Sunday, January 31, 2010

Lifetime Original...Disappointment


My dad has a weird taste in movies. Between all the action films and sci-fi classics, I will catch him watching something unexpected, usually starring Reese Witherspoon. He claims that, "There was nothing else on!" But for the number of times I have caught him watching Bring It On, I find that excuse highly suspect.

I suppose I get my taste in movies from him, though. I love Indiana Jones and the Terminator series as much as I adore Love Actually and Sleepless in Seattle. I guess you could say our tastes are eclectic.

This weekend, we watched Lifetime.

Now, I will openly admit my love for Lifetime Original Movies. They are so awesomely bad that they become even more awesome with every trial scene and and ripped-from-the-headlines trope. Visitors in the Night, starring D.J. Tanner, is a rare treat, but the Texas Cheerleader Scandal remains one of my all-time favorites.

Saturday night, however, we were treated to Lying to be Perfect, starring the detective from Without a Trace, that other guy from Without a Trace and various Law and Order alumni. The premise is this: Three ladies in fat suits are unhappy because they are fat. One of these ladies creates an alter ego to write an advice column, and this beautiful, British version becomes a worldwide phenomenon. Then fat lady meets Daniel Meade, thinks he is a nerdy computer guy, and falls in love, all the time whining about how she is a fat, fat fatty who doesn't deserve love. Stuff happens, and fat ladies get a makeover montage, and the now-thin heroine looks like her British fantasy columnist but, woe! she thinks she is going to be arrested for using a pseudonym, a widely accepted practice in journalism. But this is Lifetime, and in the end our feisty heroine ends up with the guy, a book and a second musical montage.

It's supposed to be a Cinderella story. It was awful.

I have to give my dad credit for sitting through it with me. Once the opening credits started, we couldn't turn it off. Lifetime Originals can be like that. But, oh, god, this movie took every fairy tale trope, every makeover cliche and every insecurity from high school and pounded them into our skulls.

At least a dozen times, either my dad or I turned to each other and called exactly what would happen next. Exactly what would happen next. If anything, we bonded over this Splenda-infused piece of dairy-free television dessert.

I am disappointed in Lifetime. Sure, the station has never been the epitome of feminism--or well-crafted story telling--but this movie was possibly the worst thing I have sat through in my life, and I saw Biodome.

The thing is, this movie could have been so much better. The takeaway was supposed to be that you have to be your own fairy godmother and inspire change in your life, blah blah blah, but did that mean every single one of these women could not be happy until they were thin and wearing expensive, designer dresses? The biggest problem I saw was that they all insisted on wearing clothing a size too small! Only an hour before, Queen Latifah wore fantastic clothes and looked gorgeous in Beauty Shop, despite (or because of!) being a heavier woman--why couldn't any of these women embody her instead of moaning about their lack of self control while eating another donut. Of course, the prominence of fat-shaming on television is an entirely different post.

At the very least, my dad and I had fun competing on when Detective Spade would discover Chip was really Daniel Meade or when we'd see the next montage. I guess, even when Lifetime creates something as god-awful as Lying to be Perfect, it still succeeds in bring people together. Or something.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Clarity

The past few weeks have given me a new sense of clarity in terms of the career I want to have. This afternoon, I started the process of becoming a sole proprietorship, which means I will be able to offer freelance services while I continue to look for a position with a public relations firm. A license also means that should I decide to devote myself entirely to freelancing, I can do that, too.

When I was a kid, I wrote short stories about trees and tornadoes and mice and ballerinas. I imagined one day I would be a famous author like Eric Carle, and I practiced thinking up novels in the bathtub. I continued to write in high school and college for student-run newspapers, and my passion for words is what led me to public relations.

I love the way a good writer can craft language. It’s exciting to write articles and press releases and e-mails targeted to bloggers—choosing just the right words can lead to a feature article or an interview with an up-and-coming celebrity.

Centuries ago, philosophers argued about the power of words. A good speaker can sway minds, and a great one can incite change. Be it Aristotle or Eddie Bernays, when someone uses language to change minds or share ideas, they have power over people.

Writing a press release is not difficult. Typing up original Web content can take minutes, as does customizing an e-mail. It’s easy to get the words down, but what I want to do is write great press releases and articles that help clients reach new audiences and motivate change.

Finding a job in this economy is going to be difficult. I have no doubt that I will see many more polite rejections before I find the position right for me. But I am sure now that I want to continue to write and blog and maybe change the world.

Freelance Services

In addition to my experience in communications and public relations, I also offer a number of freelance services. As a freelance writer, my goal is to provide exceptional writing with a strong attention to detail that will help my clients best converse with their target audiences.


My experience includes work as a reporter for the Daily Free Press as well as an editorial position with Kiwibox.com. During my time with Kiwibox, I authored articles aimed at young adults on topics ranging from dating advice to volunteering. I worked with teen reporters to develop and edit content for final publication.

You can view several samples of my work at my digital portfolio.

Freelance Assignment: Articles and columns on topics including mass media, public relations, technology, gaming, entertainment and Generation Y
Proofreading: Personalized proofreading services for professionals and students
Copy Editing: Copy and content editing for Web sites and print media
Public Relations: Press releases, outreach e-mails, newsletters, Web site content, research, proposals, video scripts and storyboarding
Blogging: Blog content, interviews, research
Radio and Web casts: Public service announcements
Creative Writing: Short fiction, YA fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, historical fiction

For more information about these services or any additional questions, please contact me via e-mail at hgrande@gmail.com.

Monday, January 25, 2010

In Which I Broke My Own Record for Time Employed

An important step in developing a career is learning about what you don’t want from your employer. I think it is easy to decide that you want a team-orientated environment or family-positive policies, but it is a lot harder to put names to the things you don’t want in a workplace. Part of the problem may lie in the fear of sounding negative or unlike a team player, but another part of it may be due to inexperience or naivety.

About eight months ago when I left Edelman, I began my second voyage into the food industry. I started working for Tap & Vine, a local restaurant bar with an incredible beer selection from independent breweries around the country. Although I worked part time at a bagel shop and deli while I was in high school and college, this was my first time working full time as a server in a restaurant.

The food industry is unique in itself, and there are as many cons as there are pros, but I enjoyed it. I liked the people, I loved bartending and waiting tables. For all the unruly children or inappropriate bar guests, there were the sweet families on their “first restaurant excursion” or the cheerful regulars who tip an amazing 35%. We had fun in the kitchen and on the floor, and when I made the decision to move back in with my parents, I was sad to leave everyone behind.

Last month, I started looking for a part-time job to supplement my (non-existent) income while I apply to Atlanta PR firms, and I was happy to include local restaurants on my list of possible employers. I was excited when an Italian restaurant asked me to come in for an interview, and pleasantly surprised when they e-mailed me that very evening to extend an offer for a server position. I had been a fan of the restaurant for several months: when you walk in, it smells like my Grandma’s kitchen on Sundays. The owner set me up to begin training that week.

My first warning sign should have been the way the owner spoke to me. I am Italian. My family is very, very Italian. My childhood is defined in part by our Sunday visits to Grandma for macaroni, meatballs and gravy. Although I had mentioned my familiarity with Italian food—both New York style and more traditional dishes—the owner informed me that I have not had “real” Italian food: the food they make in the restaurant is “real” Italian, not like what I would have had.

The owner pointed to an item on the menu and asked me to say how I thought it was pronounced. Now, I knew exactly where this was going, but I still mispronounced the word, and the owner quickly corrected me and launched into a lesson on how I need to learn the proper pronunciation and what the items contained. Caught off guard, I smiled and agreed—and mentally noted that I am illiterate in Italian, but I can certainly pronounce the names for the food I eat every week.

My ego was bruised, but I gave the owner the benefit of the doubt. After all, how many times have I gotten into tiffs with friends over Ragu and the color of gravy? How many times do I scoff at people who ask for spaghetti and meatballs when they could have ziti and a wonderful, meaty red gravy that hides so perfectly in the al dente tubes? When it comes to my heritage, I know I am proud and stubborn and a little bit of a know-it-all.

I returned the next day to begin training and meet the rest of the staff. Everyone was nice and happy to help me as I trained—they were young, but knowledgeable and good teachers. In fact, my first official day went really well. I wondered if, perhaps, I had imagined the condescension because I got my feelings hurt. Everyone else seemed to be pleased with their jobs, so it must have been me, right?

Unfortunately, my discomfort culminated with an offhand comment made by one of my coworkers as she was showing me how to clock out of their computer system. “Keep this paperwork,” she warned me, “the owner will test you.” Oh, I think, that’s strange—how would he test you on hours worked receipt?

My coworker continued, “He’ll short your pay—he’s shorted me a few times, and you need your paperwork to prove you worked more hours or received more tips.”

What?

I mulled over this. From what I understood from my coworker, the owner didn’t make mistakes: he shorted his servers on purpose to see if he could get away with it. My previous employers may not have been perfect, but they never, NEVER intentionally withheld pay. I came to a decision: as much as I need a part-time job right now, this is not something I will deal with. I refuse to work for someone who takes advantage of his employees in such a way. There is a difference between hurt feelings and disrespect, and I will not tolerate the latter.

And so, with just four hours on the clock, I turned in my resignation and I will continue my job hunt elsewhere.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Haiti

I am not sure there is much more I can say that has not already been said. If you can give, give. If you can pray, pray.

Doctors Without Borders and UNICEF accept donations electronically, but you can also find organizations and events locally. Some communities are holding bake sales -- visit the Kitchn for more information on events like that near you.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Four-Letter Words

I have been working on this post for two years now, since I first launched Short and Sweet. I knew I would write it one day, but I was never quite sure how. I know once I hit that publish button, there will be no turning back.


But I realized something today while reading a post by Wagatwe at Change Happens: my hesitation wasn't because I was afraid of retaliation or because I was worried this post might change how people--future friends or employers--think of me. I was hesitant because I didn't want to make my readers uncomfortable.

And that's exactly why I should publish this post.

Three years ago I was raped.

I am not the same person I was three years ago, and I will never be that person again. After the rape, my life changed, my goals changed, and the person I wanted to be changed.

I don't hide this information from others. In fact, if you Google my name, you will find a letter to the editor describing the help I found at Boston University and a video interview I participated in with my fellow student and friend Felicity Tan. If you dig deeper, you'll find even more.

But I am not as open about the rape as I would like to be, either. At times, I do treat it like something I should be ashamed of.

About a year ago, I quietly confided in a friend and coworker that I was worried I might break down on the second anniversary of the assault, and I would not be able to explain it to my coworkers. Jesus, she said, I didn't realize it was that big of a deal. Suddenly, she was worried that this awful thing in my past had turned me into something like a sand castle that might crumble at high tide, and she was uncomfortable. What was she supposed to do?

I shouldn't have been surprised at her response--there was a major project due--but I was hurt: I made it this far to survive, I can certainly make sure our client receives their first-class audit on time, tears or no tears.

People make assumptions about rape survivors. They are fragile. Something is wrong with their heads. Maybe they're liars. They must hate men, or women. They'll be set off at the tiniest little thing. You'll need to pick up the slack. They want you to fix them. They are broken.

I am not broken.

Rape is traumatic. Rape changes you, and it changes the people in your life.

Yes, in the months following the assault I went through hell. But I kept going.

I survived.

This is something I should be proud of, something I should be shouting from the rooftops, but I don't. We don't talk about rape among friends, let alone acquaintances and co-workers. It is something private, something we should keep to ourselves because once people know, they know, and they don't know what to do.

People--friends!--treat you differently after they find out you are a rape survivor. In my case, some people were just a little quieter around me, while others would stop mid-conversation if I was around. Some people stopped talking to me completely, afraid I might infect them or that I was somehow less capable. When I admitted my fear of crying at work, my co-worker, someone I knew from college who had seen me at my worst, was worried I would be unable to fulfill my duties at work, and she wasn't sure how to react.

This same friend had seen me tackle 22 hours of classes and an internship on top of officer duties, and she saw me graduate with honors, but when I brought up the anniversary of the rape, she thought I would not be able to handle my responsibilities anymore.

According to RAINN, 1-in-6 women and 1-in-33 men are survivors of sexual assault. Chances are, you know someone who was raped, and chances are, you see them go to work everyday, be it waiting tables or leading companies. Survivors are soldiers and teachers and librarians and CEOs. Surviving rape does not mean you are suddenly no longer qualified to lead these lives.

I was raped, and I was changed, but I am strong and this tragedy will not stop me from success.

So maybe, now that you know I've been raped, if your friend or your coworker tells you he or she is a survivor, you'll know that you don't need to fix him or her. You really don't need to do anything but listen and maybe be glad that you were trusted.

Grabbing a coffee together at lunch couldn't hurt, either.



Thank you to the SAFER blog, who inspired this post, and to bloggers like Victoria Placeo, Holly Desimone, Marcella Chester and others who gave me strength.

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