Mom’s Opinion of My New Job

Dec 30

Last spring I joined a growing tech startup in an exciting emerging industry. I’ve always loved working for startups because I really enjoy the frantic pace, the frustrating-yet-rewarding growing pains, and growing my professional skills by having to assume multiple roles. This startup is actually one of the more promising I’ve worked for — we have strong leadership, smart, passionate employees, and are establishing ourselves as a major contender in our industry. There’s one small detail that makes my job especially interesting: it’s in the cannabis space. In May, I joined a company called Leafly, which is a leading cannabis information resource. I hear all sorts of groan-worthy, eye-rolling comments whenever I tell people where I work; lots of “Do you guys all get high at work?” (no), “So is there like a huge bowl of weed at the reception desk instead of candy?” (no), “Man, how do you get anything done there?” (because it’s a real job with real responsibilities? What’s not to get?). I serve as the company’s Content, Community, and Engagement Manager and have built a small but growing team to handle all of the projects that have a content component to them, plus we manage the site’s News & Culture and Knowledge Center sections and our brand’s social media presence. Honestly, it’s a great company and my fellow employees and I work very hard to grow Leafly into a fantastic resource for recreational consumers and medical patients alike. I’m happy in what I do for the company and am really excited at the possibility of growing my role as Leafly grows. (And, let’s face it, it’s a job that guarantees there will never be a dull moment or boring day at work.) My friends were overwhelmingly supportive and most of my family didn’t seem to care when I told them about my new job. (Jason’s grandmother is one exception, and my oldest brother was a bit “WTF” but he was more amused than disapproving.) I was, however, a bit hesitant to tell my mom because I was a little worried about how she’d react. I don’t really know what her stance is on cannabis so I wasn’t sure whether she’d think I was doing something...

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Mom Weighs in on My Engagement and Ring

Dec 23

Mom Weighs in on My Engagement and Ring

On October 12, my boyfriend of nine years surprised me with a pretty epic engagement while we were in New York City. It involved a pre-recorded message from an American Gladiator and it was appropriately perfect given how goofy-schmoopy (goopy? that doesn’t sound right) our relationship is. The day after Jason proposed, I called Mom to break the good news. Mom: “High bay-beee! Whatchoo doing?” Me: “Hi, Mom. We’re in New York City until tomorrow. I just wanted to call and tell you that we finally got engaged!” Mom: “Hahahahahahahaha!” Me: “…..” I wasn’t sure how my mom would react to the news, but I definitely didn’t expect heavy laughter. Me: “Uh…” Mom: “It’s about ti-iiiiiiiime!!” She actually said that in a singsong voice. Me: “Yeah, I know, we’ve been together forever.” Mom: “No, is okay. Is good. You two more shuh-cure now, good to wait until you ready.” Me: “Yeah, definitely.” Mom: “Jason good man, smart man, he take good care of you.” Me: “Yep, that’s why we’re together. You want to talk to him?” Mom: “Oh-kayyyyy!” I handed the phone to Jason and heard a loud “Con-grat-choo-LAY-shuns!!!” through the phone. Jason laughed and had a polite conversation with the future diminutive in-law before handing the phone back over. Mom wasn’t as happy-shocked as my friends thought she would be, but I wasn’t too surprised since she has two other children who have gone through the marriage/kids milestones already; plus, Jason and I have been together long enough that an eventual engagement wasn’t too out-of-the-ordinary. After I got back to Seattle and we got my engagement ring re-sized and the design tweaked, I sent a picture of it to my mom. I had always told Jason that I wasn’t interested in diamonds, partly because of my half-white guilt over how dangerous and exploitative the diamond trade business is, and partly because I feel it’s a waste of money to spend on an artificially inflated commodity. Jason heeded my request and bought me a simple white gold band with nine cubic zirconia embedded in it. I think it’s just as pretty as a more lavish engagement ring and nobody knows the stones are fake until I tell them. So...

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Mom Can’t Spell, But She Makes a Good Effort

Aug 21

Mom Can’t Spell, But She Makes a Good Effort

Recently, one of my aunts fell ill and passed away. I was unable to fly to Michigan to attend the funeral because I had a conflicting trip booked, but my mom and oldest brother assured me my extended family would understand and that I could send some sympathy cards and pitch in for a flower arrangement. My sister Mia and brother Gene both flew in to attend the funeral and visit family. I was a little sad to have missed the trip because my family and I haven’t all been together since my brother John’s wedding 13 years ago. John spent the week sending me various pictures of everyone and basically making me feel like a jealous turd for missing out. Last night, my mom texted me a picture of her and my siblings: For the record, my brothers are 6’2″ and 6’3″, whereas my mom is barely 5 feet tall, my sister is about 5’3″, and I’m 5’5″ (my dad is about 5’10”). We joke that since my mom is the tallest person in her family, she passed the “tall” gene onto my brothers. She followed that picture up with this text: After noticing that the last picture she sent me (a photo of my sister and her two boys posing with my stepdad) was accompanied by nothing but the letter ‘P’, it took me a couple reads before I realized my mom was trying to spell the word “midget.” When I finished dying from laughter, I showed the text to Jason, who had a similar reaction. An hour after I received the text, I had a missed call and a voicemail from my mom, which is transcribed below: Mom: “Hey Rebecca, 7:30. Remember I send you pick-sure you brothers, me, and Mia.” Yes, Mom, I remember events from an hour ago. Mom: “Two middle one.” I like how she felt the need to identify herself and my sister in the picture as if I was unsure who was who. Mom: “I try to say we look like a midget, me and Mia. Compared to two boys. I don’t know how to spell ‘midget’! Okay! So that means ‘midget’.” Thanks for the clarification,...

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Texting with Mom While in St. Croix

Jun 21

Texting with Mom While in St. Croix

In May my boyfriend and I took a trip to St. Croix in the Virgin Islands so he and some of my friends could compete in a half Ironman. I didn’t sign up so I was just there for a little rest and relaxation before starting a new job. Naturally, when I told my mom I was going out of town, she warned me to be careful and to make sure Jason and my friends were with me so I wouldn’t get murdernapped or something. When we arrived in St. Croix, I texted my mom a picture of the beachfront view from the balcony of the condo we were renting: Along with the picture, I let her know we arrived safely. After sending that off, I immediately received an amusing stream-of-consciousness reply: Of course she was at the farm. Those peppers aren’t going to pick and sell themselves! My boyfriend and I had a great time enjoying the sun and heat and getting some exercise. The race was brutal…for Jason, not for me. He suffered through 70.3 miles while I got drunk off $3 rum punches at 9:00 in the morning. Towards the end of our trip, my friends and I took a drive from Christiansted to Frederiksted, a city on the western side of St. Croix. We stopped at a beachside bar and enjoyed some Painkillers. Our friends snapped a picture of Jason and me in front of the water, which I sent to my mom: I let my mom know that it was our last day in St. Croix before returning home: She, of course, responded adorably: I gotta say, I’m enjoying these texts from Mom. They’re a pretty accurate reflection of her personality and never fail to put a smile on my...

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My First Text from Mom

Jun 12

My First Text from Mom

My last post broke the monumental news that my mother finally stepped for into the 21st century and bought an EYE-phone 4. She had previously learned to master sending picture mail but was incapable of sending text messages. The iPhone, however, became a game changer. So many technological opportunities for my mom to figure out! And so much amusement to go with it! The week of my mom’s birthday, I sent her a text message to let her know that I had ordered some gifts for her and that she should expect them to arrive later that week. I wasn’t anticipating a response from her since she had never responded to my texts in the past, and because I still didn’t think she knew how to text. No joke, about 90 seconds later, my phone lit up: HOLY SHIT. Mom responded to my text!! She knows how to text now?! THIS WAS A GAME-CHANGER. I ran upstairs and way-too-excitedly showed my boyfriend. He laughed and was more impressed with the quick response time. “My mom takes about a week to respond to texts,” he said. I sent a response to Mom along with a little happy face icon: A minute or so later came her reply: To quote Walter White, “You’re goddamn right” she...

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My Mom Now Has an iPhone. God Help Us All.

Apr 01

A few weeks ago I had mentioned to my mom that I recently bought a new iPhone. Since my phone conversations with her lately have sounded as if she were calling from a potato, she asked what I was planning to do with my old iPhone 3GS. I told her I could send it to her since she uses AT&T and could just have them activate the device, and she got really excited by the prospect of getting a new free smartphone that’s in far better condition than whatever awful-sounding device she had been using. After I offered to send it to her, my mother became a Korean Terminator, seeking me out constantly and asking me when I was going to ship the phone. Two weeks ago, she called me when I was on my way to the hardware store to pick up a few items. Me: “Hello?” Mom: “Hi, honeyyyyyyyy. Whatchoo doing?” Me: “I’m going to the hardware store to pick up a few things.” Mom: “Oh, really?…I calling you to see if you still gonna send me EYE Phone.” Me: “Yeah, I’ll send it to you next week.” Mom: “Okay, good! I very excited to get new phone. I sound bad now, right?” Me: “Yeah, the connection is terrible, I can barely hear you.” Mom: “So bad. I need to get new phone. Send soon as you can, okay?” Me: “Don’t worry, I will.” Mom: “Okay, thank you bay-beeeeee. Love you. Bye.” I got to Lowe’s, picked up my four items, paid for them, and was driving home when my phone started vibrating. I glanced down and saw it was my mom. Again. Confused as to why she was calling me 15 minutes after we had last spoken, I answered. Me: “Uh, hello?” Mom: “Rebecca! It’s Mom.” She often identifies herself on the phone as if I get loads of calls from various Asian-accented women and can’t correctly identify her by voice. Me: “Yeah, I know. What’s up?” Mom: “Don’t forget to send charger!” Me: “What?” Mom: “When you send EYE Phone, don’t forget to send charger with it!” Me, laughing: “I’m not going to forget! Geez!” Mom: “Okay. I sit here this whole time thinking about...

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My Mother the Lazy Opportunist

Mar 13

Earlier I wrote about my brother’s hip surgery and how my mom stuffed him full of food as if he were facing the electric chair instead of a scalpel. John has had a slow and painful but steady recovery since the operation. This past weekend he progressed from using a walker to help move around to hobbling around on a pair of crutches. My mother, the lazy opportunist, took note of this recent change and asked him about it. Mom: “So…you using crutches now? No walker?” John: “Yeah, I’m feeling strong enough to get by with the crutches now.” She fell silent, the gears turning in her head. Mom: “…so whatchoo gonna do with walker?” John: “Uhhh…do you…want it?” Mom, happily: “Yeah! I use around house!” Let me clarify something: my mom is not disabled. She’s got the strength and athleticism of Mr. Burns, but she’s otherwise able-bodied and self-sufficient. There is no legitimate need for her to use a walker. John: “What the heck do you need a walker for?” Mom, indignant: “Sometimes I sore. Walker help me around house.” So there you go — my mom pouncing on an opportunity to maximize her...

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