Emily Timbol

Fiction Author. Good at making stuff up.

Without Further Ado

Mar
23

My latest Relevant Magazine article, on the NYC travel disaster that I had mentioned a few months ago. I really like this piece, hope you do too!

Don’t Look at me! Don’t Look at me!

Mar
22

I have a confession; I can’t ride a bicycle. It’s not that I never tried as a kid, I did, but I never really liked it, and so, whenever I’ve tried in recent years, it hasn’t happened for me. There are multiple reasons for this; my lack of balance, my huge ass, my lack of balance, but mostly, my irrational fear of people laughing at me causes me not to try and learn. Here’s the caveat, this fear is only for people laughing at me for doing something physical. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is because I’m a fatty fat fat, born and raised, but the weird thing is, I have absolutely zero shame except in the area of athleticism.

Example A: Remember that commercial for “Pepto Bismol”, where people would dance and point to their midsection and rear singing, “Nausea, Heartburn, Upset Stomach, Indigestion, Diarrhea?” I use to do that in the middle of Publix just to embarrass my sister. Example B: I was on the tennis team in high school and normally was a notch above the girl who picked up tennis balls after practice in skill level, but since the coach liked me, I sometimes was substituted for the higher ranked girls, when we were getting our asses beat. I was like the 3rd string quarterback. One time, because girls 1-4 were all sick or suspended (ie, caught drinking), I was placed in the NUMBER ONE slot against a girl who was nationally ranked. While all my friends and the super cute boy I later wrote my awful screenplay about watched, I was beaten, 6-0, 6-0, in about 5 minutes, without ever scoring a point or returning a serve. Trying to be sportsman like, at one point I went to say, “nice serve” but it came out, “nice sherve” and everyone laughed. I cried in the bathroom immediately after it was over. Example C: I love singing Karaoke. And I don’t sing well, and once was booed off stage and laughed about it.
As an adult, I know it’s important to face your fears and conquer them, but when I tried that with the bicycle a couple years ago, I ran into the sign for the neighborhood and flew off my bike into the bushes, so yeah, no more wheels for me. That’s one of the reasons though that I have been so determined to stick with swimming. Mixing my fear of being laughed at for lack of physical prowess with a freaking bathing suit is a lot braver than riding a bike, thank you very much. And so far it’s been great, I’ve really taken to it and have worked up to swimming for 45 minutes two or three times a week, and gone from 20 laps when I started, to now 50(almost a mile.)
But.
The new Y where I am going to is a little different than the one where I began my swimming adventure. For one, it’s old, old, old, and dirty. But meh, I can handle it. What’s harder to handle is the fact that, being much less crowded than my last Y, I am often the only person swimming laps in the morning ,which means that on some mornings, like today’s, I have to swim laps with three lifeguards staring at me, just me. No one else. The whole time. Sometimes they even walk along the pool while I swim which is like, ridiculously awkward and always makes me feel like I have to swim faster. But the worst part is this, the cardio deck in the gym above, LOOKS OVER the pool, which means, in addition to those three lifeguards, there could be a dozen other people looking at me. On the bright side, I’m never going to drown, but on the downside, the whole time I’m swimming I hear Carrie‘s Mom saying, “They’re all going to laugh at you!” the whole time I swim.
So….anyone want to come to the pool with me Wednesday?

I Think I’ll Miss The Copier Most

Mar
05

Today is my last day at my current job.

I always thought that I would utter those words through a ski mask while holding a match and can of gasoline, but no, I’m still felony free. After two years, six months, and thirteen days (and yes that’s the actual number, I googled it) I am free.

928 days have elapsed since I first started working here, but I could guarantee you my boss knows less about me than you do. I fully understand that there needs to be barriers that exist between a professional and personal relationship (just ask Demi Moore and Michael Douglas about that) but a little bit of interest in your employees lives can go a long way. It matters that employees feel appreciated, and if you are an employer, it honestly is in your best interest to treat them fairly. Science proves that.

Now, it is true that a lot of my unhappiness stems from the fact that I work in an industry that is stereotypically older, conservative, technologically stubborn, and ultra conventional. Let’s just say when I started and they told me their biggest client was Nascar I should have saw what was coming. It should then be no surprise to you that I didn’t exactly fit into a company where, during the election cycle, I was sent home for wearing an “Obama ’08” T-Shirt on casual Friday because HR got so many complaints on it’s “offensiveness.” Incidentally, the next day when I saw three people with “McCain/Palin” coffee mugs I was the only one “offended.” And please, don’t get me started about the comments by the old men in the sexual harassment seminar that usually began with, “Well if they don’t want me to look, they shouldn’t have such big breasts!” Sigh.

Basically though, I have felt much like Will Ferrell in the beginning of Elf, falling behind in his job at producing Etch-a-Sketch’s, deep down knowing that he wasn’t made for that. I wasn’t made to work a job in an industry I hate, for a company that doesn’t care about it’s employees, doing work that gives me no creative outlet. I wasn’t made to do the same thing, every day, over and over, never getting a varying response other than “thanks” no matter how hard or not I worked on it. I also wasn’t made to produce Etch-a-Sketch’s, but I guarantee I would have tried harder at that than I’ve tried at this for the past year.

Now, if you’re thinking I’m an idiot since my new boss surely knows how to use Google, you are right, he does, but he also already knows everything I just said, because I told him in my interview. And while, technically, my title at this new company will be the same title as the one I currently (for 2.5 more hours) have, I am confident it will be different. For one, it’s a completely different industry, two – I already feel appreciated since all six people who interviewed me unanimously wanted to hire me, and three- they told me flat out that no two days look the same, and the work is always changing. Also, during my walk through I was happy to see that I wasn’t the youngest person in the company by about 30 years, and I saw absolutely zero Nascar signs.

While no, my new job does not have anything to do with writing, I am not discouraged in the least. I am fully aware that I just started formally pursuing a career in writing, less than a year ago, and building up a working resume will take time. I will not be disheartened if it takes me five, or even ten years to get together enough material for a book proposal or a full time writing career. I just want to have a job during that time that doesn’t make me miserable, where I can feel appreciated, and put forth an effort level that the company deserves. So if you’re reading this new boss, don’t worry, I won’t be blogging on the clock.

And if you’re reading this old boss, I stole the stapler, and you can’t have it back. It was a red Swingline and it’s MINE.