Public Speaking Pointers...courtesy of pageant girls

Pageants are interesting things to witness, the pointless walking in casual wear, the telling people about you in the most glowing terms possible and answering the questions in a way that you think people will want to hear.

Here are some things to keep in mind when doing any kind of public speaking anywhere you go:

Enunciation counts

During one question and answering session one of the girls was halfway through her answer on volunteering when she decided to change it up with the word philanthropic…which totally would have worked except that these were the words she said instead (some are spelled phonetically since they are not, to my knowledge, words)

Philandtropic

Philharmonic

File-n-throbit

Fife-en-got-it

Get organized or just memorize the damn thing

A one point a girl had some papers for her speech. Except when she turned the page she seamlessly went into the middle of another sentence, which was in no way related to the sentence she had started. More puzzling was the fact that she didn’t seem to notice she had stopped making sense

Make sure you know what you’re saying

At one point the girls had to pull a question out and answer it on the spot. The question was about her future goals.

Her answer was that she “wanted to become a pharmacist and travel to third world countries “(good so far, yes?) “and study their medicines so they can help us with our medicine. After departing the third world countries the world of pharmacy will be revolutionized by what is brought back from the third world countries! “

Well, I love the ambition but I’m not sure the people of the third world countries will be so keen on helping the US develop new medicines when they are having issues getting food on a regular basis and all….. Also, don’t say the same thing (here “third world countries”) over and over again….we got the point

Hopefully these points have helped you in case you want to go into public speaking, or even just give a presentation at your work.

Genetics and fractions can be so confusing..

We all have our shame……we all have done something in our lives that we hope never to have to revisit. Or if we do, then to revisit it as infrequently as possible.

My shame? I was in what is known in some circles as a “Scholarship pageant”. It came about because someone suggested it and I said, like I always do, “Yes”.

To the shock of everyone, I won (trust me EVERYONE was shocked but no one was more shocked than I). However along with this honor comes the obligation to return every once in a while.

Unfortunately, the amazing lady that coordinated the international trips, meetings with diplomats and acted as our chaperone for the year passed away last month. I her honor there was a tribute to her memory and they invited all past queens to come (sashes only, no crowns please) and be part of the tribute. And because this woman was amazing in general and especially to me while I was Queen, I decided to attend.

The next few posts for this blog will be some excerpts from the evening:

Here is a brief conversation I had with a girl at the event.

A girl walked up to me and asked me if my brother was at the event. I told her that he was not and then I congratulated her on her recent marriage a few months back.

“Thanks”, she said,” Now we’re trying for a baby”.

“That’s great”.

“But it’s weird you know? Cause my husband isn’t Portuguese and I always thought that I would marry someone who was, so that our kids would be purebred”, she said.

“What?” I asked, surely I heard this wrong. Maybe never having used the term purebred in reference to anything other than dogs is what led to my confusion.

“Yeah, you know? I just can’t believe my kids won’t be Portuguese”, then she looks at me, “I just never though that I would ever not have purebred kids”.

“Purebred?” I asked.

“Yeah, you know 100% totally Portuguese”, she said in earnest,” Cause that’s the best. You know what I mean?”

“I don’t know, you’re sounding rather German to me” I said half under my breath.

“Oh no, I’m not German, I’m pure Portuguese”, she rushed to assure me. “Are you Portuguese?”

“Well, I won this contest” I reply in a joking manner gesturing to the sash I was wearing (it is a requirement for this particular pageant that a contestant have Portuguese heritage no matter the degree, or, to use this chicks definition, “purebred-ness”)

“You are?” she asked in confirmation

“Yes, I’m half”.

“So you're full purebred Portuguese.”

“Um…has the definition of half changed?”, I asked cause really, I couldn’t believe she was serious with this line of questioning

“No, I don’t think so”, she said with all seriousness (Maybe this gene pool could benefit from some new blood?)

“Ok, then I am 100% half Portuguese”, I said.

I wait a minute as I literally see the girl try to figure out what I just said. "So, you're almost full" she said.

She follows up with “Is your husband Portuguese?”

“No, he’s not” I replied

“That’s so sad, your kids won’t be Portuguese either”, she said shaking her head sadly.

“What?", I said reflexively, thinking I missed part of the conversation. (Had I blacked out for a moment and missed something?)

“Well, since our husbands aren’t Portuguese neither will our kids”, she said.

“No, your kids will be Portuguese….” I trailed off. She kept shaking her head sadly and I decided that this was going nowhere. Eventually I was able to extricate myself from our conversation and snuck off to a different part of the room.

Next post, the pageant itself…

Best comment EVER!!!!

The award for best comment ever left on this site goes to Julie!!!!!

Curious what inspired this? see her comment for my zoo post!

Who knew that a job hunt would be so… entertaining??

It warms my heart to know that I am not the only one out there that has some crazy adventures. Here is my friend Julie as my very first guest blogger with an entertaining adventure of her own...so read on and prepare to laugh (and possibly cry) at what sounds like a job opportunity no one should miss out on!

Fade in.....

As I was sitting in a large faded periwinkle room on an oversized black leather couch, watching Music Choice- Best of RAP on a large flat screen TV, with a receptionist wannabe HR Manager sitting at the oversized beat up and falling apart particleboard desk answering calls in the center of the room, I didn’t know… It can get worse!??? But at this moment I did realize it was time to choose my own adventure, later I would question this choice as I was standing in my “corner” of a gas station.

Day One.. So how did I end up in the periwinkle room behind the scuffed up primed interior door? I answered a job posting ad for a new company, urgent to expand and opening an additional office. After a phone call I found myself in what I thought to be an “eclectic” office building lobby, as you walk in you find antique buffets, large house plants and oriental rugs across Saltillo tiles. The lobby is not well-lit as you walk back to the elevator, definitely for the best. Pressing the button, it takes 3-4 minutes for the elevator to arrive and I wonder should I have taken the stairs? The elevator doors open and I find another oriental rug (filthy, disgustingly stained and worn) across tile again, not until I step inside and find that half of the elevator buttons are missing do I confirm, I should have taken the stairs. I check the elevator permit (ohh yes I did!) and it was inspected in December 10, 2010 however it seems as though this may be the original prototype when elevators were invented. I’m thankful that my floor has a button! The doors close and I find myself staring at the tile.. in an elevator, with a rug? I’m not kidding real tile, how much could that weigh? How much do I weigh? Is this elevator going to make it???

Thankfully the doors open, I turn to find the suite number, an office containing my new career! Isn’t that what you are supposed to tell yourself.. Confidence, I own this interview, positive thoughts bring positive results!! And then I’m in the periwinkle room listening to RAP.. (did I mention I don’t really like RAP). I admit that sitting on the oversized leather couch was a mistake, who the hell can get out of those things and in a suit?? I felt like I was 14 again in my beanbag but for an interview I should have sat in one of the 20 black office chairs set up around the walls of the room, lesson learned, inspect your surroundings prior to making a decision. So here I sit on the leather sofa next to a very well dressed man, there are approx. 4 other people in the room. Yes, ladies and gentlemen I am the oldest one in the room, including the wannabe HR Manager answering the phones and turning up the music to jam to. I’m 30 minutes early (as it is always important to appear at an interview early) for my 10 am interview, so I fill out my form and prepare to jam out for the next 20 minutes, so I think.. 60 minutes later, I am the last person in the room and Chris, (still younger than me) performing the interviews calls me back behind the factory primed door to the brain of the operations.

Behind the door it gets soooo much better, there is still bright blue carpet (indoor/outdoor special, they must have gotten a 10% off coupon at Depot) but now there is even louder RAP music playing on a stereo system hand-picked by a teenager in the 90’s. I follow Chris back to an office that overlooks the freeway interchange outside (may I just say this was the most visually appealing experience of my interview). Chris proceeds to ask me the top 3 reasons he should pick me over all of the candidates. He explains that they are a marketing company, work with 18 Fortune 500 Companies.. He assures me that this is not a cold call sales company that they market at events for their clients. He advises that I cannot be hired on the spot that there is a 3 step hiring process; we make arrangements for me to come back the next morning for the second interview, all of this taking less than 5 minutes. I thank him for his time and plan to see him tomorrow but first I think I’d like to know “who is this company”?

Keep in mind the following.. I am not told how much the pay is, I’m not told what position I am applying for (he did say that within 3-6 months I can become a Manager), I am told to dress exactly the same for day two and bring a notebook..
I go home and start to Google this company (I find nothing), the address (it lists two different companies), each company name (a subsidiary of a subsidiary, etc..) SO I now know I have an interview with????? Wait, I have no idea. This is the second time today I say, what the hell? But really what else was I going to do today.

Day two.. I arrive only 10 minutes before my interview time (I’ve learned my lesson).. but because I’m concerned about being late, I hurry to the elevator not thinking of the deathtrap until I’m glaring at that one of a kind oriental rug as I go to the 3rd floor. Damn, I think to myself, I was supposed to take the stairs. I enter the office, sign in, and sit in an office chair. There are a total of 8 other people in the room as we all wait.. as we wait.. and as we wait! This time I have been waiting for 45 minutes? Finally a girl (definitely not over 21) and I are called back for the second interview, to that same office with a view. At this point I would like to tell you I have figured out a few things over the last two days, the second interview will be at a separate location taking approx. 2 hours; the girl I am now “interviewing” with does not have a car.

The “Assistant Manager” invites us both to sit down in the office from yesterday, she closes the door and advises that we will be going to another location (this appears to be a shock for the girl, with no car) the Assistant Manager will be driving her there and I am to follow behind in my car. I’m told it is just up the road, up the freeway a few exits, next to the gas station. She says what “event” and “account” we will be working on however a pre-requisite for this company appears to be talking very fast, I’m not sure what the hell we are doing (notice a pattern yet?) The three of us enter the chamber of hell and we make it out alive!! I follow her to a gas station, follow her around the parking lot in my car, but she doesn’t park in an actual parking spot. She tells me to leave my vehicle where it is and I studiously follow her. She introduces the girl to her “interviewer” and we walk back to her car so she can change her shoes, at this point I feel it necessary to point out that I am in fact in a full suit, with my favorite pair of Bandolino shoes. She is wearing a red polo shirt, black pants (possibly jeans) and has swopped her ballet shoes with a pair of black crocs. She apologizes to me that I have to wear heels, she also mentions to me multiple times that we will only be here an hour as she has many more appointments and tons of paperwork to do. This is when we start working.. in a gas station parking lot, in heels and a suit.

What am I supposed to be doing? All of the following comes to me as she talks and I ask open questions that lead her to talk even more (who knew that was possible). She’s a lovely girl, very friendly which is apparent as she visits all of the businesses around the gas station, hugging all the employees (mechanics) and catching up. We start “working” by inspecting cars in the parking lot, for what one says.. Ohh for cracks in their windshields, why would we do this? Ohh because we are supposed to repair them, as she said “everything we need is in her fanny pack”.

After our rounds of the parking lot, the neighboring businesses we take back our corner of the gas station. Our job is what? To clean windshields, at no charge, looking for cracks at which point we offer to repair them (ourselves), at no charge.

This is when you say.. I’m outta here bitches! But I give it another 5 minutes because I wonder what would make her do this, how exactly does she get paid? She seems so nice. She did graduate from college, her father wanted her to sell real estate but she felt that would be boring (I guess cleaning windshields all day is more exciting??) As a new hire I am told I will have 3-5 repairs per day, however as she is more experienced she has 5-6 per day; she says she will take home about $600 a week. Remember those 3-6 months to become management? She’s been at it for 18 months!
A few things I ask myself afterwards..
After I thanked my “interviewer” for her time and politely wished her the best of luck, should I have grabbed the other girl and pulled a Thelma and Louise? I wish the best of luck to Alexandra, hopefully after 18 months of window washing she will finally become a manager!

According to the zoo animals, I like butts...

I recently went to the zoo with my cousin. I happen to live in a place known for a world famous zoo and it had been many years since I had last visited. I was pleasantly surprised to see wonderful new exhibits, beautiful animals and walk over many walking trails.

Also, the walking trails? Now that you’ve spent all this money on the exhibits lets spend some money on updating the map…it was less than clear. We kept ending up in the same spot (conveniently located at the bottom of a very steep hill) and no matter what trail we took we kept ending up in the damn area.

Anyways…. I was also surprised to learn that animals now have decided that I am no longer able to see them from the front. I am now only allowed to see the animals butts…

Exhibit A: This animal apparently was rescued from smugglers that were trying to bring it in to America. First rule it learned at the zoo?

Exhibit B: This zoo has amazing flamingos at the entrance as a grand welcome. I walked up to see them and this is what I saw....now I feel welcome
Exhibit C: In the aviary this bird was proudly wandering around amongst people and then it saw me and did this....
Exhibit D: Was there a memo that went out as I walked around the zoo?

Exhibit E: Two for one a horse and a donkey, I am a lucky girl!Exhibit F: Elephants never forget? Neither do I! See if I ever recommend the zoo to anyone else ever again!The only animal that would face me? This zen little wallaby

But even he had a warning for me:

I hate balloons : How I was outwitted by a mylar balloon

For the record, I hate balloons. If anyone ever asks “Hey, do you think EM would like a balloon?” say no. Always, unequivocally no

There are reasons for this, although to go into them would be long and boring so I shall not. But know that the mere sound of latex balloons being inflated, bumping into each other or otherwise existing sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to clamp my hands over my ears and run from the room. I HATE BALLOONS

So of course, I was asked to deliver balloons to a friends 2 year olds birthday party. And because I love said friend and her 2 year old I said what I always say, which is how these things always start “yes”.

So off I go with a bag full of deflated balloons (exactly how I like them) both mylar and latex alike.

I awake the day of the party and I am really really sick. I am coughing, I have a fever and I feel like I am going to die. The only thing I can do is take cold medicine (which makes me crazy and hyper and is another story) and try to live long enough to get the balloons inflated and delivered. Since I am sick and my thinking is impaired, I decide that while I am safely on the couch I need to devise a plan that will keep me as far away from the balloons as possible while I am delivering them. Since I do not drive a stretch version of anything I decide that the only thing I can do is put them in the trunk. But how will I get them in the trunk and shut them?

After walking around the car and looking at the trunk and trying to figure out how to cage the balloons (with a box I found in the trunk? I had a cape in the trunk, would that help? How about flip flops? no?) and realizing that there were way to many balloons for that to work I opted to open my back seat and feed the balloons into the trunk. Therefore they will be as far from me, and as sound proofed from me as possible while I drive.

I arrive at the store and ask the nice girl at the balloon counter to inflate the balloons and she informs me that she “not very good at this because she’s afraid of balloons”. Now, really? Why is she at this job? I know people need to work, but a job that scares you is just silly. But she seems to warily approach the balloons and gets to work. The first two Sam I Am mylar balloons seem resistant to being inflated. The stubbornly get only so full and then will go no farther. It’s like the refuse to fulfill their duty as a balloon (you know what is worse than a regular balloon? A slacker balloon)

Alas, it is realized that they had holes and physically cannot be inflated any larger than they were going (which was not much at all) and therefore were completely unworthy of being taken to the party. The third balloon inflated just fine and seemed oblivious to his overachievement.

Next comes a giant “2” mylar balloon which, as it was filled, we realized was much larger than originally believed. This will not now or ever fit in my trunk no matter how craftily I tried to ensnare it.

“Fine” I fumed, “I shall have this balloon in my backseat, but no more!”
Next were the 6 latex balloons, which all inflated just fine and were tied off with their ribbon.
Armed with the balloons I marched warily to the car and opened the back seat. I put in the giant 2 balloon and then put the Sam I am in the trunk. The wind kicked up and the 6 latex balloons seemed to happily bump into each other and with a panicked squeak I started feeding them faster into the trunk.

Somehow, this is when Sam decided to escape. This is also where I get confused. I was standing at the back door, I was feeding all the balloons into the trunk. How did he sneak out of the trunk, and the door I was in front of in order to float off into the sunshine? How much cold medicine had I had?

I realize Sam is floating away and I slam the door and futilely trying to jump, but the bottom of the ribbon stayed tantalizingly out of reach. Then Sam turns around and I SWEAR he turned just so he could watch me make a fool of myself in the shopping center parking lot while trying to catch him. The whole time he floated ever further away, he looked down at me as if to say “Catch me if you can”.

Stupid Sam I Am

Eventually the rest of the balloons made it to the party, but I know Sam is out there….gloating


Moral of the story? Balloons are smarter than me, so if you need one, hire a professional balloon wrangler

Work is awesome

This has ben an interesting (read: difficult) week at work, with most of my job involving putting out fires that other people had started. The, at the end of the day on Friday someone no call/ no showed to work and I had to go work their shift. Then I had to go to another property to fix something that again, wasn’t my fault. But, even if I was working the weekend I did find some of the things that happened highly entertaining.

At one point, while working in a very high-end condo, around 10:30pm this flashy and obnoxious guy came in with two gorgeous young scantily clad girls (I am assuming he has scads of money). As they walked through I noticed one of the girls was walking a few steps behind them and talking very loudly on the phone. Thats when I realized that she was having phone sex with someone as she walked through the lobby and waited for the elevator with her companions.

Really? This was the best time and place for this? As she strolled the streets of Downtown San Diego to get to someone’s house and into a lobby of a residential condo, she thought you know what I should do? I should call someone and have phone sex! I guess so, cause she was in the middle of the conversation and was still going strong when she entered the elevator with her friends and other residents that were in the elevator as it opened. I had to try very hard not to laugh as I tried to help the gentleman she was with because of all the ridiculous things she was saying. Highly amusing!

Soon after that a man came in and asked for directions. I gave him directions to the hotel he was looking for when he turned a bit away from the desk and started fiddling with his pants….a lot!

He then looked at me and told me he was having problems “adjusting his pants”.

Fantastic

I told him he could adjust to his hearts content at the hotel he was going staying at but that this lobby was not the right place for that.

Fast forward to the next day (today) where I had to go to a different property to pick something up from an employee. This employee is very chatty and very sweet. But often I find that when I see this person they tell me about incidents with residents that should be reported. I asked why these incidents weren’t being put in the log consistently and their response?

Well, apparently they are “psychic” and can sense when things are about to happen or if bad thing happen to people. They don’t like writing down bad incidents on paper and sending them to us like procedure states, because that is putting the incident out there into the universe and encouraging the “bad energy” to happen again.

Since I have to work yet another full shift at a property in Sunday, I can’t wait to see if that may also bring more pants adjusting or phone sex. If only I knew someone who was psychic that could tell me……