessions with your boyfriends. It's nothing personal because, frankly, I enjoy them. I just want to save you the embarrassment. Control your butt.

My First Date

I had my first informational interview with a PR agency last week. It turned into more of an interview than I thought. I was having an I-feel-like-I-was-hit-by-a-truck day with seasonal allergies and a rough cold, and I hadn't straightened my hair in a month. I was looking a little bush woman and sounding a little phone sex operator. Hopefully, the agency is into that.

Now, not that I know a lot about dating around (I've been with the same person for 100 years), but I imagine it's a lot like informational interviews. You take three hours to pick out an outfit that says "I'm interested but not trying too hard;" you leave an hour early and sit in the parking ramp going over how you'll introduce yourself; and you spend the entire conversation trying to read the undertones of your date's body language and word choice. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of practice in this area since I can wear flannel pajamas, eat an entire pizza and burp (just another Saturday night) in front of Matt without the slightest hesitation.

Anyways, I felt like a zombie and as the interview gets started, I noticed she was asking more questions than I was. I came in just trying to figure out if an agency was where I wanted to be and I left applying for the internship. I guess even the living dead can compete.

I truly believe when you approach something to learn, you end up getting more than you bargained. People are more willing to connect with you and help you out when you have a general interest in them. I think people appreciate that kind of networking because the relationship is mutual. It's hard to keep that mentality when careers are so competitive, but things seem to just fall into place when you approach the job market in a less-hostile manner.