Grace's Guide Page 2

  37. Tip the hotel housekeeping. They know ALL your secrets. WOOF.

  38. Find a good hairstylist. Getting your hair done, especially for a lady, can be an awkward, annoying task. It usually takes a long time, you’re going to have to have an extended conversation, and if you don’t like what they did there can be problems. Once you find that person who nails your look, like a romantic relationship, hold on tight!

  39. One wallet is all you need. Ladies, you can have a ton of purses but try to only have one wallet. As a serial purse and wallet swapper, I lose so many important things in the switch. So try to keep your money, IDs, credit cards, and ever-important loyalty cards in one place.

  40. Buy a few stain sticks and put them in strategic places. Your bathroom, your car, your bag, your kitchen, etc.

  41. Work on your handshake. It says a lot about you as a person and you can’t redo it once it’s done. Unless that becomes your handshake—the twice-over. Interesting choice.

  42. Don’t wear a shirt with a band/musical artist on it. Unless you’re ready to have conversations with strangers about it.

  43. Keep extra blankets and pillows in your house. It’s very classy to actually have clean bedding for your guests.

  44. Have a “guest basket” of toiletries. This will make you seem like a WONDERFULLY THOUGHTFUL person. I know because I’ve been the guest in a house that had this type of basket, and I immediately felt like I should give them my first child.

  45. If you can’t find the expiration date, don’t eat it. It’s not worth the potential diarrhea at the office.

  46. Never FORCE someone to watch/look at/read your creative project/work/game. Think about whether they really want to offer their opinion before you make them do it.

  47. Don’t hold a grudge. Especially over a board game. Do you really want the news headline “Board Game Becomes Sword Maim” written about you?

  48. Use Q-tips sometimes!

  49. Invest in a giant Costco-sized bottle of pain medicine. It’s worth it.

  50. Be nice.

  THE ART OF FAKING IT UNTIL SOMEONE CALLS YOU OUT ON IT

  THE ART OF DOING THE LEAST TO GET PAID MORE THAN YOU DID FOR BABYSITTING

  THE ART OF FINDING YOUR INNER PANTS SUIT AND YOUR OUTER SWEATPANTS

  The Art of Balance, Commitment, and Finding the Bathroom No One Else Uses

  THE ART OF CONVINCING A STRANGER TO GIVE YOU MONEY FOR USING A COMPUTER

  THE ART OF MINIMIZING YOUR DEBT AND MAXIMIZING YOUR POTENTIAL TO LEARN WHAT THE WORD “COLLATE” MEANS

  THE ART OF EXPANDING YOUR MIND AND DEBT

  THE ART OF HOPEFULLY, EVENTUALLY MAKING SOME MONEY FOR DOING A JOB RELATIVELY CLOSE TO SOMETHING YOU SORT OF ENJOY

  Your Professional Life

  Welcome to the part of the book about school and your brain and your professional life. I can practically smell the blazers and the classy leather business side-satchels.

  When I was a little girl I used to flip through JCPenney’s giant annual holiday catalog and circle all the toys I wanted for Christmas that year. I remember circling things like the cash register set; the “little miss professional” attaché case, complete with a giant fake cell phone and legal pad; the nurse play set; the pop-up chalkboard; you get the idea. My favorite toys were all business/work-related. I was already an entrepreneur and I hadn’t even finished second grade.

  Of course, I wanted dolls and princess dress-up kits, too, but my dad didn’t like Barbie and the female ideal she represented. The only Barbie he ever caved and bought me was Native American Barbie, because he thought it had educational value. What a guy. He loves education and hard work. I remember in fifth grade, I had an assignment to try to re-create something associated with the Sioux Indians. My dad and I set out to make a papoose. What I mean by that is my dad made a papoose. A papoose is a cradle backpack that the Native Americans used to carry their children. They looked something like this:

  I watched helped my dad gather sticks, glue them together onto a piece of wood and tie them off with brown suede rope, then hand-stitch burlap into the shape of a headpiece, and decorate the entire structure with beads and feathers. I had to stop him before he tried to put a fake baby inside for “realism.” When I brought in my project, it was clear that I hadn’t made it. Everyone else brought in handmade bows and arrows or rocks that they had painted with native motifs. I had a life-sized papoose. My dad got an A.

  His feverish passion for work and education really influenced me as I got older. I became a sort of nerd-jock hybrid in high school. I always wanted to get good grades, I always wanted to win my events at track meets, I performed in plays, and I joined all the clubs I thought I should join to make my résumé look appealing to colleges. I even competed in mock trial for one year, until I realized that I’m NOT a good lawyer. I just liked the excuse to wear a lady suit.

  By the time I was a senior, the effort paid off. I got a full ride to the first college I applied to. Granted, it was a small liberal arts college in northern New Jersey that had an alarming number of skunks running around the campus (like, actual skunks; they were not in the brochure). But they took me on early decision in December and I thought, Well, okay, I guess my college-search thing is done, cool. While everyone else sent out all of their applications and did campus visits and interviews, I was done. It felt great.

  Until I got there. I had a terrible time adjusting. Turns out I hate change and I’m not good at socializing. Good to know! I got really depressed and sat in my room a lot, researching other colleges. At one point, I started filling out applications to other, bigger schools like NYU and UCLA, because I thought they’d give me a more “authentic” college experience. Our college didn’t have a football team and our mascot was the road runner (NOT the cartoon character) and there were skunks all over and I had ten Bulgarian exchange students living on my floor–this was not a real school.

  But then I had a conversation with my mom and she encouraged me to stick it out until the end of the semester to see if I could find just one thing I liked. After all, it was a free ride, and it was up to me to make the most of it. So I did what I do best: I worked hard. I got a job off campus, I signed up for indoor track (turns out I had lost my edge and was no longer competitive in track–also fun to learn!), and I made friends with the Bulgarians, who turned out to be some of the nicest, most hilarious people.

  Eventually over the next few years I found my niche. I got into writing and performing and started interning in the city while working two off-campus jobs (you’ll hear all about it) and I finally started to sort of enjoy my experience. For a while after I graduated, I still lived in regret that I missed out on a super-fun college experience. But as I got more involved in the professional world, I became grateful for the experience. Also, the lack of college loans is a very nice thing.

  I’m still not the most social person in the world (I work on the Internet), nor am I the smartest in the brain department (no doy), but I do know how to put hard work into something. So welcome to the part of the book where I try to give you guidance whether you’re still in school or making the leap into the professional world.

  The most helpful advice I can give you is to work hard. Take it or leave it. But if you leave it, make sure you recycle it–don’t litter. There’s a tip!

  HOW TO

  BALANCE WORK AND PLAY

  I’m a notorious workaholic. It’s something my dad unintentionally taught me. He used to come to my high school track meets, and right after I’d clear a high jump I’d look over and he’d be furiously working on land-planning blueprints or writing his presentations for building developments or whatever it is he does. I tell everyone he’s a professional planner. He has one of those tall drafting tables and collects soil samples (aka bags of dirt) from areas people want to build on. That’s really all I know about what he does for a living. I should probably ask him more about it. Dad was always working and he was great at it, but I’m not sure if he totally lo
ved his job.

  Out-of-focus photo taken by my dad at a track meet.

  Following in his footsteps, I accidentally got really into working. Having multiple jobs became one of my special skills. I’ve had almost every crappy job imaginable in retail and food service. My first job was as a fitting room attendant at T.J.Maxx. But after I spent a month there watching SO MANY middle-aged women blatantly try to steal clothes by hiding them under their own clothes, Chili’s called looking for a hostess, and they paid fifty cents more an hour. BOOM. Upgrade.

  When I went to college, I used working as a way to avoid socializing. Yay! I started my freshman year as a server at Chili’s. I had finally graduated from being a hostess to being a server–a dream come true.

  One summer, I took things to an extreme. I had a job working at an Applebee’s in Hamilton, New Jersey, near my dad’s house three days a week, and a second job at a Dave & Buster’s working another three days a week in Philadelphia near my mom’s house. On my day off, I’d go visit my boyfriend in Central Jersey. That summer, I specialized in driving across New Jersey and being tired. Dave & Buster’s kitchen staff was comprised of rehabilitated criminals, and after every shift a security guard had to escort me to my car. It was all very glamorous.

  Of course, I was miserable and eventually I cracked from exhaustion . . . in the middle of a Target parking lot. I was leaving the store after shopping with my mom and I became hysterical in the parking lot at just the thought of going to my dinner shift later that afternoon. My mom was so disturbed by my deteriorating mental state that she made me quit on the spot. I called and cried and quit. You would think that I’d have learned my lesson then about balancing work and play and not overcommitting myself based on this experience, but no.

  When I was a junior in college, I upped the ante. I taught tennis on the weekends in addition to working the Thursday and Friday night shifts at Applebee’s. By “teaching tennis” I really mean: throwing tennis balls at upper-middle-class kids whose parents wanted one hour to drink Chardonnay alone. On top of Applebee’s and teaching tennis, I arranged my schedule so that I only had classes two days a week and added internships to the mix. I was technically only required to do one internship in order to get my degree in communications. HOWEVER, because I was addicted to working and desperate to set myself up for success post-college, every semester I made a copy of the internship form for the workplace advisor to sign, so that I could apply for a new internship–without raising any eyebrows or getting approval by the school. By the time I graduated, I’d had five internships. I only got college credit for the first one. I was making copies and getting coffee for my twentysomething bosses without any compensation–credit or otherwise. This was technically illegal.

  After I graduated, it seemed like all that hustling (and not having fun) was for nothing. I moved in with the guy I was dating (who was still in school and living with four other boys) and I worked at the local Olive Garden. There I learned that people can shovel an incredible amount of carbs down their throats when endless pasta bowls are promised. I saw a lot of overeating that can’t be unseen.

  Two months into my Olive Garden experience I got a call from one of my internship advisors offering me a job. COLLEGE WAS WORTH IT! Essentially, the company I interned for over three separate semesters created a position for me so they could feel less guilty about using all of my time for free. Also, I like to think that I was relatively competent. That’s debatable, but back then I was sharp(er) and quiet and desperate.

  Meanwhile, I had just moved into a Brooklyn apartment with my college roommate that was an hour train ride away from my job in Manhattan. Every morning, I woke up and took the train and got to work and did about two hours of real work over the course of an eight-hour workday, and then took the train home to shoot vlogs with my roommate or attend an improv class in the city. In between “work-work,” I’d work on comedy sketches and screenplays when my boss wasn’t looking at my computer. We shared an office–woof.

  My boss was amazing. She was probably ten years older than me, the former president of her college sorority, an incredible project manager who could balance work and play like I’ve never seen. She could organize a fifty-person commercial shoot, a charity 5K for her sorority, and her own wedding at the same time. And then at the end of the day she’d hit up a happy hour with friends for two hours and head back to her house in Jersey. She was great. She inadvertently taught me so much about organization and time management and personal enjoyment. I was really bad at all three, especially the personal enjoyment part.

  After about four months of working at that company, I came to the conclusion that I wanted to pursue comedy full-time. I quit and found a job with more flexible hours at a restaurant called Houston’s (essentially an upmarket Chili’s in the middle of Manhattan). Three months and a few dropped rib platters later, I got the opportunity to start my professional Internet-video-making adventure. I was hired by a website and I got to work from home, which was A DREAM COME TRUE. I had no boss looking at my computer, no table I had to tell the specials to, and no spoiled kids with clothes that cost more than my car that I had to throw tennis balls at. It was just me, myself, and I(nternet). With that, I very quickly learned that it was up to me to manage my time and keep myself on a schedule that both got my work done and allowed me to have fun.

  After seeing my dad quietly labor over a job he never enjoyed that much, my only aspiration as an adult was to get paid to do something I love. And, OMG, it’s happening. And I want to keep it happening. But I do believe that “all work and no play makes Grace a dull girl,” so setting aside and enjoying plenty of downtime is something I’m working on.

  Here are some of my thoughts on how you can balance work and play. Because life is cool when it’s cool.

  Incentivize

  Treat yo’self.

  Give yourself something to look forward to if you get x amount of work done. When I was a kid, my mom had a whole star-sticker system. If we did our chores that week we’d get a star sticker, if we were well behaved we’d get a star sticker. At the end of the week we’d be rewarded according to however many star stickers we had collected. This might be why I’m very competitive as an adult.

  In kindergarten, I remember we were rewarded via a similar system, and at the end of each week the two students with the highest behavior ratings got to have a McDonald’s lunch with the teacher. MCDONALD’S. Remember how those women in Oprah’s audience reacted when she told them they were each getting a free car? That was me the week I got to have the McDonald’s lunch. I was freaking the F out. And, even at five years old, I really felt like I’d earned it. I consciously worked on folding my hands in my lap and hanging up my coat and putting the foam blocks away.

  And as an adult I try to give myself incentives to get my work done, too. Weirdly, it’s mostly still McDonald’s. And vodka and Forever 21.

  Group Accountability

  Peer pressure. The good kind.

  When I really want to get work done I find it’s helpful to tell my friends and/or strangers about what I want to accomplish. This creates group/social accountability. Good friends make each other feel guilty for not doing the work they’ve committed to finishing. It’s also pretty inspiring to talk to your friends about the things they want to accomplish in the next few weeks/months/years.

  Look Up Inspirational People

  Nothing is more inspiring than a six-year-old prodigy.

  The other day my friend Mamrie and I were independently working on projects and each took a break to watch an adorable apartment tour video on YouTube from a very beautiful, completely put-together beauty guru. Why? Because we both know she’s better at life than us and we wanted to be inspired. Granted, immediately afterward Mamrie ordered six candles off Amazon and I took a shot of vodka, but it worked. We were both reinspired to be better, more productive people.

  I highly recommend looking up child prodigies and/or any individual you believe is doing life better than you. This
is the sole reason Pinterest exists.

  Organize

  Make a list.

  Simply writing out what you need to get done can help you cross things off the list. This is such an obvious tip, but something I forget to do, and it helps. Just like showering. It gives you a visual so you can prioritize (it’s the Jazzercise of organizing). Prioritizing saves time. Also, please remind me to shower. Adding to the list.

  Out

  Get outta there.

  When work is done, or when you feel a lull in your creative energy, change up your environment. Get out of your traditional workspace. Get off of work email and check in with friends and family. Give your brain a new setting to buzz around and have fun/relax in. If you ate bread every meal for days at a time and then ate pizza, your body would be all like, WTF, YAAAAAS. It’d be stimulating and exciting and delicious. Also, get out and do something that isn’t work-related. Hike, exercise, sleep, laser tag, hit a piñata, dump some dinner rolls down a hill, have fun, whatever. Also, going out and doing social stuff is very good for your soul, apparently. See: other self-help books.

  Drugs

  Don’t do them.

  Be cool, dude.

  Ambience

  Seduce yourself.

  One of the best ways to get work done is to create an inspiring, comfortable environment. What makes you feel relaxed? What makes you feel stimulated? Candles? Music? A photo of Jonathan Taylor Thomas? I’m just spit-balling. I have some friends that decorate their space with vision boards (or, as I like to call them, adorable adult collages) to give them inspiration. My mom likes to have motivational quotes around her and occasionally she makes me listen to the audio version of The Secret, because it has soothing gong noises in between each chapter.