The Purse Forum $1,000 Bag Giveaway

[strictlybeautiful]

ooooo i love the messenger bag!!!! but im from a lil country called Brunei.. are non-Americans allowed to enter this contest... yes im way too lazy to read the r&r

[TheArtofAcquisition]

For the sake of entertainment and less for the possibility of winning a bag, let write, for fun, about one of the jobs I had.

Office Manager of a Christian Homeless Mission. I could write a novel on this.

After just having "recovered" from years of struggle with anorexia, I saw a poster of an emaciated homeless man on the ceiling of a bus. I started as a volunteer at the Christian Mission for which the poster was advertising, and later became office Manager. Every day I walked into Chinatown, feeling like prey in a Safari of drug users, prostitutes, men who hadn’t slept in days who pulled down their pants at anything, shouted at anything, whispered at nothing, and men who slept all the time, in any dark place. The place smelled of sweat, alcohol, piss and the Chinese grocery shops that lined the street. I always wondered what herbs or spices I smelled, but they were as foreign to me as everything else. Rather than worldly, I felt small, sheltered and ignorant. Everyone working at the Mission was tougher than I was, or tougher than I felt.

The inside of the Mission was not much better than the neighborhood. It smelled like an animal in decay. The building felt as if it was being consumed from the inside out. Once they removed to replace the toilets on the second floor and from the dark holes came cockroaches. Since then I felt as if there was only a thin layer between myself and the cockroaches, which I assumed where just an inch under every wall, and felt like the devil himself wriggling outward. Often they prayed for the rooms, but I always felt it futile. I prayed reluctantly, which led them to think I did not believe in prayer. I did, but I felt something else, maybe stronger, whispering curses against us.

Once I worked too late to catch my typical bus ride home and decided to sleep in the office. The shouts and sirens outside seemed to reach sexual climax after midnight. I trembled on the couch and prayed for morning, but then dreamt of an alley cat wandering past the sleeping bodies on the sidewalks. It wove between the dark souls, into bars, down alleys, up rooftops, into the air conditioning and jumped onto my couch, onto me. It was a dream, but there was something to it – a dark spirit, everywhere, trying to make its way in.

My unstable nature due to my former anorexia led me to on occasion wander to the food pantry where the goods were kept for the poor. In a daze I would reach for something, cookies, chips, usually stale (people never donate anything they want to eat), and munch, leaving crumbs decorating my blouse. I still associate that place with the taste of stale croissants and expired yogurt. (Because of my anorexia, I drew comfort at that time, from food, and gained weight for quite a while, till I regained a feeling of normalcy around food.)

Truth is, I was as lost as many of the people I was trying to help. Once I was speaking to a man who was describing his alcoholism. He said, “I can’t stop. Every time I try, I do it again. Why do I do what I know is wrong? I am so ashamed. I hate myself. ” I understood him completely. I told him what I often told myself, “It’s Ok. Forgive yourself. If God can forgive you, if God can love you, then who are you to have a harsher judgment than God?” etc. etc. It was rare that I actually spoke to the people there. Usually I worked upstairs, receiving donations, marking them in the computer. Little crumpled two dollar bills with notes saying “I wish I could give more”, checks for $300 in perfect cursive, anonymous $100 bills, even threatening letters, it all came in the mail for the mission, and I was the first to view these little gems and horrors. They too smelled, of sweat and hands, money and madness. The trouble was that I was not particularly mathematical, though my job was very much a type of accounting, so no matter how carefully I added things together it usually had some errors, which meant that I would have to run it again and again till it was right. I always felt so worthless at what I did, especially when my boss would call me in the office for a scolding. When I was absent or sick, he would do my job for me, and always commented how he got it done in no time, yet it took me somehow, all day. However it was not my fault or his fault, it was like making a sloth run the Kentucky Derby, I was not a mathematical person. My boss was a gruff old man, the sort you imagine eating steaks, fishing, golfing or hunting. He often wore a shirt with little golfers on it, just about to swing. He talked like a sports coach, and we were his team. He always seemed to me ill cast in his role, as if he just happened upon this job when really he coached a Football team somewhere. He grunted. He grunted in agreement or disagreement. He pulled on the left side of his shirt all the time, as if it was chafing him, yet it was some sort of nervous twitch. His wife was the real boss, anyone working there knew it. I always wanted her to like me, yet I gave up on that notion quickly. She would call me into her office, and I, wide-eyed, thinking we would be chatting, or that she had a special task for me, would trot in, only to hear, “Your skirt is too short.” Or “Your blouse is too low”. Just when I thought the next logical step would be to wear a Burka (Muslim dress), she would find something else amiss with me. Once I walked a different path through the building on our way to mandatory morning prayer and she yelled, “Don’t try to leave prayer! I see you!” I had never run away from prayer before, nor was I doing so now. She then scolded me in front of everyone. She had this habit, also, of prescribing prayer. She would assign different parts of the Mission for each female to pray about (the men and women prayed separately after she arrived, why I have no idea, we never prayed about vaginas or periods). If we missed any section of the building, she felt the place was not “covered”. She evoked God as someone might call up an evil spirit during a séance, as if everything had to be in the “right” place, or God wouldn’t come. Any independent prayer or imaginative communication with the Lord was frowned upon. That morning, after our argument in front of the whole staff, she commanded me, “Pray!” I replied, “I can’t Pray now!”, and ran outside towards the Chinese market, crying among the hanging ducks and bamboo plants.

Part of my job was to go to the bank after all the money was collected. One particular morning after going to the bank I wondered if I could not slip off for an hour and head to the local church to get some alone time. I liked it there because it was a baroque church, gilded and candlelit, and reminded me of better times traveling in Europe. I took one step off the curb and my foot twisted in my shoe. I tried to walk on it, but it was so painful. I hobbled back into the bank, then after much confusion as to what course to take, I hobbled back to the mission. I showed one of the workers downstairs. He said it was probably sprained, so I hobbled back upstairs and to my desk. I worked till the end of the day despite the discomfort. It was not until the next afternoon that I decided it was too painful to bear, (unlike now, when I run to the doctor if I cut my finger oddly), and found out it was broken. I wore a removable cast for the next 9 months, 9 because I kept working, walking, and re-injuring it. I worked while on Vicadin and my math did not improve. I re-injured it once quite badly and my boss found me weeping in the office. He, being a coach, was not used to seeing his players weep, so he did not know what to say or do. He was too harsh, telling me to get back to work or leave. At least that is what I think he said, I barely remember. My little desk became more of my home than ever over those months I could not walk, and I was grateful to be somewhere, among people, rather than alone. I had another job at a later time when I was actually granted a sick leave for another injury, but I wonder what is worse, to be working, or alone in your house? In a way, they gave me a home when I was homeless.

I saw my first and last dead man working there. I often tell this story though I wonder if it really had an impact on me. The body was on the street across from the Mission. He was sitting down, cross legged, his head slumped down, his arms resting on his legs, his palms up and open. It almost seemed as if he was meditating, but he was purple. Just a foot away from him was a needle. He seemed so peaceful. It was not as violent or dark as I always imagined death to be. He did not seem dead. Odd how the difference between death and life can seem so minute, just a whisper of a soul, inside a moment, out the next. I later wrote about this experience in a college application, but I think I exaggerated it. Death is smaller than you imagine it to be, it is more of an absence than a presence.

There were more adventures etc. etc. including my own darkest moment in my life, but I will save that for my own journal. I write this not for a free handbag but because I miss writing. (Not that this is good writing, this is terrible journal stream of consciousness type writing – but therapeutic.) I don’t mean to sound self pitying either, though that is the point of this thread, I suppose. I am still pretty innocent and naïve, not half as worldly or experienced as I would like.

[kathyrose]

I wrote a long one the day this thread was initially started but when I hit to post, it asked me to log in and I lost everything. I thought it was a sign for me not to send it out cause I might get in trouble as I work there still. LOL.

[ClickFive]

Does anyone else find that fact that one of the bags is made out of HORSE revolting?!

[taco]

Originally Posted by Purseloco

I DESERVE A BAG BECAUSE: I am a nurse that works every weekend and every holiday sitting at a desk for 10 hours a shift listening to peoples medical problems. The list of medical problems range from ERECTILE DYSFUCTION, TO RECTUM PROBLEMS AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN. ONCE I WAS ASKED OUT ON A DATE BY A MALE WITH SORES ALL OVER HIS PENIS. I DESERVE A RAISE, BUT A NEW BAG WOULD DO! THE CHAIR THAT I SIT IN IS HELD TOGETHER WITH DUCK TAPE AND HOMEMADE PATCHES THAT A DEAR CO-WORKER PATCHED ON BECAUSE THERE WAS HOLES ALL OVER THE SEAT AND BACK. THE COMPUTOR EQUIPMENT IS ANTIQUATED, HALF THE TIMES DOESN'T WORK. I DESERVE A BAG BECAUSE I NEVER WON ANYTHING IN MY LIFE AND I WANT TO WIN NOW.

Quote:

ERECTILE DYSFUCTION, TO RECTUM PROBLEMS AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN. ONCE I WAS ASKED OUT ON A DATE BY A MALE WITH SORES ALL OVER HIS PENIS.

I have never won anything as nice as this bag, but I wholeheartedly throw any votes my tale of woe may have generated to poor Purseloco. No gal should ever go through all that & not have a killer bag to show for it.

[Bagasms]

Originally Posted by ranskimmie

Job title: At home mom of 13yr. old female Job description: Psychologist, taxi driver, personal assistant, cook, and pms advisor. Job title: At home mom of 9yr. old male Job description: paying for neighbors broken windows, doors (anything breakable. Cook, baseball team mom, broken bone specialist, vomit catcher, and house keeper. Job title: At home mom of 3yr. old son. 2a.m. nightmare docter, getting rid of all monsters that hide in clostets and under beds. Potty training professional, bad owie fixer, keeper of the cheerios, referee to all three when in dog pile fight, cook, story book and Barney pro. Know-m' all word for word (that should be the winning factor in its own) and last but not least: The hubby:Job title: Job counselor, on call 24/7 for...... well you know. Cook, errand runner, bank officer, maid service, bill collector, oh and lets not forget Chloe my 6mo. old Shih Tzu. Yep all, Im a dog trainer too!

Ranskimmie, our bosses must be two of a kind, except I am a mother of three, the hubby and two little ladies!

[Vlad]

Originally Posted by strictlybeautiful

yes im way too lazy to read the r&r

That's the right spirit.

[TheArtofAcquisition]

Originally Posted by ClickFive

Does anyone else find that fact that one of the bags is made out of HORSE revolting?!

Horse? Like Barbaro? I think they just mean horsehair, like pony hair, not actual skin, right?

[missypoo]

Well I must say that my job doesn't "suck" per say, but more "rewarding" and "stressful." I quit my job to stay home with my two young daughters (2 and 3 now) about a year ago. I used to work as a dietary aide in a nursing home. There are times when I wish I did work at a regular job just to escape, but I know I will never regret the decision. Alot of people think that staying home with your children is a piece of cake, but it can be sometimes overwhelming and you need to keep your sanity. LOL!! My husband works all day and when he comes home, he thinks all I do is just sit around all day long and that is far from the truth. There are times when I leave the girls with him to run errands he calls me on my cell phone asking me if I'm coming home soon. My mom used to watch my older daughter while I was working and then I become pregnant with my youngest girl and that was too much for her because she was diagnosed with colon cancer and I only felt comfortable her watching my girls. So I decided that I would just quit and stay home with them. Sorry if this too long, but just had to share my story. Thanks for listening!!

[ranskimmie]

Originally Posted by Bagasms

Ranskimmie, our bosses must be two of a kind, except I am a mother of three, the hubby and two little ladies!

You know, I was wathcing a episode on 20/20 (dont laugh) any way they did a payscale of which at home moms would get paid if we were that lucky. And for an at home mom of 3 like myself, I would be getting over $130,000 per year!!!!

[ILoveCoach]

I worked as a certified nurse assitant for a year in high school. I was at the bottom of the food chain, I did the things that the practical nurses didn't want to do.

My days were spends changing diapers and colostomy bags, I stopped wearing jewelry and cut my nails short because I would leave with all kinds of body fluids (and solids!! LOL) stuck inside my jewelry and under my nails. There was one woman who would reach into her diaper and throw whatever was in there at me when I would come in to feed/bathe her.

I worked at a hospital run by a nursing home, so my patients were lonely and "the lights were off" for many of them due to illness. I had patients that I LOVED! They would talk your ear off!!! There were some gross old men also, who would love it when I had to clean their gential area. I was in high school, I was 16 - 17 years old! That wasn't any fun, LoL. Once I was walking down the hall and I heard a lady screaming "HELP ME! HELP ME!" I came in and she told me that the nurses had not feed her since last week. I checked her chart and she had just been feed, but them I checked her diaper and she hadn't been changed in so long that the mattress was soaked through! I couldn't believe it. I had to change her diaper and clothes, move her to a chair, send the sheets the be cleaned, change the mattress and sheets, and put her back to bed. I was always moving patients, BIG patients. I'm a small girl, about 5'2" 115 pounds, and I could move any patient you could give me, I'm talking former marines, 200 pound men! I also "grew extra arms" working there. My hands were always full so I learned to open doors with my feet, elbows, butt, knees, whatever was available.

I saw these people at their most vulberable, I saw them more often then their own family did. There is one woman I will never forget, she didn't want me to change her diaper so I had to tie her down with restraints and a friend of mine (Javier, he is studying to be a doctor now!) had to hold her legs open while I changed her. That was the first time I ever had to restrain someone, she was violent, she would hit you and pull your hair. I saw patients get better, I saw patients get worse, I also saw some die.

I took many things with me from the experiences I had at the hospital, but if I could only share one of them with you, it would be this...

My job may have been cr@p, but it was one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. I changed lifes, I knew that I was important and my patients counted on me. That alone makes it all worthwhile, so I think if you are going to give a purse to the person with the worst job, it shouldn't be me.

[Cece31]

Originally Posted by passerby

Good luck to all contenders but my vote (even at this early stage) goes to jillybean. Jillybean, your job truly sucks but your writing's brilliant.

I do agree here
Don't take this the wrong way, ladies, but I feel really blessed to read about your jobs... I thought mine was cr*p but I realise there nothing compared to yours (and no need for my therapist for a while!!)

[Cece31]

Originally Posted by passerby

Good luck to all contenders but my vote (even at this early stage) goes to jillybean. Jillybean, your job truly sucks but your writing's brilliant.

Sorry, double post... I do apologise!!!!!!

[Addict525]

My job sucks because I have so much work it spilling into next week. I need a nice pick me up and a new bag would just do the trick. My boss left me with a ton of work while she is in jamaica for about a month!! How nice of her! Please pick Me!!

[cassidy]

Never have I worked for someone like the man I work for right now. He can only do one task at a time and believes that everyone else is the same way. He doesn't understand that I can wait on a customer, answer the phone and still do work on the computer or write up a customer's order. If I am paying employees or printing bill payments he will tell me one at a time what to print.

My nephew died last month. This child (he was 26) was like my own children. He was in a bad car wreck and passed away that weekend. I just called and told my boss I would be back after the funeral. When I came back to work he had the nerve to look at me and say "Well funerals aren't fun are they?" I just looked at him in shock. When I could speak I said You think! He then told me he knew I would need more time off and to just let him know when and I could have it. I asked to have the rest of the week off and was told not possible. He just could not deal with me not being in the office. Later someone must have told him how furious I was because he called me into his office to tell me what a good job I do for him. Then said what days do you need off. I told him the rest of the week and he still would not let me off. Not only did he act like this but he did not even send flowers or come to the visitation or funeral. Oh did I metion that he owns the business and it is just me, him and one more employee. It is not like I work for a major corporation. He will take off to go to the funeral of a customer or their family member that dies.

I can handle a lot of the stupid little things that he does. My boss is 55 and just married a 31 yr old. I had to listen to him about this wedding for 3 months. Before that I had to deal with him whine about his ex girlfriend that slept around on him, would lock herself in her house for days and not talk to him on the phone etc.

When he comes in first thing in the morning you can't talk to him aobut anything for at least 30 min. He will look at you and say give me a min to gather my thoughts. The store opens at 8 am, he might show up around 9 or later and he still needs 30 min to gather his thoughts. Lunch is the same way. He will go to lunch for over an hour and then come back and have to gather his thoughts.

We had a bad ice/snow storm December 22 2004. He closed early it was so bad and told me that if the roads were bad not to come in the next day. My husband and I drove by the office around 9:30 to see if he opened up and he had. Now the roads were iced over bad. He had me stay at the office until almost noon while he went to the church to get the ice off the sidewalks. Not one person came by or called the whole morning. Then he could not understand why I thought he was nuts to open at all. The only reason we were out in the first place was to pick up my step son from his mother for our weekly 4 day visitation.

I had to postpone my vacation this year due to our custody battle over my step son. The court decided that until everything was settled that his mom nor us could take him out of our county. That was fine. When I informed my boss that I need to postpone the vacation, he asked if he could just pay me for it and me not take one at all. I just looked and him and asked him if he was nuts and told him that yes I was going to take it later.

I may not win a purse but I feel better just telling someone how stupid my boss is!