I may not be the Top 100 in anything...but my company is.

This was my first week at Mattel and during my orientation on Monday morning I learned of two interesting things: Mattel was named one of "Fortune's Top 100 Companies to Work For" and to celebrate they were giving everyone the day off on Friday. So, my first work week is an abbreviated one which is cool with me.
The interesting thing about the Top 100 thing is the excitement around the company. Having not been in a corporate atmosphere before I wasn't ready for the pom-pom's, the cupcakes (I ate two) and punch (I had two glasses), the balloons, the pins, or the complimentary hats (which I forgot to pick up).
The fact that these things exist means that it is someones job to decide what is an appropriate celebration for such an occasion. For some reason I imagine a Franc-Like Guy (from Father of the Bride) walking around the office with an administrative assistant steps behind jotting down his every word. I imagine this guy waving his arms around talking about ice sculptures, rose petal walkways, and valet parking for Segways. He goes on and on about champagne flutes, fine cheeses, and celebrity raffles (nobody knows exactly what that is). His assistant writes down his suggestions of flame eaters, ice dancers, and hot air balloons. This goes on for hours as he demands live tigers, a hydroponic garden hanging from the ceiling, and a space shuttle launch (which gives him the idea of zero gravity dancing, but even he has limits). Finally he finishes his list with model trains big enough to ride, cities small enough to crush, and porridge that's just the right temperature.
And after all of that someone breaks it to him, "Franc-Like Guy, we only have $99.83 in the budget." So Franc-Like Guy responds, "Screw it, hang some balloons, give 'em pom-pom's and hats, and feed 'em punch and cupcakes...they'll love it."
And they did.

Til next time.

P.S. The most common phrase heard in a Barbie design review meeting: "That is sooooo cute!"

A Walk in the Park...A LONG Walk in the Part

I took the opportunity Saturday to explore Griffith Park. Griffith Park is located on the North East side of Los Angeles and is the largest municipal park in the country (many times larger than Central Park). Here was my plan: drive there, walk around, walk up to the "Hollywood" sign, take a picture and then go home and that's exactly what I did. The problem, again, was the rain.
No, it wasn't raining while I was at the park, but as you know dear reader, it has been raining in LA for some time now and our little friend got the best of this wonderful adventure land.
If I had to describe said park in two words I would choose "very big," but if I had to describe it in only one word it would be. "hilly." Pretty much the entire park is a bunch of walking paths and roads carved into a mountain. It's quite scenic, but what happens when it rains? The roads get covered in mud. What happens when the roads get covered in mud? The roads get closed. And what happens when the roads close? Jeff can't park where he wants and ends up walking for 4 hours...4 hours! 4 hours of walking uphill both ways in the sticky gooey mud and the blistering 50 degree winter weather. 2 hours of wandering around trying to go in the general direction of those gigantic white letters on the gigantic hill. Did I make it? Yes. Did I snap a few photos? Yes, but by that time the sun was starting to go down. So I spent the next 2 hours wandering around trying to go in the general direction of my car (I didn't want to go back the way I came for it was most certainly the LEAST direct way). My physical prowess was tested like it had never been tested before. My legs felt like they could cramp at any moment, my throat was on the verge of being dry, and my sense of direction was fleeting as I spiraled into delirium. So many times I just wanted to lie down, or puke, or both and then ask a stranger to drag me a little ways, but I didn't. I persevered and made it back to civilization just so I could tell the tale. Yes, it was you dear reader who gave me the will to make it out of...GRIFFITH PARK!
Seriously though, I was in bad shape by the end of the day. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Til next time.

P.S. People also ride horses in Griffith Park so take the above tale and add horse manure...charming I know.

Welcome to Sunny Southern California...so they say.

I've been in Southern California (So Cal to the locals) for less than a week and it has rained for the last four days. What is the deal with all this rain? I didn't think weather existed here. "Say goodbye to the seasons," I've been told. "You're going to be so tan," said the envious ladies. "Look out for all those wackos," I've been warned. Nobody told me, "You might as well buy some flannels and a hoodie and move to Seattle. I hear the weather's comparable."
Oh well. I'm sure once this all clears up I'll get pretty sick of the blue skies, blue seas, and massive sunburns that are sure to follow.

Til next time.

P.S. Apparently I live in a place to where dolphins instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. (I saw some dolphins on my morning run yesterday...no big deal.)

Here's your stuff...your same old stuff.

My possessions finally arrived yesterday morning. Now all I need is someone to unpack for me. The problem with having your stuff moved is the mental roller coaster. Picture this:
I sit in a very empty apartment all alone. Suddenly my phone rings and echoes throughout and a man with a Greek accent is on the other side saying they'd be there in a couple of minutes. I spring to the door, looking down the streets to greet the couriers. Awesome! I'm going to get my apartment furnished!
So the men with Greek accents start to unload the goods and it quickly becomes apparent that this is the same old stuff that I had back in Chicago. Not the brand new furnishings I was hoping for. That's OK though, I like my stuff so I let them continue. I watch as they unload. I offer them water (1 accepts 1 rejects). I make small talk (they delivered to Arizona and New Mexico as well). I make myself a bagel (I didn't offer them a bagel).
So they finish. My stuff is all over the place and there is an awkward silence in the room. I look at one guy, he looks at me. I look at the other guy, he leaves the room. I look at the first guy again, he hands me a paper to sign and says, "That will be Giraffe spots." Except instead of "Giraffe spots" he said an exorbiant amount of money. So, let me get this straight, I have to pay all of this money for things I already own and have already paid for in the past? That is depressing. So I pay the man...then I tip the guys with Greek accents (To Be Clear: I tip them with money, they already had Greek accents...plus I didn't have any on me). Man, owning stuff is a pain...and expensive...but mostly expensive.

Till next time.

P.S. Yesterday I saw a 40 something guy with a pony tale on roller skates (not roller blades mind you, roller SKATES). That's so California.

I Heart Barbie...and I Moved Across the Country for Her

I am now a resident of California. Hermosa Beach if you want to get technical about it which is approximately 2400 miles from my previous residence and the area where I grew up, Chicago. I moved here for a job. I moved here to design Barbie. Yes, that Barbie. Come January 28th I will be employed by Mattel working on the fantasy and reality division of the Barbie products (fantasy: fairies and princesses, reality: dream house and Corvette), every boys dream.
While the job seems lovely, the transition is going to be a tough one as the closest person I know is 400 miles away. Needless to say, I'm a bit nervous about it, but that may be because I'm sitting on the floor of a mostly barren apartment awaiting the arrival of my possessions (1-2 days away). However, there are some pluses that I can already see: I live a 3 minute walk from the beach, it is always sunny and 70 degrees here, and people call me "boss" (i.e. "Can I help you boss?"), which gives me a feeling of empowerment.
Regardless of the nerves, I'm excited to see what happens. I'll keep this blog and therefore the reader informed of my progress through southern California ("So Cal" to the locals) or any other adventures I may have (or had).

Til Next Time.

P.S. Favorite quote so far: "Do you guys get DUI's here? We get them in San Diego" - Inquisitive Girl Walking out of Bar