I’ve been watching a lot of the ABC show Scandal lately. And by “a lot,” I mean I plowed through three seasons in less than two weeks. What? My kids are old enough to pour their own damn cereal now.
I find the show entertaining, obviously, but there is one thing that drives me crazy about it, and that’s the fact that the characters regularly announce their job titles. Like, “I am the leader of the free world!” or “I am the First Lady of the United States!” And they always announce it right in the middle of a scene for some reason. Maybe that made sense in Season One when we were all still figuring out who was who, but by Season Three, it’s a little ridiculous. I mean, yeah duh, we know you’re the POTUS because you’re sitting at the President’s desk that’s located on the Oval Office set, so slow your roll there, Hambone. We didn’t think you were the White House janitor in that $1,000 suit.
That said, I think it might be a good idea for me to start randomly yelling out my job title from now on. Just to let everyone know who I am because I’m always worried I’ll be mistaken for a female serial killer, especially when I wear a tank top. So the next time I’m at the grocery store, maybe I’ll look at Janice, my regular checker who calls organic chicken “hippie white meat,” and yell, “I’m a freelance writer!” I bet girlfriend will take my expired coupons after that because who isn’t impressed by someone who once got paid with a bag of potting soil? (Don’t ask.)
Of course, I really wish I’d known to do this thing years ago when I had perhaps the best job title in the history of job titles. It was the summer of my junior year in college, and I was working at a Nevada sandwich shop named Port O’Subs. (Sort of like Subway, but nautical-themed and no f-in Jared standees to give you the willies.) At Port O’Subs, we made our sandwiches the assembly-line way, with each employee having their own station to man. The Admiral was in charge of bread and meat and the Captain was in charge of lettuce and condiments. Then came me:
The Oil and Vinegar Midshipman.
I told you it was the best job title in the history of job tiles. Alas, I didn’t have a sense of humor about it back then at all (ask my parents), and the job only lasted for three days due to my “mondo bad attitude.” Yes, it seems Admiral Shelby was upset that I never flirted with the men who came in for lunch. Because what better time to hit on grown construction workers than when you’re wearing an apron and a hairnet and you’re holding cruets of slimy oil and vinegar in your hands? Sexy, sexy, sexy.
But I’ve seriously thought about this for 20 years, wondering exactly what I should have said to those guys while I was making their sandwiches. “Hey, Big Boy, want me to splash a little oil on yo meat? I have some left over from my bikini wrestling match against my sorority sisters last night–oops! Just poured a little vinegar in my cleavage! Ooooh, the acetic acid is burning off my bra! Giggle!” WOULD THAT HAVE MADE YOU HAPPY, ADMIRAL SHELBY?
Honestly, if there’s a more humiliating experience than being stripped of your naval rank at a highway sub shop, I don’t know what the hell it is. And the worst part is that now I’ll never have a chance to snap, “I am The Oil and Vinegar Midshipman and I demand that you respect my liquids!” to someone in power. I do believe it’s one of the great tragedies of my life.
And I say that as a Freelance Writer who once got paid in potting soil.
Flirting as a job requirement? It’s almost like you were on Scandal.
Olivia Pope and Admiral Shelby have a lot in common.
That is truly a missed opportunity. It’s not too late to update your profile though. “Humor writer, mother, curmudgeon, oil and vinegar midshipman.” See?
As soon as you said, “Port of Subs,” I smelled a number 5 on wheat with no tomato or black olives and all of the spices. Plus, nobody else gets the mayo/mustard mix just right.
What was the mayo/mustard guy called? First Mate Spatula?
I’ll bet you were the best darn Oil and Vinegar Midshipman on the Seven Seas.
Sometimes when I’m de-staining my family’s underpants, I yell to no one, “I took four years of Latin!” then put my goggles back on and get back to scraping.
Love!!
Mine would be queen of the cone!! 6 summers at the dq
It’s like Admiral Shelby didn’t take the oil and vinegar seriously!
I think this technique would be more effective if combined with Dr. McCoy’s love of saying “Dammit [name here]…” while he announced his title too (so this is clearly a tried and true tradition that began in space. And ended up in the White House.
Dammit Shelby! I’m the oil and vinegar midshipman!
If your next post isn’t the backstory on the bag of potting soil, I’m unsubscribing.
I never had good titles, but I did work in inside a cage once.
The coolest title of I’ve ever seen was “Earth and Space Explainer” at a planetarium. Can’t get better than that.
I’ve been dying to say, Pope-style, “It’s handled.” in my office, though.
The timing of this is perfect! Our dept is in the process of reorganization, just when my mind was starting to fall into the ‘trap’ of pointless pondering about the various titles and positions but in the end everyone will do the same thing they always did….I read this and literally LOL’d! Thanks for putting things in perspective!
Yeah, I’m asking about the getting paid in potting soil question, too.
Waiting for one of your crazed fans to make a Wendi EVOO Midshipman STANDEE.
Standee made me LAUGH.
“stripped of your naval rank at a highway sub shop” got me through the day.
I tried Scandal but she was too ridiculously perfect with her outfits and hair and dewey skin. It just made me feel bad about myself.
“Hey, Big Boy, want me to splash a little oil on yo meat?” Sadly, this is EXACTLY what Admiral General In Charge would have wanted.
Anyway, I’m glad you lasted three days because now, we have this post and I will be shouting my job title aaaall the days now: “I work at Stay At Home Mom!”
(funny, Wendi, always is)
Wouldn’t a bag of kitty litter have been more appropriate?
[…] outside. Then I stared at my phone for a while, checking my email and reading some new posts by Wendi and Cameron and Tipsy […]
My first title at 15 was the “Cold Side Girl” at Sizzler. Which meant I took orders, made drinks and handed out silverware. In teal polyester pants, no less. *shudders*
Dang. I don’t have any past job titles as cool as Oil and Vinegar Midshipman.
But when I was 16, I worked at a drugstore where the shift schedule posted in the employee break-room used everyone’s first initial and the first five letters of his/her last name.
I was J Christ
Not to brag.