I live in Northern California. I’ve lived here all my life except for two years living in New York. I moved to New York in September 2001. It’s easy to remember exactly when I moved because of the tragedy of the twin towers. On that awful day my life was in boxes and in less than two weeks I was driving across the country to start a new chapter in my life.
I’ve been working full time since the age of 18. At 12 I was babysitting and at 15 working part time while going to school. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I’m friendly, intelligent, quick to learn and have years of experience in my chosen field. Why couldn’t I get a job in New York? Because I was (and still am) fat. Not that troublesome 20 pounds to lose, but more like 140 pounds overweight.
Having been at the same company for four years prior to my move to New York, I eagerly sent out my resume to many different companies. I received many return calls and the companies were just as eager to meet me. ”Call me as soon as you get here.” ”How soon can we meet?” I was so happy that my resume was well-received and looked forward to seeing what was available to me.
Based on my resume the interviews I landed would have impressed anyone…HBO, Disney Theatrical, Warner Bros., O Magazine (as in Oprah), NBC, New Line Cinema and MTV. Hell, they still impress me. All the phone interviews went great and they all graciously asked me to come in.
After getting settled in the new house, I donned my “interview” apparel…black slacks, black low-heeled pumps, silk blouse and the only suit jacket that didn’t make me look like a bus driver. Make-up applied carefully, hair styled perfectly, sleek black case in hand.
I took the train into the city, so excited. I felt like anything was possible. There is definitely a vibe to the city, you feel the energy as soon as you step off that train. I was scared to death, but determined to put my best foot forward.
Funny, none of those aforementioned companies even gave me a second interview. I’d meet with the interviewers and in all modesty, I gave great interview. But still…nada, zilch, nuttin. Months and months of interviewing and I couldn’t even get an offer. I realized fairly soon that in meeting them in person it was all about my appearance, not my experience, knowledge, ability to learn, eagerness to do a good job….just that I was fat. Somehow society equates being fat with being lazy. Let me tell you, I’m far from lazy. The only thing I’m guilty of is being addicted to and dependent on food. But honestly, why should that mean that I’m not worth hiring?
Since I had to work I went to work for 1800flowers. Ironic, no? I finally got a job at a company where no one ever saw me, I just answered phone calls. I was only there for a short time before I decided to get my real estate license and take a different path.
I think Manhattan is a lot like Los Angeles…looks matter. I only spent two years in New York, eager to return to California. A week before I made the move back, I sent out one resume. Within two hours I got a return call and within two weeks of arriving back home, I was working. I’m apprehensive to name the company I’m working for without their permission, but just know that it’s a big name in entertainment and they are an incredible company.
I work between 10-11 hours a day, 5 days a week. My commute is between an hour and an hour and a half each way. On a normal day I leave the house at 7:30am and usually home by 9:00pm. I’ve been there six years now and you could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve called in sick. I work hard, I’m eager to help out anyone who needs it and thoroughly enjoy it. If you knew me, the last thing you’d call me was lazy. But yeah, I’m still fat.
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