| Weird Shit I Done Did For Money #1 |
It came to my attention recently that there are a lot of odd things I have subjected myself to all in the name of the almighty dollar. Because I don't believe in secrets and I'm desperate for attention, I have decided to intermittently share them with my friends. Hope you enjoy this new feature that will be posted without any consistency.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I first moved to New York, I was flat out broke in a matter of minutes. I still can't wrap my brain around how quickly it happened. Pretty much went like this: I stepped out of the truck that held all of my crap, money termites swarmed me, ate all of my dollars, pooped on my shoes, and flew off to the next hapless young lady from Missouri.
But I am nothing if not resourceful, so I set about trying to find myself some jobs.
I ended up working at a local bakery from 4:30 AM-8:30 AM before heading in to Midtown for an office job and assistant directing an opera at night. Somehow, I still was barely scraping by. So I answered an ad on craigslist for some crack-ass medical research study that needed subjects, because the money was insane and I am not afraid to monkey around with my body.
It seemed too good to be true. The study was in alcohol sensitivity in relation to one's menstrual cycle, and it required me to get drunk at certain points before my period and keep a journal about my feelings while drunk and periody. Suzer called it "Are you there, god? It's me, Drunk Margaret."
So when the research lady was explaining this business on the phone, I was all "I CAN DRINK. I CAN WRITE. GIMME MONEY NOMNOMNOMNOM." Somehow, she still saw fit to bring me in for my first "appointment." That should have been my first warning sign, but I was giddy with the promise of keeping the heat on in my apartment in February, so I missed it.
They took some blood, had me sign some papers, interviewed me, and then said "Okay! I'm off to get your supplies!"
I said "Awesome!" because I assumed they meant school-type supplies for my intense journaling. I love school supplies. New pens! New notebooks! Index cards! My heart goes pitter pat.
So I was confused when the lady came back with what looked like a giant, opaque, iced tea pitcher. She handed it to me with a smile. "For your collection!" she said brightly.
My collection? I don't collect anything. I mean, sure, I have some spare change here and there, and I have a weird fascination with Precious Moments figurines, but that's from a distance, mostly. And in my nightmares.
She gave me an envelope with some instructions, another with a wad of cash, and sent me on my way. I was so elated to have escaped destitution for one more week that I completely forgot to ask about my iced tea pitcher. In fact, it didn't occur to me to investigate it further until I was more than halfway home.
On the subway, I opened up the envelope and began to read. Right there on the N train, my blood ran cold. I had the all-too-familiar sensation of regret. Specifically, I regretted not reading these instructions at the office where I could have asked a few questions. Because the paper before me clearly stated:
Please collect all of your urine output for the duration of the week in the provided container. When you come in for your next appointment, please remember to bring the container with you. While the research team understands that you will not always be able to save your urine for collection, we'd also like to request that you save as much of your output as possible for the study. To preserve the sample as much as possible, please store the collection container in your refrigerator when not in use. Thank you for your cooperation.
Um, excuse me? Hold the peepee phone. WHAT? I have to pee into the iced tea jug for a week? And KEEP IT IN THE FRIDGE WHERE I HAVE MY FRUITS AND VEGETABLES AND MAYBE A PIE? NEXT TO MY ROOMMATES' MILK AND THINGS? SERIOUSLY????
I had no idea how to explain this to people. "Um, hey guys. Have a good day? Awesome, me too. So I'm broke. And as such, I'm selling my piss for money. Let me know if you have any questions. Or if you want to 'donate to the cause' as it were, okay? Ha ha!"
In the end, I just chose the subtle route. I put the giant orange jug of urine in the communal refrigerator and hoped nobody would notice. It worked about as well as you think it did.
That evening, one of the guys I lived with was going through the fridge and he pulled out my pee. "What is this?" he asked. "Juice or something?" He started to unscrew the cap. "NO, THAT'S MINE!" I screamed.
I'm not so territorial about food and drink, normally, so everyone was sort of startled by my outburst. My roommate stared at me for a minute, and then replaced the jug in the fridge. "Uh, sorry Meg. I won't touch it."
I felt like a jerk, so I put a Post-It on the jug:
DO NOT DRINK ME. I MIGHT BE PEE. SORRY.
There! That should do it!
You'd think that would be enough humiliation, but oh, you'd be wrong.
So I'm doing my job- getting drunk, writing in a journal, peeing in a jug- I'm EARNING my money. I am keeping my end of the bargain! Then about halfway through the week, something bad happened.
I'm well-hydrated. I've mentioned this before. I didn't realize how well-hydrated I was until I got to day three of Have Some Wine N Pee A Lot, when I filled that fucking jug to capacity.
Done. There was no room. Not for One. More. Drop.
I had to call the Are You There God It's Me Drunk Margaret Lady and say that I peed too much and perhaps they needed me to drop out? They could just give me the rest of the cash and send me on my way, maybe. At least that's what I suggested.
She had a "better" idea. She made me bring that jug of my own pee up to her stupid hospital in a stupid super obvious BIOHAZARD bag on the subway which, as you can imagine, got me LOTS of attention and made me look like the world's most inept bioterrorist ("OKAY. I have this jug of my pee, and, um, a CARROT! And- oh, yeah- and some chewed gum. AND DEMANDS! LOTS OF DEMANDS!") which was good for the old self esteem there. Plus pee is NOT light and it was cold out, so I kept worrying it would turn into a Pisssicle.
I handed my pee over to the research team and they talked a LOT about how this had never happened before, and wow- I must drink a lot of water, had I had my kidneys checked out?- and I had to just sit and promise I wasn't diabetic. And I got sent home with two more jugs! Part of me wanted to be like "HA. You think TWO is enough for a bladder the likes of mine? Bring it, bitch." But I didn't say that.
In the end, though, I had to chalk this entire experience up to "just did it for the story" because the entire process did not come to any sort of fruition. Unfortunately, my period chose some wacky, non-28 day cycle on which to occur so I was excluded from the rest of the study. They even kept my pee and my drunk journals which is too bad, because I'd really like to read some of those.
As is my MO, I at first promised myself I wouldn't tell anyone what I was doing during this whole process but I ended up telling absolutely everyone I knew by the end of day three, including people I'd seen on the subway more than once and therefore felt comfortable enough around to start stories with "Holy moly, you will NEVER guess what I am doing for money. Go on. Guess. GUESS!" I couldn't fucking shut up about it. Most people just nodded politely and went "Mmm hmmm" and then wouldn't shake my hand or anything, but a few saw the potential for weird, hilarious beauty in this awkwardness and peppered me with questions like "How do you get the pee in there? Do you use a funnel? Could you fill it with some pee and some water? Do you think they'd notice? Does the jug smell bad? Why is it orange? Can you use any jug you want? Do you get to keep the jug afterwards?" and so on.
Luckily, Poor Choices turned out to be a recurring theme in my life as New York is wicked expensive and Sallie Mae is a big old See You Next Tuesday, so stay tuned for the next installment of
Weird Shit I Done Did For Money!
Love,
M
Labels: $$$, jizz in the spaghetti sauce, on the job, silly |
|
| 21 Comments: |
-
-
How DID you get the pee in there? I was picturing a funnel apparatus. How big was your target? Were there hoses involved? I've never really been sure about how girls pee anyway, so this makes it all the more difficult to try and imagine.
-
and per your advice, I didn't mention how TK has one-upped me once again. There he is right above me. I'm indifferent.
-
tk- finally? really? that's what did it, eh?
FP- I will sketch a picture and send it to you. Hubba hubba.
FP2- Glad to see your indifference.
-
DO NOT DRINK ME. I MIGHT BE PEE. SORRY.
That sentence almost made ME pee into a jug.
Wow, Meg, Wow.
-
Awesome. I suppose you could always have used, like, empty Gatorade bottles or somesuch. Are there any neighborhood children you really hate? Imagine the fun you could have with those Popsicle molds! O the possibilities.
-
Mindy- As I told you, big bucks to be made there, love.
Linus- Great minds, and all that. There are some pretty special little treats in my freezer waiting patiently for summer...
-
Daaaamn, Meg, this trumps my "I was so broke I took a job dressed as 'Chester Cheetah' at the mall white people USED to go to" story.
-
I am a little disturbed that I am not more shocked by this story. Why am I not more shocked, meg??
Also, your "NOMNOMNOMNOM" on the phone slayed me.
-
Toadely- PICTURES, PLEASE.
PdW- because i have been nothing but honest from the get go.
-
Oh, Meg, no! A picture of that would be more damaging than a picture of me with a goat. I do think I have a picture of me when I got suckered into wearing the "Traumaroo" suit for a local hospital. Looked just like this; http://www.myfirecompanies.com/phototop/1164212499.JPG. Though, I have to admit ,,, I looked damned good.
-
i wonder what part stunned TK.
also? i am so. so. so. glad that you, too, use see you next tuesday. it was all clearly meant to be.
and thank goodness there are no urine jugs in our refrigerator.
for now.
-
This is fucking brilliant. Didn't your room mates say anything when they saw the sign on the jug? No one protested at the very idea of pee in their fridge?
-
Toadely- Traumaroo?? I hope that shit is plastered all OVER your resume.
Kelsi- I'll let you know if things get bleak enough that that would become a possibility.
Sid- They didn't protest, no. But they definitely had questions and they were endlessly fascinated, and they begged me to be careful when removing and replacing the jug. Other than that, they were troopers.
-
DO NOT DRINK ME. I MIGHT BE PEE. SORRY.
..surely destined to be the best LOLcat caption ever.
Certainly better than two cats 1 cup.
-
Hilarious. Enjoyed "I CAN DRINK. I CAN WRITE. GIMME MONEY NOMNOMNOMNOM."
-
oh, but you *have* a real job now. i was just worried that it my end up being my underemployed urine in the fridge.
-
i need to stop dual-tasking brushing my teeth while also catching up on my reading, specifically your blog posts, before bed.
/ me goes to look for the screen wipes. yet again.
-
Oh my, I have this same story and meant to write about it. I had to pee in a jar for a week (the dr was looking for blood in my urine, ew). I left my dorm room for about 5 mins and returned to find my friend helping herself to "apple juice."
Oh, the awkward conversation that occurred afterward.
-
I know this has nothing to do with your post, but I wanted to tell you that I loved your response to "Friends with Exes".
Thank you! We're a rare breed, so let's stick together eh?
...
You don't really like precious moments figurines do you...?
-
Thought you were gonna say that one of your roomies mistook the pee for beer and took a swig. hehe
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
Name: A Lover and a Fighter
Home: New York, NY
About Me: "It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information."
-Oscar Wilde
See my profile...
|
|
|
|
|
background by tayler
TackODing font
|
|
[stunned into silence]