Have you ever hit a point in life where you’re not sure if you’re having a mental breakdown or just slowly turning into your mother?
That was me—29, unemployed, and sobbing over expired hummus when I landed a job at BubbleLux™, a company that sells inflatable hot tubs. Yes, really. Their motto? “Luxury You Can Inflate.” Honestly, same.
I told my mother I got a job in “customer success.” She now thinks I work for Google. I don’t correct her. It’s easier that way.
Day 1: Welcome to the Deep End
I walk into a beige office that smells like dry carpet and lavender hand sanitizer. My manager, Chad, says things like “Let’s optimize customer delight” and “We don’t do support—we do success.”
My job? Taking calls from angry customers whose luxury tubs won’t inflate, over-inflate, or in one memorable case—launched a cat into a peach tree.
Actual quote from a customer:
“The jets activated and Mr. Pickles took flight. He’s still up there. He’s staring at me like I betrayed him.”
My Coworkers, a Sitcom Cast
DeShawn sells “emotional support staplers” on Etsy and calls every meeting a “vibe alignment session.”
Brenda crochets passive-aggressive potholders during Zoom calls and has a vendetta against the vending machine.
Eli cries every time someone uses all caps in an email.
We’re not okay. But at least we’re not alone.
Emotional Damage & Hot Tub Damage
Outside of work, I’m dodging my mom’s attempts to set me up with “a nice boy who does digital marketing, or maybe it was dentistry.” Meanwhile, my landlord’s dog keeps stealing my UberEats orders and leaving judgmental drool on the bag.
One night, I left my webcam on during a company Zoom call while crying into a noodle cup. Chad promoted me. Apparently, it showed “humility and emotional availability.”
Sure. Let’s go with that.
The Turning Point
After accidentally shipping 50 tubs to the wrong country, I braced for termination. Instead, Chad said, “This shows leadership potential.”
So I stood up in the middle of a team call, turned off my filter, and declared:
“I’m one clogged filter away from screaming into a jet-powered void. But I think I’m thriving?”
Brenda clapped. DeShawn saluted. Eli cried again—but in a good way.
And Somehow, I’m Still Here
Now I write a blog called “Please Hold for Jasmine”, chronicling my descent into mild corporate madness. My mom reads it, still thinking I work for Google.
And me? I still have no idea what I’m doing with my life. But I’ve got a job, coworkers who feel like a sitcom family, and a strong opinion about bubble jet pressure.
It’s not perfect. It’s inflatable.
But hey—it holds air. And that’s enough for now.
Thanks for reading! If you’ve ever screamed into a customer service void, or found sanity in strange places, tell me about it in the comments. Or just drop a noodle emoji 🍜 if you feel spiritually seen.
