That's right.
Not only am I The Whimsical Scribbler, but a painter as well.
It's paint-by-number, though: the most accountant-like way you could paint.
But while the paint dries, I thought I'd write about three random memories I had today:
Virtual Makeover
One summer in the early 2000s, my mom got this CD-ROM of a computer program: a virtual makeover. Essentially, you upload a plain photo of yourself with this software and proceed to experiment with all types of makeup and hairstyles on your uploaded face to see which one inspires you to go do it in real life.
I remember my mom, my sisters, and me all changing into white t-shirts and taking pictures of each other on the back porch with the white brick background. The instructions said to "not smile" because, of course, there needed to be enough lip for the program to turn them pink or purple or whatever.
My mom called it a "mug shot" because at the ripe old age of ten I had already developed a severe case of RBF. I was so excited to try out new makeup - virtually - but by the picture, you'd never know it.
Oh, how the corners of my eyes and lips frowned! Trying to look "normal" just so I'd have a face to work with. My youth! Gone in an instant with a relaxed frown and the clickety drag of a digital camera.
I don't remember much about actually using the program because I had to share it with three other people. Besides, I was at an age where I was already glued my own mirror above my dresser, experimenting with all the lip gloss and makeup I had access to.
My advice for photos that demand a straight face (government IDs, passport photos, etc.):
Look as though you're about to drop some serious lore into someone's life: a great secret, a timely quip, a fitting joke, a great line of wit...
Hold that in mind and look like you're about to tell it to the camera. You will look engaged, energized, relaxed, and like your experience at a government office was actually a pleasant one.
Or, at least, a very neutral one.
The Voicemail Message
During elementary school, I wanted to skip grades so badly. Even though I had straight A's, was in that weird honors FOCUS group, and did workbooks for fun, my parents never bugged the school about moving me up ahead of schedule. Something about needing to "socialize" and make friends "in my own age group" even though I was reading my first grade stories to the upper levels. Whatever.
But when I got to college, FINALLY. I could take 21 hours a semester and SKIP! GRADES!
What this ended up looking like was a highly motivated sophomore/junior going to mock interviews with some partners of the accounting firm I was quite sure I wanted to move back home and work for.
The guidance counselor at that time was making phone calls, letting us know when our mock interview was to be. Because I was such a highly motivated college student doing all the things*, she had to leave a voicemail.
*I also despise answering and talking on phones. Could have also been that.
So it went to voicemail, which at the time went something like, "Hi, you've reached Allie. You know what to do." BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
The message I heard later told me my scheduled mock interview time with a stern reminder that employers would be using this number and to make sure to keep a professional voicemail message.
Ok, but, like, any "employer" who doesn't appreciate my brevity for business and sense of humor has no business being my employer.
I shouldn't have to change my personality (and/or voicemail message) to make wage.
True story.
My First Week
Thankfully, I was able to swan dive out of public accounting into a beautiful career at Gulfstream Aerospace just a few years later.
The first week at corporate was like meeting a bunch of people and not knowing what anyone meant to you.
For one, I had just gotten married the week before and though I was "Allison Jansen" at orientation and filled out all the paperwork on my honeymoon, I was now "Allison Harshner" and had to go through the whole name change process and email aliases right off the bat. Many of my introductions included a clause for congratulations as we both got used to this new name/identity thing.
For two, they had all these cool, extra corporate events that you never got at boutique accounting firm. In my first week, I got to go to a park for a "lean event" at Tom Triplett Park to celebrate some achievement that the whole accounting department had done the quarter before I ever was or even knew I'd be a part of it.
They even catered barbecue.
And then I found myself in a three-legged race, tied to the controller of financial reporting, while she confessed to me that she hadn't shaved her legs that day and wasn't entirely ready for this.
Well, Kim, neither was I.
[We did not win the three-legged race, though probably not due to excess leg hair.]
Carefully removing the roasted turkey breast from the netting like I'm plucking harp strings,
TWS
