Camille just messaged me to say that they're having a pinata at work today. She's the secretary at an Institute of Religion* and Mormon college kids are notoriously goofy, so it's not surprising. In fact, the only job I've had where that sort of thing could potentially happen was my student job at BYU in the Alumni House. We had treats every Friday and sloppy joe parties and Wear Your Overalls to Work Day (this applied mostly to our bosses (as it was the 90s and overalls were big with the kids) who were of an age that believed overalls were only worn on the farm.) On the first day of Spring every year we would all run down to the front lawn and frolic for 15 minutes. I cannot believe I didn't take advantage of the high caliber of fun that group possessed and suggest a pinata.
But now I know. Any job interview I go to from here on out I will ask, "What's your company's policy on pinatas?" A girl has got to have standards.
*Place where religious classes are taught for college-age kids. Known for their pool tables, abundance of snacks, and loitering youth.
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Woman of Elegant Leisure Strikes Again
Did you hear I'm looking for work...again. Ugh. My time at the Pod came to an end a few weeks ago. I miss everyone there, but I do not miss, among other more serious things which we will not discuss, the smell of old people or the occasional glimpse of a foot that looks like meatloaf. (Have I mentioned to you to avoid diabetes like the plague. Because I think it may actually be a plague. Like toads and locusts type of plague. Egad, the horror.) It was a good run, and I knew it would only be temporary and, let's face it, what other job would let me flit off to Africa for 3 months and still welcome me back with open arms? The answer is: no other job. So I'm grateful for the time there, but do so miss a regular income.
Being back on the job hunt has reminded me how much I hate the job hunt. Mostly because it feels like an enormous waste of time. You're basically spending a lot of time putting out feelers and sending out resumes and filling out online applications that take all morning to complete (read: this morning). Only to hear nothing but your bank account gasping for breath in the distance. I recognize the importance of all this effort (I went for an interview last week and the guy gave me an A. Like, he literally wrote it on the top of my resume. I high fived myself!) and I certainly put the time in but it gets old not seeing a whole lot of results. Also, did you know how many scam job postings there are on Craigslist? Possibly a gajillion.
So, there's that. But there's also the joy of a free schedule. I love going to the grocery store in the morning with the other old ladies. I love going to gym when the gym rats aren't there to disturb my workout with all their grunting and preening. I love writing a little itinerary out for myself every night (8:00 am, make breakfast, 8:30 am make something funny out of felt, etc.) and checking things off my to-do list. One day the Wealthy Benefactor will come along and he'll be amazed at how well I fill my leisure time. I'm a pro at it.
Being back on the job hunt has reminded me how much I hate the job hunt. Mostly because it feels like an enormous waste of time. You're basically spending a lot of time putting out feelers and sending out resumes and filling out online applications that take all morning to complete (read: this morning). Only to hear nothing but your bank account gasping for breath in the distance. I recognize the importance of all this effort (I went for an interview last week and the guy gave me an A. Like, he literally wrote it on the top of my resume. I high fived myself!) and I certainly put the time in but it gets old not seeing a whole lot of results. Also, did you know how many scam job postings there are on Craigslist? Possibly a gajillion.
So, there's that. But there's also the joy of a free schedule. I love going to the grocery store in the morning with the other old ladies. I love going to gym when the gym rats aren't there to disturb my workout with all their grunting and preening. I love writing a little itinerary out for myself every night (8:00 am, make breakfast, 8:30 am make something funny out of felt, etc.) and checking things off my to-do list. One day the Wealthy Benefactor will come along and he'll be amazed at how well I fill my leisure time. I'm a pro at it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Childhood Dream Come True! (I hope the next one is a jet pack.)
1.) The Pod banks at a bank with a drive through teller! Not an ATM but an actual teller in a window and a tube you send your transaction through. Rad! The biller at the Pod usually takes the deposit but she's on vacation this week so I took it down and I nearly leaped out of my car and did an elaborate impromptu dance when I saw it there. I opted for staying in my car and shimmying a bit. It's been my dream since I was a kid to use one. It was so magical to me that my mom would put the money in the tube and press a button and it would end up on the other side of the window. And when the tube came back it would usually have suckers in it for me and the sibs. I could not wait to do it. So you can imagine my extreme disappointment when I was old enough to make my own bank transactions and the drive through tellers had been phased out for ATMs. Stupid technology. Well, welcome back to the 80s, Rachel! I pulled up, took the tube out of the box, put the money in then pressed the button to talk to the teller just to say hi because I was so excited. I may have squealed a little when I heard the swooshing sound of the tube being transported. When it came back there wasn't a sucker with my receipt but I still felt like high fiving someone over it. I definitely shimmied again.
2.) A chain smoker has moved in next door. (Note to Mindy: it's your old neighbor who lived below you. He moved into the Swanns old place.) It's horrible. If I have my sliding glass door open, which I do whenever I'm home, I smell cigarettes the entire time. How would you handle this?
3.) I want to travel to just about everywhere in the world. (Dear Wealthy Benefactor, Please hurry. Time's a wastin'. Hugs and Kisses, Rachel) So there is a very short list of places I do not want to go to. The Philippines is on that list. I was telling the girls at the Pod about the Great Moth Invasion at camp and one of the guys from Kramerica overheard and came out to tell us about this time on his mission to the Philippines after a monsoon flooded his apartment. He went downstairs to check out the damage and notices that the walls were moving. Every inch was covered in flying cockroaches the size of his fist. Bleh! And Ew! And Knights of Columbus! I realize that people - and particularly men - are prone to exaggerating tales from their missions but even so - pass.
4.) Happy Summer! Although I'm not such a fan of the heat of summer there is something very wonderful about the idea of summer. There are always more parties and more trips to the beach and more ice cream cones and more book reading and more general fun in the summer. Let's all enjoy a OtterPop in honor of it.
2.) A chain smoker has moved in next door. (Note to Mindy: it's your old neighbor who lived below you. He moved into the Swanns old place.) It's horrible. If I have my sliding glass door open, which I do whenever I'm home, I smell cigarettes the entire time. How would you handle this?
3.) I want to travel to just about everywhere in the world. (Dear Wealthy Benefactor, Please hurry. Time's a wastin'. Hugs and Kisses, Rachel) So there is a very short list of places I do not want to go to. The Philippines is on that list. I was telling the girls at the Pod about the Great Moth Invasion at camp and one of the guys from Kramerica overheard and came out to tell us about this time on his mission to the Philippines after a monsoon flooded his apartment. He went downstairs to check out the damage and notices that the walls were moving. Every inch was covered in flying cockroaches the size of his fist. Bleh! And Ew! And Knights of Columbus! I realize that people - and particularly men - are prone to exaggerating tales from their missions but even so - pass.
4.) Happy Summer! Although I'm not such a fan of the heat of summer there is something very wonderful about the idea of summer. There are always more parties and more trips to the beach and more ice cream cones and more book reading and more general fun in the summer. Let's all enjoy a OtterPop in honor of it.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
You can call it Starbucks, but I call it a miracle.
Last night I was reading a bit of a thriller and I decided that, even though it was late, I would read one more chapter before going to sleep. Only to discover who the killer was at the end of it. With 80 pages to go! I decided to soldier on and I made it another 5 minutes before I fell asleep on top of the book.
Thus neglecting to turn on my alarm clock.
Which caused me to wake up 15 minutes before I had to leave for work.
And it wasn't such a good morning for me on top of that, what with my allergies laying siege to my head. They stormed my upper sinuses! They shoved tube socks in my nostrils! And bags of chicken feathers were lodged in my ear canals!
So I arrived at the Pod late, stuffy, pony-tailed, bleary-eyed, and slightly grumpy.
And there, sitting on my desk was a hot chocolate. Like manna from heaven. Or, like Dr. J doing a Starbucks run. But a miracle all the same.
I lament sometimes that the Pod doesn't have any real characters. There's no Chiquita. There's no Doc (will there ever be another Doc?) In my opinion all the best work environments have crazy people. (I regret that this blog started at the end of my run at the school district. That place was LITTERED with crazy people. You would not believe half the stories. It's a good thing I've written most of them down and will eventually publish them in my memoirs under the chapter heading of "PRAISE!!" And Other Things I Heard Yelled at a Computer Screen.) So there's no one there who will tell me to put raw bacon on my chest for a cough and none of them seem particularly interested in my plans for the Fortress of Solitude. But it can't be all bad if occasionally there's hot chocolate on my desk.
Thus neglecting to turn on my alarm clock.
Which caused me to wake up 15 minutes before I had to leave for work.
And it wasn't such a good morning for me on top of that, what with my allergies laying siege to my head. They stormed my upper sinuses! They shoved tube socks in my nostrils! And bags of chicken feathers were lodged in my ear canals!
So I arrived at the Pod late, stuffy, pony-tailed, bleary-eyed, and slightly grumpy.
And there, sitting on my desk was a hot chocolate. Like manna from heaven. Or, like Dr. J doing a Starbucks run. But a miracle all the same.
I lament sometimes that the Pod doesn't have any real characters. There's no Chiquita. There's no Doc (will there ever be another Doc?) In my opinion all the best work environments have crazy people. (I regret that this blog started at the end of my run at the school district. That place was LITTERED with crazy people. You would not believe half the stories. It's a good thing I've written most of them down and will eventually publish them in my memoirs under the chapter heading of "PRAISE!!" And Other Things I Heard Yelled at a Computer Screen.) So there's no one there who will tell me to put raw bacon on my chest for a cough and none of them seem particularly interested in my plans for the Fortress of Solitude. But it can't be all bad if occasionally there's hot chocolate on my desk.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My Future Fortress of Solitude
Kramerica Industries has me almost permanently at the podiatrist office (henceforth to be known as The Pod.) I am not looking at grotty pictures of feet anymore but I am cleaning up an ENORMOUS mess. Oh, the stacks and stacks of paperwork I've had to go through. The Denali of Paperwork. Today I worked 9 hours with a mere 15 minute break to run to the post office to mail Flat Rachel off. As a Woman of Elegant Leisure, who has actually be enjoying leisure for a few months now, I'm not use to these hours.
But here are two cool things about the Pod.
1.) There's a tv in the lobby that plays educational movies to keep the patients entertained while they wait to have their toes removed, or other such treatment that I don't want to know about. So far I've seen Planet Earth and a film about the railways of Colorado (zzzzzzz) but today we had on Endless Summer and a documentary that was made in the 70s about life on other planets that had Orson Wells pontificating about martians and how HG Wells got all snippy when he heard about the War of the Worlds broadcast. My back is to the tv and I'm buried alive in paperwork so I wasn't exactly paying attention but I heard that voice and thought, "That's Orson Wells!" and I turned around and lo, there he was. All bearded and glorious. I could listen to Orson Wells talk about alien life forms forever.
2.) There is a secret passage that leads to a hidden room. Wait, let me repeat that. A SECRET PASSAGE THAT LEADS TO A HIDDEN ROOM!!!!! I was having a looksie around the place, trying to determine what we could throw away, because, oy, the stuff! and the person taking me around said, all casual like, "Oh, and there's a room back there." "Back where," I asked. "Behind that machine." "That weird cylindrical thing?" "Yes." And then she wanted to move on. Are you kidding me? I ran to the cylindrical thing, which is actually a place for x-ray technicians to stand in that they can slide a door around to protect them, and I slid the door around and there it was...the hidden room! Friends, I don't think I can adequately express to you how excited I am about this. If I had any free time during the day I would be drawing up plans to make it into my Fortress of Solitude. I really can't believe that the ladies working there haven't thought of this yet. There are nothing but boxes inside. Where are the bean bag chairs? Where's the dim lighting? How about the mini fridge stocked with soda? The stacks of US Weekly? The stash of Peanut M&Ms? They are seriously lacking imagination. Which is a bonus for me because I've officially called dibs.
But here are two cool things about the Pod.
1.) There's a tv in the lobby that plays educational movies to keep the patients entertained while they wait to have their toes removed, or other such treatment that I don't want to know about. So far I've seen Planet Earth and a film about the railways of Colorado (zzzzzzz) but today we had on Endless Summer and a documentary that was made in the 70s about life on other planets that had Orson Wells pontificating about martians and how HG Wells got all snippy when he heard about the War of the Worlds broadcast. My back is to the tv and I'm buried alive in paperwork so I wasn't exactly paying attention but I heard that voice and thought, "That's Orson Wells!" and I turned around and lo, there he was. All bearded and glorious. I could listen to Orson Wells talk about alien life forms forever.
2.) There is a secret passage that leads to a hidden room. Wait, let me repeat that. A SECRET PASSAGE THAT LEADS TO A HIDDEN ROOM!!!!! I was having a looksie around the place, trying to determine what we could throw away, because, oy, the stuff! and the person taking me around said, all casual like, "Oh, and there's a room back there." "Back where," I asked. "Behind that machine." "That weird cylindrical thing?" "Yes." And then she wanted to move on. Are you kidding me? I ran to the cylindrical thing, which is actually a place for x-ray technicians to stand in that they can slide a door around to protect them, and I slid the door around and there it was...the hidden room! Friends, I don't think I can adequately express to you how excited I am about this. If I had any free time during the day I would be drawing up plans to make it into my Fortress of Solitude. I really can't believe that the ladies working there haven't thought of this yet. There are nothing but boxes inside. Where are the bean bag chairs? Where's the dim lighting? How about the mini fridge stocked with soda? The stacks of US Weekly? The stash of Peanut M&Ms? They are seriously lacking imagination. Which is a bonus for me because I've officially called dibs.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Agony of the Feet
Kramerica Industries has taken me to places I never dreamed of - like a podiatrist's office where I spent four hours looking at pictures of some of the nastiest feet on the planet. When I was asked if I minded looking at gross pictures of feet I said no - but in my head I was screaming Good Heavens, YES! Because I do have a problem with it. But I want to be a team player and I thought, how bad can it be? I was prepared for some fungusy toe nails and a few bunions. I was wholly unprepared for what I actually saw. Here's a sampling of what came out of my mouth when I started looking through those pictures:
"Knights of Columbus!"
"What in the world...!"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Is that a toe?"
"If that's a foot what happened to the toes...Oh, dear."
"I didn't know toes could bend like that."
"Is that meatloaf?"
"Is that even human?"
"Can I go back to calling insurance companies?"
"Um..."
"Yikes!"
"Egads!"
"..."
So here's my warning to you. Wear closed-toe shoes! All the time! Especially when motorcycling! Or when playing soccer! Or sleeping even, because you may have to get up in the middle of the night to pee and you'll stub your toe on something dangerously sharp and low to the ground and it will be ghastly! And get pedicures, often! Or at the very least file down those calluses on a regular basis! And if you see anything questionable growing on your foot have it looked at immediately before it takes over! Because it will take over, oh it will be ALL over and your foot will look like meatloaf. And for the love of all that is good and holy, DON'T GET DIABETES because what that does to your feet is a sin! Oh the humanity. I will never get the images of all those stumpy, gnarly, twisted, bloody feet out of my mind. Ever.
"Knights of Columbus!"
"What in the world...!"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Is that a toe?"
"If that's a foot what happened to the toes...Oh, dear."
"I didn't know toes could bend like that."
"Is that meatloaf?"
"Is that even human?"
"Can I go back to calling insurance companies?"
"Um..."
"Yikes!"
"Egads!"
"..."
So here's my warning to you. Wear closed-toe shoes! All the time! Especially when motorcycling! Or when playing soccer! Or sleeping even, because you may have to get up in the middle of the night to pee and you'll stub your toe on something dangerously sharp and low to the ground and it will be ghastly! And get pedicures, often! Or at the very least file down those calluses on a regular basis! And if you see anything questionable growing on your foot have it looked at immediately before it takes over! Because it will take over, oh it will be ALL over and your foot will look like meatloaf. And for the love of all that is good and holy, DON'T GET DIABETES because what that does to your feet is a sin! Oh the humanity. I will never get the images of all those stumpy, gnarly, twisted, bloody feet out of my mind. Ever.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Action Jeans and other stuff
1.) In the comments Sarah alluded to an incident we had last week. She was washing my hair before cutting it and as she was rinsing the conditioner out the sprayer slipped out of her hands and started thrashing about, squirting water EVERYWHERE. We were in fits of hysterics. I was reclined in the chair with my sopping wet head in the sink and Sarah was wildly trying to catch the sprayer and we were both laughing like loons. I love moments like that, when things happen that usually only happen in cartoons. Once we composed ourselves she kept apologizing - but I think we can all agree that it's better to have a funny story to share than to have nothing happen at all.
2.) My Kramerica Industries job has taken me to the land of insurance companies. And I'm here to give you a warning: Don't get cancer. Don't have a heart attack. Don't even get a hang nail. Just don't get sick because that may put you into the unenviable position of having to call an insurance company and Woe To Those Who Do! You will be stuck in a never ending automated system. You won't be able to speak to a human, ever. Not even when you are actually speaking to what you think is a human. It's not human! It's a robot who is programed to tell you, "That has been denied," or "We didn't receive that paperwork." After four hours of this I wanted to put my head under the desk and cry. And I wasn't even sick.
3.) Also in recent comments Heather came up with a Brilliant Idea. When Tyra Banks' fantasy novel comes out I'm going to host a reading! You're all invited. We will all take turns reading passages and smiling with our eyes. And then we'll eliminate someone. Oh, it will be dramatic.
You're welcome.
2.) My Kramerica Industries job has taken me to the land of insurance companies. And I'm here to give you a warning: Don't get cancer. Don't have a heart attack. Don't even get a hang nail. Just don't get sick because that may put you into the unenviable position of having to call an insurance company and Woe To Those Who Do! You will be stuck in a never ending automated system. You won't be able to speak to a human, ever. Not even when you are actually speaking to what you think is a human. It's not human! It's a robot who is programed to tell you, "That has been denied," or "We didn't receive that paperwork." After four hours of this I wanted to put my head under the desk and cry. And I wasn't even sick.
3.) Also in recent comments Heather came up with a Brilliant Idea. When Tyra Banks' fantasy novel comes out I'm going to host a reading! You're all invited. We will all take turns reading passages and smiling with our eyes. And then we'll eliminate someone. Oh, it will be dramatic.
4.) I'm working on new bookmarks to keep Mr. T company on my etsy shop so I was looking for pictures of Chuck Norris and came across this gem:
You're welcome.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Genius at Work
My made up job with Kramerica Industries* has me doing a lot of different things, which I love, but there are some days when I have to spend several hours at my desk on my computer, typing and typing and typing. And my other job as a Woman of Elegant Leisure has me at my craft desk hunched over teeny scraps of felt for hours on end. So there are often times when I just can't handle sitting that long and I'll get up and do a few lunges or I'll put on some music and have an impromptu solo dance party**. Well, today I was really feeling it but I had to get a lot of stuff done so I got resourceful:
I moved my computer to my wee small kitchen so I could stand at the counter and type. It did the trick and I even seemed to work faster. To reward myself for being such a genius I had a bowl of Chocolate Marshmallow Mateys. Yeah, that's right. CHOCOLATE. MARSHMALLOW. MATEYS! Only the greatest breakfast cereal EVER.
*For the curious: I work part time for a business marketing/consulting firm - because I have so much experience in that field - and I do odds and ends for them.
**A cute but entirely unrelated story: I was watching my friend's kids the other day and I was listing off suggestions to the older one of things we could do, "We could play with Legos," "Um, no." "We could read a book." "Um, no." "We could choreograph an elaborate dance routine to perform for your mom when she gets home." He looked at me suspiciously, and also, like I was crazy, "I don't even know what that means." We ended up taking a walk and then drawing pictures of animals and ice cream trucks.
I moved my computer to my wee small kitchen so I could stand at the counter and type. It did the trick and I even seemed to work faster. To reward myself for being such a genius I had a bowl of Chocolate Marshmallow Mateys. Yeah, that's right. CHOCOLATE. MARSHMALLOW. MATEYS! Only the greatest breakfast cereal EVER.
*For the curious: I work part time for a business marketing/consulting firm - because I have so much experience in that field - and I do odds and ends for them.
**A cute but entirely unrelated story: I was watching my friend's kids the other day and I was listing off suggestions to the older one of things we could do, "We could play with Legos," "Um, no." "We could read a book." "Um, no." "We could choreograph an elaborate dance routine to perform for your mom when she gets home." He looked at me suspiciously, and also, like I was crazy, "I don't even know what that means." We ended up taking a walk and then drawing pictures of animals and ice cream trucks.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Food-Freezer
1.) It all started last week when I had leftover ingredients for chicken enchiladas. I made them up and filled an 8x8 pan and froze it. The same thing happened last night when I had left over ingredients for stuffed shells. And today I was craving oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and since an entire batch is too much of a temptation for a Woman of Elegant Leisure who spends her days primarily at home I baked up a few and froze the rest of the dough in individual balls. I am officially a food-freezer. It's a good thing my freezer is wee and already stuffed because I can see this becoming a serious problem. If this is not a sign of 80-year-old-ness then I don't know what is.
2.) I'm amongst the gainfully employed. Sort of. It's part time. I work from home. And I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. No seriously. When I try to explain it to people it takes me 10 minutes and we all end up more confused then when we started. It is very Kramerica Industries.
3.) You may not have caught Angela's comment about firesides because she just posted but she says that in New Zealand, where she is from, firesides are usually 2 hours long and they have no refreshments at the end. Clearly New Zealand is where the monastic order of the church is located. Do they also give up all worldly possessions and wear sack cloth? When no one makes a comment in Sunday School is that just because of their vows of silence?
2.) I'm amongst the gainfully employed. Sort of. It's part time. I work from home. And I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. No seriously. When I try to explain it to people it takes me 10 minutes and we all end up more confused then when we started. It is very Kramerica Industries.
3.) You may not have caught Angela's comment about firesides because she just posted but she says that in New Zealand, where she is from, firesides are usually 2 hours long and they have no refreshments at the end. Clearly New Zealand is where the monastic order of the church is located. Do they also give up all worldly possessions and wear sack cloth? When no one makes a comment in Sunday School is that just because of their vows of silence?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Nun chucking detective
One of the glorious things about being a well-known book lover is that occasionally people send me books. Just for the fun of it.
(Dear People of the World: I also love peanut M&Ms and Slurpee machines! Hugs and Kisses, Rachel)
Is there anything better than finding an unexpected package on your doorstep addressed to you and inside are books? There isn't!
So you can imagine my joy when I barely heard a knock on the door (Day 6 of the Great Ear Clog of '010. DAY SIX!!!!!!!!!! I'm officially dying.) and I opened it to find a package addressed to me and inside were two books from my dear and wonderful and lovely and beautiful friend Amanda.
So I called her up to thank her and, as our conversations normally go, we ended up masterminding elaborate schemes. This time it is the scheme of me becoming a nun-chucking detective. Brilliant, right? Because I already have the nun chucks and I am pretty well practiced at spying on my neighbor who lives behind my apartment complex. When I sit at my desk I have a direct view down into his yard and he comes out almost every day to trim the hedges behind his house. I've started wondering that maybe he's wrapped up in some sort of espionage because who needs to trim the hedges every single day?
Admit it, you're just a little bit sad that the Cold War has ended. Spy work was so much more glamorous when it was against the Russians.
(Dear People of the World: I also love peanut M&Ms and Slurpee machines! Hugs and Kisses, Rachel)
Is there anything better than finding an unexpected package on your doorstep addressed to you and inside are books? There isn't!
So you can imagine my joy when I barely heard a knock on the door (Day 6 of the Great Ear Clog of '010. DAY SIX!!!!!!!!!! I'm officially dying.) and I opened it to find a package addressed to me and inside were two books from my dear and wonderful and lovely and beautiful friend Amanda.
So I called her up to thank her and, as our conversations normally go, we ended up masterminding elaborate schemes. This time it is the scheme of me becoming a nun-chucking detective. Brilliant, right? Because I already have the nun chucks and I am pretty well practiced at spying on my neighbor who lives behind my apartment complex. When I sit at my desk I have a direct view down into his yard and he comes out almost every day to trim the hedges behind his house. I've started wondering that maybe he's wrapped up in some sort of espionage because who needs to trim the hedges every single day?
Admit it, you're just a little bit sad that the Cold War has ended. Spy work was so much more glamorous when it was against the Russians.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
And yet again.
For the last two weeks I've had Thursday and Friday off because of the holidays and this morning I was lamenting that today wasn't my last work day of the week.
Except that it is because, once again, I was laid off.
Laid off! As in, I'm unemployed AGAIN!
I'm going to kick this crummy economy in the shins. And possibly call it names.
We lost a really big client a month ago and then we're losing another really big client in about a month and there have been rumors of more contracts going down the drain in the near future so Chiquita can't afford to keep me on full time and instead of making me part time she decided, and I agreed, that it would be better if she lay me off so I can collect unemployment. She paid me my two weeks vacation and said she would definitely bring me back if things got better so that's a bonus, but Knights of Columbus, I hate being unemployed.
The last time this happened I went home, prayed, paid my tithing, sent out 20 resumes and got a job in a week. This time I went home on my lunch break, prayed, paid my tithing, and then came back to show Chiquita how to work the scanner and the vertical blinds. What will she do without me?! She just barely learned how to cut and paste on the computer. Everyone needs to pray hard that the County of San Bernardino wins the Lotto, or finds a long lost rich uncle, or discovers oil in their backyard so that they can give us back the contract so Chiquita won't have to call me everytime she needs to change an Excel spreadsheet.
But hey, until that happens, I'm free for lunch dates. If you're paying.
Except that it is because, once again, I was laid off.
Laid off! As in, I'm unemployed AGAIN!
I'm going to kick this crummy economy in the shins. And possibly call it names.
We lost a really big client a month ago and then we're losing another really big client in about a month and there have been rumors of more contracts going down the drain in the near future so Chiquita can't afford to keep me on full time and instead of making me part time she decided, and I agreed, that it would be better if she lay me off so I can collect unemployment. She paid me my two weeks vacation and said she would definitely bring me back if things got better so that's a bonus, but Knights of Columbus, I hate being unemployed.
The last time this happened I went home, prayed, paid my tithing, sent out 20 resumes and got a job in a week. This time I went home on my lunch break, prayed, paid my tithing, and then came back to show Chiquita how to work the scanner and the vertical blinds. What will she do without me?! She just barely learned how to cut and paste on the computer. Everyone needs to pray hard that the County of San Bernardino wins the Lotto, or finds a long lost rich uncle, or discovers oil in their backyard so that they can give us back the contract so Chiquita won't have to call me everytime she needs to change an Excel spreadsheet.
But hey, until that happens, I'm free for lunch dates. If you're paying.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Stocking Stuffers
1.) Until someone tells me that Avatar is an incredible story with amazing acting I'm not going to see it. Whiz-bang special effects will not carry me through nearly 3 hours of James Cameron's ego.
2.) Today is the official moving day for our office and Chiquita's brother Chuck is helping out. He brought along his friend Mr. Rick. That is what everyone calls him. Mr. Rick. He is sixty if he's a day and every time he comes back up the stairs he huffs and puffs and says, "Boy, I'm tired." Mr. Rick calls Chuck Charles. Chiquita calls him Chuckie or Chuck-a-luck. Chuck calls Chiquita Chi Chi, which I find kind of disturbing. Gary the CPA and Chiquita's ex-husband Phillip are also coming in to help. Chiquita looses patience with all of them if they spend longer than 10 minutes talking to her. She mentioned that we may go out for a two hour taco break while they do the heavy lifting.
3.) Heather and I went to the Mission Inn last night to see the Christmas lights and it was lovely. However, along with the lights were lots of animatronic carolers and scary elves tucked up in the balconies and bell towers. There was one in particular who looked like he was waiting to jump down on your head and gouge your eyes out with his pointy hat. I was disappointed that I couldn't look around the hotel to find and have my picture taken in the Taft Chair which was specially made for President Taft's visit once the original owner of the hotel heard that he got stuck in the White House bathtub due to his girth. My high school history teacher, Mrs. Baker, use to tell this story at least once a week. She would refer to him as Taft the Rotund.
4.) Speaking of former presidents - I am calling 2010 the Year of the Presidents, which mostly means I'm going to learn what order they came in and humorous facts about them that I can bring up at parties to bore all of my friends.
5.) A few people have asked about buying the funny stockings and I think I have enough in my arsenal to start putting them up on Etsy. However, I have no idea what to charge for them. They cost me practically nothing to make. Maybe $2. But they are very labor intensive. They're all hand cut and hand stitched. Most with metallic thread that Satan created. So, if you were in the market for a stocking that had a b-list celebrity on it how much would you be willing to pay?
6.) Holy Cats, this is getting long.
7.) Last one, I promise. But I wanted to show you the other stocking I made this season. I was commissioned by Laura (I will refrain from making Michelangelo/Medici Family comparisons here) to make one for her boyfriend, who loves the old video game Galaga and monkeys.
8.) Okay, I totally lied to you. Because I've just decided to have a Christmas drawing. If you leave a comment before Christmas you will be entered to win a stocking to be delivered sometime before next Christmas. You can choose from any of the ones I've done before (Dwight, the Hoff, Michael Flatly - Lord of the Dance, Mr. T (although not a stocking yet, easily transferable) or Richard Simmons) or you can choose a new one, if I think it's funny enough. Enter now before I make you pay more than $2 for them.
9.) That is all. Merry Christmas.
2.) Today is the official moving day for our office and Chiquita's brother Chuck is helping out. He brought along his friend Mr. Rick. That is what everyone calls him. Mr. Rick. He is sixty if he's a day and every time he comes back up the stairs he huffs and puffs and says, "Boy, I'm tired." Mr. Rick calls Chuck Charles. Chiquita calls him Chuckie or Chuck-a-luck. Chuck calls Chiquita Chi Chi, which I find kind of disturbing. Gary the CPA and Chiquita's ex-husband Phillip are also coming in to help. Chiquita looses patience with all of them if they spend longer than 10 minutes talking to her. She mentioned that we may go out for a two hour taco break while they do the heavy lifting.
3.) Heather and I went to the Mission Inn last night to see the Christmas lights and it was lovely. However, along with the lights were lots of animatronic carolers and scary elves tucked up in the balconies and bell towers. There was one in particular who looked like he was waiting to jump down on your head and gouge your eyes out with his pointy hat. I was disappointed that I couldn't look around the hotel to find and have my picture taken in the Taft Chair which was specially made for President Taft's visit once the original owner of the hotel heard that he got stuck in the White House bathtub due to his girth. My high school history teacher, Mrs. Baker, use to tell this story at least once a week. She would refer to him as Taft the Rotund.
4.) Speaking of former presidents - I am calling 2010 the Year of the Presidents, which mostly means I'm going to learn what order they came in and humorous facts about them that I can bring up at parties to bore all of my friends.
5.) A few people have asked about buying the funny stockings and I think I have enough in my arsenal to start putting them up on Etsy. However, I have no idea what to charge for them. They cost me practically nothing to make. Maybe $2. But they are very labor intensive. They're all hand cut and hand stitched. Most with metallic thread that Satan created. So, if you were in the market for a stocking that had a b-list celebrity on it how much would you be willing to pay?
6.) Holy Cats, this is getting long.
7.) Last one, I promise. But I wanted to show you the other stocking I made this season. I was commissioned by Laura (I will refrain from making Michelangelo/Medici Family comparisons here) to make one for her boyfriend, who loves the old video game Galaga and monkeys.
8.) Okay, I totally lied to you. Because I've just decided to have a Christmas drawing. If you leave a comment before Christmas you will be entered to win a stocking to be delivered sometime before next Christmas. You can choose from any of the ones I've done before (Dwight, the Hoff, Michael Flatly - Lord of the Dance, Mr. T (although not a stocking yet, easily transferable) or Richard Simmons) or you can choose a new one, if I think it's funny enough. Enter now before I make you pay more than $2 for them.
9.) That is all. Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Pros and Cons
The benefits of being one gal in a two-gal business operation during the holidays are:
1.) No awkward holiday parties where the local high school performing group comes and puts on a show and sings Santa Baby to the highest ranking male administrator. Usually the superintendent. Ew. (Every year at the school district.)
2.) No awkward holiday luncheons at a restaurant you would never pick because the food tastes like 3 day old scrabbled eggs, with people who only seem to be able to talk about 1.) their husbands/ex-husbands/lack of husbands, 2.) their cats, 3.) their hatred of the incoming president. (Last year's party with the Doc.)
3.) No holiday luncheons involving the food being spread out on top of the table where dogs are prepped to be spayed or neutered. This site being chosen because the surgery room needs to remain sterile and the top of the freezer where the euthanized animals are kept before pick-up seems slightly inappropriate. (The one Christmas I worked for the vet.)
4.) No obligatory gift giving to every single person you work with, even those you would never socialize with outside of work so you end up giving them a cheap plastic ornament of Santa on a surf board or a CD sampler of synthesized Christmas music you picked up in the discount bin at the gas station for $1.99.
Drawbacks to being one gal in a two-gal business operation during the holidays are:
1.) No office treats brought in my co-workers or clients/patients.
2.) I can't think of anything else.
I came home last night and Katie was, once again, buried in baked goods. She's been baking since October. Okay, no, that's not true. But definitely since Saturday. She's made fancy flavored olive oils and caramels and brownies and cookies and chocolate covered popcorn and seven-layer bars. And she's been wrapping presents and making up goodie plates and for the last three mornings she's hauled off boxes and bags filled with food. And it has made me slightly nostalgic for those days when you could go into work and know that if you wanted some peppermint bark you could probably find some. At the school district we would freeze most of the treats people would bring us and snack on them clear until spring break.
So there are no Christmas goodies in the office. There's no one to bring them in. I suppose I could bring some in but Chiquita is freaked out about her cholesterol (classic Chiquita quote: "I've been eating like two wild dogs and my blood work came back looking like a funeral program.") so I would be the only one eating them and that's just pathetic.
But, on the flip side, I haven't purchased or made a single obligatory gift and there will be no awkward holiday parties as we will probably just go out for tacos or something and Chiquita has too much class to bring up her ex-husband, her cats or politics when we're trying to enjoy some good Mexican food. I'm considering it a Christmas Miracle.
1.) No awkward holiday parties where the local high school performing group comes and puts on a show and sings Santa Baby to the highest ranking male administrator. Usually the superintendent. Ew. (Every year at the school district.)
2.) No awkward holiday luncheons at a restaurant you would never pick because the food tastes like 3 day old scrabbled eggs, with people who only seem to be able to talk about 1.) their husbands/ex-husbands/lack of husbands, 2.) their cats, 3.) their hatred of the incoming president. (Last year's party with the Doc.)
3.) No holiday luncheons involving the food being spread out on top of the table where dogs are prepped to be spayed or neutered. This site being chosen because the surgery room needs to remain sterile and the top of the freezer where the euthanized animals are kept before pick-up seems slightly inappropriate. (The one Christmas I worked for the vet.)
4.) No obligatory gift giving to every single person you work with, even those you would never socialize with outside of work so you end up giving them a cheap plastic ornament of Santa on a surf board or a CD sampler of synthesized Christmas music you picked up in the discount bin at the gas station for $1.99.
Drawbacks to being one gal in a two-gal business operation during the holidays are:
1.) No office treats brought in my co-workers or clients/patients.
2.) I can't think of anything else.
I came home last night and Katie was, once again, buried in baked goods. She's been baking since October. Okay, no, that's not true. But definitely since Saturday. She's made fancy flavored olive oils and caramels and brownies and cookies and chocolate covered popcorn and seven-layer bars. And she's been wrapping presents and making up goodie plates and for the last three mornings she's hauled off boxes and bags filled with food. And it has made me slightly nostalgic for those days when you could go into work and know that if you wanted some peppermint bark you could probably find some. At the school district we would freeze most of the treats people would bring us and snack on them clear until spring break.
So there are no Christmas goodies in the office. There's no one to bring them in. I suppose I could bring some in but Chiquita is freaked out about her cholesterol (classic Chiquita quote: "I've been eating like two wild dogs and my blood work came back looking like a funeral program.") so I would be the only one eating them and that's just pathetic.
But, on the flip side, I haven't purchased or made a single obligatory gift and there will be no awkward holiday parties as we will probably just go out for tacos or something and Chiquita has too much class to bring up her ex-husband, her cats or politics when we're trying to enjoy some good Mexican food. I'm considering it a Christmas Miracle.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I'm Sparkly Like a Great Big Sparkly Thing!
There is no doubt that I love sparkly things. My brooch collection attests to this. And it's a good thing I do love the sparkle because right now I am covered head to toe in GLITTER. I look like a disco ball! I've spent the morning getting our company Christmas cards ready to send out. They're lovely cards with a dove and holly leaves and about 2 lbs of glitter. Each time a card was moved, breathed on, looked at or thought of a flurry of glitter would swirl around the air and land on me. At first I would dust myself off after each card and then I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I just gave it to the glitter and now it is everywhere. On my lips, in my hair, on my jacket, my sweater, my jeans, my shoes, my socks. I just checked myself in the mirror and I have it all over my face, including my eyelashes. It is both annoying and kind of cheery. I am totally ready for a faerie ball or a rave.
I have yet to clean all the glitter off of the desk I did the cards on because, well, I found out yesterday that Chiquita decided it's time for us to move offices. We're moving to a much smaller place next door (sadly, not into the building the Congressman works in) and we're getting rid of that desk. I like to think that whoever gets it will be thrilled with the touch of sparkle we've left on it.
The move is all part of the Save Our Business plan we have going. We just got an inside scoop that our biggest client is going to be doing major lay-offs in January so we're moving to a cheaper place and I lose my monthly travel stipend and I have to take 2 furlough days a month until things pick back up. It's a bit of a bummer but there are some bright sides. 1.) I get my own bathroom in the new office. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. We share our current bathroom with an office full of women who regularly dump their ash trays in the trashcan and who don't wash their hands. Also, the janitor only cleans once every three days (are you throwing up yet) and we regularly run out of paper goods. It's like we're living in medieval times. 2.) I still have a job. Chiquita really felt horrible about all of this but it was either that or let me go and she didn't want to do that. Nice, huh? 3.) I can use my vacation days for the furlough days. Come to mama, three-day weekends!
I have yet to clean all the glitter off of the desk I did the cards on because, well, I found out yesterday that Chiquita decided it's time for us to move offices. We're moving to a much smaller place next door (sadly, not into the building the Congressman works in) and we're getting rid of that desk. I like to think that whoever gets it will be thrilled with the touch of sparkle we've left on it.
The move is all part of the Save Our Business plan we have going. We just got an inside scoop that our biggest client is going to be doing major lay-offs in January so we're moving to a cheaper place and I lose my monthly travel stipend and I have to take 2 furlough days a month until things pick back up. It's a bit of a bummer but there are some bright sides. 1.) I get my own bathroom in the new office. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. We share our current bathroom with an office full of women who regularly dump their ash trays in the trashcan and who don't wash their hands. Also, the janitor only cleans once every three days (are you throwing up yet) and we regularly run out of paper goods. It's like we're living in medieval times. 2.) I still have a job. Chiquita really felt horrible about all of this but it was either that or let me go and she didn't want to do that. Nice, huh? 3.) I can use my vacation days for the furlough days. Come to mama, three-day weekends!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
How not to apply for a job and Neil Diamond IN THE SAME POST! I am so thoughtful.
1.) Is it bad to judge job applicants on their email address? Because I do all the time. Not to the point of tossing their resume but it does make me hesitate. Shameful, I know but let me give you an example. I just received a resume from someone at "boops04". This makes me believe that she's a Betty Boop fan which instantly makes me question her judgement. If she likes Betty Boop enough to use it in an email address then how far has she taken it? Does she dress like her? Talk all breathy and squeaky like her? Does she have a tattoo on her of her forearm? Can you imagine what Chiquita would say if I sent a client of ours someone with a Betty Boop tattoo?
2.) Speaking of resumes, a girl just sent one to me this morning that had a picture attached. She took it from her computer in her bedroom while sitting on her unmade bed. She had no experience and I normally don't respond to those (I get HUNDREDS every day) but I felt like she needed some guidance and wrote back in a very nice and professional manner that unless she was applying for a cigarette girl position at the local indian casino, no employer needed to see a picture of her.
3.) In other news: Neil Diamond has a new Christmas CD out and I happened to hear the title track, "Cherry, Cherry Christmas", on my way into work this morning. Here's my favorite line: "Have a very merry, cherry, cherry, holly-holy, rockin'-rolly Christmas this year." Which is exactly how I'm going to start greeting people this holiday season. Can't you just hear him singing (and by singing I mean a cross between talking and warbling) in your head? What? You don't have Neil Diamond's voice etched in your brain? You mean when you're in church and someone says "Brothers and Sisters..." you don't instantly hear in your head Neil sing Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show? You are missing out. I love Neil Diamond the same way I love Wayne Newton. Which means the hokier he gets, the less he is able to sing, the more studded denim he wears and the floppier his hair becomes, the more I pray he will call me up one day to be his back-up singer.
2.) Speaking of resumes, a girl just sent one to me this morning that had a picture attached. She took it from her computer in her bedroom while sitting on her unmade bed. She had no experience and I normally don't respond to those (I get HUNDREDS every day) but I felt like she needed some guidance and wrote back in a very nice and professional manner that unless she was applying for a cigarette girl position at the local indian casino, no employer needed to see a picture of her.
3.) In other news: Neil Diamond has a new Christmas CD out and I happened to hear the title track, "Cherry, Cherry Christmas", on my way into work this morning. Here's my favorite line: "Have a very merry, cherry, cherry, holly-holy, rockin'-rolly Christmas this year." Which is exactly how I'm going to start greeting people this holiday season. Can't you just hear him singing (and by singing I mean a cross between talking and warbling) in your head? What? You don't have Neil Diamond's voice etched in your brain? You mean when you're in church and someone says "Brothers and Sisters..." you don't instantly hear in your head Neil sing Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show? You are missing out. I love Neil Diamond the same way I love Wayne Newton. Which means the hokier he gets, the less he is able to sing, the more studded denim he wears and the floppier his hair becomes, the more I pray he will call me up one day to be his back-up singer.
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Issue with the Door
There is a gentleman who works downstairs who always arrives in the parking lot at the same time I do. Almost every day we go through the same routine. We get out of our cars at the same time and then he will wait at the head of the walkway for me to get there and will let me go ahead of him and then I have to wait at the entrance to the building so he can open the door for me. It is always slightly awkward because there are an abundance of overgrown plants crowding the entryway and we always have to jostle around so that he can open the door and I think "Knights of Columbus, I can open the door myself and we could dispense with the awkwardness of this whole situation." Except that if I open the door he gets a little put off. Which, again, is awkward. I'll walk in and hold the door open for him and he'll say in a very serious voice, "You should let me open the door for you." The tone he uses makes me feel like I flunked out of finishing school.
And sometimes it's worse. Like when a third person is thrown into the mix. This morning another guy from downstairs got in between me and the regular guy on our walk down the path and the door was locked and I had my key and the new guy was fiddling with his and the regular didn't have his out. So I unlocked the door and let myself in and held it open for the fellas and then the regular guy said to the new guy, "You should have opened the door for this lady." I just smiled and said "Have a nice day," and left them to duel over my honor. Pistols at dawn!
I'm kind of middle-of-the-road on the whole door opening business in general. I think it's a very nice gesture but I never expect it. Which is the exact opposite of how Mr. Downstairs views it. It's not just a nice gesture, it's expected. The whole thing kind of goes against my practical nature. It's more practical, and less awkward, for me to open the door if I'm the first to get there. I don't do it because of some feminist principle - as in, "I don't need some man to open any door for me," - I do it because I can and I feel kind of ridiculous standing by a door waiting for someone to open it and let me in. Obviously, because we have this little schtick, I'm going to let Mr. Downstairs continue to open the door for me. Plus I think it's a code of honor for him, like him mom taught him well, and I don't want to disrespect that. But I'm also going to try to get to work 5 minutes earlier to avoid the whole thing. I hate awkward.
And sometimes it's worse. Like when a third person is thrown into the mix. This morning another guy from downstairs got in between me and the regular guy on our walk down the path and the door was locked and I had my key and the new guy was fiddling with his and the regular didn't have his out. So I unlocked the door and let myself in and held it open for the fellas and then the regular guy said to the new guy, "You should have opened the door for this lady." I just smiled and said "Have a nice day," and left them to duel over my honor. Pistols at dawn!
I'm kind of middle-of-the-road on the whole door opening business in general. I think it's a very nice gesture but I never expect it. Which is the exact opposite of how Mr. Downstairs views it. It's not just a nice gesture, it's expected. The whole thing kind of goes against my practical nature. It's more practical, and less awkward, for me to open the door if I'm the first to get there. I don't do it because of some feminist principle - as in, "I don't need some man to open any door for me," - I do it because I can and I feel kind of ridiculous standing by a door waiting for someone to open it and let me in. Obviously, because we have this little schtick, I'm going to let Mr. Downstairs continue to open the door for me. Plus I think it's a code of honor for him, like him mom taught him well, and I don't want to disrespect that. But I'm also going to try to get to work 5 minutes earlier to avoid the whole thing. I hate awkward.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I'm Glad...
I'm planning on getting ice cream on my way home from work because:
1.) I have a stye which has caused my eye to get all puffy and droopy and purple. And because of it I can't wear make-up which, even though it's not really a tragedy, only adds to my general feeling of homeliness.
(Me, not smiling with my eyes. Sorry Tyra,)
2.) Our company finally got a 6 month assignment with a local government agency, after working to get one with them for a year, and we sent our girl down today to start and she left for lunch and never came back. A pox on you, Temp!!!! A pox!!!!
Maybe, in addition to ice cream, I need to play the Glad Game.
1.) I'm glad I'm wearing a cute outfit, to counteract the homeliness,
2.) I'm glad I don't look so drastically different without makeup so people aren't moved to ask if I'm dying of consumption,
3.) I'm glad that ice cream exists.
Maybe in addition to ice cream and the Glad Game I should have a give away!
Leave a comment about what makes you glad and I'll have a drawing for another Mr. T bookmark.
4.) I'm glad I can make Mr. T bookmarks and give them away.
1.) I have a stye which has caused my eye to get all puffy and droopy and purple. And because of it I can't wear make-up which, even though it's not really a tragedy, only adds to my general feeling of homeliness.
(Me, not smiling with my eyes. Sorry Tyra,)
2.) Our company finally got a 6 month assignment with a local government agency, after working to get one with them for a year, and we sent our girl down today to start and she left for lunch and never came back. A pox on you, Temp!!!! A pox!!!!
Maybe, in addition to ice cream, I need to play the Glad Game.
1.) I'm glad I'm wearing a cute outfit, to counteract the homeliness,
2.) I'm glad I don't look so drastically different without makeup so people aren't moved to ask if I'm dying of consumption,
3.) I'm glad that ice cream exists.
Maybe in addition to ice cream and the Glad Game I should have a give away!
Leave a comment about what makes you glad and I'll have a drawing for another Mr. T bookmark.
4.) I'm glad I can make Mr. T bookmarks and give them away.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Touched
Chiquita and I have decided to be kind to dumb people this week. Like, for example, instead of saying, "That is the dumbest person I've ever spoken with," we say, "That person is touched." It sounds kinder, doesn't it? Like evil pixies got a hold of them and addled their brains and they just can't help but say dumb things.
Example: We had a labor crew working on a two week assignment. One of them called me to say that there was an error on his check stub showing the incorrect date of his assignment and that he couldn't collect unemployment because of it. We had the following conversation:
Me: I'm very sorry but we can't change something that has already been printed and our payroll company will not issue a new check stub. But I will write a letter to your unemployment rep that explains the error and that should be fine.
The Touched: But I need the correct dates on this check stub or else I won't get paid.
Me: But that's impossible.
TT: So what am I suppose to do?
Me: The letter should be enough, but if it isn't have him call me. I'd be happy to explain.
TT: So you'll still change the date?
Me: No. We can't. But I'll write you a letter to give to him.
TT: Along with the check stub with the correct date?
Me: No. Instead of the check stub with the correct date because there won't be a check stub with the correct date.
TT: But I need a check stub with the correct date.
(At this point Chiquita leaves the office for the restroom. The conversation continues on in similar fashion: "I need a check stub," "I can't give you a check stub," etc. Chiquita returns from the restroom and finds me still in the vicious check stub cycle and gapes. She then points to her head and mouths, "Touched." I try not to laugh.)
Me: Why don't you tell me what you want me to do to help you get your money that doesn't involve a new check stub.
TT: Get me a new check stub.
Me: So you're saying that your unemployment rep will not accept a letter explaining the situation even though it is on official water-marked company letterhead and has my signature and my address and phone number which he can call at anytime Monday through Friday between the hours of 8am and 5pm should he not fully comprehend this minor error?
TT: Couldn't you just give me a new check stub?
Me: I'm hanging up now.
Example: We had a labor crew working on a two week assignment. One of them called me to say that there was an error on his check stub showing the incorrect date of his assignment and that he couldn't collect unemployment because of it. We had the following conversation:
Me: I'm very sorry but we can't change something that has already been printed and our payroll company will not issue a new check stub. But I will write a letter to your unemployment rep that explains the error and that should be fine.
The Touched: But I need the correct dates on this check stub or else I won't get paid.
Me: But that's impossible.
TT: So what am I suppose to do?
Me: The letter should be enough, but if it isn't have him call me. I'd be happy to explain.
TT: So you'll still change the date?
Me: No. We can't. But I'll write you a letter to give to him.
TT: Along with the check stub with the correct date?
Me: No. Instead of the check stub with the correct date because there won't be a check stub with the correct date.
TT: But I need a check stub with the correct date.
(At this point Chiquita leaves the office for the restroom. The conversation continues on in similar fashion: "I need a check stub," "I can't give you a check stub," etc. Chiquita returns from the restroom and finds me still in the vicious check stub cycle and gapes. She then points to her head and mouths, "Touched." I try not to laugh.)
Me: Why don't you tell me what you want me to do to help you get your money that doesn't involve a new check stub.
TT: Get me a new check stub.
Me: So you're saying that your unemployment rep will not accept a letter explaining the situation even though it is on official water-marked company letterhead and has my signature and my address and phone number which he can call at anytime Monday through Friday between the hours of 8am and 5pm should he not fully comprehend this minor error?
TT: Couldn't you just give me a new check stub?
Me: I'm hanging up now.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Importance of Capitalization
Dear People Looking for Work:
Use capital letters. And proper punctuation. And correct spelling. I don't think I can emphasize this enough. Which is RIDICULOUS! Because you're a grown up and I'm assuming you have made it beyond Kindergarten and know the difference between a big letter and a small letter and when the appropriate time to use them is.
When I get your resume and it's entirely in lower case I throw it away. If you don't spell your previous job titles correctly, I throw it away. If you use the phrase, "I seen," I throw it away. When I give you a typing test and you tell me that the reason why you only scored 20 wpm is because you forgot to use capitalization I don't even bother looking through your application. I throw it away.
When you don't use capitalization I imagine you're a 14 year old girl stuck in a remedial English class texting me a resume your boyfriend helped you prepare. It's okay that if at one point you were 14 and stuck in remedial English, I would never hold that against you. But if you're over 18 you should know by now that your name needs to be capitalized.
If I get one more email that reads, "i seen your ad heres my resume call me," I'm going to spit. And I hate spitting.
Regards,
Rachel
Use capital letters. And proper punctuation. And correct spelling. I don't think I can emphasize this enough. Which is RIDICULOUS! Because you're a grown up and I'm assuming you have made it beyond Kindergarten and know the difference between a big letter and a small letter and when the appropriate time to use them is.
When I get your resume and it's entirely in lower case I throw it away. If you don't spell your previous job titles correctly, I throw it away. If you use the phrase, "I seen," I throw it away. When I give you a typing test and you tell me that the reason why you only scored 20 wpm is because you forgot to use capitalization I don't even bother looking through your application. I throw it away.
When you don't use capitalization I imagine you're a 14 year old girl stuck in a remedial English class texting me a resume your boyfriend helped you prepare. It's okay that if at one point you were 14 and stuck in remedial English, I would never hold that against you. But if you're over 18 you should know by now that your name needs to be capitalized.
If I get one more email that reads, "i seen your ad heres my resume call me," I'm going to spit. And I hate spitting.
Regards,
Rachel
Monday, September 21, 2009
Another Random List
1.) Over the weekend I played the organ at a very large gathering of Mormon scout leaders. So I got to see a lot of grown men in khaki shorts and knee high socks. I LOVE those scout socks. They kill me. I also love playing the organ for large congregations of men because men don't hold back on their singing. They turn the volume to high which means I get to turn the volume to high on the organ and use all sorts of really deep stops that maybe wouldn't be so appropriate in a smaller congregation on a Sunday afternoon. The walls shook.
2.) The Cat Woman was wearing booty shorts this morning at the gym. They said "JAMAICA" across the bum. She was also wearing a very low cut tank top. There was only about 20% containment when she was on the step climber. It may have been too much for me that early in the morning.
3.) My computer at work has a virus. The computer geek who was in here working on it kept saying, "Ooooh, you are GOOD!" Like he had found a worthy opponent. The virus ended up being so good that he had to take my whole computer back to his store. I cried a little.
4.) Chiquita and I have been working for the last 6 months to win contracts with various government agencies to provide temps and have been outbid every time. It takes weeks to get these proposals ready and it's very time intensive and we have lost every single one. Until today. We won a huge one. Chiquita came running out of her office with the great news and we did a happy dance and rang our Good News Bell and made plans for going out for tacos later this week. HOORAY!
2.) The Cat Woman was wearing booty shorts this morning at the gym. They said "JAMAICA" across the bum. She was also wearing a very low cut tank top. There was only about 20% containment when she was on the step climber. It may have been too much for me that early in the morning.
3.) My computer at work has a virus. The computer geek who was in here working on it kept saying, "Ooooh, you are GOOD!" Like he had found a worthy opponent. The virus ended up being so good that he had to take my whole computer back to his store. I cried a little.
4.) Chiquita and I have been working for the last 6 months to win contracts with various government agencies to provide temps and have been outbid every time. It takes weeks to get these proposals ready and it's very time intensive and we have lost every single one. Until today. We won a huge one. Chiquita came running out of her office with the great news and we did a happy dance and rang our Good News Bell and made plans for going out for tacos later this week. HOORAY!
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