Saw this wonderful film last night and was charmed to bits, even though any recollections of my dance classes in grade school bring on winces galore.
As I say in my standup routine, we NE Wisconsin types are not a sultry people--and this extends to our dancing (if one could really call it that--methinks our attempts at dance evoke "Dawn of the Dead" more than "Dirty Dancing"). Stiffs on parade, that was us!
Well, me, certainly. I still don't have the music in me, and I think the odds are good I never will. Oh well. Another cross to bear. (Pile 'em on! T'is the season, after all.)
The kids in the movie, on the other hand--many had crazy talent! And sweetness. Reading and watching the news these days, one could almost think childhood is a relic of an earlier time, but these kids were kids--and but for a few exceptions (some of the girls had to worry about drunken men in their buildings, for pity's sake), they were allowed to be kids by their families, teachers, and communities.
Add in some great music, inspired teachers, and you have a movie that is, as one teacher put it, "Fantastico." (I think that's how that's spelled--never studied Spanish, sorry.)
On other fronts, I gave someone a ride to chemo this morning, which certainly helps with the perspective part of the day. But please, dear Higher Power, don't let things get to the point where my sole source of comfort is, "I've got my health."
That would be sad, really and truly sad.
On brighter fronts, I wrote a scathing letter to my alumni magazine, On Wisconsin, for they reported that the University of Wisconsin system does not offer domestic partnership benefits to its employees. In fact, it's the only school in the Big Ten that doesn't do so--if that isn't appalling, what is?
What ever happened to "cool, hip" Madison, the liberal stronghold of the largely Republican Midwest??
I was stunned. I was outraged. I ripped the "Bucky" sticker off my car.
And then I wrote the magazine, and felt better. And now I'm going to write a letter to the service manager who made such a botch job of my car.
Oh, and since I apparently was too quiet about this (I was on holiday, after all), my birthday was on June 24th--my debut was in 1959, which is appalling to type, but that's the truth. And I was born late--10:35 p.m.--which explains a lot.
Now, I'm off to heap some righteous indignation on a deserving car dealership--woo!
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Visualize whirled peas--no, wait, that's not it....
Started yesterday off on the wrong foot--forgot to do my visualization of the perfect job, not to mention meditation, so that I began the week in a wee, panicked frenzy (how can a frenzy be wee, you ask? A Midwesterner has it).
Today, I'm going to start the day right, in the hopes I will face the day with more calm. Calm would be a nice change of pace. Calm and dry would be nice, too (it's raining buckets out there today).
On other fronts, I was bemused by my brother, who sent me an ageist birthday card even though he is a whopping 12 years older than I am. What gall, eh? Mr. Way Past Middle Age thought he was being clever by making it look as if their Airedale, Harry, sent the card.
As if. If he can't chew it up and/or swallow it whole, Harry wants nothing to do with it.
So this is what it's come to--using one's innocent dog to do one's dirty deeds? My brother should be ashamed of himself.
That will never happen, this I know.
Time to go think happy thoughts about my future job/commute/colleagues/paycheck and beyond.
(Speaking of happy thoughts, how's about that Linus picture up there? He had just roamed through the woods of the Becket quarry, and that makes him feel like a natural canine, let me tell you!)
Monday, June 27, 2005
Back to, uh, work
Yes, I'm back from my week's vacation in the Berkshires, even though it wasn't exactly a week and it wasn't all spent in the Berkshires.
There were complications, and it appears that I am a veritable magnet for complications these days (semi-employment was only the beginning).
The first involved my brand-new car with the brand-new front tire. Well, the car is equipped with a warning light that denotes drastic tire pressure changes, and it kept lighting up on me last week. First, I called the dealer, and he suggested I simply reset the light.
That worked for about 20 miles, then the light went back on.
Call #2 forced a drive back to town, where the dealer then tried something else. He checked the air pressure on all four tires, and adjusted them so they all had the same pressure.
That worked for about 20 miles, then the light went on--yes, again.
The third time I drove in from my supposed vacation, they kept the car and gave me a loaner and promised this time they would fix the damn problem.
And they did. Know what it was? The new tire they put on was the wrong size.
As my brother (he who makes me look optimistic) observed, "Of course, one couldn't expect the dealer who SOLD YOU THE CAR to know what size tire belongs on it."
Based on the fact that (1) they put the wrong tire on a brand of car they sell and (2) it took them three tries to figure that out and (3) they didn't seem to give a rat's ass that they were befouling my vacation, I'm thinking I should find a new place to get my car serviced. (You THINK?!) It's really irritating, for if they had done something to show they understood they were putting me out--say, washed my car and/or filled the gas tank--maybe I wouldn't be thinking such thoughts, but right now, THEY'RE GETTING THE BOOT. Linda thinks I was too nice to them on the phone--like it's my job to be such a bitch they understand they're screwing me over? I don't know about that--I told them I was on vacation, I had to appear at their shop many times, I told them I was getting tired of this, blah, blah. Are they SO STUPID they need me to point out that they're screwing up? Please.
(So, if you know any Pontiac-approved service places in Western Mass. that actually know what they're doing, please let me know.)
The other complication was that I got a call regarding freelance job possibilities last week, and though I had sworn I was not doing anything work-related last week, I broke my pledge to go interview at a temp agency in Hartford who handles "creative" folks such as myself. I was operating under the delusion that my other temp agency might have work for me this week, so wanted to keep my calendar clear.
Of course, there is no work for me as of yet this week, so I broke my pledge for naught.
But the last complications were good, for Linda and I had two parties this weekend, when we usually have one every six months or so. I drove a total of five hours on Saturday to attend Val and Joan's 10-year anniversary, then yesterday we returned home from the Berkshires to attend our friend Jennifer's 30th birthday party.
The only fly in the ointment was that it was hot, desperately, humidly hot during both of these parties, and while I can stand pretty much anything Mother Nature throws at me heat-wise (my thermostat got permanently fried in Morocco), Linda wilted big-time. Well, she made it through most of Val and Joan's party, but by the time we got to Jennifer's shin-dig, she was pretty much toast. So, we didn't stay very long, which I hope won't get us on anybody's "Bad Dykes" list or anything.
There's only so much you can do when your carcass turns on you--and when said carcass belongs to your partner, there's even less.
And oh--one more complication. I had insomnia last night, so am feeling rather tired. The good news is I don't have anything that I really MUST do today, so I can rest as needed.
The bad news is I don't have anything that I really MUST do today, so am a bit wracked with anxiety.
Oh, and I'm now 46. Does that number resonate with anyone? I can't quite grasp it.
So, what else is new?
There were complications, and it appears that I am a veritable magnet for complications these days (semi-employment was only the beginning).
The first involved my brand-new car with the brand-new front tire. Well, the car is equipped with a warning light that denotes drastic tire pressure changes, and it kept lighting up on me last week. First, I called the dealer, and he suggested I simply reset the light.
That worked for about 20 miles, then the light went back on.
Call #2 forced a drive back to town, where the dealer then tried something else. He checked the air pressure on all four tires, and adjusted them so they all had the same pressure.
That worked for about 20 miles, then the light went on--yes, again.
The third time I drove in from my supposed vacation, they kept the car and gave me a loaner and promised this time they would fix the damn problem.
And they did. Know what it was? The new tire they put on was the wrong size.
As my brother (he who makes me look optimistic) observed, "Of course, one couldn't expect the dealer who SOLD YOU THE CAR to know what size tire belongs on it."
Based on the fact that (1) they put the wrong tire on a brand of car they sell and (2) it took them three tries to figure that out and (3) they didn't seem to give a rat's ass that they were befouling my vacation, I'm thinking I should find a new place to get my car serviced. (You THINK?!) It's really irritating, for if they had done something to show they understood they were putting me out--say, washed my car and/or filled the gas tank--maybe I wouldn't be thinking such thoughts, but right now, THEY'RE GETTING THE BOOT. Linda thinks I was too nice to them on the phone--like it's my job to be such a bitch they understand they're screwing me over? I don't know about that--I told them I was on vacation, I had to appear at their shop many times, I told them I was getting tired of this, blah, blah. Are they SO STUPID they need me to point out that they're screwing up? Please.
(So, if you know any Pontiac-approved service places in Western Mass. that actually know what they're doing, please let me know.)
The other complication was that I got a call regarding freelance job possibilities last week, and though I had sworn I was not doing anything work-related last week, I broke my pledge to go interview at a temp agency in Hartford who handles "creative" folks such as myself. I was operating under the delusion that my other temp agency might have work for me this week, so wanted to keep my calendar clear.
Of course, there is no work for me as of yet this week, so I broke my pledge for naught.
But the last complications were good, for Linda and I had two parties this weekend, when we usually have one every six months or so. I drove a total of five hours on Saturday to attend Val and Joan's 10-year anniversary, then yesterday we returned home from the Berkshires to attend our friend Jennifer's 30th birthday party.
The only fly in the ointment was that it was hot, desperately, humidly hot during both of these parties, and while I can stand pretty much anything Mother Nature throws at me heat-wise (my thermostat got permanently fried in Morocco), Linda wilted big-time. Well, she made it through most of Val and Joan's party, but by the time we got to Jennifer's shin-dig, she was pretty much toast. So, we didn't stay very long, which I hope won't get us on anybody's "Bad Dykes" list or anything.
There's only so much you can do when your carcass turns on you--and when said carcass belongs to your partner, there's even less.
And oh--one more complication. I had insomnia last night, so am feeling rather tired. The good news is I don't have anything that I really MUST do today, so I can rest as needed.
The bad news is I don't have anything that I really MUST do today, so am a bit wracked with anxiety.
Oh, and I'm now 46. Does that number resonate with anyone? I can't quite grasp it.
So, what else is new?
Friday, June 17, 2005
Class act
So, answer me this: If you paid someone a lot less than you were supposed to, then sent them the missing money via wire transfer, would you think it was a good idea to charge this someone for the cost of said transfer?
The cost? $5.00.
Really.
You know, since I've been covering HR issues for eons now, I keep up on management trends. Lately, I've read a lot about how organizations have begun to worry about employee retention and the looming labor shortage. In spite of this, day in, day out I hear about (or get to experience personally) the gross stupidity of managers who don't think--or care--about what their actions signal to their employees.
Yesterday, for example, I heard about a group of managers in a huge corporation who decided to stop reimbursing employees in their department who have cable modem computer access at home. The key: This was not a financial decision--the organization had the money. The rationale? The managers didn't want to have to make the hard decisions necessary to develop a policy for such reimbursements, so they took the easy way out. The reimbursement policy? NOBODY GETS REIMBURSED.
The people with cable modems used to be reimbursed for this access because they needed to log in to the company's computers remotely, either when they were on call or when a colleague needed help with a project they've worked on.
So what do you think the people who used to get reimbursed are thinking right now?
A. "What a savvy group of managers! Talk about streamlined policy-setting!!'
B. "What lazy sons-o'-bitches! As soon as the economy picks up/I'm vested/something better comes along, I'm outta here....."
C. "I'm going back to dialup. If they complain about how long it takes for me to respond to their overnight 'emergencies,' I'll tell them to go stuff themselves."
Or?
I dunno. People deserve more than pettiness and lack of regard. People who make you money deserve even more.
Don't they? (Or is my naivete showing?)
I'm outta here myself. We're taking a week's vacation (anyone saying, "From what?" is no longer my friend), since Linda took next week off (we were supposed to go out to California for a business/pleasure trip, but there's no time/money for that now....besides, with all the seismic activity out there, I'm rather grateful to be homebound).
May be checking in, but I don't know--I only have dialup where I'm going, after all....
The cost? $5.00.
Really.
You know, since I've been covering HR issues for eons now, I keep up on management trends. Lately, I've read a lot about how organizations have begun to worry about employee retention and the looming labor shortage. In spite of this, day in, day out I hear about (or get to experience personally) the gross stupidity of managers who don't think--or care--about what their actions signal to their employees.
Yesterday, for example, I heard about a group of managers in a huge corporation who decided to stop reimbursing employees in their department who have cable modem computer access at home. The key: This was not a financial decision--the organization had the money. The rationale? The managers didn't want to have to make the hard decisions necessary to develop a policy for such reimbursements, so they took the easy way out. The reimbursement policy? NOBODY GETS REIMBURSED.
The people with cable modems used to be reimbursed for this access because they needed to log in to the company's computers remotely, either when they were on call or when a colleague needed help with a project they've worked on.
So what do you think the people who used to get reimbursed are thinking right now?
A. "What a savvy group of managers! Talk about streamlined policy-setting!!'
B. "What lazy sons-o'-bitches! As soon as the economy picks up/I'm vested/something better comes along, I'm outta here....."
C. "I'm going back to dialup. If they complain about how long it takes for me to respond to their overnight 'emergencies,' I'll tell them to go stuff themselves."
Or?
I dunno. People deserve more than pettiness and lack of regard. People who make you money deserve even more.
Don't they? (Or is my naivete showing?)
I'm outta here myself. We're taking a week's vacation (anyone saying, "From what?" is no longer my friend), since Linda took next week off (we were supposed to go out to California for a business/pleasure trip, but there's no time/money for that now....besides, with all the seismic activity out there, I'm rather grateful to be homebound).
May be checking in, but I don't know--I only have dialup where I'm going, after all....
Thursday, June 16, 2005
When all else fails....Give blood!
Perhaps I should be ashamed to admit it, but I was feeling down in the dumps (again) today until I met my friend Laura for coffee. She's also job-hunting, so we got together to commiserate and have a treat at a local coffee shop to lift our spirits.
Talking helped, but what really did the trick was waiting for us across the street--the bloodmobile was parked right on Main Street, and when Laura saw it, she said, "Let's go give blood!"
"Yes, let's!" was my reply, even though I don't think I've given blood since the 1980s. (I know, THAT is something to be ashamed about.)
It was easy, it was virtually painless (the pinprick test hurt more than the actual blood giving), and the nurses were wise-cracking hoots.
Plus you get juice and cookies and a coupon for a pint of ice cream.
Yes, FREE ice cream.
What's not to like?
So yes, I gave blood, and am feeling so much better about things. Maybe they got the blood with poor self-esteem out of me (my apologies to whomever gets it), maybe I just needed to lie still and do something productive (instead of sending resumes and cover letters into the void), maybe I just needed to get out of my office for a few hours.
Whatever, it worked, and I feel really good. Upbeat, even.
Well, let's not get carried away.....
On other fronts, I got my tire replaced today, and also put together the claims questionnaire and supporting documents to the city claims council and the mayor for the cost (Yes, red tape a-plenty, but I've worked for the government, they can't scare me.)
They might accept their responsibility, they might not, but at least I'm giving them the opportunity, right?
Yeah, right.
Talking helped, but what really did the trick was waiting for us across the street--the bloodmobile was parked right on Main Street, and when Laura saw it, she said, "Let's go give blood!"
"Yes, let's!" was my reply, even though I don't think I've given blood since the 1980s. (I know, THAT is something to be ashamed about.)
It was easy, it was virtually painless (the pinprick test hurt more than the actual blood giving), and the nurses were wise-cracking hoots.
Plus you get juice and cookies and a coupon for a pint of ice cream.
Yes, FREE ice cream.
What's not to like?
So yes, I gave blood, and am feeling so much better about things. Maybe they got the blood with poor self-esteem out of me (my apologies to whomever gets it), maybe I just needed to lie still and do something productive (instead of sending resumes and cover letters into the void), maybe I just needed to get out of my office for a few hours.
Whatever, it worked, and I feel really good. Upbeat, even.
Well, let's not get carried away.....
On other fronts, I got my tire replaced today, and also put together the claims questionnaire and supporting documents to the city claims council and the mayor for the cost (Yes, red tape a-plenty, but I've worked for the government, they can't scare me.)
They might accept their responsibility, they might not, but at least I'm giving them the opportunity, right?
Yeah, right.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Murphy was an optimist, Round II
Well, the tire is a complete loss, but--happy day!--the guy at the dealership said I'd just have to replace it, not all four.
That constitutes good news today.
Unfortunately, I returned home to a "Thanks, but no thanks" letter from an organization that I would dearly love to work for--sadly, they don't share my feelings.
Guess I wasn't supposed to work there. At least not in that position. Good to know.
On other fronts, drove by the spot where my tire met its untimely end, camera in tow, and wouldn't you know it, but the workers were gone and they had completely cleaned the road. (It wasn't the rubble-strewn mess I drove through this morning.)
Should I be surprised?
OF COURSE NOT!
Oh dear--must work on my attitude. Linda's coming home in a few hours, and we must celebrate her birthday with all due joy.
Or a reasonable facsimile.
That constitutes good news today.
Unfortunately, I returned home to a "Thanks, but no thanks" letter from an organization that I would dearly love to work for--sadly, they don't share my feelings.
Guess I wasn't supposed to work there. At least not in that position. Good to know.
On other fronts, drove by the spot where my tire met its untimely end, camera in tow, and wouldn't you know it, but the workers were gone and they had completely cleaned the road. (It wasn't the rubble-strewn mess I drove through this morning.)
Should I be surprised?
OF COURSE NOT!
Oh dear--must work on my attitude. Linda's coming home in a few hours, and we must celebrate her birthday with all due joy.
Or a reasonable facsimile.
Murphy was an optimist, indeed
Feeling down? I submit that my day so far will have you counting your blessings in no time.
First, I'm driving back home with Linda and the dogs through Florence, and come across a city road crew who has left a load of concrete fragments on the road. Not surprisingly, I hit one, and by the time I got home, I had a flat tire.
Then, as today is tax day for us self-employed folks, I checked to make sure that my company deposited my fees for the past two-1/2 weeks. Well, they made a deposit, alright, but it was a couple of grand short--they, apparently, moved up my paycut a month.
To top it off, the nice man who came to change my tire said that the tire looks like a total loss, and since my car has AWD, I'll probably have to have all four tires replaced. On a car with 1700 miles on it.
Would anybody blame me if I went right back to bed?
But I can't, since I have to pay those taxes and so forth.
Yesterday was so fabulous, it's almost hard to believe I'm living the same life. I applied for a job at a local college, then remembered that a woman I took a writing group with worked there and thought I should ask her what she knows about the department and so forth. As luck (real luck) would have it, she turned out to work in the career center, and is such a generous soul she gave me a lot of wonderful advice and strategies, help, and a whole lot of hope. And lunch--did I mention she also bought me lunch?
What a sweetheart!
Yesterday I drove home with love and gratitude in my heart; today, my thoughts run along the lines of, "What the heck?!"
So, I've had me a real-live emotional roller coaster ride, and I'm okay about it. Truly, I haven't had a flat tire before, which is pretty remarkable for a 45-year-old. And I have documentation supporting the agreement I had with my employer, so odds are good they'll make good on what they owe me.
The tires, that I'm finding a little challenging to feel upbeat about, but then, I don't know for certain if I have to change them all or not. We'll have to cross that bridge and so forth.
And another thing: This is my Linda's 55th birthday. No matter what this day brings me, it once brought her on the scene, and for this all will be forgiven.
Eventually.
First, I'm driving back home with Linda and the dogs through Florence, and come across a city road crew who has left a load of concrete fragments on the road. Not surprisingly, I hit one, and by the time I got home, I had a flat tire.
Then, as today is tax day for us self-employed folks, I checked to make sure that my company deposited my fees for the past two-1/2 weeks. Well, they made a deposit, alright, but it was a couple of grand short--they, apparently, moved up my paycut a month.
To top it off, the nice man who came to change my tire said that the tire looks like a total loss, and since my car has AWD, I'll probably have to have all four tires replaced. On a car with 1700 miles on it.
Would anybody blame me if I went right back to bed?
But I can't, since I have to pay those taxes and so forth.
Yesterday was so fabulous, it's almost hard to believe I'm living the same life. I applied for a job at a local college, then remembered that a woman I took a writing group with worked there and thought I should ask her what she knows about the department and so forth. As luck (real luck) would have it, she turned out to work in the career center, and is such a generous soul she gave me a lot of wonderful advice and strategies, help, and a whole lot of hope. And lunch--did I mention she also bought me lunch?
What a sweetheart!
Yesterday I drove home with love and gratitude in my heart; today, my thoughts run along the lines of, "What the heck?!"
So, I've had me a real-live emotional roller coaster ride, and I'm okay about it. Truly, I haven't had a flat tire before, which is pretty remarkable for a 45-year-old. And I have documentation supporting the agreement I had with my employer, so odds are good they'll make good on what they owe me.
The tires, that I'm finding a little challenging to feel upbeat about, but then, I don't know for certain if I have to change them all or not. We'll have to cross that bridge and so forth.
And another thing: This is my Linda's 55th birthday. No matter what this day brings me, it once brought her on the scene, and for this all will be forgiven.
Eventually.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Believe it: There's no place like home.
Especially compared to Florida. Hot, sticky, Republican, over-crowded, strip-malled, big-bugged (and how) Florida.
The family part of this trip was uneventful, thank goddess. They all seemed to be on their best behavior, which was good (who cares what they say after we go home?). It was a hoot to see an alligator floating in the water with just his bumpy head and snout sticking out, just like in the comics. It was also wonderful to see egrets and pelicans and a number of birds I couldn't pick out of a lineup, but were cool nonetheless.
It wasn't cool to see so many Bush-Cheney bumperstickers. It wasn't cool to drive on four-lane highways that seemed to be crowded all the time. It wasn't cool to have no access to organic fruits or vegetables. (It also wasn't cool to come home to a rejection letter, but I digress.)
But otherwise, it was a very successful trip. We came, we saw, we got the hell outta there before state officials found out big dykes were in town.
Altogether now: Whew!
The family part of this trip was uneventful, thank goddess. They all seemed to be on their best behavior, which was good (who cares what they say after we go home?). It was a hoot to see an alligator floating in the water with just his bumpy head and snout sticking out, just like in the comics. It was also wonderful to see egrets and pelicans and a number of birds I couldn't pick out of a lineup, but were cool nonetheless.
It wasn't cool to see so many Bush-Cheney bumperstickers. It wasn't cool to drive on four-lane highways that seemed to be crowded all the time. It wasn't cool to have no access to organic fruits or vegetables. (It also wasn't cool to come home to a rejection letter, but I digress.)
But otherwise, it was a very successful trip. We came, we saw, we got the hell outta there before state officials found out big dykes were in town.
Altogether now: Whew!
Thursday, June 09, 2005
At least that went well...
Went to the temp agency this morning, and it wasn't the huge exercise in futility I had feared. While there aren't a lot of temp gigs around, there are enough to have some hope of something, and perhaps with an organization that has other jobs I may be able to weasel--uh, work--my way into eventually. One never knows.
Plus, I did well on the software tests they gave me and they already called my references (who said the rep sounded impressed with me), which makes me unreasonably happy (I needed a little ego boost, pathetic or not, okay?).
Must get back to the "vacation" prep--happy weekend to you!
Plus, I did well on the software tests they gave me and they already called my references (who said the rep sounded impressed with me), which makes me unreasonably happy (I needed a little ego boost, pathetic or not, okay?).
Must get back to the "vacation" prep--happy weekend to you!
It's all practice, right?
Am heading off to a local temp agency this morning, to see what, if anything, this gal can do while she waits for the employers of the world to wake up to the fact that Ann Podolske is available. (That's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
I've done temp work in-between real jobs before, and find it helpful to be doing something each day instead of waiting for the phone to ring/e-mail to appear. Besides, I think making a little money would help keep the financial insecurity goblins at bay.
Problem is, the rep I spoke to said that her agency, like most in the area, is primarily a temp-to-hire agency, meaning they don't do so much in the way of temp work as in permanent placements.
If they placed writers/editors, that wouldn't be bad, but they place a lot of administrative/secretarial type folks, and while my mother did that kind of work for a large part of her life, I am not interested in maintaining her tradition of doing work that doesn't pay/challenge just for security's sake. She's the Child of the Depression, not me.
(At least that's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
Of course, if the employers of the world realize I'm available and still do nothing to procure my fabulous self (okay, I don't boast, but I just got three letters of recommendations from former colleagues and am basking in their high opinion of me--it'll pass, believe me), then I'll consider following in Mother's footsteps.
Best go get in my corporate drag du jour....
I've done temp work in-between real jobs before, and find it helpful to be doing something each day instead of waiting for the phone to ring/e-mail to appear. Besides, I think making a little money would help keep the financial insecurity goblins at bay.
Problem is, the rep I spoke to said that her agency, like most in the area, is primarily a temp-to-hire agency, meaning they don't do so much in the way of temp work as in permanent placements.
If they placed writers/editors, that wouldn't be bad, but they place a lot of administrative/secretarial type folks, and while my mother did that kind of work for a large part of her life, I am not interested in maintaining her tradition of doing work that doesn't pay/challenge just for security's sake. She's the Child of the Depression, not me.
(At least that's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
Of course, if the employers of the world realize I'm available and still do nothing to procure my fabulous self (okay, I don't boast, but I just got three letters of recommendations from former colleagues and am basking in their high opinion of me--it'll pass, believe me), then I'll consider following in Mother's footsteps.
Best go get in my corporate drag du jour....
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Forty and counting....
Yes, sirree, I have 40 resumes out in circulation. Almost as many resumes as I have years on this earth, but am trying not to dwell.
And the response? Well, as I've noted already, not exactly encouraging.
Did revise my resume for each of the jobs I applied for this week, just to see if using a standard resume was working against me. Am also going to meet with a friend who works at a local college next week, to see what the possibilities are there. (As well as to get a sense of what salaries are like, not to mention the working environment and so on--there's one very expensive school in the area that's infamous fo paying absolute peanuts, so you can't be too careful.)
Yes, I'm networking. In a very low-key way. Low key in that I'm only "networking" (I call it "talking") with people I like.
Otherwise, I'm also trying to get geared up to clean the house. My inner hausfrau isn't exactly jumping up and shouting, "Let's go!" so it's been a struggle. It has to be done, however, for we're leaving the house and the herd to a petsitter this weekend, and I don't want her to think us complete slobs. (We can be, but we also have some pride.)
That we're heading down to Florida this weekend to visit Linda's parents is not exactly thrilling. But, if Linda can go to two funerals in Wisconsin in the dead of winter, I can head down to Florida during hurricane season. Right?
Boy, this is boring even me. Time to clean!
And the response? Well, as I've noted already, not exactly encouraging.
Did revise my resume for each of the jobs I applied for this week, just to see if using a standard resume was working against me. Am also going to meet with a friend who works at a local college next week, to see what the possibilities are there. (As well as to get a sense of what salaries are like, not to mention the working environment and so on--there's one very expensive school in the area that's infamous fo paying absolute peanuts, so you can't be too careful.)
Yes, I'm networking. In a very low-key way. Low key in that I'm only "networking" (I call it "talking") with people I like.
Otherwise, I'm also trying to get geared up to clean the house. My inner hausfrau isn't exactly jumping up and shouting, "Let's go!" so it's been a struggle. It has to be done, however, for we're leaving the house and the herd to a petsitter this weekend, and I don't want her to think us complete slobs. (We can be, but we also have some pride.)
That we're heading down to Florida this weekend to visit Linda's parents is not exactly thrilling. But, if Linda can go to two funerals in Wisconsin in the dead of winter, I can head down to Florida during hurricane season. Right?
Boy, this is boring even me. Time to clean!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Anybody home?
I'm beginning to wonder if something is happening to my resumes/cover letters as they wend their way to prospective employers. Is "Dear Mr. [Hiring Manager's Name]" somehow being revised to read "Dear Mr. Snub-Nosed Sea Pig"?
Or is my list of particulars being similarly morphed into insults to myself or others? Does my ability to "conceive, edit, and write a broad array of management publications" become my ability to "fabricate, obfuscate, plagiarize, and toss together cheesy, useless products that nobody reads"?
What else could be going on here? My goddess, I have serious skills, people, and they're being ignored on a tragic (for me) scale.
Linda is sensing my despair. She sent me an e-mail today telling me basically to visualize a successful job hunt, as opposed to what I have been doing: Visualizing my descent into abject poverty. So here goes:
"I am sitting at my desk, looking at so many great job offers that I don't know which one to take. The reason being they are all great. Of course, I'll easily choose the one that is best for me.
"I am working with great colleagues and for a boss I really enjoy and with whom I like to work. I am doing work I love and am paid a salary that is beyond my wildest dreams. And I have a very short commute to and from work."
That about covers it, eh? Let's see if this helps....
Or is my list of particulars being similarly morphed into insults to myself or others? Does my ability to "conceive, edit, and write a broad array of management publications" become my ability to "fabricate, obfuscate, plagiarize, and toss together cheesy, useless products that nobody reads"?
What else could be going on here? My goddess, I have serious skills, people, and they're being ignored on a tragic (for me) scale.
Linda is sensing my despair. She sent me an e-mail today telling me basically to visualize a successful job hunt, as opposed to what I have been doing: Visualizing my descent into abject poverty. So here goes:
"I am sitting at my desk, looking at so many great job offers that I don't know which one to take. The reason being they are all great. Of course, I'll easily choose the one that is best for me.
"I am working with great colleagues and for a boss I really enjoy and with whom I like to work. I am doing work I love and am paid a salary that is beyond my wildest dreams. And I have a very short commute to and from work."
That about covers it, eh? Let's see if this helps....
Monday, June 06, 2005
Them that has, get....
I have to catch up with my bills AND clean the house--doesn't today, Monday, seem the perfect day for such things?
Not that I've done anything yet, mind you. Had to apply for a job that leapt out at me on this morning's e-mail first. It's at Harvard, so of course all of my state-school insecurities have been having a field day. Morning. I know, I know--I should really worry more about all of the brain cells I murdered while at that state school, rather than the school itself (which is a fine institution and I shouldn't be ashamed of it; my behavior while there, well that's another story....).
And I'm all better now (and, God willing, will remain so), so why worry?
No, I haven't a snowball's chance with that job, so why torture myself. It just seemed so perfect--it entailed research on business solutions to global poverty. Yes, I could apply all this business expertise I've been amassing all these many years to a humanitarian issue.
Humanitarianism and writing/research: Does it get much better than that??
Well, no, it doesn't. So I applied, even though I realize a job like that will likely draw 1,000s of resumes and while I am qualified, I got a report on my resume that this morning that said it stunk.
Problem is, it was also attached to an offer to "fix" said resume for $75.
I'm afraid I don't find that a Kosher combination, so am sticking with my stinky resume for now.
On other fronts, I spent part of the morning stewing about something I read in The Berkshire Eagle over breakfast. It was a front-page article on how Nantucket is becoming an island equivalent of a gated community for the super-nouveau riche of our age. What really got me was a quote from the guy who made his $500 million fortune from Yankee Candle (whose name I've forgotten in the hopes that it will vanish along with his story). He wasn't surprised that Nantucket was filling up with rich folks like himself, for "successful people like to be with successful people." Besides, there he can have a "nice" bottle of wine without having to worry about it, citing the fact that he could spend $300 for said bottle of wine while the guy at the next table would likely spend $400.
So, these birds of a feather flock together so they can indulge themselves in peace, basically. No poor or even middle-class people around to ruin their fun. Awaken what's left of their conscience, if any.
While I don't begrudge anyone the occasional indulgence (one look at me, and you'd know I walk that talk), but when indulgence becomes a way of life, I find myself turning away. Doesn't help that another paper carried a headline about the starvation "epidemic" sweeping across Africa.
Problem is, I can't help but thinking about how much food $300 could buy, much less $400.
That's just the way I think, I suppose; learned that at my mother's knee. When she was a little girl (during the Depression, as I may have already told you), she asked her mother why the richest family in town did nothing to help all the people on breadlines. "They didn't get rich thinking that way," she replied.
Guess not. And they sure won't start thinking that way as long as they hide themselves away in swanky island ghettos, will they?
Oh my--now I am in a state. Time to hit the stack of bills on my desk. Woo!
Not that I've done anything yet, mind you. Had to apply for a job that leapt out at me on this morning's e-mail first. It's at Harvard, so of course all of my state-school insecurities have been having a field day. Morning. I know, I know--I should really worry more about all of the brain cells I murdered while at that state school, rather than the school itself (which is a fine institution and I shouldn't be ashamed of it; my behavior while there, well that's another story....).
And I'm all better now (and, God willing, will remain so), so why worry?
No, I haven't a snowball's chance with that job, so why torture myself. It just seemed so perfect--it entailed research on business solutions to global poverty. Yes, I could apply all this business expertise I've been amassing all these many years to a humanitarian issue.
Humanitarianism and writing/research: Does it get much better than that??
Well, no, it doesn't. So I applied, even though I realize a job like that will likely draw 1,000s of resumes and while I am qualified, I got a report on my resume that this morning that said it stunk.
Problem is, it was also attached to an offer to "fix" said resume for $75.
I'm afraid I don't find that a Kosher combination, so am sticking with my stinky resume for now.
On other fronts, I spent part of the morning stewing about something I read in The Berkshire Eagle over breakfast. It was a front-page article on how Nantucket is becoming an island equivalent of a gated community for the super-nouveau riche of our age. What really got me was a quote from the guy who made his $500 million fortune from Yankee Candle (whose name I've forgotten in the hopes that it will vanish along with his story). He wasn't surprised that Nantucket was filling up with rich folks like himself, for "successful people like to be with successful people." Besides, there he can have a "nice" bottle of wine without having to worry about it, citing the fact that he could spend $300 for said bottle of wine while the guy at the next table would likely spend $400.
So, these birds of a feather flock together so they can indulge themselves in peace, basically. No poor or even middle-class people around to ruin their fun. Awaken what's left of their conscience, if any.
While I don't begrudge anyone the occasional indulgence (one look at me, and you'd know I walk that talk), but when indulgence becomes a way of life, I find myself turning away. Doesn't help that another paper carried a headline about the starvation "epidemic" sweeping across Africa.
Problem is, I can't help but thinking about how much food $300 could buy, much less $400.
That's just the way I think, I suppose; learned that at my mother's knee. When she was a little girl (during the Depression, as I may have already told you), she asked her mother why the richest family in town did nothing to help all the people on breadlines. "They didn't get rich thinking that way," she replied.
Guess not. And they sure won't start thinking that way as long as they hide themselves away in swanky island ghettos, will they?
Oh my--now I am in a state. Time to hit the stack of bills on my desk. Woo!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Could my latest editorial nightmare finally be over?
Ahhhh. I finally finished my latest deadline for my soon-to-be-part-time publisher.
This represents the triumph of financial necessity over the desire to tell said publisher to, in so many words, stick it.
I know, I know--the world's full of companies cutting back on employees and I am but one of many being put to pasture. Bahhh! But my mind, without my consent, keeps returning to bone-headed moves said publisher and other top executives made to bring about this sorry state of affairs, and it's made for some disgruntlement.
Okay, a lot of disgruntlement.
It certainly doesn't help that the world isn't beating a path to my door, employment-wise. Fear that I have crossed the line between "well qualified" and "over qualified" somewhere along the way (funny--it seems not that long ago that I was being told I didn't have enough qualifications at all). My, time sure flies.....
But, wouldn't you know, these things take time. I'm an aging enigma wrapped in a connundrum, people, but then again, I don't turn into a pumpkin anytime soon. So, I will keep sending off resumes and cover letters and waiting for the phone to ring. Patiently, of course.
On other fronts, I had a so-so set last night at PACE. It's been a tough week for comic thoughts, and it showed--to me, anyway. Some new stuff re being unemployed went over well, so we're getting a little gold from all of this dross.
Must go tidy up and prepare for the weekend--oh happy Friday!
This represents the triumph of financial necessity over the desire to tell said publisher to, in so many words, stick it.
I know, I know--the world's full of companies cutting back on employees and I am but one of many being put to pasture. Bahhh! But my mind, without my consent, keeps returning to bone-headed moves said publisher and other top executives made to bring about this sorry state of affairs, and it's made for some disgruntlement.
Okay, a lot of disgruntlement.
It certainly doesn't help that the world isn't beating a path to my door, employment-wise. Fear that I have crossed the line between "well qualified" and "over qualified" somewhere along the way (funny--it seems not that long ago that I was being told I didn't have enough qualifications at all). My, time sure flies.....
But, wouldn't you know, these things take time. I'm an aging enigma wrapped in a connundrum, people, but then again, I don't turn into a pumpkin anytime soon. So, I will keep sending off resumes and cover letters and waiting for the phone to ring. Patiently, of course.
On other fronts, I had a so-so set last night at PACE. It's been a tough week for comic thoughts, and it showed--to me, anyway. Some new stuff re being unemployed went over well, so we're getting a little gold from all of this dross.
Must go tidy up and prepare for the weekend--oh happy Friday!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
The calendar says it best
Today's entry, from the Zen Calendar and Jack Kornfield:
"If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete."
I'm trying.....
"If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete."
I'm trying.....
A dastardly day
Oh my, am I ever out of sorts. Yesterday was a day for the dark side to shine, if indeed darkness can shine, and I am still unhappy about it. Received a terribly testy response to an inquiry to a gatekeeper of a comedy shop, a man who is reputed to be one of the "good ones," which, of course, led me to doubt my comic intentions/abilities and, while we're at it, my entire purpose for being (why stick to just comedy, when one's can call one's entire EXISTENCE into question?).
Then, to make matters worse, I realized that negative feedback had the exact same effect on Rory Gilmore on last night's repeats--my life is playing out like a WB drama, for heaven's sake! (That I also had a similar career-ending experience with a professor when I was an undergraduate wanna-be artist provides no comfort at all, none.)
To add to my dismay, I saw in the paper that one of the big winners of the weekend's soapbox derby is one of the kids who was being screamed at the loudest by his father--and he and his proud (if hoarse) papa got a big, "Ain't we grand?" photo in the paper. And no word of what happened to the girl in the pink cart.
Where is the justice in that?!
Then, I realized that I missed my favorite 12-step meeting (since I was too busy watching my life unfold on "The Gilmore Girls"), and that the PACE comedy open mic is this Thursday--tomorrow night! The problem? This means it has been a month--a month--since the last show, the show I missed because I had a job interview the next day.
And, of course, I haven't had a job interview since.
What is the matter with me?! Quite a lot, apparently.
This Chinese proverb, from Monday's Zen Calendar, offers a tad of solace:
"To be uncertain is to be uncomfortable, but to be certain is to be ridiculous."
Well, then--at least I'm not ridiculous. There's hope for me yet!
Then, to make matters worse, I realized that negative feedback had the exact same effect on Rory Gilmore on last night's repeats--my life is playing out like a WB drama, for heaven's sake! (That I also had a similar career-ending experience with a professor when I was an undergraduate wanna-be artist provides no comfort at all, none.)
To add to my dismay, I saw in the paper that one of the big winners of the weekend's soapbox derby is one of the kids who was being screamed at the loudest by his father--and he and his proud (if hoarse) papa got a big, "Ain't we grand?" photo in the paper. And no word of what happened to the girl in the pink cart.
Where is the justice in that?!
Then, I realized that I missed my favorite 12-step meeting (since I was too busy watching my life unfold on "The Gilmore Girls"), and that the PACE comedy open mic is this Thursday--tomorrow night! The problem? This means it has been a month--a month--since the last show, the show I missed because I had a job interview the next day.
And, of course, I haven't had a job interview since.
What is the matter with me?! Quite a lot, apparently.
This Chinese proverb, from Monday's Zen Calendar, offers a tad of solace:
"To be uncertain is to be uncomfortable, but to be certain is to be ridiculous."
Well, then--at least I'm not ridiculous. There's hope for me yet!
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