Can you lift that box and if not, what are you doing here?

Today has not been a red letter day. First, seeing that I was in need of a job I decided to apply to waitress locally. Yet I soon got a call and they asked if I could do office work. Then when I showed up to do office work, the rotund proprietor asked behind his messy desk: "How much can you lift?" Earlier, he had asked what I had been doing in England ("studying") and then asked if I had made any money writing or if it was (then he laughed) just, you know, a hobby.

I left that interview thankful that at least I had a real job interview on Thursday, for a reporting position in New York. I had walked by the Nissan dealership and spoken to the young salesperson. "I won't buy a car til I get a job. This is my third interview so I feel I will probably get it."

Then I got on to the computer just now and had received an e-mail from HR: "Sorry, Laurie, but Hector (not his real name) has decided to hire internally. We will retain your resume. Keep checking the website."

Pardon me if I want to take a minute to check my pulse and make sure I am still breathing.

I graduated with merit from King's College London in January. I did this just months after losing my beloved mother unexpectedly in August. It was a crushing departure from my trajectory, yet I somehow managed to get back to my dissertation, finish it and excel. I had wanted to work in London (desperately) but spent most of my time wandering Hyde Park or Embankment remembering all the adorable things my Southern mama had shared with me while I was away studying. I ran out of time, frankly, and the visa was set to expire. So there I went, back to America January 28th, cat in tow.

Despite an older friend's warning that the job market would not be welcoming to me (not-so-subtle-hint, because I'm a bit older), I scoffed. I don't think of myself as anything but young. I haven't married; don't have a mortgage; never had a baby. The only thing old about me is my physical being, but apparently that's what matters. I do fully believe I am being passed over because of my age. Maybe not this particular job (how would I know?), but probably the other one - why else would the jolly old proprietor try to push me out of site from the dining room, into some dismal position lifting bags of salt or whatever the hell he was thinking about?

I know what you are saying: you are as young as you feel! Yes, I wish that were true! I do feel pretty young, despite a few health issues. I walk all over the place, watch Family Guy, drink Wendy's frosties, eat PB&Js and make funny faces at my doctor when she tells me I need some scary test. She: "You're not a child anymore!" My internal monologue: 'That's news to me.'

It is ironic that just this morning I read that 'Reality Bites' is the seminal film of a generation, the one just after mine. The movie is about all these young people floundering in sad little retail jobs with puffed up degrees. The difference between they and moi is obvious: I have a 57-year-old chin. Even a little bit of a Mitch McConnell turkey neck. Granted, some of it is full of thyroid nodules, this I know. But I am not skinny anymore. I don't really want to be skinny, frankly. I am just telling you that muscle tone changes as one ages.

I didn't really want either of these jobs, especially the first one. And as they say, interviews are practice. I just hope that the world with its judgmental eyes and all the men with their misogynistic need to hire young women they can gawk at won't overpower the world I desire: the world that values how hard I worked to persevere and earn a Master of Arts degree from the 37th best university in the world.

Time to shutter these annoying American phrases, words and jargon

When I told my brother last night that a local restaurant and bar reminded me of a pub I'd find in Ealing or anywhere in West London, "except then people spoke with American accents," he quipped with a laugh: "Including YOU!"

He knows how to get my goat. He knows that my 14 months in jolly old England affected me in many ways including how I communicate. I wrote my dissertation in British English, receiving a mark just four points shy of distinction. I am rather proud of this.

Yet, those British words and phrases are not helping me here in Connecticut. Instead, I must reassimilate - a process I never hear anyone talk about! - and learn to love the way my fellow Americans speak. I was gone 14 months, as I said, and though I returned on various trips I was basically spared Trump nation-speak. So following please note I make no apologies for hating the following:

1. "You got this." - If Brits are saying this as well, I have not heard them, and every time I hear it I want to smack the speaker. I have even seen this in commercials. You got this. Sounds like a disease. Stop it.

2. "Go for it!" - Again, I did not hear this in London. I was at King's College, though, where the level of discourse was often far above my own natural way of speaking. Dear Americans, please learn to express what you really feel and not rely on euphemisms.

3. "Girl" - as in "Get it, girl!" - I cannot detail the ways in which this offends me. And I am likely to hear it from the same folks who refer to me (urp) as "m'am." In London everyone called me "madam", just fyi. There is another one - fyi. I shall stop it.

4. "Awesome" - You know what is awesome? The Grand Canyon. So is the birth of a baby or the view of the Alps from Air France. Please buy a thesaurus, read some books and spend your time with smarter people if you can't mutter more accurate adjectives. Here are a few to ponder: "Breathtaking", "Colorful", "Surprising", "Shocking", "Appealing", "Comforting", "Reassuring", "Divine." See, one must think about what she is really trying to say here. The one-size-fits-all mentality to "awesome" is what irks me; a new bra is only "awesome" if it comes affixed with electrodes that can read one's mind.

5. "On the other side" (CNN) - This is something the anchors say when they are really saying that a story will continue after the commercial. The anchor is saving a total of -1 word this way. For example, if I say, "The story about widgets will continue after the commercial" that is nine words. If I say "The story about widgets will continue on the other side" I have used ten words and also confused you, the viewer.

6. "Nasty" - And this is addressed to you-know-who. Nasty is only fine to use if used correctly, as in "a nasty cold" or "nasty rodent". Nasty is not fine to use when the speaker or writer wishes to denegrate women; as in 'She has x opinion so she must be nasty!'

7. "Bandwidth"- As in "Do you have the bandwidth for this document/call/rescheduling lunch with Mr. Romeo?" I still think of bandwidth as it's #1 meaning, which is from the field of electronics and has to do with a range of frequencies of a band, especially what are used for signalling. There is no reason to lean on its second definition, which means "mental energy". Just ask someone if they have the patience/time/energy to absorb/receive/etc whatever it is you are about to annoy them with.

8. All acronymns that are not IBM: Why do I even need to explain this? I remember asking a PR what something in the environmental sector meant after she had sent a missive littered with acronyms. I would like to add a note to the PRs as well - yes I have given you an acronym (breaking my own advice), but find if anyone can take an acronym it's you. Public Relations is a fine profession, and one I am more apt to regard highly if said professional spelt out her words. The annoying part of acronyms is the clubby atmosphere on the part of the users: 'We're so smart and you are not if you don't know that HWEPs (helmets with extra padding!) are."

If you have any more suggestions, please leave them in COMMENTS. <blockquote>Photo: Wikimedia Commons Images, By Dave Proffer - These folks could use a better acronym, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25709727