On weekdays, I generally arrive at my gym by 6:30a.m. – bleary-eyed, cranky, and eerily resembling a troll doll. Recently, through the slits of my crusty eyelids, I noticed a new employee at the front desk. I noticed her mostly because of her penchant for shrieking “Good morning!” or “Happy Tuesday!” (above the din of my iPod) in an obscenely perky voice. When I turned to politely acknowledge her in hopes of shutting her piehole, I discovered that she’s a beautiful young Latina – who is, apparently, heading straight from Bally’s to the set of Cleopatra.
Every freaking day.
I know she’s like 22, but really, who starts work at 5:30 a.m. (the time the gym opens) in FULL MAKEUP AND HAIR? I consider myself a morning person, but at that hour, the fact that I’ve managed to insert a toothbrush into my mouth without taking out an eye is, for my money, worthy of commendation and a plaque.
The hosts of the Today Show – who get up at a similar hour – lie in a chair asleep while their makeup is troweled on, and they make ten million dollars a year. This girl gets up at the same time, applies just as much (okay, a lot more) makeup and makes ten dollars an hour.
What’s her damage?
Maybe she’s incredibly insecure and believes that her beauty is her only asset.
Maybe she’s convinced that Bally’s is Schwab’s Drugstore in 1952 and she’s gonna be discovered by Swifty Lazar.
Or maybe she’s just one of those annoying overachievers who sleeps four hours a night, collects recyclables for the homeless, and will eventually be running the world.
Just in case, I’d better start being nice to her. And maybe I should comb my hair.