The Onion Presents a Book of Jean's Own!

by Jean Teasdale

  Long story short, my parents never went back and changed the birth certificate, and I can’t afford the court fees to change it anyhow, so I’ve learned to embrace my middle name for the charmingly unique thing it is!

  In fact, one day back in the eighth grade, I signed my homework assignments “Mel” instead of my regular old “Jean” because I thought it sounded spunky in a tomboyish way. For a few class periods, none of my teachers noticed. But then in pre-algebra class we took a pop quiz, and the teacher happened to look down at our collected papers and noticed that I’d written in a different name, and he asked me about it in front of everyone. I was forced to explain I was trying out a new nickname, and everybody snickered like it was the weirdest thing they ever heard. “Why do you want people to call you the same name as Alice’s boss?” one girl asked with a sneer (her name was Wendi). So then for the rest of the week people started calling me “Mel,” then “Mel’s Diner,” then “Kiss mah grits, Mel!” By the end of the second week it had developed into “Vic Tayback,” and that one pretty much stuck until the end of the school year.

  Actually, now that I think about it, even if I did have a first name that ended in “i” or a properly spelled middle name, it’s likely none of it would have made my last name sound any better. I’ve been a Teasdale for so long, I sometimes forget how much I wanted to forget my maiden name. Of course, my dad felt the exact opposite. “There’s nothing wrong with the name of Speidr,” he would tell my brother and me.

  That’s right, I started life as Jean Meleanne Speidr. Pronounced just the way you’re thinking. “Your great-grandfather carried it all the way from the little town near the Austrian-Swiss border where he was born,” my father often told us. “He refused to change it, even if it meant far better opportunities for him and his family.” My dad loves our last name. He’s also very proud of his first name, which he said his mother received in a dream while she was pregnant with him. In fact, at one point he had business cards made up that read “The Only Horvel Speidr in the State!” When we were kids, he hung a carved mahogany sign near our front door that read “The Speidrs’ Web.” Well, that took a long time to live down. None of the neighborhood kids ever dared to come over to our house, because it was “filled with Speidrs!” Dad was Daddy Long Legs, and Mom was the Black Widow (not entirely inaccurate!). Me? I was Charlotte A. Cavatica. My brother Kevin didn’t have a nickname. Maybe the kids simply ran out of spider names, but I suspect it was because he was the sole neighborhood supplier of illegal fireworks and trucker stimulants and they couldn’t afford to get on his bad side.

  I won’t go so far as to say I married Rick to rid myself of an embarrassing maiden name, but I gotta admit, it sure was a big perk! “Teasdale” is very charming, I think. It gives me visions of a family of happy bunnies enjoying tea in a beautiful sunny green valley. It doesn’t necessarily have to be bunnies, mind you—that’s just what immediately comes to mind. It could be hedgehogs, too.

  So while I’m content with being called Jean Meleanne Teasdale, I can’t help dreaming up some new monikers for myself, just for fun. Would I have been more successful were I a Lindsi Windermere Teasdale? Would you talk to me more if I was a Kimberli Piper Teasdale? How about Mallorie Bree? Or Lexi Wylie? Sydnie Chablis? But it may interest you to know that I, like the kitties in the kitty poet guy’s poem that got made into a musical, have given myself a name that only I myself know and will never confess. Sorry, Jeanketeers, but it’s a name that you will never guess. Oh, all right, it’s Marjorie Snugglemittens.

  Dreamin’ of That Dream Day Job

  I haven’t yet found my life’s part-time calling, and it’s starting to nag me a tad. I thought that with my natural lack of ambition, I was a sure shoo-in for a great 20-hour-a-week, no-brainer gig. But no, everything I’ve done has had to involve hard work, extra hours, and knowledge. Remember that I Love Lucy episode when Lucy made chocolates? Or that old comedy movie in which the little man with the Hitler mustache only had to twist some bolts for his job? Where are those dream jobs?

  As I mentioned before, your pal Jean is quite the career girl, though not by choice! Blame my parents for that. No sooner was I old enough to start earning money that they began pushing me out of the ol’ homestead, demanding I get the proper “real world” experience to, as my mom put it, “shake those silly daydreams out of your brain.” “You can’t count on Prince Charming to come to your rescue, especially a girl who puts away as many crullers as you do,” she’d tell me. (Mommie Dearest? More like “Mommie Fearest!”) But so far, nothing has been a perfect fit, and in my dark-cloud moments (and yes, I do have them!), I begin to wonder if the world is conspiring against me to keep me from achieving my dreams!

  Like, sometimes, I’ll get hired at a new job, only to discover that some of the work I’m required to do isn’t even on the job description. Here’s what I mean. Once I got a job at a pet store. When I first applied, the job duties were described as working at the cash register, stocking shelves, and feeding and watering the pets. All of that was true.

  But the description said nothing about cleaning dead cricket bodies out of the iguana’s cage. This is what I’m talking about, Jeanketeers! Employers need to let you know about these things before you apply for jobs. Otherwise they have no right to be shocked or complain when an employee runs into the customer bathroom bawling, or sits at their work stool plucking out their forearm hairs.

  At another place, where I did data entry, I was sprung with the dreadful surprise that I had to know how to type with more than two fingers, and fast, too, even though, once again, it was not on the job description! (When I asked her about it later, my supervisor only replied that keyboard skills “were a fundamental requirement.” College know-it-all!) I did take a typing class in high school, and I know that you’re supposed to lay your fingers on the “home keys” and work from there, but I could never get the hang of looking away from the keys as I typed. I’ve just stuck by my tried-and-true index-finger method—I still have to hunt around a little, but generally get by by avoiding tricky keys like the semicolon and the back-slash, and the numbers, too. Anyhow, my perfectly reliable technique wasn’t good enough for the folks at old SouthCentral Insurance. Apparently I was one of the slowest workers on our floor (they timed us in person—soooo much pressure!). Sheesh! I was always on thin ice at that place.

  Well, I don’t mean to sound like such a Gloomy Gloria—in truth I have many, many job strengths! For one thing, I’m a very talented gift wrapper. I just have a good eye for knowing exactly how much wrapping paper an item needs. I’m also super at folding. At the Fashion Bug, I was the unofficial Chief Folder of the merchandise during the hours I worked! Also, I have an uncanny knack for arranging items on shelves so that they look fuller than they really are. That makes me perfectly suited for jobs at discount stores and supermarkets. And when food is involved, like in a restaurant or a supermarket, I’m really good at not eating on the job. (Don’t let my pleasant plumpness fool you!) When I was assigned to the salad bar at Rax, I never, ever popped a single salad fixing in my mouth, even though there were literally dozens of buckets of mushrooms and olives and cherry tomatoes and croutons laid out before me ripe for the picking!

  * * *

  Tips for Coping with a Job You Dislike but Must Keep

  When you can, spend time in your car—For breaks and lunches, your parked car is a great way to escape the pressures of your job. There’s a lot more privacy and fewer critical eyes around when you need to collect your thoughts, space out, or not hyperventilate. The only downside is that sometimes the urge to switch on the ignition and drive away forever is too great. (That’s how I left a job cleaning offices.)

  Daydream a lot—This is a double-edged sword, I admit. Sometimes fantasizing is the only way to cope with boring and dreary work. But you can get caught doing it really easily. You do not want your boss shouting, “Hey, you, stop thinking about Ridge on The Bold and the Beautiful and get back to work!” (Boy, it’s weird
how psychic bosses can be sometimes!) Still, I can’t tell you how many times my old standby, skipping along Willy Wonka’s chocolate river hand-in-hand with Fabio (double-drool!), has gotten me through some seriously dull stretches!

  Treat yourself to goodies sold near your workplace—Every time I get a new job (often), I always have to buy things at the stores nearby. It’s a good incentive to keep working at a job I might otherwise quit or eventually get fired from. I’m pretty sure I stayed as long as I did at a mailroom job at a mortgage-lending firm because there was a great bakery across the street. Of course, during those four months, I managed to gain twenty pounds!

  Keep a running list of things that remind you why you’re better than a nasty coworker—Once in a while at a job, I’ve been known to, well, get on someone’s bad side. Certainly not intentionally, but sometimes I encounter someone who has a lot of problems with my occasional lack of punctuality or teeny-weeny slip-ups. It’s unfair, but it happens. To keep from getting really down about it, I always try to keep in mind what positive qualities I have that he or she sorely lacks. Things like empathy, a sense of humor, a bigger imagination, and the ability to recognize my mistakes as being part of what makes us human. Keeping a written list is also a good way to prepare yourself in case your supervisor calls you in to explain yourself if something unpleasant happens (like, accidentally shredding every copy of the most current employee-benefits manuals because you thought they were on the shred pile, to name a random example). Just make sure you keep that list on your person, or you can get into mucho agua caliente!

  * * *

  There’s more! I’m extremely punctual for shifts that start after 10 a.m. I like to think I am well organized. I don’t know for sure, because I’ve never had a workspace I was allowed to keep my stuff in overnight, but I can’t imagine it’s too hard to manage paperwork, as long as you’re given file cabinets and folders to keep it in. Plus I have great communication skills. I’m really pleasant on the phone—I love talking to customers! Except when they’re irate. Then sometimes I lose my head a little and start to cry.

  And perhaps best of all, if I’m working in retail, I’m often that store’s best customer. I’ve been known to spend two-thirds of my take-home pay on merchandise I found irresistible! And, if I happened to be issued a store credit card, sometimes I even owed money! Hubby Rick used to get on my case about that, but if you think about it, isn’t it a good thing if employees buy a lot from the store they work for? It shows they believe in the store’s fundamental mission—to offer things to people to buy—and aren’t there just to do a day’s work.

  My friend Patti, who teaches old people at the local community college, says that I already found my real calling—writing—and that I should consider going back to school and getting a teaching degree so I can show others how to write. But I can’t imagine doing that, because I hate school. Or more accurately, I hate what school has become. I was never big on doing homework, and have no reason to believe I’ve changed, so I don’t know how I would get a degree. Plus, if I had to teach actual students, I’d be such a softie that I’d probably be forced to turn in my teaching badge! I’d hold class outside on every day that wasn’t raining or snowing, and buy my students sodas at the student union, and pass everyone automatically—heck, I’d be handing out As like supermarket coupon flyers! Inevitably this would land me in trouble with some uptight, humorless dean. But what can I say, I believe life should be fun and that everybody should get to succeed! Ah, if only more people believed in the beautiful world that I envision.

  Right now I’m working five hours a day at my buddy Fulgencio’s stall at our local indoor flea market. He calls it “¡Basura Fabulosa!”—“Fabulous Trash!” in Spanish. The work is divine—few crowds, plenty of time to catch up on the Good Housekeeping issues I’ve missed, and I’m surrounded by lots of lovely flea-market eye candy, like homemade quilts and tiny wicker doll chairs and American flag-shaped everything! It would come darn close to being my dream day job, save for one small hitch: I only get paid $20 a day. I’m also entitled to ten percent of each sale, but seeing as we mostly sell stuff like back issues of Good Housekeeping and VHS cassettes of Jean-Claude Van Damme movies, all I can say is, thank heavens for that $20!

  Here’s how I envision my dream day job:

  I work at a place that is busy enough to make the time pass quickly, but I never feel rushed or overwhelmed.

  If it’s retail, I get a minimum 50 percent merchandise discount. This is soooo important.

  I sit on my very own chair.

  If the employee lounging area is outdoors, it has shade. (Preferably not shade provided by the Dumpster.)

  The vending machine contains Tato Skins, my all-time favorite potato chip. (Whatever happened to them, anyhow?)

  If I have to stock merchandise, it’s light stuff (like cotton balls or stuffed animals) and I don’t have to climb more than two feet off the ground. (I’m prone to vertigo.)

  Friendly coworkers who aren’t great big Judge Judys about everything. You know what I’m talking about? Their tongues don’t go all a-wagging just because you forget it’s your turn to bring in the weekly treat, or, while distributing the mail, you somehow misplace the employees’ payroll checks and everybody searches for them, then, at the end of the day, the office supervisor finds them in a bathroom stall under a copy of Us Weekly that you left on top of the toilet during your break.

  It taps into all my aforementioned strengths. To recap, that’s wrapping, folding, arranging, not eating the merchandise, punctuality after 10 a.m., talking, and buying things.

  See? I’ve never asked for much. So if you’re an employer, and you think you have the ideal job for me, let me know! It’s a win-win situation for us both—me for obvious reasons, and you for the fact that you’d have a nationally recognized newspaper columnist manning your cash register or stocking your cotton balls!

  * * *

  Jean Meleanne Teasdale

  1567 Blossom Meadows Drive, Apt. 48B

  jteasdale@theonion.com

  Objective:

  To have so much fun it doesn’t seem like work, and get paid doing it!

  Summary of Qualifications:

  Years (exactly how many available upon request—a lady doesn’t admit anything that would indicate her true age!) of experience in feature-column writing and opinion-having.

  Years (again, exactly how many available upon request!) of customer service experience in retail and the private sector. Ability to deal with customers in various situations, provided they are nice and in a good mood.

  Can laminate to some degree.

  Am generous in heart and spirit.

  Education:

  Gus Grissom High School, Class of 1989

  Work Experience:

  1990-Present

  Columnist, The Onion

  Disclosing intimate aspects of my life in columns of 500-800 word length; bringing a smile to the face of countless Onion readers; imparting insight with a sassy spark. Mastered meeting deadlines and writing complete sentences. In 2004, came in eighth for “Favorite Regional Columnist” in local free weekly Pressing Matters’ annual Readers’ Poll. In 2010, released my first-ever full-length book, A Book of Jean’s Own! (Exclamation point part of the title, not the sentence)

  Jan. 2006-Present

  ¡Basura Fabuloso! Booth Worker, Riverside Indoor Flea Market

  Sell secondhand knickknacks, framed pictures, VHS tapes, and back issues of Good Housekeeping, Cosmopolitan, Woman’s World, and other magazines. Other duties include loading and unloading merchandise on and off tables; arranging merchandise in attractive ways; using basic arithmetic skills; using a calculator; and occasional price negotiation with customers. On weekends, frequently shop yard sales or assist my friend/boss, Fulgencio Moreno (reference provided upon request), in picking up and transporting items he has purchased for sale. Occasional Dumpster-diving.

  Dec. 1998-Continuing (Christmas season only)

  Gift-Wra
pper, Northway Mall

  Cover gifts of varying size in wrapping paper. Skills involve cutting, taping, folding, and estimating accurate measurements under significant time restraints and customer pressure. Received very nice letter of recommendation from wrapping-booth supervisor, available upon request.

  March-July 2005

  Manager, Off-Season Santa

  Ordering and stocking miscellaneous Christmas merchandise; dressing as elf and the Adorable Snowbelle (play on Abominable Snowman); helping owner/father Horvel Speidr, an authentic professional shopping-mall Santa Claus, get into and out of his special off-season Santa outfit (no easy feat); maintaining festive Christmasy appearance of store all year-round (in theory, as we closed after only four months due to a devastating fire); some bookkeeping.

  September 2000-June 2002

  Sales Associate, Fashion Bug

  Selling trendy fashions at discount prices. Duties included cash register, folding and arranging merchandise on floor, fetching different sizes for customers in fitting room, assisting in bi-annual inventory, and cleaning the employee’s bathroom when the housekeeping service didn’t show up, which happened a lot, possibly because we were stuck in this mini-mall in a kind of run-down part of town.

  May 1998-December 2001