Yesterday I accepted two part-time jobs. They kinda add up to one full-time job. I'll start next Wednesday.
I'll be writing for the local newspaper 3 days each week, and for the paper one county over on the other 2 days. Features, mostly, and Other Stuff as the rest of the writing staff need assistance. They're owned by the same company, so they'll treat it all as one job. Which means I will be eligible for a 401(k).
But the total pay is: what? Floor scrapings? It is less than half of what they were talking about at the job I did not get last week; that's what it is. And, yeah, that is a major ego hit, even though several people at that company have reassured me that I am in the pipeline for the next tech writer slot to appear, and even though the newspapers seem thrilled to have me.
I keep telling myself, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." I also keep telling myself that I am pretty sure my Dad made more than that as a guy in his early 20s, with one semester of college under his belt, back in the 1970s. And that at the time, that was enough to support a family of 4.
That is probably not the most useful thing to be focusing on at this point.
It is so little, I could almost cry, except I have a raging head cold so I have no energy for that. I feel, as my favorite Southern woman puts it, like Hitler on a biscuit. But, hey, kudos to me for doing a job interview with a raging head cold. I am nothing if not determined.
It is better than nothing, as they say. And steadier than freelancing. It will keep me shoving stuff into my clips file, which has at this point grown large enough to require a third 27-quart storage tub. But, you guessed it, if I can find another position with higher pay, I will drop this gig like a hot rock.
And, yes, I will have to cut back on my Census duties, but since there is only a few weeks' worth of work left on that effort I figure I can at least work on the weekends and evenings, on that.
Perhaps once that is done, I can look into taking some sort of certification course which will improve my hireability in the larger world. There's grant money out there for people like me, or so Facebook keeps saying.
In the mean time, I don't have to be at work for the Census until noon today, so I am living on Zicam and tea.
And, yes, a less pathetic person would not even bother posting this blog entry. Please feel free to ignore. I am sick. It is crapping up my already less than stellar mood.
Showing posts with label don't get too comfortable there missy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label don't get too comfortable there missy. Show all posts
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
It's a good day in the Boondocks
Son #1 had his Criminal Justice commencement ceremony this morning. Yes, I think the entire auditorium heard me cheer. I think Hubby may have gotten a few photos, too. And I got to witness Final Inspection, which was fun.
Sons #2 and 3 may call me Meine Fuhrer (to my FACE, even!), but the Sons do seem to be tidying up a bit more, and with fewer reminders, than they were 3 months ago when I first started full-time work. Yes, the Census is back to part-time, really, but I have also been doing some freelance stuff, so it DOES add up to a full work week.
Tomorrow I have a sort of interview thingy with the publisher of the local newspaper. They asked me if I want to take a part-time slot as a feature writer. I am interested, even though they pay in floor scrapings, because it is a foot in the door (and continued income, and would mesh well with the Census while I continue to look for full-time work).
And the Sears guy came back to figure out why our dishwasher STILL is not really working well and he concluded that the problem is, we eat too many leafy green vegetables.
Well, actually he suggested that we need to scrape our leafy green vegetables off the dishes before we load them in the washer, but Hubby and I agree that it just makes more sense to abandon all things our dishwasher finds challenging, and transition to an overcooked pasta and rice diet.
And the boss from my last temp job has offered to make good on his promise to teach me all about Photoshop and Quark, soon. I'm psyched.
Sons #2 and 3 may call me Meine Fuhrer (to my FACE, even!), but the Sons do seem to be tidying up a bit more, and with fewer reminders, than they were 3 months ago when I first started full-time work. Yes, the Census is back to part-time, really, but I have also been doing some freelance stuff, so it DOES add up to a full work week.
Tomorrow I have a sort of interview thingy with the publisher of the local newspaper. They asked me if I want to take a part-time slot as a feature writer. I am interested, even though they pay in floor scrapings, because it is a foot in the door (and continued income, and would mesh well with the Census while I continue to look for full-time work).
And the Sears guy came back to figure out why our dishwasher STILL is not really working well and he concluded that the problem is, we eat too many leafy green vegetables.
Well, actually he suggested that we need to scrape our leafy green vegetables off the dishes before we load them in the washer, but Hubby and I agree that it just makes more sense to abandon all things our dishwasher finds challenging, and transition to an overcooked pasta and rice diet.
And the boss from my last temp job has offered to make good on his promise to teach me all about Photoshop and Quark, soon. I'm psyched.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
I think I'll take up boxing
"Thanks, Pam. No, no, really, it's OK. It'll be OK. I'll find something. Thanks for pushing so hard for me. Keep me in mind for future openings. Yes, I'd appreciate that. No, really, it's OK. Something will turn up, sooner or later. And I have the Census and some freelance stuff, for now. I'll be fine. You did all you could. Have a great day, Pam."
Yes, today I had to comfort the HR woman over the phone, when she called to tell me they decided to go with a candidate who had more IT and information assurance experience.
Yes, today I had to comfort the HR woman over the phone, when she called to tell me they decided to go with a candidate who had more IT and information assurance experience.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Census Weirdness
I went out Enumerating today. I had a few houses in my book on which I have been unable to get information.
A few were obviously vacant, but I am not authorized to make that designation unless someone in the area verifies for me that, yes, that house with the tree growing into the roof is abandoned. Fortunately, on my third trip down that road, I ran into a woman who was able to sort that out for me for all of them at once.
I went back to one I'd visited a while back and caught the man at home. He stood in the doorway--well, kinda hunched in the doorway, as he was too tall to fit under the door frame--and before I could ask him any questions, he said, "I'm not going to give you any names or birth dates or social security numbers or income or anything."
"No problem," I said. "They don't make me ask about social security numbers or income, anyway. But can I ask you a few questions?"
"We don't have any illegal immigrants in here, neither."
"Yeah, really mostly all I need is a number. Can you tell me how many people were living here on April first?"
"Two."
"They want me to ask names and birth dates, but we can skip that since you don't want to say. Can you tell me what race each person is?"
"We're all white. Everyone around here is white."
Well, OK, then.
Since I am also white, well, I had to wonder if he would have said it the same way, and so forcefully, if I were not. But I was not about to ask, because he pretty much looked like he was ready to slug me the whole time.
I also stopped by an odd apartment building in the woods. You would never know it was back there, but I had found them once and gotten some of the information I'm supposed to collect, but not all. I've been back a couple more times with no luck. Today was my last attempt to catch someone willing to talk to me--as per usual, a lot of cars were there but no one was answering their doors.
Leaving the property I turned right, deeper into the woods, instead of left, toward the main road.
I have no sense of direction.
None.
Really.
Just ask anyone.
I realized it almost immediately, but since this was just a long, narrow, gravel road there wasn't much opportunity to turn around. I try to avoid using people's driveways, so I drove to the end, where the street got slightly wider, and turned back toward the main road.
As I passed one of the houses, a man flagged me down. "YOU NEED TO SLOW DOWN!" he said. I was going about 20 mph at the time, which I think is not all that fast for a straight road, even if it is a bit on the narrow side. But, hey, I am paid to count people, not to argue with them, so I said, "Yes, sir."
"You should not even be here," he said.
"Yeah, I know, I got lost so I had to turn around."
"You should not even be on this road and you are driving too fast."
At this I smiled, waved, and started to pull away, and a woman came out of the house, screaming so much her entire face was red. I am not at all sure what she was trying to say to me, but you have to imagine--I was beyond the end of her 100-yard-long driveway, politely excusing myself from her angry husband, and all I could think was, "If you two were not so busy telling me to get away from your house, I would be several miles away by now, but OK..."
I also went to a house I'd almost given up and impossible. Every time I came by, they were gone, or only their young children were there, and yet today I lucked out and caught them all at home. They invited me in.
I'm not supposed to go into people's houses, but sometimes I do, if it makes more sense. Best part of that house? The Race question.
"We're all rednecks. 100 percent, All-American Redneck. You can put THAT on your form."
And he said it with such a charming smile, while changing his baby daughter, I was tempted to write it in. We are expected to write in that sort of stuff, if they want us to. His wife, though, told me, "We're all white. Well, I'm a little Mexican, but that's it, and the kids aren't Mexican enough to count, so we're white."
I'm not about to decide how Mexican you have to be to count as Mexican Enough, so I told her that she could have me check that box for her kids if she wanted. She decided to stick with just white.
They then had a bit of an argument over how many people to include on the form. "The kids move out and they boomerang right back. They turn 18 and you think they're gone and then they come back with more."
My attitude for the whole thing is pretty much just one of gratitude for the job. I don't care what boxes you want me to check. You can identify yourself any way you like. "No skin off my nose," as my mom would say.
I do wonder, though, why we are required to fill out those forms in pencil. Our payroll forms have to be in pen, "for the scanning machines." But the Census data has to be in pencil, also ostensibly for the benefit of the scanning machines.
Well, which is it?
Conspiracy theorists can start riiiiight about there.
A few were obviously vacant, but I am not authorized to make that designation unless someone in the area verifies for me that, yes, that house with the tree growing into the roof is abandoned. Fortunately, on my third trip down that road, I ran into a woman who was able to sort that out for me for all of them at once.
I went back to one I'd visited a while back and caught the man at home. He stood in the doorway--well, kinda hunched in the doorway, as he was too tall to fit under the door frame--and before I could ask him any questions, he said, "I'm not going to give you any names or birth dates or social security numbers or income or anything."
"No problem," I said. "They don't make me ask about social security numbers or income, anyway. But can I ask you a few questions?"
"We don't have any illegal immigrants in here, neither."
"Yeah, really mostly all I need is a number. Can you tell me how many people were living here on April first?"
"Two."
"They want me to ask names and birth dates, but we can skip that since you don't want to say. Can you tell me what race each person is?"
"We're all white. Everyone around here is white."
Well, OK, then.
Since I am also white, well, I had to wonder if he would have said it the same way, and so forcefully, if I were not. But I was not about to ask, because he pretty much looked like he was ready to slug me the whole time.
I also stopped by an odd apartment building in the woods. You would never know it was back there, but I had found them once and gotten some of the information I'm supposed to collect, but not all. I've been back a couple more times with no luck. Today was my last attempt to catch someone willing to talk to me--as per usual, a lot of cars were there but no one was answering their doors.
Leaving the property I turned right, deeper into the woods, instead of left, toward the main road.
I have no sense of direction.
None.
Really.
Just ask anyone.
I realized it almost immediately, but since this was just a long, narrow, gravel road there wasn't much opportunity to turn around. I try to avoid using people's driveways, so I drove to the end, where the street got slightly wider, and turned back toward the main road.
As I passed one of the houses, a man flagged me down. "YOU NEED TO SLOW DOWN!" he said. I was going about 20 mph at the time, which I think is not all that fast for a straight road, even if it is a bit on the narrow side. But, hey, I am paid to count people, not to argue with them, so I said, "Yes, sir."
"You should not even be here," he said.
"Yeah, I know, I got lost so I had to turn around."
"You should not even be on this road and you are driving too fast."
At this I smiled, waved, and started to pull away, and a woman came out of the house, screaming so much her entire face was red. I am not at all sure what she was trying to say to me, but you have to imagine--I was beyond the end of her 100-yard-long driveway, politely excusing myself from her angry husband, and all I could think was, "If you two were not so busy telling me to get away from your house, I would be several miles away by now, but OK..."
I also went to a house I'd almost given up and impossible. Every time I came by, they were gone, or only their young children were there, and yet today I lucked out and caught them all at home. They invited me in.
I'm not supposed to go into people's houses, but sometimes I do, if it makes more sense. Best part of that house? The Race question.
"We're all rednecks. 100 percent, All-American Redneck. You can put THAT on your form."
And he said it with such a charming smile, while changing his baby daughter, I was tempted to write it in. We are expected to write in that sort of stuff, if they want us to. His wife, though, told me, "We're all white. Well, I'm a little Mexican, but that's it, and the kids aren't Mexican enough to count, so we're white."
I'm not about to decide how Mexican you have to be to count as Mexican Enough, so I told her that she could have me check that box for her kids if she wanted. She decided to stick with just white.
They then had a bit of an argument over how many people to include on the form. "The kids move out and they boomerang right back. They turn 18 and you think they're gone and then they come back with more."
My attitude for the whole thing is pretty much just one of gratitude for the job. I don't care what boxes you want me to check. You can identify yourself any way you like. "No skin off my nose," as my mom would say.
I do wonder, though, why we are required to fill out those forms in pencil. Our payroll forms have to be in pen, "for the scanning machines." But the Census data has to be in pencil, also ostensibly for the benefit of the scanning machines.
Well, which is it?
Conspiracy theorists can start riiiiight about there.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
What they don't tell you about the Census
Before I started enumerating, people generally had the same set of concerns: Would I get Scary Territory? Would someone attack me? Would people say angry things because I Work for the Government? Did I need a Big, Intimidating, Male Companion to ride with me? Did I need mace?
I've been officially on the job since Thursday, and so far although I have talked with someone who initially did not want to speak with me, people have been cheery, helpful, cooperative and kind, as a rule. Even that person ended up telling me pretty much everything I'm supposed to find out.
Here's the thing, though.
I have been to houses in foreclosure. Houses unoccupied because their owner is in a nursing home. Houses with trees growing through the roof, broken windows, and doors either boarded up or left ajar. Houses which may be abandoned, or may just be teetering on the edge.
I also talked with a guy who has been out of work for six months. He reminds me a lot of someone I know, and I wish I could do something for him, but heck, I can barely find work for myself.
I am seeing edges of poverty and uncertainty and despair, and sometimes it just hurts. I want to hug some of these people and pull them into my group of friends who are looking for work.
Who knew that being a Census enumerator would be so intense?
I've been officially on the job since Thursday, and so far although I have talked with someone who initially did not want to speak with me, people have been cheery, helpful, cooperative and kind, as a rule. Even that person ended up telling me pretty much everything I'm supposed to find out.
Here's the thing, though.
I have been to houses in foreclosure. Houses unoccupied because their owner is in a nursing home. Houses with trees growing through the roof, broken windows, and doors either boarded up or left ajar. Houses which may be abandoned, or may just be teetering on the edge.
I also talked with a guy who has been out of work for six months. He reminds me a lot of someone I know, and I wish I could do something for him, but heck, I can barely find work for myself.
I am seeing edges of poverty and uncertainty and despair, and sometimes it just hurts. I want to hug some of these people and pull them into my group of friends who are looking for work.
Who knew that being a Census enumerator would be so intense?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Enumeratrix Rides
Yes, today I actually went out to enumerate part of my territory. All the homes are within a few minutes of where I live, so that was very convenient. And, somehow, I managed to encounter just about every situation we learned about in class this week. I think I did fairly well, and I know that my data is accurate, and I enjoyed it.
Next week, they need a temporary crew leader assistant, and I will be doing that, which means I will be putting in a few more hours than most enumerators. Can't complain about that.
Also next week, I have a phone interview for a very interesting job.
Right now, though, it is 8:30 p.m., and I have a ton of stuff to do, and my computer is acting wonky, and tomorrow the entire family is home from work and school EXCEPT for me. I will be putting in a super-long day, between class and enumerating and all that.
The house is a mess; they do not seem to care. I think I need to make sure I get some sleep.
Next week, they need a temporary crew leader assistant, and I will be doing that, which means I will be putting in a few more hours than most enumerators. Can't complain about that.
Also next week, I have a phone interview for a very interesting job.
Right now, though, it is 8:30 p.m., and I have a ton of stuff to do, and my computer is acting wonky, and tomorrow the entire family is home from work and school EXCEPT for me. I will be putting in a super-long day, between class and enumerating and all that.
The house is a mess; they do not seem to care. I think I need to make sure I get some sleep.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
At least in my case it is not that hard to guess
Yesterday was my first day of Census training. Mostly it was filling out employment forms, getting fingerprinted (three times, in my case), and starting to go through the practice workbooks that explain all about what Census forms look like.
Not bad, but boy, is it dull.
Also.
You know those "gender and ethnicity" questionnaires everyone asks you to fill out these days? They are completely voluntary, right? Well, at Census training, they are also completely voluntary. However, if you choose not to self-identify, the crew leader/instructor is required to fill out the form for you, based on her observations.
When she explained that, I had to ask.
"You mean, I can fill out the form, if I want. But if I decide that my ethnic background is not the federal government's business, so I decline to fill out the form, they are going to make you guess?"
"Yes."
Ya just gotta love modern life, man.
Not bad, but boy, is it dull.
Also.
You know those "gender and ethnicity" questionnaires everyone asks you to fill out these days? They are completely voluntary, right? Well, at Census training, they are also completely voluntary. However, if you choose not to self-identify, the crew leader/instructor is required to fill out the form for you, based on her observations.
When she explained that, I had to ask.
"You mean, I can fill out the form, if I want. But if I decide that my ethnic background is not the federal government's business, so I decline to fill out the form, they are going to make you guess?"
"Yes."
Ya just gotta love modern life, man.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Gay wants to know...
Am I working? Am I blogging? Am I still alive, even?
Actually, yeah, mostly. Here's a recap--and so dull you'll understand why I have not bothered to blog, of late.
Friday night I went to the ballet.
Ha!
No, really, Brick and I went, and it was lovely, although I must admit I did not feel like I understood it. Oh, well, one needn't understand to appreciate, I hope.
Saturday was my last day at the newspaper. I drove around the southern half of the county taking photos of Navy people donating their time to Christmas in April, an annual service day. People all over the country help those who cannot afford to maintain their homes. It's a good cause, but of course the motto for the paper is:
We Care About The World, As It Affects Pax River Naval Air Station.
So, ONLY Navy guys. Marines, maybe. Civilians with a tie to the base, OK. Everyone else, well, you will just have to gain satisfaction from some other source, because my photos of you were deleted as soon as I realized I could not use them.
On the cute side, one of the team captains was an older gentleman who said that he could only allow me on the work site if my Mom would sign me in.
Darn. So cute. This is the kind of thing you can say once you are Older. I shall keep that in mind.
Also Saturday was the Celtic Festival. I took Sons #1, 3 and 4. We had a good time, especially as we were making our way there.
Lemme set the scene.
We're walking towards the entrance, and of course my mind is swimming with images of poverty from the photos I'd taken hours earlier. I had also had only a normal person's ration of sleep, since I got home from the ballet at 1 a.m. and was on the road by 7:30.
Coming toward us was a family leaving the Festival. Big, harried mom and 4 or 5 rambunctious kids. They were all but brawling as Mom tried to herd them toward the car.
"Justin, slow down.
Justin, stop that.
Justin, be quiet.
Justin, leave your brother alone.
Justin, put that down."
At this point the child I can only assume was Justin lunged toward his brother, toy sword in hand, and faceplanted in the grass. Mom looked down, and without missing a step, said, "GOOD. I'm GLAD you fell down."
Son #3 looked over at the Mom, and said, "I'm glad you fell down?"
Sons #1 and 4 flipped. "Shut up. Shut UP. Geez, shut UP. Shut UP!"
Me, I just busted a gut laughing, and clearly I needed to. Made my whole day. Granted, I have 4 sons myself. I have had 4 small sons. And one of them is of the rambunctious, hassle-your-brother sort. I know for a fact that there have been times when I have seen Karma befall one or another of the Sons, and I have looked on and thought (and even said), "Yeah, well, you kinda earned that one, kid." It was just funny, though. Trust me. If you're not laughing, well, that's OK, too.
Sunday my parents & sister came down for dinner. Had a lovely time.
Today is Son #4's birthday. He is 14. Holy cow. He is right now calling friends to invite him to his birthday party next weekend, "So we can celebrate the inevitable tightening of the grip of death."
And tomorrow I start my new, part-time job as a Census Enumerator.
See? Lots going on, but not a lot that is really fascinating enough for all 30 of you who read.
Thanks for sticking with me, anyway...
Actually, yeah, mostly. Here's a recap--and so dull you'll understand why I have not bothered to blog, of late.
Friday night I went to the ballet.
Ha!
No, really, Brick and I went, and it was lovely, although I must admit I did not feel like I understood it. Oh, well, one needn't understand to appreciate, I hope.
Saturday was my last day at the newspaper. I drove around the southern half of the county taking photos of Navy people donating their time to Christmas in April, an annual service day. People all over the country help those who cannot afford to maintain their homes. It's a good cause, but of course the motto for the paper is:
We Care About The World, As It Affects Pax River Naval Air Station.
So, ONLY Navy guys. Marines, maybe. Civilians with a tie to the base, OK. Everyone else, well, you will just have to gain satisfaction from some other source, because my photos of you were deleted as soon as I realized I could not use them.
On the cute side, one of the team captains was an older gentleman who said that he could only allow me on the work site if my Mom would sign me in.
Darn. So cute. This is the kind of thing you can say once you are Older. I shall keep that in mind.
Also Saturday was the Celtic Festival. I took Sons #1, 3 and 4. We had a good time, especially as we were making our way there.
Lemme set the scene.
We're walking towards the entrance, and of course my mind is swimming with images of poverty from the photos I'd taken hours earlier. I had also had only a normal person's ration of sleep, since I got home from the ballet at 1 a.m. and was on the road by 7:30.
Coming toward us was a family leaving the Festival. Big, harried mom and 4 or 5 rambunctious kids. They were all but brawling as Mom tried to herd them toward the car.
"Justin, slow down.
Justin, stop that.
Justin, be quiet.
Justin, leave your brother alone.
Justin, put that down."
At this point the child I can only assume was Justin lunged toward his brother, toy sword in hand, and faceplanted in the grass. Mom looked down, and without missing a step, said, "GOOD. I'm GLAD you fell down."
Son #3 looked over at the Mom, and said, "I'm glad you fell down?"
Sons #1 and 4 flipped. "Shut up. Shut UP. Geez, shut UP. Shut UP!"
Me, I just busted a gut laughing, and clearly I needed to. Made my whole day. Granted, I have 4 sons myself. I have had 4 small sons. And one of them is of the rambunctious, hassle-your-brother sort. I know for a fact that there have been times when I have seen Karma befall one or another of the Sons, and I have looked on and thought (and even said), "Yeah, well, you kinda earned that one, kid." It was just funny, though. Trust me. If you're not laughing, well, that's OK, too.
Sunday my parents & sister came down for dinner. Had a lovely time.
Today is Son #4's birthday. He is 14. Holy cow. He is right now calling friends to invite him to his birthday party next weekend, "So we can celebrate the inevitable tightening of the grip of death."
And tomorrow I start my new, part-time job as a Census Enumerator.
See? Lots going on, but not a lot that is really fascinating enough for all 30 of you who read.
Thanks for sticking with me, anyway...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
I saw the Green Hornet today
And I am not sure what I think of it, but I also got to shake hands with an honest-to-God-real-live admiral, and I thought that was pretty cool.Although I kinda wish I had not met him on the one day over the past 2 months when I didn't have time to put on makeup or do my hair. Basically, I met the admiral and I looked like hell.
Tomorrow is my last full day. I'll work part of Saturday and that's it, because the woman is certain she is really coming back this Monday. Really.
I've really enjoyed my past 2 months working with the Navy, and hope I'll be back there soon. Either there, or SOMEwhere with a permanent slot. I got a call today from a trade magazine I applied to...we shall see.
But, hey, I am on to my next temp job on Tuesday: I'll be a Census enumerator. Maybe this is it: I'll keep taking temp jobs for 2 months at a time, and blog about them.
Anybody got suggestions on what my next temp stint should be?
Tomorrow is my last full day. I'll work part of Saturday and that's it, because the woman is certain she is really coming back this Monday. Really.
I've really enjoyed my past 2 months working with the Navy, and hope I'll be back there soon. Either there, or SOMEwhere with a permanent slot. I got a call today from a trade magazine I applied to...we shall see.
But, hey, I am on to my next temp job on Tuesday: I'll be a Census enumerator. Maybe this is it: I'll keep taking temp jobs for 2 months at a time, and blog about them.
Anybody got suggestions on what my next temp stint should be?
Friday, April 16, 2010
FUNemployment
Ok, ok, so she did NOT come back on Monday. I worked a full week.
But this Thursday afternoon, she called again, to say that she will be back on this coming Monday, about 75% of the day, which means I am out of a job as of today.
Argh.
I really was starting to like things over there.
I left work for an interview w/the local paper: they do not have an opening, but there is some possibility that they will in September, or thereabouts, and I am a candidate in that case, but I need to come by every 6 weeks or so to remind them of my existence, and if I got the job I would no longer be allowed to do any local freelance work, or keep the political bumper sticker on my car.
Not that I care about the bumper sticker all that much.Trust me, I want a job.
The Census work will start in 11 days, which gives me time to catch up on some freelance stuff I've been kinda ignoring, so that is good timing, anyway. And I can polish up the house to a fine sheen, and all that.
Still and all, I would rather be employed than not. It was pretty sweet, for as long as it lasted, and the prospect of another temporary job is a bit disheartening. What will I have, come July? Maybe I'll be jobless again. Or maybe, by then, I'll be Fully Employed Somewhere on a Basically Permanent Basis.
I could clean stuff, but right now I think I need to work on my manicure. Just for tonight, I don't want to think that I am back to hausfrauing it and squeezing in freelance stuff in fits and starts.
Ugh.
But this Thursday afternoon, she called again, to say that she will be back on this coming Monday, about 75% of the day, which means I am out of a job as of today.
Argh.
I really was starting to like things over there.
I left work for an interview w/the local paper: they do not have an opening, but there is some possibility that they will in September, or thereabouts, and I am a candidate in that case, but I need to come by every 6 weeks or so to remind them of my existence, and if I got the job I would no longer be allowed to do any local freelance work, or keep the political bumper sticker on my car.
Not that I care about the bumper sticker all that much.Trust me, I want a job.
The Census work will start in 11 days, which gives me time to catch up on some freelance stuff I've been kinda ignoring, so that is good timing, anyway. And I can polish up the house to a fine sheen, and all that.
Still and all, I would rather be employed than not. It was pretty sweet, for as long as it lasted, and the prospect of another temporary job is a bit disheartening. What will I have, come July? Maybe I'll be jobless again. Or maybe, by then, I'll be Fully Employed Somewhere on a Basically Permanent Basis.
I could clean stuff, but right now I think I need to work on my manicure. Just for tonight, I don't want to think that I am back to hausfrauing it and squeezing in freelance stuff in fits and starts.
Ugh.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Ah, Crap
Thursday morning I woke up and my newly painted Bordello Red nails had smudged during the night.
I was out of nylons.
I had to run back into the house to get my totebag, with all my work stuff in it.
And then my car stalled out, halfway to the school.
As I dropped the Sons off, #2 leaned in the window and said, "I hope your day improves, Mom."
And then just before lunch, I heard it.
Boss is on the phone, talking all chirpily about how Great I am, and how Artsy my photos are, and how Fast I am, and all that. And the call sounds fine, from my end. It's my ego-stroke of the day, something I hear now and then, as I know he is working hard to find me a permanent position. and then he hangs up.
"Shit. Christine, come here."
The sick woman wants to come back, half days, starting Monday. If her physical therapist signs off, that's what she'll do. She was supposed to call back on Friday to confirm, and did not, but that does not necessarily mean she won't be there on Monday when I show up.
Boss offered to take me to lunch--we have been going for a regular Thursday lunch together for the past few weeks. We got to Lone Star and he ordered us each a beer. Which we both kinda needed.
After lunch, I covered the annual Aircraft Washing at the museum next to the base. Fun, and I got some good shots, and the elderly retired guy who promotes all that stuff gave me a big hug, even though he had no idea what a crap morning I'd had.
Then I left for Northern Virginia, which is surprisingly far from Southern Maryland. I was covering a seminar for one of my freelance clients. On the way up, my car stalled out again.
On the way home, my car stalled out twice more, in the dark, in a heavy rainstorm, on the Beltway. The windshield wipers were not functioning at all, so I could not see the lane markings and could not read most street signs. So I was relying on my GPS, but it has 4-year-old maps, so it was worse than useless--it kept telling me to turn into Jersey wall, which I could not usually see until I was within a few inches of it.
I pulled off the Beltway about 75 minutes from home (and 20 minutes from the car dealership where I had already scheduled a service appointment for Friday) at the first hotel I could find. Explained to Hubby on the phone that I was not the least bit confident that my car would keep driving, and that even if I could guarantee it would not stop in the middle of traffic again, I could not see the road to navigate.
Then Son #1 called to tell me that my Dad had emailed him, Hubby, and me to say that Son #1 needs to quit his band. Great. Helicopter Grandparenting, anyone?
I spent the night at a Holiday Inn Express, and although I did not wake able to do brain surgery I did rest well.
Next morning, dropped the Powerful Mom 5 off at the dealership, hung out for a few hours, and then Boss picked me up to visit the printer he uses for his freelance work, which he is starting to teach me. I'm not sure I got all I should have out of it, but it was interesting and a useful trip.
Returned to pick up the car (bad cam sensor, among other things) and drove home. Went to sleep almost immediately. Woke up, went back to work, where the wife of the base CO flagged me down to tell me how Funky and Stylish I always look, compared to everyone else. "They're all so boring. I LOVE your suit!" So, you know, that was fun.
Came home and had to blog about it all.
Tonight, I'll be taking photos of Son #1's band. Should be interesting, and I am looking forward to it.
I was out of nylons.
I had to run back into the house to get my totebag, with all my work stuff in it.
And then my car stalled out, halfway to the school.
As I dropped the Sons off, #2 leaned in the window and said, "I hope your day improves, Mom."
And then just before lunch, I heard it.
Boss is on the phone, talking all chirpily about how Great I am, and how Artsy my photos are, and how Fast I am, and all that. And the call sounds fine, from my end. It's my ego-stroke of the day, something I hear now and then, as I know he is working hard to find me a permanent position. and then he hangs up.
"Shit. Christine, come here."
The sick woman wants to come back, half days, starting Monday. If her physical therapist signs off, that's what she'll do. She was supposed to call back on Friday to confirm, and did not, but that does not necessarily mean she won't be there on Monday when I show up.
Boss offered to take me to lunch--we have been going for a regular Thursday lunch together for the past few weeks. We got to Lone Star and he ordered us each a beer. Which we both kinda needed.
After lunch, I covered the annual Aircraft Washing at the museum next to the base. Fun, and I got some good shots, and the elderly retired guy who promotes all that stuff gave me a big hug, even though he had no idea what a crap morning I'd had.
Then I left for Northern Virginia, which is surprisingly far from Southern Maryland. I was covering a seminar for one of my freelance clients. On the way up, my car stalled out again.
On the way home, my car stalled out twice more, in the dark, in a heavy rainstorm, on the Beltway. The windshield wipers were not functioning at all, so I could not see the lane markings and could not read most street signs. So I was relying on my GPS, but it has 4-year-old maps, so it was worse than useless--it kept telling me to turn into Jersey wall, which I could not usually see until I was within a few inches of it.
I pulled off the Beltway about 75 minutes from home (and 20 minutes from the car dealership where I had already scheduled a service appointment for Friday) at the first hotel I could find. Explained to Hubby on the phone that I was not the least bit confident that my car would keep driving, and that even if I could guarantee it would not stop in the middle of traffic again, I could not see the road to navigate.
Then Son #1 called to tell me that my Dad had emailed him, Hubby, and me to say that Son #1 needs to quit his band. Great. Helicopter Grandparenting, anyone?
I spent the night at a Holiday Inn Express, and although I did not wake able to do brain surgery I did rest well.
Next morning, dropped the Powerful Mom 5 off at the dealership, hung out for a few hours, and then Boss picked me up to visit the printer he uses for his freelance work, which he is starting to teach me. I'm not sure I got all I should have out of it, but it was interesting and a useful trip.
Returned to pick up the car (bad cam sensor, among other things) and drove home. Went to sleep almost immediately. Woke up, went back to work, where the wife of the base CO flagged me down to tell me how Funky and Stylish I always look, compared to everyone else. "They're all so boring. I LOVE your suit!" So, you know, that was fun.
Came home and had to blog about it all.
Tonight, I'll be taking photos of Son #1's band. Should be interesting, and I am looking forward to it.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
The Tester: Christine Issue
Today's base paper has THREE articles w/my byline, AND a photo spread. I don't think the Pulitzer committee is going to call any time soon, but it is nice to see the stuff I'm working on actually go somewhere. Call me Queen of the Fishwrap if you like, I'm still having fun.
This week I've also been called a "world-class suck-up" by more than one person, but I am ok with that.
I had a meeting out at the airport this afternoon, and one of the men I was supposed to meet was delayed, so the rest of us stood out in the parking lot and soaked up the sun. Wow. Spring is here, the flowers are in bloom, the air is warm and you can forget we ever had snow.
And just so you know, it is officially Frozen Mocha Season. I am sitting here with a mugful and it is fortifying me for a few more hours of productivity (then, of course, I will collapse, sleep the sleep of the dead, and rise at 5:30 to do it all over again).
For those of you who need my services as Social Director, this Saturday I am going to Falls Church to meet some friends and see my buddy Wave perform. Wave and Beach are almost in town, and I try not to miss that if I can avoid it. Anybody wanna join us?
This week I've also been called a "world-class suck-up" by more than one person, but I am ok with that.
I had a meeting out at the airport this afternoon, and one of the men I was supposed to meet was delayed, so the rest of us stood out in the parking lot and soaked up the sun. Wow. Spring is here, the flowers are in bloom, the air is warm and you can forget we ever had snow.
And just so you know, it is officially Frozen Mocha Season. I am sitting here with a mugful and it is fortifying me for a few more hours of productivity (then, of course, I will collapse, sleep the sleep of the dead, and rise at 5:30 to do it all over again).
For those of you who need my services as Social Director, this Saturday I am going to Falls Church to meet some friends and see my buddy Wave perform. Wave and Beach are almost in town, and I try not to miss that if I can avoid it. Anybody wanna join us?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
April is gonna be a busy one
Temp job is crankin' along just fine. I will have a 2-page spread of Adorable Easter Photos this week, along with a couple other articles.
My annual Chamber of Commerce thing starts this week. Usually that is my Big Thing, as it means 11 articles in about a month.These days doesn't sound like much, but coordinating a meeting with the Chamber president has been a bear.
I have an article to write for Maryland Life--I have done my research, just need to sit down and write it sometime before early May. No biggie.
And I just got a call from the Census Bureau, offering me a temporary position as an Enumerator, starting on April 27.
The Census job is for 8 weeks or less, and they encourage you to work evenings and weekends since that is when people are home. I only have to put in 20 hours/week there. So, yeah, that kinda books my weekends and CWS Fridays for May and June, I guess.
It is always possible that by the time the Census job opens I will be out of a job at the Navy base, but for now it just looks like I will have 2 months of lonnnnnnnng days, this spring. But, hey, good for the bank account AND the resume.
And since the Sons helped make dinner tonight, and have not really trashed the house so far this Easter break, I have some hope that things will not go to hell in a handbasket during that time.
My annual Chamber of Commerce thing starts this week. Usually that is my Big Thing, as it means 11 articles in about a month.These days doesn't sound like much, but coordinating a meeting with the Chamber president has been a bear.
I have an article to write for Maryland Life--I have done my research, just need to sit down and write it sometime before early May. No biggie.
And I just got a call from the Census Bureau, offering me a temporary position as an Enumerator, starting on April 27.
The Census job is for 8 weeks or less, and they encourage you to work evenings and weekends since that is when people are home. I only have to put in 20 hours/week there. So, yeah, that kinda books my weekends and CWS Fridays for May and June, I guess.
It is always possible that by the time the Census job opens I will be out of a job at the Navy base, but for now it just looks like I will have 2 months of lonnnnnnnng days, this spring. But, hey, good for the bank account AND the resume.
And since the Sons helped make dinner tonight, and have not really trashed the house so far this Easter break, I have some hope that things will not go to hell in a handbasket during that time.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Another job hunter is working for me
When I first started the temporary job, my boss spoke often about the woman I am covering for. She was "the best," he said, just like everyone else did.
Then I started turning in work and, not to brag, but he shut up about her.
Last week he asked if I would be willing to join him for some freelance work he does, on occasion. Hell, yes, I would.
This past Friday, he said the magic words I knew were coming. "I wish I could keep you here, instead of her. You get stuff done, and you're fun to have around."
But of course she is only gone for her medical leave, and he is only Boss until mid-May anyway. Neither one of us can do a thing to stop this train, or even slow it down. But it felt good to hear.
He keeps repeating that she probably won't return. Or if she does, it will be a lot later than she has said. I don't know why he thinks this, or what he's basing it on, but all in all what it says to me is, he is happy to have me here for as long as that works. That gives me a little breathing room--time to keep looking for a job, slowly, while bringing in a little money and improving my resume.
Every day I am there, I learn something new about how the Navy works, or about publishing, or something else like that, that I never would have learned as a freelancer. Basically, I am floating on a river of gratitude, all day.
Today, he came to work with a classified ad for a job which would suit me. He then called two different public affairs offices, to tell them that if they had a slot open in the near future they should keep me in mind.
"She's here until --- returns, but if she is offered something better, she'll take it," he said. "You should find a spot for her. She does good work, fast, and I don't have to do much to it."
Then he gave me a fruit cup, as it was snack time.
God bless him, you know? May he find a fantastic job, himself.
Then I started turning in work and, not to brag, but he shut up about her.
Last week he asked if I would be willing to join him for some freelance work he does, on occasion. Hell, yes, I would.
This past Friday, he said the magic words I knew were coming. "I wish I could keep you here, instead of her. You get stuff done, and you're fun to have around."
But of course she is only gone for her medical leave, and he is only Boss until mid-May anyway. Neither one of us can do a thing to stop this train, or even slow it down. But it felt good to hear.
He keeps repeating that she probably won't return. Or if she does, it will be a lot later than she has said. I don't know why he thinks this, or what he's basing it on, but all in all what it says to me is, he is happy to have me here for as long as that works. That gives me a little breathing room--time to keep looking for a job, slowly, while bringing in a little money and improving my resume.
Every day I am there, I learn something new about how the Navy works, or about publishing, or something else like that, that I never would have learned as a freelancer. Basically, I am floating on a river of gratitude, all day.
Today, he came to work with a classified ad for a job which would suit me. He then called two different public affairs offices, to tell them that if they had a slot open in the near future they should keep me in mind.
"She's here until --- returns, but if she is offered something better, she'll take it," he said. "You should find a spot for her. She does good work, fast, and I don't have to do much to it."
Then he gave me a fruit cup, as it was snack time.
God bless him, you know? May he find a fantastic job, himself.
Friday, March 26, 2010
This bathroom needs a disco ball.
I've been watching something at work, and it is getting weirder.
The ladies' room has a long mirror on one wall, and below it a table. There are hand lotions and hair spray on there. Nice touch. But there is always also something else.
One week, a pair of baby dolls, dressed in sailor suits. Odd, but, OK, goes with the Navy theme.
For about 2 weeks or so, there have been a stack of inspirational cassette tapes. Joel Osteen. The Power of Positive Thinking. Something with a pyramid on the front of the case. That kind of thing. Odd, and who even has a cassette player anymore, but OK. Maybe all that positive thinking is good for the Navy. Right? We shall become upbeat warfighters.
This week, though: Cheezballs.
There is a giant jar of cheezballs, and another of pretzels, and a pretty decent sized container of salted peanuts, sitting on a table inside the public ladies' restroom.
Have we not heard of atomization, people?
If they had little individual packages of snack foods in there I might be tempted to take one. But the idea of reaching my hand into a giant jar of cheezballs, left in the bathroom...ugh. No.
Do people grab a fistful as they enter the restroom? You know, to kill time while they're in there? Or are they making big cones out of the paper towels and bringing them back to their desk? I just want to look at all the women's fingers, to find the one with orange dust. THAT woman has a cleanliness standard I cannot share.
I think we should hang a disco ball in there, and tell the men they can join us if they bring cold beer.
I asked my boss if the men's room has a similar selection of oddities, and he said, no. He suggests that people are leaving things in the ladies' room as a sort of de facto Freecycle. And that makes sense. And I did see those cheezballs on a shelf in someone's office, before.
I'm still not taking them home.
The ladies' room has a long mirror on one wall, and below it a table. There are hand lotions and hair spray on there. Nice touch. But there is always also something else.
One week, a pair of baby dolls, dressed in sailor suits. Odd, but, OK, goes with the Navy theme.
For about 2 weeks or so, there have been a stack of inspirational cassette tapes. Joel Osteen. The Power of Positive Thinking. Something with a pyramid on the front of the case. That kind of thing. Odd, and who even has a cassette player anymore, but OK. Maybe all that positive thinking is good for the Navy. Right? We shall become upbeat warfighters.
This week, though: Cheezballs.
There is a giant jar of cheezballs, and another of pretzels, and a pretty decent sized container of salted peanuts, sitting on a table inside the public ladies' restroom.
Have we not heard of atomization, people?
If they had little individual packages of snack foods in there I might be tempted to take one. But the idea of reaching my hand into a giant jar of cheezballs, left in the bathroom...ugh. No.
Do people grab a fistful as they enter the restroom? You know, to kill time while they're in there? Or are they making big cones out of the paper towels and bringing them back to their desk? I just want to look at all the women's fingers, to find the one with orange dust. THAT woman has a cleanliness standard I cannot share.
I think we should hang a disco ball in there, and tell the men they can join us if they bring cold beer.
I asked my boss if the men's room has a similar selection of oddities, and he said, no. He suggests that people are leaving things in the ladies' room as a sort of de facto Freecycle. And that makes sense. And I did see those cheezballs on a shelf in someone's office, before.
I'm still not taking them home.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Bathroom, the second
Ok, so I have half a gallon of Killz and half a gallon of the same shiny white stuff I used on the hall bathroom left over. I also have a master bathroom with peeling paint on the ceiling.
You guessed it, yesterday I scraped and scrubbed and spackled and removed old caulk. This morning I am putting on the primer coat, and recaulking the shower. Should have a fully functional and actually attractive master bathroom by tomorrow, I think.
I also bought some silicone sealant stuff to use around the shower door glass. Have never done that before but hopefully it is not really different from caulking, because caulking I know I can do.
On the work front (because I know you are all curious) things have taken on a bit of a gallows humor vibe. I have a little over a month left there, at best, and my boss will most likely lose his job this spring, too.
He's the "Acting" PAO, and has been running this newspaper since 2006, but his "acting" status will lapse in May, and the Navy has to hire someone on a permanent basis.
Hiring the guy who has been doing the job for the past 3 years would make sense, right? But he has 34 "blocking veterans" ahead of him in line. Two of whom are currently living in the desert. All 34 of them would have to turn down the job, for him to be offered it.
Oh, yeah, and the job ad does not require the person who gets the job to have any experience in photography or layout, so none of those 34 blocking veterans have to be anywhere near as qualified as my boss, to take his job.
And yes, he is also 62.
We have decided that if both of us are employed in that building, come June, we are going out for a beer.
As an aside, last night as I was spackling the bathroom ceiling, Hubby came by to ask me what he should wear for his night out. He showed me several options, and I gave the thumb's up and thumb's down as I kept half an eye on my tub of joint compound.
I think I have become a man.
You guessed it, yesterday I scraped and scrubbed and spackled and removed old caulk. This morning I am putting on the primer coat, and recaulking the shower. Should have a fully functional and actually attractive master bathroom by tomorrow, I think.
I also bought some silicone sealant stuff to use around the shower door glass. Have never done that before but hopefully it is not really different from caulking, because caulking I know I can do.
On the work front (because I know you are all curious) things have taken on a bit of a gallows humor vibe. I have a little over a month left there, at best, and my boss will most likely lose his job this spring, too.
He's the "Acting" PAO, and has been running this newspaper since 2006, but his "acting" status will lapse in May, and the Navy has to hire someone on a permanent basis.
Hiring the guy who has been doing the job for the past 3 years would make sense, right? But he has 34 "blocking veterans" ahead of him in line. Two of whom are currently living in the desert. All 34 of them would have to turn down the job, for him to be offered it.
Oh, yeah, and the job ad does not require the person who gets the job to have any experience in photography or layout, so none of those 34 blocking veterans have to be anywhere near as qualified as my boss, to take his job.
And yes, he is also 62.
We have decided that if both of us are employed in that building, come June, we are going out for a beer.
As an aside, last night as I was spackling the bathroom ceiling, Hubby came by to ask me what he should wear for his night out. He showed me several options, and I gave the thumb's up and thumb's down as I kept half an eye on my tub of joint compound.
I think I have become a man.
Monday, March 08, 2010
You know what you can't do at work?
When things get slow because you've finished everything they assigned you, and you've called about 10 people for future stuff and gotten voicemail, so you're just sitting there waiting for the phone to ring like the ugly girl on Prom night, you can't run downstairs and pop in a load of laundry.
This is something of a revelation, to me, as for the past 9 years of working from home I did that all the time----work as long as I can, hit a wall, and fill the time while I wait with other productive stuff.
Today, though, I just kinda fidgeted, and made work for myself. Which is good. Coming up with new stuff to do is good, and studying the style guides (we use 3, they conflict, and I am learning who wins) is good, and trying to understand those numbers and letters and crap tacked on to people's names is good. Because you can't really go through life calling everyone...well, not having any idea what to call anyone.
It's just weird to be desperately trying to come up with useful stuff to do, when I know that at home I could be sanding my bathroom or walking the dog or going through my email to find a Permanent Job That Pays Well. Interesting.
Oh, and today my boss called my blimp photos "artistic". Sounds like he's going to use a bunch of them for the big photo spread on Page 2. Ooooh, yay for me!
The best thing, though, was that it was finally actually kinda warm today. I think it hit 61 degrees.
Awesome sauce.
This is something of a revelation, to me, as for the past 9 years of working from home I did that all the time----work as long as I can, hit a wall, and fill the time while I wait with other productive stuff.
Today, though, I just kinda fidgeted, and made work for myself. Which is good. Coming up with new stuff to do is good, and studying the style guides (we use 3, they conflict, and I am learning who wins) is good, and trying to understand those numbers and letters and crap tacked on to people's names is good. Because you can't really go through life calling everyone...well, not having any idea what to call anyone.
It's just weird to be desperately trying to come up with useful stuff to do, when I know that at home I could be sanding my bathroom or walking the dog or going through my email to find a Permanent Job That Pays Well. Interesting.
Oh, and today my boss called my blimp photos "artistic". Sounds like he's going to use a bunch of them for the big photo spread on Page 2. Ooooh, yay for me!
The best thing, though, was that it was finally actually kinda warm today. I think it hit 61 degrees.
Awesome sauce.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Thursday, March 04, 2010
I'm almost Jared, from the Subway commercials
...because today I realized: McDonald's is walking distance from my office. I can walk over there, have a cheeseburger & a side salad, walk back, all within half an hour. Easy peasy.
Plus, today they were playing funky, bass-heavy, instrumental jazz music in there.
Mostly, though, it's just nice to have the weather warm enough to be able to walk outside without cursing the bitter wind.
My boss keeps asking me pointed questions. Why do I take so many shots? Why am I using the Navy style guide instead of AP? Why do I insist on wearing high heels?
Baby, you can have my stilettos when you pry them off my cold, dead feet.
He's nice about it, though, and a very genial guy, and I think I am going to become a much more disciplined writer because of him. I'm glad.
Plus, today they were playing funky, bass-heavy, instrumental jazz music in there.
Mostly, though, it's just nice to have the weather warm enough to be able to walk outside without cursing the bitter wind.
My boss keeps asking me pointed questions. Why do I take so many shots? Why am I using the Navy style guide instead of AP? Why do I insist on wearing high heels?
Baby, you can have my stilettos when you pry them off my cold, dead feet.
He's nice about it, though, and a very genial guy, and I think I am going to become a much more disciplined writer because of him. I'm glad.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
There's a new sheriff in town, and she says
"These days, hon, I have less time than you."
"We need to be in the car by 7:30. Not 7:34. If we get in the car at 7:34, I am late for work."
"Throwing a towel down on the spot where the cat peed doesn't clean it up. All it does is say, 'Mom, clean that up!'"
I have no idea if any of this is getting through to anyone, but at least I am saying it, as kindly and firmly as I can. To paraphrase Johnny Tremain, a woman can stand up.
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