Waking up in London after a long, most uncomfortable flight, is worthy enough of celebration. I guess having a birthday on the departure day while flying on your father's Executive Platinum Miles is only enough to upgrade you to a seat next to smelly and creepy male passengers with extra long finger nails. Tried my best not to look over, even when the flight attendant asked for my dinner preference. "Manicotti or chicken?"she asked. If the classic film 'Airplane' taught me anything, it was to always avoid airplane meat. "Manicotti please!" Looking over to her would only invite this strange person to engage in conversation with me. I don't consider myself a cruel person, I love meeting new people. But as a solo traveling female, it is a truth universally acknowledge (by womankind) that a solo traveling man attempting to engage in conversation about taboo topics while invading one's personal bubble, must have creepy tendencies. Luckily he passed out quick and the flight attendants kept their eye on me. Still, why wasn't I bumped up to first class? I know birthdays after 21 aren't special, but what's wrong with wanting to feel special? I am not bitter. Back to the point, one of the worst parts of traveling was over. I officially landed in London this past weekend, marking my fifth time to step foot in the United Kingdom. Unlike previous trips, however, this one will be very different I had before. I am an official Games Maker with the London 2012 Olympic Games, an event of my life that has been nearly two years in the making.
It is very bizarre to think that I am finally starting this job after two years of waiting around. Much like many people my age, living the modern post-Grad life is similar to that of a boomerang. One is thrown out into the world only to wind back around, ending back up at mom and dad's home once again, struggling to find the perfect job with a debt that will, most likely, never be paid off. Here's a brief version of the story of my journey to the Olympic Games. In summer of 2010, I moved to the United Kingdom to study for my Masters degree in media communications. I always had a love affair with Britain, even my undergraduate degree was in British history. It was around this time in 2010 that, after remembering that the Olympics were going to be in East London in 2012, I applied to be a London Olympics Games Maker, the name given to volunteers. For nearly one year, even after graduating early, job searching abroad and backpacking Europe, I heard no response. I assumed, like other job interviews I had in my post-Grad boomeranger life, my application was just put into the, what a dear friend of mine calls, FFC pile. Often times FFC stands ‘For Future Consideration,’ but in this case, which most of us may already know, that it subliminally stands for ‘Fat Fucking Chance.’
You see, the Games Maker volunteer position I applied for isn’t just a ticket taker or mopping up sweat after the events. Not to say those aren’t life-changing experiences. To be honest, knowing that there may be certain celebrities and famous athletes there, I wouldn’t mind the latter. Would I love to bathe in the sweat Daniel Craig? Why, sure! Anyway, the point I was trying to get to was this interview was one that required a more strict interview process. I was sure that out of the thousands of people that applied, I would not be one of the 50 selected. Consider it one of the best internships someone with my degree/status could have. Then one year later, almost exactly, I was offered a chance to interview with the Media and Public Relations Department, headquartered at the International Broadcast Centre of the Olympic Park. The position corresponded well with my degree in media communications. After cleaning off my glasses, making sure I was reading clearly, even yelping a bit, I went straight into work mode.
I spent weeks preparing my resume, portfolio, cover letters, outfits, practice questions, etc. Twiddling my thumbs in anticipation, the day of my interview arrived. I was lucky that I was still in the UK. My flight back to the midwest, originally scheduled for the day before, was pushed back the morning after. It cost me a pretty penny. I would have been foolish to pass this opportunity up. Flat broke, I had spent the summer flicking every last dime I had into touristy historic fountains hoping to one day return, I made my way into London on the cheapest ticket possible. (More on my wonderful money troubles later when I delve into how I plan to live the simple life in one of the most expensive cities on Earth.)
I traveled into London, portfolio and excessive sweat intact. I found the location and spent about an hour sitting in a big warehouse-like building with a single television repeating the Games Maker informational video, hosted by Eddie Izzard. A part of me was hoping he would pop out from behind the purple velvet curtain that was behind the television screen. The group of us interviewees would erupt into cheers, all would be right in the world. I may have reached into my bag and made sure my camera was there, just in case. He must have saved his appearance until after my name was called. I tried my best to say my name over and over in my head to make sure that was officially me being called. Now, I’d love to describe the interview process itself, but for reasons, I cannot. It happened and then I left the building, the city, and eventually the country. I was certain I wasn't going to be selected. After all, I wasn't British, I'm a Kansas City girl (according to many foreigners, Kansas City is not a city, it is Dorothy land, meaning endless farms and little to no civilization) who lacks that certain pedigree that often gets others noticed before me.
Arriving back in America was a reverse culture shock. I missed my friends and certain parts of my life in the UK as soon as I got on the plane. Don't get me wrong, I was excited to go home. No matter where you are in the world or how happy you are, there is no place like home... Alright, maybe the foreigners were right, I am from Dorothy land. When I came back home most of the friends I had growing up grew up and moved on. Married with kids, no time for hanging out with spinsters like me. I had a string of unsuccessful job interviews with big companies. I couldn't afford to move out of my parents house and I invested, poorly. Things weren't looking up for this boomeranger. About a month into moving back home, however, things changed. I received an email that I was selected to join the Media and PR team of the London 2012 Olympic Games. Huzzah! Almost immediately afterward, things started looking up. I found employment, albeit part-time, at the wonderful Barnes & Noble in my hometown, meeting all sorts of new people. Companies were more interested in me knowing that I was to work for such a big event. FFC no longer stood for 'Fat Fucking Chance,' but I more confidently believed that it was 'For Future Consideration.' Things were looking up for me for a change.
I made the decision to accept my role as a Games Maker. I spent months attempting to save up money. Given the state of my current budget, I was very unsuccessful. However, it kept me busy. Before I knew it, my departure date had arrived, a few months shy of being a year since I was offered the role. This, however, wasn't to be a typical vacation. I knew as soon as I was to land in London I would be running around town like a chicken with it's head cut off. Meetings scheduled left and right. Luckily London is a second home to me so I was confident that I would make it. So, here I am now! For seven weeks, the Olympics will be life. I will be living a cozy Adidas life being a runner among major broadcast companies and press agencies, getting the chance to work with the Opening Ceremony, meeting all sorts of athletes and celebrities. As much as I am allowed, I will write about my experiences during the single greatest and most stressful job of my life, thus far. Along with that, I will get to spend my summer falling in love with this city all over again. I will reunite with the wonderful friends I have missed for nearly a long time. The only question I have is how will I not go skint while living in one of the most expensive cities in the world? Oh, this will be fun!
