Working in Cuba

SO sorry I have not updated this lately!!! Things are about to change. I will fill in the gap between my last post and June. I am just going to get you fired up with my summer stories, and then I will let you know what shit you missed second half of second semester this past spring.

It is June people, school has been out for a while and I have replaced sex and booze with weed and food-don’t get me wrong that is not a bad combination. I agreed to my grandmother that I would work for her good friend who is the chairman of a mortgage and loan servicing company. What the hell was I thinking? When I was offered a job in Miami for the summer, that would include money (which I desperately needed because I spend way too many on drugs and false eyelashes) and MIAMI for the summer!!!- Double yes!! I was always bored in Long Island, and ate way too much pizza.

When I first arrived in Miami, I obviously was phoneless, and basically friendless. Friendless did not mind me too much because I really do not mind sitting a bar alone, just as long as I have drink in my hand (whoa, I sound like an alcoholic-wait a second...) My first major problems I enocuntered was one, I was out of weed, and two I did not have a phone to contact a drug dealer. Did I mention MAJOR problem? My grandparents loved the fact they had me sober, working from 8:30-5pm all to their self...I however was not adjusting well to this quaint, boring lifestyle.

I work in an office with about 10 people in a pretty happening town and this was during the World Cup in the frekin port of the United States. Happy Hour by the office began at (9:30AM when the games started and people were adamant about supporting their country. Godbless them.

My coworkers are mostly married and if not for a good reason. For example the youngest man I work with is 26, muy religioso and lives with his parents and he thinks he is the shit, and believe me if he was I would have probably had sex with him. Then there is Cristobal he barely speaks english but he is a cool motherfucker just for that reason and he works his ass off (I don’t think he is a legal immigrant, so if he got fired he would be fucked). Jane is the chairman’s assistant, Jane definitely did some major drugs when she was my age, she always tells me not to party too hard because she knows us partiers can get in some serious ass trouble, cough”arrested”cough. Renan is a chill ass dude. We basically bitch together and say how much we hate working. We will for sure smoke a blunt soon together. Marcia is cuban...if that does not tell you enough information let me just tell you I am really surprised I have not gone deaf from hearing her yelling at customers. There is a couple more, but they are not too exciting to mention.

As for my job, I sit behind a desk where I play the role of receptionisit and deal with customers on the phone. My tasks include, assigning workflows to everyone in the office, opening mail, scanning, looking up customers loans information and answering questions.

FUCK MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In reality I get to work LATE because I need to make that stop out of the way to get my obnoxious venti sized coffee from Starbucks, then I try to scan insurance documents but the scanner is a piece of shit so noting scans right so I stand by the scanner and curse at and bang at it until it makes me feel better. After I scan I wait for a huge load of envelopes to come on to my desk, they all have insurance documents in them and I have to look up their loan number. After my fingers spend hours dancing on keyboards my neck is cramped and all I want is an asian to magically appear behind my desk and give me a massage. Throughout the day people ask me all about their account while using baking terminology I have never heard of in my life, I pretend like I know exactly what they are talking about and usually tell them false information, whatever makes them shut up and not ask too many questions. THE BEST is when someone calls and they go on give minutes rampage and waste my precious facebook stalking time, in spanish (heads up, the person who hired me thinks I speak full spanish), after their LOUD rambling nonsense of how they cannot pay their mortgage, I say ohhhhhhhhh Voy a transferar al diferent representativo, they laugh at my valley girl spanish accent and I click my favorite button and only button I only use on the phone. I would like you to meet my friend named transfer.