From recruiters to romantic flops, why is ghosting the new normal? And why does DĂa de los Muertos feel a little too relevant this year?
Itâs wild how life keeps you guessing. Iâve learned that just when you think things are going somewhereâboom, youâre left on read. Whether itâs that recruiter promising, âYouâre the perfect fit!â or the nobody-wannabe, 0 a la izquierda acquaintance you finally considered giving a shot (and for what?). One day youâre dreaming about the perfect project or maybe a spontaneous road trip adventure, and the next, all youâre left with is silence. Like, excuse me? Did I miss something, or did you just vanish into thin air?
I should have known better, right? At this point, ghosting should come with a certificate of completion. You know how it goes: you send in that portfolio, spend hours on a project (that you definitely wonât get paid for), and then⊠nada. No email. No âthanks but no thanks.â Just crickets. Shout out to Leo Burnettâs recruiter for at least giving me a shot. But the rest? Itâs like they pulled a disappearing act straight out of Houdiniâs playbook.
And now, weâve got Mr. Nobody doing the same. When I finally thought, âOkay, this guy itâs actually pretty cool,â he decides to play Casper. No explanation, no heads-up. Just vanished. Itâs honestly impressive. The dedication to being a nobody is strong here. But letâs be realâwhoâs got time to sit around waiting for a ghost to reappear? Not me.
Every ghostđ» story just adds to the adventure, and honestly, the next one could be a lot more fun anyway.
How Creativity, Hustle, and a Little Heat Shape Chicagoâs Food Pop-Up Scene
Running a food pop-up is excitingâitâs a mix of chaos, creativity, and yes, a little heat! In a city like Chicago, where people expect bold flavors and unforgettable experiences, every pop-up feels like a performance. My journey started in 2016 with Sobremesa Chicago, where we always brought BBQ, sazĂłn, and our secret sauce: AjĂ Sobremesa. While the sauce got people talking, it was consistency that kept them coming back. But hereâs the spicy truth: running a pop-up isnât just about great food. Itâs about sweating it outâcarrying all the equipment, finding the right venue, and making it work, even when thereâs no kitchen. Thatâs where the real magic (and madness) happens.
Pop-ups let you surprise people. In Chicago, diners crave not just food but the experience. Pop-ups let them in on the secret, the spicy adventure. Whether youâre serving from a back alley in Pilsen or a patio at SleepingVillage, every dish tells a story.
The Bad: The Hustle is Real
Now for the hard (and sweaty) part: the grind. Running a pop-up will make you sweatâliterally. Itâs not just about cooking. You have to find a venue, figure out where to cook (and hope thereâs a kitchen), and carry everythingâtables, grills, propaneâacross the city. Sometimes youâre lucky and have a good setup, but most of the time, you make it work with whatever you have. Thatâs the hustle diners donât see, but itâs what makes pop-ups special. The grind is spicy and real.
Finding new customers is tough too. But word of mouth? Thatâs gold. Consistency and people talking about youâthatâs the key. For Sobremesa, it wasnât just about serving good food once. It was about showing up every time and bringing the heat. Pop-ups grow when people say, âYou have to try this.â
The Ugly: Burnout and Unpredictability
Running a pop-up is exhaustingâand can be a total burn-out if youâre not careful. The unpredictability can make you sweat even more. Sometimes the perfect venue falls apart last minute, or you run out of food too early because the crowd was way bigger than expected. And when thereâs no kitchenâay ay ay! Itâs hot, messy, and pure chaos.
But hereâs the spicy truth: even with all that heat, the most beautiful moments happen when it works. The regulars who show up, the friends who help, the strangers who come for the food but stay for the experienceâthese are the connections that keep you going. Iâll never forget when Iâd visit other restaurants and hear, âAre you part of the yellow sauce crew? Whatâs in that sauce?â Thatâs when you know your food has left a lasting mark.
The Chicago Factor: A City That Loves Its Food
Chicago is the perfect city for pop-ups. People here love good food, but they also want something differentâsomething with a bit of spice. Pop-ups work because they break the norms. Every neighborhoodâfrom Logan Square to Pilsenâgives a unique backdrop for creative food experiences. Itâs not just about the food; itâs about building a community.
For Sobremesa Chicago, it wasnât just about serving Latin-inspired dishes. It was about the vibe. Our pop-ups were tropical, warm, and full of shared meals with a spicy kick. Every dish had a story, and thatâs what people lovedânot just the food, but the feeling of being part of something bigger.
The Memorable Moments: The Heart of Pop-Ups
Anyone whoâs worked in pop-ups will tell you: the little moments make it all worth it. Anytime tĂo Efren took the mic, the energy in the room lit up. And every 4th of July party? Pure magic đȘâš (viva PR đ”đ· libre thouâ). These events werenât just about foodâthey were gatherings where strangers became friends, and friends became family. We found hidden gems in Chicagoâs food scene, learned from farm-to-table experiences, and built connections that last (special s/o Farm Butcher Tables đ)
These momentsâwhere everything makes senseâare why pop-ups, with all their spice and chaos, leave such a lasting impact.
Conclusion: Embrace the Madness (and the Spice)
Running a pop-up is not easy. Itâs chaotic, spicy, and unpredictable. But itâs also exciting. For anyone thinking of starting a pop-up, my advice is simple: enjoy the process. It goes by fast, and in a world where eating out can be expensive, creating a community through food is priceless.
The pop-up world is wild, messy, and full of heatâbut thatâs exactly what makes it beautiful.
When Overthinking, Anxiety, and Burnout Walk into a Bar: The Reality of High-Functioning in a Hustle Culture
If youâve spent any time in advertising, you know that personal life goes in the back pocket. Show up for the client, show up for the job, show up forâŠeveryone except yourself. Youâll run briefs, hit deadlines, and solve brand crises while carrying a personal crisis so well no one notices the difference. That’s what five years in therapy has drilled into meâthe art of showing up, even when your internal world feels like itâs on fire.
But hereâs the kicker: therapy hasnât been about not showing upâitâs been about figuring out how to keep showing up while also throwing a lifeline to that personal life shoved into my back pocket.
And let me tell you, itâs not just advertising. The food industry is its own beast. I havenât worked in it directly, but Iâve seen the toll it takes on people close to me. The hustle, the constant motion, and the never-ending demand for perfectionâchefs, line cooks, food vendorsâthey are the ultimate high-functioning machines, but behind those restaurant doors, the burnout is real.
The High-Functioning Depressed Overachiever
Iâm a highly functional depressed person, which is a fancy way of saying I get stuff done. Deadlines? Met. Projects? Nailed. Emotions? Who has time for those? This is the real hustle culture no one talks aboutâwhere you can be drowning in your head but still manage to create PowerPoints like itâs an Olympic event.
It reminds me a lot of the food industry folks I knowâwho push through long shifts, constantly on their feet, taking care of orders and customers, while barely taking care of themselves. The grind doesnât stop, and neither do they. Thereâs an unspoken rule in both advertising and the food world: you show up, no matter how hard it gets.
The Price of Prioritizing Everything but Yourself
If therapy and advertising both taught me one thing, itâs that putting yourself last is an art form. You convince yourself itâs fine because the client needs you, the deadline is crucial, or the work wonât get done unless you do it. But hereâs the thing: thereâs no award for being the most functional while falling apart. Trust me, I checked.
In the food industry, itâs even worse. Thereâs an unrelenting pressure to deliverâto keep the kitchens running, to serve the customers, to work through the rush. And for what? A lot of people I know can barely sleep, barely eat, barely exist outside of their jobs. The hustle culture in food service and advertising is brutal in its own wayâthereâs no glamour in being stretched too thin, but we do it anyway.
The real plot twist is when you realize that if you keep putting yourself last, you wonât have anything left to show up with. Itâs not burnout; itâs the slow erosion of everything that keeps you grounded. At some point, you have to dig yourself out of that back pocket and let your personal life take center stage. And guess what? The world wonât implode if you do.
The Therapy Diaries: How I Stopped Drowning in My Own Head
In five years of weekly therapy, Iâve learned that being functional doesnât mean being okay. You can keep checking boxes, running marathons in your head, but at the end of the day, if youâre not present in your own life, youâre missing the point. The truth is, youâre not supposed to have it all together all the time. Thatâs just capitalism lying to you.
But Iâm learning to let myself off the hook. Depression doesnât go away because you schedule it between meetings, and anxiety doesnât pause when you close your laptop. Whatâs changed is how I deal with itâlike calling out the lies my brain tells me at 3 a.m., when it tries to convince me Iâm failing at life.
Thatâs when I remember this: âOh how I am loved. As I step out of my own overthinking, I see how loved I truly am. The intentions of those around me are pure, and the feelings I feel are real. Fear try to make me think otherwise, however, I trust that goodness lives in my current reality. I am truly blessed.â
Thatâs the quote I hang on to when things feel heavy. Because while depression loves to pull you under, thereâs always a hand ready to pull you back upâwhether itâs a friend, a therapist, or even the reminder that youâre still here, still showing up.
Unlearning the Hustle Mentality
At the end of the day, therapy isnât about fixing yourselfâitâs about learning to coexist with all the messy parts. Itâs about unlearning the belief that you have to do it all or that being functional means being whole. And yeah, sometimes itâs about calling out the lies that hustle culture and advertising (and the food industry) try to sell you.
So hereâs to still showing up, still being highly functional, but also making space for the person behind the to-do list. Whether youâre slinging campaigns or working in a kitchen, maybe itâs time to let that personal life out for a bit. You deserve to be on the agenda too.
Thank you for readingđ„čđ„Č Besito Gene
Shoutout to Anissa, Cesiah and Michelle for 6 years of incredible support and guidance đ„č
How a year in Austin emptied my wallet but filled my soulâone expensive decision at a time.
Hereâs to the year I kissed my savings goodbyeâ Austin, you glorious trap, you whispered, âCome on in,â
I came with four suitcases, one bag, and a whole lot of nothing else, ready to start from scratch, but
Turns out, self-discovery has a price tag, and itâs not on sale. But oh, I was resilient! Who needs a solid financial plan, when youâve got city lights, tacos, and a deep conversation with your own reflection?
And letâs not forget my apartment. My first place, my own little sanctuaryâ Decorated exactly how I dreamed it, because hey, When youâve been waiting 29 years to make a space your own, why not go big? (Especially on groceries youâll never cook.) I mean, sure, my âtasteâ could drain a trust fund (that I donât have). Hello, HEBâWhole Foods may be from Texas, but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to you.
Oh, and Austin itself? Letâs be realâitâs a suburb playing dress-up, Trying so hard to be a big city. But I loved you anyway, with all your wannabe hustle and charm. Your skyline, though? You canât fool me. I know you cry when you see the OG: Chicago. Letâs be honestâThe Independent is cute, But next to those Chicago giants,youâre just a little bro in the shadow.
You took my money and my sense, But gave me a strange, deep love for starting over. For building something out of nothing, For embracing the ridiculous beauty of it all, Even if it meant splurging on things I never knew I needed.
Iâll keep the memories, the tacos, and a very cute (and very overpriced) apartment As a souvenir of that wild ride
So cheers to you, Austin, And cheers to me, for surviving you.
Chicago, the city of skyscrapers, deep-dish pizza, and where winters freeze your soul (and probably your dreams too). Our relationship? Well, itâs been more on-and-off than Iâd like to admit. And yet, here I am, once again, back in the Windy City for round three. This has to be the final lap, right? Or at least, thatâs what I keep telling myself. But letâs be real, Chicago and I have some unfinished business.
Letâs rewind to 2015: I was supposed to go back to Puerto Rico for my fall semester after the summer, but UPR, being UPR đ€·đœââïž, canceled three of the five classes I was going to take that semester. The other two? Online â back when remote learning was like the Death Star: an idea that existed but felt light years away. With most of my semester up in smoke, Mayra and a friend, both always full of wild ideas, laughed and said, âThis is your sign from the universe. You need to stay in Chicago and do an internship.â The crazy part? I actually listened to them.
The next day, I became the queen of LinkedIn, blasting out resumes like I was trying to fight off an army of Stormtroopers. Most places didnât even bother to respond (classic), but one company, Paco Collective, got back to me faster than the Millennium Falcon in lightspeed. Before I knew it, I was saying, âIâm staying in Chicago this semester.â What started as a summer visit to my family and some of the OG Sobremesa Chicago crew turned into my first âbig girlâ internship in a city that was all hustle, deep-dish, and endless possibility.
Fast forward to 2016, and I was ready to make my mark. I made the move full-time to Chicago. No more testing the waters â I dove in headfirst, terrified but buzzing with excitement for what was to come. The thing is, I didnât need the unpaid overtime grind because I was doing something way more epic: being a full-time babysitter and the PR & Community Manager for Sobremesa Chicago. Double life? Absolutely. But who needs a ramen budget when Sobremesa Chicago pop-up leftovers and Spencerâs endless meal prep had my back? Thanks, Spencer! Not to mention the best quesadillas in Pilsen from âLa Trilita.â RIP to my favorite spot â you are missed.
In Puerto Rico, I had become known as âla alcaldesa,â but ironically, my true network was always in Chicago. Every major opportunity, every meaningful connection I had built, it all came back to this city. Itâs funny â people in PR see me as this connected, influential person, but Chicago is where my roots truly run deep. Iâve always felt like I belong here, despite all the detours along the way.
And then, the curveball: Texasđ€ . That summer of 2022, I found myself in Austin â a city I never thought Iâd fall for. But fall, I did. I started to see it as the fresh start I desperately needed. ATX felt like that new love interest thatâs a bit quirky but has all the potential. I spent months overthinking whether I should make the move full-time, but eventually, I did what I always do: I jumped. In September 2023, I packed my bags and left behind the city that had defined so much of my adult life.
Texas was great⊠for a while. But as much as I loved the BBQ, the sunshine, and the laid-back vibe, there was a pull I couldnât shake. Chicago had its hooks in me. Even though I had left behind what was technically my dream job in advertising. I wasnât done with Chicago. Maybe I never will be.
So, now itâs October 2024, and Iâm back. Am I crazy? Probably. Am I ready? I hope so. This city, for better or worse, has been the backdrop to some of the biggest moments in my life. Itâs where Iâve grown, failed, succeeded, and been shaped into the person I am today. Sure, itâs not perfect, but neither am I.
Chicago is the place that gave me my first shot, even if it came with its share of hard lessons. Itâs the city where I learned what I want, and more importantly, what I donât want. And while Puerto Rico may call me la alcaldesa, Chicago knows me for who I really am
a hustler whoâs always looking for the next move, always ready to reinvent herself.
So, why come back? Why not just stay in Texas or even Puerto Rico? The truth is, Iâm not done with this city. Chicago is more than just a place on the map; itâs a part of me. I know its flaws, but I also know its beauty. Iâve seen the way it can challenge you, but Iâve also felt the rush of what it means to succeed here. And who knows, maybe this time, the city and I are finally on the same page.
La tercera la vencida? Maybe. Or maybe this is just another chapter in the ongoing saga of me and Chicago.
Whatever happens, one thingâs for sure: Iâm back, Chicago. Letâs see what youâve got this time.
How Six Years of Caregiving Sharpened My Skills for Hospitality, Advertising, and Nonprofit Work
Let me start by saying, no one told me babysitting would be the ultimate bootcamp for all my future jobs. When I first signed up for the gig, it seemed straightforward: watch the kids, keep them alive, feed them, and maybe sneak in a few life lessons. What I didnât expect was that over the span of six years, the things I learned from being a full-time babysitter would mold and sharpen skills that would serve me in ways I never imaginedâfrom hospitality in Chicago, to crafting campaigns at Arc Worldwide, to working for communities at Main Street America.
Because letâs be real: you donât spend six years babysitting without learning some hardcore survival skills.
Step One: Sobremesa and the Art of Hospitality (Or: Why Toddlers Are Basically Tiny Food Critics)
My journey from babysitting to hospitality started with Sobremesa Chicago, a place where I learned that serving food is only half the job. The other half is knowing how to create experiences people will remember. And trust me, nothing teaches you patience like a kid in a full-on grocery store meltdown. AB might not have had a picky eater phase, but oh, the tantrums. I still remember those moments right in the middle of the aisleâusually near the checkout line, because timing is everything, right? The best part? I couldn’t help but laugh internally because these little firestorms of emotion were over something as small as cereal choices.
Working at Sobremesa taught me that people are a little like toddlers (stay with me here). Customers also have their expectations, quirks, and moods. They not throw themselves on the floor screaming over Captain Crunch, but managing emotions, curating experiences, and offering a sense of comfort are universal skills. In hospitality, itâs not just about the foodâitâs about making everyone feel at home, even when things donât go as planned.
And if ABâs âWhereâs Moana?âphase taught me anything, itâs that the details matter. If I sit through 300+ showings of Moana without losing my mind, I certainly manage the quirks of restaurant guests. Letâs just say that âYouâre Welcomeâ became my unofficial mantra, whether I was serving a tripleta or managing a crying toddler.
Step Two: Arc Worldwide and the Advertising Hustle (AKA: Turning Chaos into Strategy)
Transitioning into advertising with Arc Worldwide was like going from toddler wrangling to managing full-grown toddlers with bigger budgets and tighter deadlines. In advertising, much like babysitting, adaptability is everything. When things get chaoticâwhether itâs dealing with a last-minute change or navigating a brainstorming session that feels like herding catsâyou learn to pivot and keep moving forward.
One thing I learned early on? Time management. In babysitting, thereâs no such thing as a set schedule. Snack time turns into naptime, and naptime becomes, well, who knows? That same flexibility served me well in advertising. Deadlines change, meetings pop up out of nowhere, and youâve got to juggle it all with a smile (or a silent scream).
And then, there was the word âindulgence.â I swear, there was one client who used it 33,333 times. It was like playing a game of word bingoâexcept, I always won. If you can keep your cool through that and still deliver, youâre golden.
Step Three: Main Street America and Nonprofit Work (Or: Why Being a Babysitter Prepares You to Advocate for Change)
Now, here I am, working for Main Street America, a nonprofit that empowers local communities. The stakes are higher, but the lessons from babysitting still apply. Kids have an incredible way of reminding you what matters most: consistency, showing up, and listening even when things are chaotic. With nonprofit work, much like babysitting, youâre navigating complex emotions, advocating for change, and hoping that your efforts make a lasting impact.
Remember how I mentioned ABâs tantrums? Well, replace that with navigating community stakeholders, grant applications, and event planning, and you get the idea. Just like calming a grocery store meltdown, working in nonprofit requires patience, empathy, and a commitment to seeing things throughâeven when the path is anything but easy.
Nonprofit work, much like babysitting, is also about building trust. Whether itâs with a child whoâs having a rough day or a community trying to revitalize their local economy, people need to know youâre there for the long haul. And hey, after six years of showing up for AB and LF, Iâm all about the long game.
Babysitting Lessons That Shaped Me
Looking back, I never would have guessed that babysitting would be the foundation of everything else. But the truth is, those years spent wrangling toddlers, negotiating screen time, and figuring out how to feed picky eaters taught me more about life and work than any class or corporate training ever.
Patience is priceless. Whether youâre handling a temper tantrum or a difficult client, staying calm is the key to survival.
Adaptability is everything. When things donât go as planned (and they wonât), being able to shift gears is a superpower.
Listening is an art. Whether itâs a child or a community, people want to be heard. Sometimes, thatâs all it takes to diffuse a situation.
Creativity is your best tool. Whether youâre sneaking veggies into a meal or coming up with a campaign, thinking outside the box is crucial.
So here I amâsix years later, with experiences that have shaped me in ways I couldnât have predicted. From food service to advertising to nonprofit work, it turns out that babysitting was the best training I could have ever asked for.
And to my two pillars in this journey, Annabelle and Liam: thank you for teaching me more than I ever taught you.
Imagine a kitchen filled with the rich smells of sofrito simmering on the stove, the warmth of freshly made arepas or croquetas, and the laughter of family members gathering to share stories over a meal. This is where my food journey began. In my Colombian-Puerto Rican household, food was not just a necessityâit was a way of connecting. We didnât just eat; we savored every bite and prolonged the meal with sobremesa, where conversations lingered long after the plates were cleared.
My curiosity for the story behind food actually began much earlier, thanks to my grandfather, George. Every morning, heâd buy me a Kiwi-Strawberry Snapple, which became my own version of matcha back in 1999. Those Snapples sparked my love for fun facts and made me wonder about the stories behind the food we consume. That curiosity has stuck with me ever since.
Although I didnât inherit the same motivation to cook as my family, I did inherit that deep curiosity. I always found myself talking with the people who prepared the meals, fascinated by their techniques and traditions. While I may be a terrible sous chef, I excel at listening and learning from those around me.
This curiosity led me to explore food beyond my familyâs kitchen. At 18, I took on my first freelance gig, helping a friend launch a restaurant. Every morning, Iâd stop by for coffee and work on their social media strategy and daily menus. It was my first taste of how food connects people beyond the dinner table, and it set the foundation for my passion for food culture and sustainability.
Two years later, I visited my family in Chicago for a summer break, and thereâs no question that Chicago has a vibrant dining scene. That summer of 2015 was transformative for me. I attended my first Sobremesa Chicago dinner and was blown away by the power of locally sourced ingredients turned into exquisite meals. The experience opened my eyes to the beauty of food sustainability and community-driven dining. By the end of that summer, I knew I had to return to Chicago. Though I went back to Puerto Rico to finish my last semester of college, I came back to Chicago after graduating in 2016.
Now, as I explore sustainable food practices through the Food & Sustainability Certificate, Iâm diving into the impact of industrial agriculture on the environment. The first module of the course introduced me to how large-scale farming is transforming ecosystems and biodiversity. Iâm learning how sustainable practices, like supporting local farms and reducing waste, can not only promote better health but also protect our planet. Itâs a shift in perspectiveâfrom seeing food as merely something to eat to understanding its broader role in environmental and social well-being.
From sobremesa chats in my childhood home to my studies today, I see a clear connection between food, sustainability, and community. This journey is just beginning, and Iâm excited to continue learning how we can reshape food production to be more mindful of our planet and the people who depend on it.
And yes, Iâll definitely be bringing my croquetas along for the ride.
