Whose That Girl?

That Intel Girl.

Did I mention that I got the Intel gig? Apparently my confident cover letter proved my geek-chic-ness. After a series of run-around and vague phone calls regarding the event, I was directed to a training on Thursday afternoon. Hesitant and very wary of the type of job I was getting into, not to mention of the people who seem to be fulfilling a career in this industry, I reminded myself to stay true and grounded. I might be geek-chic, but I am not the type of girl who would normally find myself in this line of work and to prove it to myself and the people I expected to meet, I arrived to training in jeans and a t-shirt with my hair tucked up inside a baseball cap. Well, I was on my way to the game anyway - I wasn't going schlep around an extra bag of clothes just for a training. Anyway, I thought I was being funny and a smart-alec but it turned out, I wasn't that girl either.

In the elevator I prepared myself to face a room full of platinums and walked in to find four average lookers of different creeds chilling on a couch. Confused, I scanned the room and not finding the assembly belt of barbies, almost turned around and walked out. Erica assured me I was in the right spot and I shrugged and joined in the conversation. Eventually two blonde strumpets did arrive and content that my grossly unfair generalization was met, we started training. Oh hey PowerPoint, didn't expect to see you post college. What's that you read? An Intel mission statement? Unnecessary animated transitions? Failed uTube links? I remember you. Fortunately Intel provided us with Ghirardelli chocolates of which I had six. Oh yum. After learning that we would be promoting Intel's new values that are to appeal to the oh-so-important, jaded and easily persuaded youth, and a long lecture about the difference between a geek and a nerd (oh it happened) we were told we would be standing around promoting a new image. The good news, it was at Outside Lands! Only the biggest city summer music festival with tickets so expensive I didn't dare even check out the website! The bad news? There was a costume involved. The good news? There was a choice in costume; mini skirts or jump suits. The bad news? The strumpets won the choice. Guess which outfit they found most promising (read: sexy).

I'm just going to get through this next part real quick. White skirt, white top, white lab coat (geek = scientist but we need sexy so.....), patent leather platform go-go-boots, blue sunglasses and, an electric blue wig. I was happy to see that the skirt was old-navy because I buy old-navy all the time and know my size. Intel thought they knew better and requested I move down a size. Maybe geeks are turning slutty these days...I don't know...I didn't ask. Bewildered and giddy with fatigue and blue overload, I stumbled into a Walgreens to ask for a bag to shove my prize outfit in. So much for not lugging around clothes to the baseball game. I'm not even going to mention what happened when the bag broke at the Giants game, revealing the mesh of blue and white. I'm not sure if the fact that I was at a Jewish Heritage sponsored game was in my favor (I'm thinking Intel brand meets tribe colors) or not...but I'm confident that the blue wig raised some questions with the rabbis.

I didn't escape the house Friday morning and Cousin Danielle caught me dressed and ready to go (estoy listo?) with her blackberry phone. I was marched outside to have my picture taken for the yearbook and then one in front of the truck because I was probably the only one in San Francisco looking like that driving a pick up. Eh, maybe there were two of us. But I bet I was the only one being paid! Maybe not. Actually, if there were two of us, I bet the other was getting paid more than me.

Annnyway, because the concert was in Golden Gate Park, I had to park on the perimeter and walk into the mess of second-shift disaster zone in my go-go boots. Oh boy did I get looks. At least no one could recognize me! I tried hard to be That Intel Girl as I negotiated dirt hill and eucalyptus spillage in my whites but it was weird. People have no problem staring. I probably would have stared too! You know something is completely off their rocker if they're getting the stare down in this city though. As soon as I entered fun-land I didn't really have to BE a character anymore. I was branded and people took care of forming ideals of who I was for me. I relinquished control over my personality to the ingenious minds of Intel and played ball.

A few minutes early to the gig, I walked into other vendor booths and got high fives and hugs from other workers. "Hey it's an Intel Girl!" I was on the inside and it felt right on! I was part of a group, the support staff, we got each other's back yo. I was immediately cool, a felt like I would enjoy my three days as an Intel Girl. The Intel Booth was by far the biggest tent at the concert. White (of course) and dome shaped, inside was a dj booth, a mixing station, a tech station, computers to check e-mail, upload pics and videos, an oxygen bar and lounge. It was plush, loud, and white for a hot second. You gota start questioning the geeks upstairs at Intel who thought that the color white was going to go over well at an OUTSIDE LANDS concert...really?

I got my assignment, to stand at a station and engage patrons. We weren’t selling, we had nothing to promote, we had nothing to do, and we didn't work for Intel. If we were asked questions were were to direct them to intel.com and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was there, and what go-go boots had to do with being useless in a crowd of randoms who thought they were getting drunk off our test-tube shots of blue poweraid at the oxygen bar. That was a true story.

Eventually I worked my way up to the observation deck on top of the dome that looked out onto the crowd and main stage. That was cool, lonely, and increasingly windy. I started to get cold and bored. My head was pounding with the dj beats from below which were competing with the main stage concert vibes. I started to dance. I love to dance, even by myself, and in public too! You might have seen me get down in the dairy isle of the grocery store before, or that one time in my dorm room junior year when I forgot to close the curtains. But, there is something really really weird about dancing on an outside balcony by yourself, watching people, in a wig and a lab coat. I dare say it sounds a bit stalker-ish and border line perverted. It got creepier when people came up to talk to me on the deck. I got, "Is that your real hair?" more than once. From the kids, it was ok; I can understand their negligence to notice the six other blue wigs around. From the adults, I was concerned and wanted to ask them several follow up questions. Sometimes I answered their question with a simple "yes" and then when they clarified with a "really?" I alternated between answers "yes" to which they usually thought I was a freak because I was obviously lying and in turn they would walk away, or "no" to which they would realize their question was stupid and in turn, they would walk away. Win win.

Some other Intel Girls wanted to switch places with me so I spent the last few hours in front of the dome, standing and wondering what the fuck I was supposed to be doing. People didn't know if they should come up and talk to me or watch me. Hell, I didn't know either. As it grew dark and the concert-goers antsy for Pearl Jam, I felt less and less comfortable as that Intel Girl. People touched my hair, wrapped their arms around me to have their picture taken with me, walked right up to me and expected something to happen...oh yeah...I was a gimmick. People expected something to happen if they came up to me and I had nothing. Sometimes I said "hey!" but then I got to thinking...would they walk right up to me if I didn't look like a cross between a smurffette and Scooby Doo's friend Velma? Probably not, and had they, I would look at them as expectantly as they were looking at me! So...the times I didn't say "hey!" and just stared back, were hysterically awkward.

I really did not like being touched and in pictures and verbally harassed. Not ten minutes into the shift, a superiorly unattractive older biggest loser candidate walked past me and caudled "you're fucking sexy." How I wish I had gotten my feminist act together quick enough to shout back "you too hot stuff."

...To Be continued