Dude, seriously - for like, the last week or two my shoulders have felt stitched together with barbed wire. I need a backrub so badly I am almost to the point of being willing to pay for it?!?!
In other news, I am now a Gawker commenter. Which may well turn out to be bad for productivity :D *sheepish*
In other, other new I am currently embroiled in a battle of wits with another department at work. Even though I'm wittier I think I'm still losing. (Which may well be the source of the dire need for a backrub.)
And in other, other, other news I can't wait for the MIFF Volunteer Appreciation party @ MOCT on Thursday. The bastids still haven't posted the pics from the festival to their site. Which sucks because I have a bet running that I'm in at least 5.
Finally, any Milwaukee-area Geek readers (Are there any? Hmmm, I wonder...) Should check out barcampmilwaukee2 - looks pretty interesting and like it'll be a boatload o' fun. If you've the time, check it out.
Showing posts with label Professional Annoyances. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Professional Annoyances. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Sunday, March 4, 2007
...And We're Back
Oh... my... god. Where did February go? One day it was smack-dab in the middle and then suddenly I had to decide if I wanted to send my ex-boyfriend a birthday card on the 28th and now it's freakin' March! How the hell did that happen?
Not that I necessarily need to apologize to you guys - you all understand, right? I was crazy-busy with work and school, and totally exhausted in the time in between all that. Every time I sat down to write I felt like I had so much to tell you guys that I'd get overwhelmed and write nothing. I'd go read a book instead. Or watch Scrubs re-runs on the couch, splayed out like somebody dropped me from the ceiling.
This "working two jobs" stuff is tough. For one thing, the new job should so definately not be a part-time job. I feel like I have so much to do and practically no time to do it in. And getting the IT department to get me all set up has proven to be a part-time job in and of itself. It took me two weeks of constantly pestering them to get me a log-in code for my computer and email (they killed my student account and I was forced to use my gmail for professional purposes for like, a week - how professional is that?), and I still don't have my voicemail or access to the shared drive. Or speakers. Or a printer that works. Despite my best efforts.
All last week the office manager was on vacation and she submitted the requests for my speakers and for them to fix my network portal on the printer, try as I might I couldn't find the helpdesk tickets - so I wasn't able to do anything with those requests. But you have no idea how many emails I sent that started out, "I know you asked me to be patient, and I do very much appreciate the help that you've given me so far... but can you tell me the status of ticket #..." She's back on Monday so hopefully next week those two things can get resolved because HOLY CRAP do I hate working without music. The percussion of the ergo keyboard and mouse alone are a bit repetitive. Oh, dear... somewhere, somehow I've given Mike Patten an idea.
As for school... dear god do I hate intro classes. I'm doing well, so that's something. We recently had our first exams and in my morning class - 100% which is awesome - and for my afternoon class I got the highest score in the class, after he added back points because so many people had done so poorly, I had a 94%. Class average for the morning was an 88, I believe. It was a 75 for the afternoon. Lazy no-readin' or note-takin' young'uns. Anyway... the classtime is fairly worthless. Dude starts every class with "Current Events" wherein students are invited to bring in and summarize class-related news articles for discussion. These discussions usually last the whole first hour of the class and involve him (the "prof") finding some way to get up on his political soapbox and "tell us how it is" - which may work for the people in the class who just graduated from high school and don't really have any opinions about these things, but for me, I have opinions about these things and they quite differ from his. For the sake of the class and my sanity I've decided to keep my damn mouth shut but lemme tell ya, sometimes it ain't easy. Otherwise he talks about his personal life. I know it's a thing now for teachers to talk about themselves to eliminate the air of stodgy mystery that has traditionally surrounded profs... the austere orators of old... I think I miss that. I don't care how much he paid for his new Ikea lighting system, or what his father died from, or what his girlfriend does for a living, or how is daughter did in her gymnastics competition. TEACH THE DAMNED CLASS. We maybe get 25 minutes of actual instruction. I'm learning waaaay more from the book than I am from that dingleberry. He covers the same material a number of times... he doesn't remember whether he assigned us work. Seriously, what the fuck?!
And just to add insult to injury, I am now the class goody-two-shoes. We had an assignment last week and walking up to the classroom the students were congregated outside, the prof hadn't arrived yet... as I rounded the corner one of the students said, "there she is, I'll bet you did the assignment, didn't you?" Well, yes, of course I had I said. "Nobody else did." I sat in class while the people on either side of me marveled over the sheet of printed paper they'd asked to read, not only had I done it - but it was typed and well-organized. "I like how you did this." Said the girl that sits next to me - when she comes to class - in the open-toed shoes. (Wisconsin - not warm in February or the beginning of March. Weird-looking girl, Wisconsin. Wisconsin, weird-looking girl. Maybe you guys should have the little convo about marginally appropriate footwear usually involving toes. Here's a little guideline - if it's snowing, try boots.) The guy on the other side of me started copying stuff down - I gave him the stink-eye. He gave my paper back. Bastid. And stranger still, on Tuesday the prof said, "Who wants to volunteer for an assignment?" My hand shot up. He picked me. WTF?!? Who am I and what have I done with the little rebel who was absolutely convinced she could coast along on her smarts? When did I start taking school seriously? When did I turn into one of those girls?
So I stayed up late on Wednesday night, taking this little assignment possibly all-too seriously, doing research and re-reading the chapters we were (Probably he'll push it back AGAIN now keep reading to find out why - last time we had the test a week and a half after the original date because he kept pushing it back owing to the fact that a lot of people had missed the class before the test due to insanely cold temps outside... it was driving me crazy. I'd study, I'd come to class, no test. Next time. Repeat.) going to be tested on next week and then read one chapter ahead. Then I got up at 4-fucking-am to type up the assignment and work on my notes. It was a nasty morning. It had snowed early and then, for the last hour before I left it turned to sleety rain. The roads were decidedly not pleasant to drive but I got to school in enough time to print out my assignment and a bunch of articles in the lab (my printer's totally dead). I ran into a couple of people in class who said they had heard class was canceled today. I was actually disappointed. Not having seen for ourselves, one of the guys from my class and I walked up to the room. Sure enough, two pink cancellation sheets were affixed to the doorframe. I thought about going home and going back to bed, I thought about going and getting some coffee and reading for a while in the student center. But ultimately, I ended up going in to work 3 1/2 hours early. It turned out for the best, I managed to be there for a budget meeting. Though, I was so tired I felt like I was floating. Then my boss asked me to verify that she had allotted me enough in my line items. This is so strange guys, I feel like grown-up and yet... often, I feel like a fraud. Like they're gonna find out soon that I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. I've never written a justification before. With the old job's budgets I simply raised the budget by 2% every year. That's all. Modified last year's budget forms. This time, I had to actually get people on the phone get estimates (which, I have to say, is NOT easy around that joint), and admit that I had no plans for one of the line items yet.
And this waking up loooong before the sun stuff... it's become a thing. It's been going on for more than a month that I wake up between 4:30 - 5:30. I have not, in my adult life, been a morning person. I have NO idea why the sudden change. It even bleeds over into the weekend. On one hand it's nice, I have PLENTY of time to get ready and putz and read comics, the news, various blogs, AND get stuff like the dishes done in the morning. On the other, I normally hate morning. Hate waking up. Long to stay in bed. I'm not kidding, people... what happened to me?
And the last bit of news... I know some of you probably don't want to hear about this, especially in the form of a complaint but be advised I'm not complaining about my figure but some of the side-effects of having my figure... but... I've now lost so much weight that I hardly have any clothes that fit. I do have some, from like, 5 years ago that are nice enough for work if slightly out-dated. (I'm probably the only one who notices that. Flare-legs are always flattering.) Not only can I not afford to go buy a bunch of new clothes, but I'm afraid to buy a bunch of new clothes. What if this is a fluke? What if it doesn't stick? What if I get lazy again and stop working out and gain back 10-15lbs? It's crazy. I worked so hard. So very, very hard. I totally overhauled my diet, I severely limited my alcohol intake (from the girl who used to go through 2 bottles of wine a week on her own... yesterday I read about a surpressed NIH study that in the 70's uncovered the health benefits of red wine, at the end of the article the author says you should be drinking one-half to two glasses of alcohol a day. A DAY! Two glasses of alcohol a DAY?! I can't drink that much! I thought... WHO AM I?!?!), I have actually stuck to a workout schedule (mostly), I do research to make sure that I'm getting enough protein, enough vitamins and minerals and enough fat so that I can digest them. But now... now I've got my mother after me. "You've gotten too thin" she says. "We're worried you're not getting enough protein since you don't eat meat during the week" she says. "You're enjoying this too much" she says.
I'm enjoying this too much? What the hell does that mean, exactly? You're goddamn right I'm enjoying this! I worked VERY hard for this. (In November of last year I was comfortable in a 10, now I've dropped to a 4. I probably weigh in at around 110 but I'm only 5'2" and I wear a size 5 1/2 shoe - I was never meant to carry around much more weight than this, I don't think.) And you know, I did a lot of reading when I started this "journey". (I hate using that word, it's so cliche, but it fits.) And one of the things that I read was a blog post by Chris Pirillo, (Chris Pirillo, Chris Pirillo) a well-known blogger and technology writer. In it he makes a point of saying that you shouldn't necessarily listen to the people who love you when they decide "you've lost enough weight". I don't know if my parents are jealous of my success. It's possible. My mom has struggled with her weight all of her life. We both have this mental defect where even when we are quite in our targeted weight, or just slightly over, we feel like cows. Neither of us has (for the most part) ever been happy. I still look in the mirror and sometimes I'm almost positive that I'm not actually seeing the reality. I still look and see problem areas. But for the most part, now I'm happy. I need to work on toning up and that's coming along more slowly than the actual losing the weight part but it is happening. Point being, she's recently been struggling with losing weight and had some success but certainly not to my level. She's older (obviously, she's my mother... duh) so it's going slower and watching the way my parents eat I still see problems with serving size and pre-packaged foods. I guess it is possible she's jealous. And that it's that emotion that is driving her to harass me EVERY time she sees me. My Dad's taken to calling me "bony", and recently told me that I now have no ass. Which differs from when he told me I had a square ass in high school.*le sigh* I'm trying to shrug it off, I'm trying to assure her (repeatedly) that I AM actually eating and not skipping meals, I'm trying to let her know that I am doing research and working hard at making sure I'm getting proper nutrition. I'm not pasty-pale grey and malnourished-looking... I was able to donate blood last month, so I'm not anemic... what more does she want from me? Oh yes... to gain back at least 5lbs. *double le sigh*
One would think that now in my newer, sleeker form I'd be popular with the gentlemen, right? Uhm, not really. I guess it doesn't help that I've been a total homebody but when the thing that most of your friends are doing is drinking and that's one of the things you're trying to avoid, this is how it works out. I've been reading A LOT. (I have a blog entry brewing about The History of Love... I do, in fact, have to eat some of my words. Dammit. Just some though.) I've been watching a lot of movies, taking a lot of baths, making a lot of really nice dinners but I'm kind of missing out on the human interaction quotent. Most Friday and Saturday nights I spend at home, alone. (Which one would think would lead to more blog entries, but not so much.) So now I guess I need to develop my hobbies. Aside from reading and listening to NPR. And watching movies. Or walking to the theatre to watch movies. Or hanging out in the bookstore. I would love to sign up for ballet classes to help in my toning quest but I don't think I'm going to get a date there either. And then there's that whole funding issue popping up again. I've also been thinking of signing up for writing classes at indie bookstore in the bohemian neighborhood, but I think their schedule is about to have run its course. Mebbe I should do something sporty over the summer... volleyball league or soccer or something. But truth be told, I've never been the sporty sort. I dunno, I just got out of a relationship-thingie at the end of December and I'm working really hard at putting my life together which means I'm not really looking for a relationship since I know how I behave and that behavior is NOT conducive to what I'm trying to do. But a date once in a while would be nice. Kisses would be great. Makeouts are teh awesome and well... you can imagine what else I miss. I know I'll find my way through this. That things will keep getting better as long as I can hold it together and "fake it 'til I make it". But it's rough, and I'm a little lonely lately. I had some really close relationships at my last job and I don't think it's going to be the same at the new job. But maybe that's good.
Wow. That's quite the post. I think I've brought everybody up to date on what's going on in my universe. I'll try and make more time for this so I don't have to bombard y'all with ginormous posts. And stay tuned to see if Wikipedia is right and if you mention Chris Pirillo three times in your blog post, he'll come and comment! I hope it works! Bloody Mary never did. Puh.
Not that I necessarily need to apologize to you guys - you all understand, right? I was crazy-busy with work and school, and totally exhausted in the time in between all that. Every time I sat down to write I felt like I had so much to tell you guys that I'd get overwhelmed and write nothing. I'd go read a book instead. Or watch Scrubs re-runs on the couch, splayed out like somebody dropped me from the ceiling.
This "working two jobs" stuff is tough. For one thing, the new job should so definately not be a part-time job. I feel like I have so much to do and practically no time to do it in. And getting the IT department to get me all set up has proven to be a part-time job in and of itself. It took me two weeks of constantly pestering them to get me a log-in code for my computer and email (they killed my student account and I was forced to use my gmail for professional purposes for like, a week - how professional is that?), and I still don't have my voicemail or access to the shared drive. Or speakers. Or a printer that works. Despite my best efforts.
All last week the office manager was on vacation and she submitted the requests for my speakers and for them to fix my network portal on the printer, try as I might I couldn't find the helpdesk tickets - so I wasn't able to do anything with those requests. But you have no idea how many emails I sent that started out, "I know you asked me to be patient, and I do very much appreciate the help that you've given me so far... but can you tell me the status of ticket #..." She's back on Monday so hopefully next week those two things can get resolved because HOLY CRAP do I hate working without music. The percussion of the ergo keyboard and mouse alone are a bit repetitive. Oh, dear... somewhere, somehow I've given Mike Patten an idea.
As for school... dear god do I hate intro classes. I'm doing well, so that's something. We recently had our first exams and in my morning class - 100% which is awesome - and for my afternoon class I got the highest score in the class, after he added back points because so many people had done so poorly, I had a 94%. Class average for the morning was an 88, I believe. It was a 75 for the afternoon. Lazy no-readin' or note-takin' young'uns. Anyway... the classtime is fairly worthless. Dude starts every class with "Current Events" wherein students are invited to bring in and summarize class-related news articles for discussion. These discussions usually last the whole first hour of the class and involve him (the "prof") finding some way to get up on his political soapbox and "tell us how it is" - which may work for the people in the class who just graduated from high school and don't really have any opinions about these things, but for me, I have opinions about these things and they quite differ from his. For the sake of the class and my sanity I've decided to keep my damn mouth shut but lemme tell ya, sometimes it ain't easy. Otherwise he talks about his personal life. I know it's a thing now for teachers to talk about themselves to eliminate the air of stodgy mystery that has traditionally surrounded profs... the austere orators of old... I think I miss that. I don't care how much he paid for his new Ikea lighting system, or what his father died from, or what his girlfriend does for a living, or how is daughter did in her gymnastics competition. TEACH THE DAMNED CLASS. We maybe get 25 minutes of actual instruction. I'm learning waaaay more from the book than I am from that dingleberry. He covers the same material a number of times... he doesn't remember whether he assigned us work. Seriously, what the fuck?!
And just to add insult to injury, I am now the class goody-two-shoes. We had an assignment last week and walking up to the classroom the students were congregated outside, the prof hadn't arrived yet... as I rounded the corner one of the students said, "there she is, I'll bet you did the assignment, didn't you?" Well, yes, of course I had I said. "Nobody else did." I sat in class while the people on either side of me marveled over the sheet of printed paper they'd asked to read, not only had I done it - but it was typed and well-organized. "I like how you did this." Said the girl that sits next to me - when she comes to class - in the open-toed shoes. (Wisconsin - not warm in February or the beginning of March. Weird-looking girl, Wisconsin. Wisconsin, weird-looking girl. Maybe you guys should have the little convo about marginally appropriate footwear usually involving toes. Here's a little guideline - if it's snowing, try boots.) The guy on the other side of me started copying stuff down - I gave him the stink-eye. He gave my paper back. Bastid. And stranger still, on Tuesday the prof said, "Who wants to volunteer for an assignment?" My hand shot up. He picked me. WTF?!? Who am I and what have I done with the little rebel who was absolutely convinced she could coast along on her smarts? When did I start taking school seriously? When did I turn into one of those girls?
So I stayed up late on Wednesday night, taking this little assignment possibly all-too seriously, doing research and re-reading the chapters we were (Probably he'll push it back AGAIN now keep reading to find out why - last time we had the test a week and a half after the original date because he kept pushing it back owing to the fact that a lot of people had missed the class before the test due to insanely cold temps outside... it was driving me crazy. I'd study, I'd come to class, no test. Next time. Repeat.) going to be tested on next week and then read one chapter ahead. Then I got up at 4-fucking-am to type up the assignment and work on my notes. It was a nasty morning. It had snowed early and then, for the last hour before I left it turned to sleety rain. The roads were decidedly not pleasant to drive but I got to school in enough time to print out my assignment and a bunch of articles in the lab (my printer's totally dead). I ran into a couple of people in class who said they had heard class was canceled today. I was actually disappointed. Not having seen for ourselves, one of the guys from my class and I walked up to the room. Sure enough, two pink cancellation sheets were affixed to the doorframe. I thought about going home and going back to bed, I thought about going and getting some coffee and reading for a while in the student center. But ultimately, I ended up going in to work 3 1/2 hours early. It turned out for the best, I managed to be there for a budget meeting. Though, I was so tired I felt like I was floating. Then my boss asked me to verify that she had allotted me enough in my line items. This is so strange guys, I feel like grown-up and yet... often, I feel like a fraud. Like they're gonna find out soon that I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. I've never written a justification before. With the old job's budgets I simply raised the budget by 2% every year. That's all. Modified last year's budget forms. This time, I had to actually get people on the phone get estimates (which, I have to say, is NOT easy around that joint), and admit that I had no plans for one of the line items yet.
And this waking up loooong before the sun stuff... it's become a thing. It's been going on for more than a month that I wake up between 4:30 - 5:30. I have not, in my adult life, been a morning person. I have NO idea why the sudden change. It even bleeds over into the weekend. On one hand it's nice, I have PLENTY of time to get ready and putz and read comics, the news, various blogs, AND get stuff like the dishes done in the morning. On the other, I normally hate morning. Hate waking up. Long to stay in bed. I'm not kidding, people... what happened to me?
And the last bit of news... I know some of you probably don't want to hear about this, especially in the form of a complaint but be advised I'm not complaining about my figure but some of the side-effects of having my figure... but... I've now lost so much weight that I hardly have any clothes that fit. I do have some, from like, 5 years ago that are nice enough for work if slightly out-dated. (I'm probably the only one who notices that. Flare-legs are always flattering.) Not only can I not afford to go buy a bunch of new clothes, but I'm afraid to buy a bunch of new clothes. What if this is a fluke? What if it doesn't stick? What if I get lazy again and stop working out and gain back 10-15lbs? It's crazy. I worked so hard. So very, very hard. I totally overhauled my diet, I severely limited my alcohol intake (from the girl who used to go through 2 bottles of wine a week on her own... yesterday I read about a surpressed NIH study that in the 70's uncovered the health benefits of red wine, at the end of the article the author says you should be drinking one-half to two glasses of alcohol a day. A DAY! Two glasses of alcohol a DAY?! I can't drink that much! I thought... WHO AM I?!?!), I have actually stuck to a workout schedule (mostly), I do research to make sure that I'm getting enough protein, enough vitamins and minerals and enough fat so that I can digest them. But now... now I've got my mother after me. "You've gotten too thin" she says. "We're worried you're not getting enough protein since you don't eat meat during the week" she says. "You're enjoying this too much" she says.
I'm enjoying this too much? What the hell does that mean, exactly? You're goddamn right I'm enjoying this! I worked VERY hard for this. (In November of last year I was comfortable in a 10, now I've dropped to a 4. I probably weigh in at around 110 but I'm only 5'2" and I wear a size 5 1/2 shoe - I was never meant to carry around much more weight than this, I don't think.) And you know, I did a lot of reading when I started this "journey". (I hate using that word, it's so cliche, but it fits.) And one of the things that I read was a blog post by Chris Pirillo, (Chris Pirillo, Chris Pirillo) a well-known blogger and technology writer. In it he makes a point of saying that you shouldn't necessarily listen to the people who love you when they decide "you've lost enough weight". I don't know if my parents are jealous of my success. It's possible. My mom has struggled with her weight all of her life. We both have this mental defect where even when we are quite in our targeted weight, or just slightly over, we feel like cows. Neither of us has (for the most part) ever been happy. I still look in the mirror and sometimes I'm almost positive that I'm not actually seeing the reality. I still look and see problem areas. But for the most part, now I'm happy. I need to work on toning up and that's coming along more slowly than the actual losing the weight part but it is happening. Point being, she's recently been struggling with losing weight and had some success but certainly not to my level. She's older (obviously, she's my mother... duh) so it's going slower and watching the way my parents eat I still see problems with serving size and pre-packaged foods. I guess it is possible she's jealous. And that it's that emotion that is driving her to harass me EVERY time she sees me. My Dad's taken to calling me "bony", and recently told me that I now have no ass. Which differs from when he told me I had a square ass in high school.*le sigh* I'm trying to shrug it off, I'm trying to assure her (repeatedly) that I AM actually eating and not skipping meals, I'm trying to let her know that I am doing research and working hard at making sure I'm getting proper nutrition. I'm not pasty-pale grey and malnourished-looking... I was able to donate blood last month, so I'm not anemic... what more does she want from me? Oh yes... to gain back at least 5lbs. *double le sigh*
One would think that now in my newer, sleeker form I'd be popular with the gentlemen, right? Uhm, not really. I guess it doesn't help that I've been a total homebody but when the thing that most of your friends are doing is drinking and that's one of the things you're trying to avoid, this is how it works out. I've been reading A LOT. (I have a blog entry brewing about The History of Love... I do, in fact, have to eat some of my words. Dammit. Just some though.) I've been watching a lot of movies, taking a lot of baths, making a lot of really nice dinners but I'm kind of missing out on the human interaction quotent. Most Friday and Saturday nights I spend at home, alone. (Which one would think would lead to more blog entries, but not so much.) So now I guess I need to develop my hobbies. Aside from reading and listening to NPR. And watching movies. Or walking to the theatre to watch movies. Or hanging out in the bookstore. I would love to sign up for ballet classes to help in my toning quest but I don't think I'm going to get a date there either. And then there's that whole funding issue popping up again. I've also been thinking of signing up for writing classes at indie bookstore in the bohemian neighborhood, but I think their schedule is about to have run its course. Mebbe I should do something sporty over the summer... volleyball league or soccer or something. But truth be told, I've never been the sporty sort. I dunno, I just got out of a relationship-thingie at the end of December and I'm working really hard at putting my life together which means I'm not really looking for a relationship since I know how I behave and that behavior is NOT conducive to what I'm trying to do. But a date once in a while would be nice. Kisses would be great. Makeouts are teh awesome and well... you can imagine what else I miss. I know I'll find my way through this. That things will keep getting better as long as I can hold it together and "fake it 'til I make it". But it's rough, and I'm a little lonely lately. I had some really close relationships at my last job and I don't think it's going to be the same at the new job. But maybe that's good.
Wow. That's quite the post. I think I've brought everybody up to date on what's going on in my universe. I'll try and make more time for this so I don't have to bombard y'all with ginormous posts. And stay tuned to see if Wikipedia is right and if you mention Chris Pirillo three times in your blog post, he'll come and comment! I hope it works! Bloody Mary never did. Puh.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Drama Queen?
The last couple of weeks have been tough. The holidays were equal parts wonderful and difficult. I've heard it said that we pay in equal measure for each moment of joy we experience with a moment of suffering and I've definately felt that to be true recently. It feels like the scales have been tipped in favor of suffering, but I'm trying to be Danish about it.
Recently, my employer announced that there would be cutbacks. They told us that they were planning to dissolve our office this month, that a new shrunken pool of positions would be created and that they would open them internally for us to apply for (and pretty much everyone else - with "some preference" for us) and that they would like to have everyone in place by May and that we'd be given our official walking papers then. And anyone who chose not to apply for one of these new positions would be done at the end of June. They would be given a severance package and sent on their way.
The instant they announced this, I put my resume out. I worked on cover letters, and started hunting. This job was always intended to be a sort of layover. A resume-building experience and it has been. But I've stayed too long as it stands working for an employer I don't believe in. So when a friend of mine gave me a posting for a job at a great organization, I was psyched. I put in my application and resume and waited. And waited. And waited. I heard nothing. Just when I had written them off, I got a call for an interview. I was thrilled.
I researched the company, I read interview tips, I talked with my bosses. (Who backed me 100% in my search for a new job. They've always known that I was better than my position.) I walked into that interview totally prepared and looked fantastic. I interviewed fairly well, I think. To be honest, I wasn't really sure. I flubbed a story about a challenge I overcame, I was obviously nervous. But I'm my own worst critic. Whatever, right? The nice part was that one of the panel members interviewing told me that I had done very well as I was shaking hands and walking out the door. Being a pessimist, I assumed she said that to all the candidates. Hey, there are people out there like that who have some sick compulsion to make everybody feel better. I've met them.
In this interview they talked little about the position itself. They talked mostly about their office, went through the obligatory behavioral questions. (The idea being that you have a better idea about someone's future if you understand their past and current habits.) Which, I must say I infinately prefer to the old interviews where they asked you that dreaded question. That question to which there is no good answer save tired cliche. The question that you could never be truly honest about. "What is your greatest weakness?" Now, once upon a time the fashionable answer was, "I'm a perfectionist." Or, "I'm too hard on myself." When the honest truth is probably something like, "I'm 15 minutes late to work everyday, I play online when I'm bored, and I sneak an extra cigarette in the last half hour of the day to make the time pass more quickly." Or, "I release SBD's into the wild like they were going out of style." Or, "Seriously, I'm just a complete mess. I cry at the drop of a hat."
A week later I get a call for a second interview. I blow off an all-staff meeting announcing all the changes in our offices and others - which I felt really good about. While everybody else was enduring the painful news I was out getting a new job. Good for me.
I looked even better for this interview. Seriously, it was 60° outside the last time I condescended to wear stockings and a skirt. And it's cold in this city in January. But I threw on my best cashmere coat and shiny little flats and walked in that office looking kick-ass. It was the best second interview of my life. I sat down with the Director of the office and she told me right off the bat that mine was the only name the panel put forward for a second interview. That I had come highly recommended and that meeting me, she was inclined to agree. (Kinda makes you wonder what a sorry bunch the other applicants were, doesn't it?) She told me all about the position, what would be expected of me, what I could expect from them. Then... she mentioned the pay.
Now, I had walked into the interview being rather curious about the P/T LTE tags on the posting. I knew P/T was Part-Time and that LTE was Limited Term Employment. How part-time? How limited was this term of employment going to be? So I asked about it. I was given a reasonable number of hours per week, sometimes more when an event or project that I was working on required it. And that the LTE tag was kind of meaningless at that office because everybody was technically limited term and served at the "CEO"'s whim. From budget year to budget year. I left feeling pretty good.
When I walked into the second interview, the hours changed. They were less than originally thought - but when she mentioned the pay, everything was okay again. I did the math when I got home and I was still doing just fine. So, I walked out with a new job. Thrilled. Pleased. Proud. They said the HR Department would contact me with a formal offer and I was on my way to meet up with my considerably less than thrilled co-workers for a "Pink Slip" party.
So I waited. Friday went by without word. Monday like Friday before and on in this fashion until finally on Thursday (Putting us at a full 5 business days) I had gone neurotic and called. The HR Laision apologized, said that they were just overwhelmed in his office and that he'd either get back to me by the end of the morning or the early afternoon. That I should have my offer on paper today or tomorrow.
The morning passed and nothing. I had meetings but I was still on pins and needles waiting. I'd been crazy for days. Word had spread like wildfire in my office (trust in the office gossip mill and you will never go wrong) so much so that the day before I called I had no less than 9, yes - I counted, 9 people asked me if I had gotten my formal offer yet. Finally in the afternoon the HR rep calls me back and gives me some unsettling news. He said that the Director should never have mentioned pay. That she had overstepped her boundaries and that pay was determined by the HR Department people and they were having to take another look at my experience and qualifications. That without being able to mention specifc figures, given her word, I would have been paid more than a position above me and that person had already accepted their offer. They either had to find a way to justify that, or they were going to have to offer me less. Needless to say, I was not thrilled.
I was, in fact, completely furious. I raged to my friend who had given me the post, the friend who had worked there forever, "THIS IS BAIT AND SWITCH!" I said. First the hours, now the pay? How can this many people have their heads up their asses? How can this many people be so woefully misinformed? How can they do this? This is bordering on unethical! I raged. I thought about it all night. Woke up at 2:30 in the morning still angry. But by morning, I was just completely depressed. Terribly disillusioned. I had been so excited, so proud. I was getting out of my hell-hole. I was moving on to a great opportunity. This position, I was told in the second interview, had the possibility to move to a full-time salaried position and the salary mentioned was FAT. Now, it wasn't for certain... but she was pretty sure. Again, I had been thrilled. Silly me. Really, how silly I felt. If it sounds too good to be true... what a fool.
So, I got to work in a state. Where I had been holding my head up high as walked the halls late last week and early this week, strutting. I was limp as a wet noodle today. Near tears, wondering just how low this new lower pay was going to be.
I had changed my Gmail tagline to "Bait and Switch" and my sister IMed me over gmail. (We call it GIMPing. Gmail Instant Messenger Pimping. I love my sister... mostly.) I told her what was going on. How upset I was, how angry. She commiserated for about two very short sentences and then told me to "Quit being a drama queen, the woman just made a mistake." I told her I was surprised she would say something like that. That I expected sympathy. She pointed me to three words. I said, well it was the drama queen thing that I took exception to. She said she thought she was giving me a pep talk. I said, well, I can't hear you and I read that as chiding. She basically said that she could hear what I sounded like and she wasn't dealing with it and signed out. That sent me right over the edge. I started tearing up. I wrote her an email telling her everything that was going on why I felt like that was a hurtful thing to say and she responded with defensiveness, reproach, by repeating her indictment of me as a drama queen (which I might be but you don't want to hear that when you're upset), and indignity. I was so angry I sobbed. (If this sounds like a bunch of girlish idiocy to you ((it is)), you don't have a sister. "And she was like, and I was like, OMG!" is kinda par for the course.)
I waited until afternoon to do anything with the offer because I think I just totally had a meltdown that morning. All the poison in our office, all the fear in my co-workers eyes, some personal things I have going on, the stress of this whole new job snafoo just got to me. I'm not sure I'm sorry about what happened with my sister but by the time lunch was over I had pulled it together enough to send an email to the Director and the HR Liasion asking about the future of the position (I'd kinda like her to put something in writing about that this time, ya know?), and called the HR guy to put in a counter-offer. We had discussed the possibility of some wiggle room with the pay and I wanted to see if that would pan out. I got no response from either but hey, it was Friday afternoon. My office looks like a ghost-town by 3:00 and I didn't get a chance to put out that stuff until after 3:00. So, it's a wait and see.
But honestly, I really have to wonder what's going on there. How in god's name do you send a panel in to an interview without them knowing, unquestioningly, what the hours are? How, do you as a director, walk into an interview not knowing what you can and cannot mention? And how do you, as an HR Liasion make it so that I can deduce within a few dollars, what the other person they've hired is making? When I get their counter-offer, should it be more, I'll have an even better idea. A little questionable in my mind. But the job still sounds like a great opportunity but I definately keenly feel that I'm taking a chance. If I fall... there are always other jobs out there. And school is looking more and more attractive all the time. But even school, I don't think... you know, degree or no degree, won't protect me from this kind of stuff. It's just disheartening.
Recently, my employer announced that there would be cutbacks. They told us that they were planning to dissolve our office this month, that a new shrunken pool of positions would be created and that they would open them internally for us to apply for (and pretty much everyone else - with "some preference" for us) and that they would like to have everyone in place by May and that we'd be given our official walking papers then. And anyone who chose not to apply for one of these new positions would be done at the end of June. They would be given a severance package and sent on their way.
The instant they announced this, I put my resume out. I worked on cover letters, and started hunting. This job was always intended to be a sort of layover. A resume-building experience and it has been. But I've stayed too long as it stands working for an employer I don't believe in. So when a friend of mine gave me a posting for a job at a great organization, I was psyched. I put in my application and resume and waited. And waited. And waited. I heard nothing. Just when I had written them off, I got a call for an interview. I was thrilled.
I researched the company, I read interview tips, I talked with my bosses. (Who backed me 100% in my search for a new job. They've always known that I was better than my position.) I walked into that interview totally prepared and looked fantastic. I interviewed fairly well, I think. To be honest, I wasn't really sure. I flubbed a story about a challenge I overcame, I was obviously nervous. But I'm my own worst critic. Whatever, right? The nice part was that one of the panel members interviewing told me that I had done very well as I was shaking hands and walking out the door. Being a pessimist, I assumed she said that to all the candidates. Hey, there are people out there like that who have some sick compulsion to make everybody feel better. I've met them.
In this interview they talked little about the position itself. They talked mostly about their office, went through the obligatory behavioral questions. (The idea being that you have a better idea about someone's future if you understand their past and current habits.) Which, I must say I infinately prefer to the old interviews where they asked you that dreaded question. That question to which there is no good answer save tired cliche. The question that you could never be truly honest about. "What is your greatest weakness?" Now, once upon a time the fashionable answer was, "I'm a perfectionist." Or, "I'm too hard on myself." When the honest truth is probably something like, "I'm 15 minutes late to work everyday, I play online when I'm bored, and I sneak an extra cigarette in the last half hour of the day to make the time pass more quickly." Or, "I release SBD's into the wild like they were going out of style." Or, "Seriously, I'm just a complete mess. I cry at the drop of a hat."
A week later I get a call for a second interview. I blow off an all-staff meeting announcing all the changes in our offices and others - which I felt really good about. While everybody else was enduring the painful news I was out getting a new job. Good for me.
I looked even better for this interview. Seriously, it was 60° outside the last time I condescended to wear stockings and a skirt. And it's cold in this city in January. But I threw on my best cashmere coat and shiny little flats and walked in that office looking kick-ass. It was the best second interview of my life. I sat down with the Director of the office and she told me right off the bat that mine was the only name the panel put forward for a second interview. That I had come highly recommended and that meeting me, she was inclined to agree. (Kinda makes you wonder what a sorry bunch the other applicants were, doesn't it?) She told me all about the position, what would be expected of me, what I could expect from them. Then... she mentioned the pay.
Now, I had walked into the interview being rather curious about the P/T LTE tags on the posting. I knew P/T was Part-Time and that LTE was Limited Term Employment. How part-time? How limited was this term of employment going to be? So I asked about it. I was given a reasonable number of hours per week, sometimes more when an event or project that I was working on required it. And that the LTE tag was kind of meaningless at that office because everybody was technically limited term and served at the "CEO"'s whim. From budget year to budget year. I left feeling pretty good.
When I walked into the second interview, the hours changed. They were less than originally thought - but when she mentioned the pay, everything was okay again. I did the math when I got home and I was still doing just fine. So, I walked out with a new job. Thrilled. Pleased. Proud. They said the HR Department would contact me with a formal offer and I was on my way to meet up with my considerably less than thrilled co-workers for a "Pink Slip" party.
So I waited. Friday went by without word. Monday like Friday before and on in this fashion until finally on Thursday (Putting us at a full 5 business days) I had gone neurotic and called. The HR Laision apologized, said that they were just overwhelmed in his office and that he'd either get back to me by the end of the morning or the early afternoon. That I should have my offer on paper today or tomorrow.
The morning passed and nothing. I had meetings but I was still on pins and needles waiting. I'd been crazy for days. Word had spread like wildfire in my office (trust in the office gossip mill and you will never go wrong) so much so that the day before I called I had no less than 9, yes - I counted, 9 people asked me if I had gotten my formal offer yet. Finally in the afternoon the HR rep calls me back and gives me some unsettling news. He said that the Director should never have mentioned pay. That she had overstepped her boundaries and that pay was determined by the HR Department people and they were having to take another look at my experience and qualifications. That without being able to mention specifc figures, given her word, I would have been paid more than a position above me and that person had already accepted their offer. They either had to find a way to justify that, or they were going to have to offer me less. Needless to say, I was not thrilled.
I was, in fact, completely furious. I raged to my friend who had given me the post, the friend who had worked there forever, "THIS IS BAIT AND SWITCH!" I said. First the hours, now the pay? How can this many people have their heads up their asses? How can this many people be so woefully misinformed? How can they do this? This is bordering on unethical! I raged. I thought about it all night. Woke up at 2:30 in the morning still angry. But by morning, I was just completely depressed. Terribly disillusioned. I had been so excited, so proud. I was getting out of my hell-hole. I was moving on to a great opportunity. This position, I was told in the second interview, had the possibility to move to a full-time salaried position and the salary mentioned was FAT. Now, it wasn't for certain... but she was pretty sure. Again, I had been thrilled. Silly me. Really, how silly I felt. If it sounds too good to be true... what a fool.
So, I got to work in a state. Where I had been holding my head up high as walked the halls late last week and early this week, strutting. I was limp as a wet noodle today. Near tears, wondering just how low this new lower pay was going to be.
I had changed my Gmail tagline to "Bait and Switch" and my sister IMed me over gmail. (We call it GIMPing. Gmail Instant Messenger Pimping. I love my sister... mostly.) I told her what was going on. How upset I was, how angry. She commiserated for about two very short sentences and then told me to "Quit being a drama queen, the woman just made a mistake." I told her I was surprised she would say something like that. That I expected sympathy. She pointed me to three words. I said, well it was the drama queen thing that I took exception to. She said she thought she was giving me a pep talk. I said, well, I can't hear you and I read that as chiding. She basically said that she could hear what I sounded like and she wasn't dealing with it and signed out. That sent me right over the edge. I started tearing up. I wrote her an email telling her everything that was going on why I felt like that was a hurtful thing to say and she responded with defensiveness, reproach, by repeating her indictment of me as a drama queen (which I might be but you don't want to hear that when you're upset), and indignity. I was so angry I sobbed. (If this sounds like a bunch of girlish idiocy to you ((it is)), you don't have a sister. "And she was like, and I was like, OMG!" is kinda par for the course.)
I waited until afternoon to do anything with the offer because I think I just totally had a meltdown that morning. All the poison in our office, all the fear in my co-workers eyes, some personal things I have going on, the stress of this whole new job snafoo just got to me. I'm not sure I'm sorry about what happened with my sister but by the time lunch was over I had pulled it together enough to send an email to the Director and the HR Liasion asking about the future of the position (I'd kinda like her to put something in writing about that this time, ya know?), and called the HR guy to put in a counter-offer. We had discussed the possibility of some wiggle room with the pay and I wanted to see if that would pan out. I got no response from either but hey, it was Friday afternoon. My office looks like a ghost-town by 3:00 and I didn't get a chance to put out that stuff until after 3:00. So, it's a wait and see.
But honestly, I really have to wonder what's going on there. How in god's name do you send a panel in to an interview without them knowing, unquestioningly, what the hours are? How, do you as a director, walk into an interview not knowing what you can and cannot mention? And how do you, as an HR Liasion make it so that I can deduce within a few dollars, what the other person they've hired is making? When I get their counter-offer, should it be more, I'll have an even better idea. A little questionable in my mind. But the job still sounds like a great opportunity but I definately keenly feel that I'm taking a chance. If I fall... there are always other jobs out there. And school is looking more and more attractive all the time. But even school, I don't think... you know, degree or no degree, won't protect me from this kind of stuff. It's just disheartening.
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