And I wonder how people picture me when they're on conference call with me...
Showing posts with label jobbing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jobbing. Show all posts
Sometimes...
Sometimes this is what I look like when I'm at work.
And I wonder how people picture me when they're on conference call with me...
And I wonder how people picture me when they're on conference call with me...
The Office
Did I ever mention that Murray and I just got a new office? Right now, it's nothing to speak of. Just a place where I can work uninterrupted. In fact, I bring my iMac back and forth with me. Anyway. The heating doesn't work, and I'm still waiting for the space heater to kick in. For some reason it takes, like 20 minutes to boot up. Don't ask me why, only that it's from the '50s.
A Heart Breaking Work of Staggering Genius...
... is what I would have titled my book but some shmo already took it. Tonight, I printed a draft of my book at Kinkos. To hold this manuscript in my hands... well... it's topped by only two things in my life: the moment I met Murray, and the moment I held Gulliver for the first time.
Basically Murray and I have been in crisis mode since October. And we're technically still in crisis mode (I have a couple projects I'll need to address but I'll have them done by the beginning of next week) but the end is really, really, really in sight.
And so I present to you a video of me presenting my book to you. I couldn't narrate the video for some reason, so I had to do it all silent. But I'm showing you my disheveled, unshowered hair, my no-makeupness, the bags under my eyes, and my manuscript. My precious, precious manuscript!
UPDATE: Here I am, four hours after writing this post, at 1:00 a.m., after having done an edit on my heartbreaking work of staggering genius. I think that my video says it all. (Note: I use paperclips to mark the pages that have edits.) Please note the more disheveled hair, the deeper bags under my eyes, and the unexplainable red splotch on my forehead. Also, notice my general will not to live. Also notice that the shoulder angels are back, both of whom are now telling me to go to bed. (Realistically, I can breeze through implementing all of these edits in less than 2 hours. It's not the end of the world.)
Basically Murray and I have been in crisis mode since October. And we're technically still in crisis mode (I have a couple projects I'll need to address but I'll have them done by the beginning of next week) but the end is really, really, really in sight.
And so I present to you a video of me presenting my book to you. I couldn't narrate the video for some reason, so I had to do it all silent. But I'm showing you my disheveled, unshowered hair, my no-makeupness, the bags under my eyes, and my manuscript. My precious, precious manuscript!
UPDATE: Here I am, four hours after writing this post, at 1:00 a.m., after having done an edit on my heartbreaking work of staggering genius. I think that my video says it all. (Note: I use paperclips to mark the pages that have edits.) Please note the more disheveled hair, the deeper bags under my eyes, and the unexplainable red splotch on my forehead. Also, notice my general will not to live. Also notice that the shoulder angels are back, both of whom are now telling me to go to bed. (Realistically, I can breeze through implementing all of these edits in less than 2 hours. It's not the end of the world.)
Booyah!
Okay. So I know that typically I don't write about specific work projects on this blog, because I try to keep as anonymous as possible. And I know I don't do a great job of being very anonymous. So this time, without actually saying my name, I'll at least let you know that I've just finished a project that I am very excited about. I was contacted back in September about doing illustrations for a children's card game. I jumped at the opportunity! I've never done anything like this before, and I felt that in addition to being incredibly fun, it would also be a great way to diversify my portfolio. So without further ado, here are some images from Booyah! by Olivia.
The card game is fun and family friendly. Anyone over 5 can grasp the concept and play. And since there's no strategy involved (it's just luck) then kids and adults can play together and all have fun!
If you're looking for a unique stocking stuffer this year, this game is a good find! Plus, a dollar from each purchase is donated to charity. So, you know, you can feel extra good about buying this game: 1) you're supporting me and 2) you're supporting charity and 3) you're buying a game that a little girl invented and she's going to love you forever for buying a copy. Go you!!
Pre-order yours today at booyahbyolivia.com! They should be available by Thanksgiving!
Antepenultimate Day
Today is Murray's antepenultimate day of work. I know. Shocking. I haven't blogged about any of this. We have known for a while that Murray would be losing his job, and about a month ago, we decided that he'd be finished by the end of this month. And about a couple weeks ago, Murray decided that would be the 25th, and earlier this week, he decided that it would be the 28th. So. There it is. After Monday, Murray will be unemployed.
Which is pretty much awesome.
Why? Well, because it means I get to be his boss! Thankfully, we have procrastinated filing the papers that we need to to make us a legitimate business. This has allowed us time for extra thought, and my brother Captain Fabuloso suggested that it actually makes sense for me to own 52% of the company and Murray to own 48%. He still would have an equal say in everything, BUT as a woman-owned business, we'd be entitled to more benefits.
In all seriousness, we are actually excited at the idea that Murray and I can work together full time on our business. This was actually our 10-year plan and it has now been bumped up to our immediate plan. We have so much to offer and we already know that we work great together. Here are the things we're looking forward to:
Saving money because we'll both be eating at home every day for lunch.
Having Murray home with Gulliver. What a treat for both of them! This also frees me up to go run errands and have business meetings, etc. during the day. We can switch off on Gulliver-watching duties depending on what either of us has going on at any given time.
Both being able to do what we love for a living and be our own bosses and decide for ourselves what we'd like to do. There is a lot of freedom in that!
Growing and exploring new options and finding new successes.
And of course we're not naively excited about this opportunity without being scared out of our wits of what it also could mean. Here are some things we worry about:
Not a steady source of income. Good months and bad months---can we pay the mortgage every month?
Healthcare and children. Did you know that individual plans don't cover maternity? There is a separate $6500 deductible for maternity and childbirth. So basically you pay for the whole thing unless something goes wrong. And of course you can work the system with supplemental insurance, but still. The whole insurance thing is a beast. (And Obama is our only hope!) Also, our original plan was for me to get pregnant in September. Now we have to wait until we find the right insurance to get pregnant.
Being in charge of paying taxes instead of having them conveniently come out of the paycheck.
I'm sure there are many other perks and a few other worries that aren't coming to mind right now. In any event, we're more excited than we are nervous. And to leave you on a high note......
Which is pretty much awesome.
Why? Well, because it means I get to be his boss! Thankfully, we have procrastinated filing the papers that we need to to make us a legitimate business. This has allowed us time for extra thought, and my brother Captain Fabuloso suggested that it actually makes sense for me to own 52% of the company and Murray to own 48%. He still would have an equal say in everything, BUT as a woman-owned business, we'd be entitled to more benefits.
In all seriousness, we are actually excited at the idea that Murray and I can work together full time on our business. This was actually our 10-year plan and it has now been bumped up to our immediate plan. We have so much to offer and we already know that we work great together. Here are the things we're looking forward to:
Saving money because we'll both be eating at home every day for lunch.
Having Murray home with Gulliver. What a treat for both of them! This also frees me up to go run errands and have business meetings, etc. during the day. We can switch off on Gulliver-watching duties depending on what either of us has going on at any given time.
Both being able to do what we love for a living and be our own bosses and decide for ourselves what we'd like to do. There is a lot of freedom in that!
Growing and exploring new options and finding new successes.
And of course we're not naively excited about this opportunity without being scared out of our wits of what it also could mean. Here are some things we worry about:
Not a steady source of income. Good months and bad months---can we pay the mortgage every month?
Healthcare and children. Did you know that individual plans don't cover maternity? There is a separate $6500 deductible for maternity and childbirth. So basically you pay for the whole thing unless something goes wrong. And of course you can work the system with supplemental insurance, but still. The whole insurance thing is a beast. (And Obama is our only hope!) Also, our original plan was for me to get pregnant in September. Now we have to wait until we find the right insurance to get pregnant.
Being in charge of paying taxes instead of having them conveniently come out of the paycheck.
I'm sure there are many other perks and a few other worries that aren't coming to mind right now. In any event, we're more excited than we are nervous. And to leave you on a high note......
Please Ignore the Electrical Cord
And please don't call child services.
I am asbolutely swamped. Like I'm going to go insane swamped. Like I'd better get a pile of money when this is over to replace all the happy summer memories I could have been creating with my husband and first born swamped.
So today, poor Gulliver has been having a hard time because he's teething. Also, he's learning that when I park myself in front of the computer, that means that my focus is no longer on him, and he starts to cry. Add to that the difficulty of the fact that everything on my list right now has to be done in the unbabyproofable office. So we've been having a tough day. I'm going to be honest with you. I am in my underwear and I have sweet potato baby food ALL OVER MY BODY but I can't stop to shower.
So after lunch (when I got all that stuff all over my body---also, I sat Gulliver on the kitchen counter to feed him... child services?) we came back upstairs and I put Mr. I Refuse To Nap today in his room to play.
By the way, we never childproofed the nursery. Of all the rooms in the house that should be childproof, that's the one. But we made it when he was in utero, so what did we know about childproofing.
When the noises stopped coming from the other room, I went in to inspect and here's what I found.
Dear Gulliver,
I promise you a really nice vacation next month and I promise you I will better organize my time so that we can both slow down a little. And I'm sorry I let you play with the electrical cord.
I am asbolutely swamped. Like I'm going to go insane swamped. Like I'd better get a pile of money when this is over to replace all the happy summer memories I could have been creating with my husband and first born swamped.
So today, poor Gulliver has been having a hard time because he's teething. Also, he's learning that when I park myself in front of the computer, that means that my focus is no longer on him, and he starts to cry. Add to that the difficulty of the fact that everything on my list right now has to be done in the unbabyproofable office. So we've been having a tough day. I'm going to be honest with you. I am in my underwear and I have sweet potato baby food ALL OVER MY BODY but I can't stop to shower.
So after lunch (when I got all that stuff all over my body---also, I sat Gulliver on the kitchen counter to feed him... child services?) we came back upstairs and I put Mr. I Refuse To Nap today in his room to play.
By the way, we never childproofed the nursery. Of all the rooms in the house that should be childproof, that's the one. But we made it when he was in utero, so what did we know about childproofing.
When the noises stopped coming from the other room, I went in to inspect and here's what I found.
Dear Gulliver,
I promise you a really nice vacation next month and I promise you I will better organize my time so that we can both slow down a little. And I'm sorry I let you play with the electrical cord.
A heart breaking work of lots of work.
I am very happy to announce that after a week of almost non-stop work, Murray and I have our own websites that show our portfolios. Yay! This effort has been to the sacrifice of sleep, sanity, every single family initiative, and general home cleanliness. At the end of the week, I'm left with a kick-A portfolio and a house that is a wreck. (Murray did manage to vacuum the main floor on Saturday, and I was supposed to do some chores too but I opted to take a nap. A big, long nap.)
To link to our portfolios would destroy our anonymity, so I'll just tell you that if you know us, you can find our portfolios at our full names dot com. That is, my first name and my last name dot com, and murray's first name and last name dot com. (Two separate sites.) Check us out!
But we're not the only ones who've been busy this week! This week Gulliver decided to learn to roll over. He can successfully roll from back to front and from front to back. Now more than ever it is important to vacuum our floors! Gulliver also is working hard at sitting by himself. In this picture of him, you see him leaning forward, exhausted by his previous (and more successful) efforts.
To link to our portfolios would destroy our anonymity, so I'll just tell you that if you know us, you can find our portfolios at our full names dot com. That is, my first name and my last name dot com, and murray's first name and last name dot com. (Two separate sites.) Check us out!
But we're not the only ones who've been busy this week! This week Gulliver decided to learn to roll over. He can successfully roll from back to front and from front to back. Now more than ever it is important to vacuum our floors! Gulliver also is working hard at sitting by himself. In this picture of him, you see him leaning forward, exhausted by his previous (and more successful) efforts.
Interruptions
It all started with a text message.
The Boy: Showered, teeth brushed, hair done, and dressed?
Cicada: Showered (last night), teeth brushed, hair in bandanna, sweat pants. Life is good.
As I was musing upon the fact that I am so much more productive now that I have basically no interruptions during my workday, the doorbell rang. I am always fascinated when I'm home and the doorbell rings. It's like my house has this secret life that I've never known about where people come over during the day, ring my doorbell, and don't leave a note. I had to know who was there.
I opened the door, and there stood The Boy (who lives in Salt Lake, and I live in Springville, so this wasn't quite expected). Pretty much the first thing he said was that we clearly don't like to deal with wasps nests, and pointed out the two obvious ones above our door.
I came outside to see everything more clearly and said, "Those are unoccupied, but this one has some activity," and I pointed to the wasp's nest near an electrical outlet. The Boy said, "Well that's easy to take care of" and promptly kicked the plastic covering on the electrical outlet.
I screamed.
And then I scurried to the door.
And I tried to open it.
But I failed.
Because I had locked myself out.
[I got into the habit of locking my door at all times in college, and now I can't open my door without immediately locking it again unconsciously.]
So there I was, locked outside with my little brother. At least I was showered and my teeth were brushed. But I was wearing a bandanna, sweatpants, and no shoes.
(Barefoot and pregnant? Yes and yes.)
Well, so much for my productive day without interruptions. Instead of visiting inside the house, The Boy and I enjoyed one another's company on our ride to Murray's work to pick up his copy of the house key. But hey, I saw a bald eagle for the first time in Utah on our way, so I'm thinking there might have been a divine hand in all of this after all.
(Safely back at home, in front of the computer.)
The Boy: Showered, teeth brushed, hair done, and dressed?
Cicada: Showered (last night), teeth brushed, hair in bandanna, sweat pants. Life is good.
As I was musing upon the fact that I am so much more productive now that I have basically no interruptions during my workday, the doorbell rang. I am always fascinated when I'm home and the doorbell rings. It's like my house has this secret life that I've never known about where people come over during the day, ring my doorbell, and don't leave a note. I had to know who was there.
I opened the door, and there stood The Boy (who lives in Salt Lake, and I live in Springville, so this wasn't quite expected). Pretty much the first thing he said was that we clearly don't like to deal with wasps nests, and pointed out the two obvious ones above our door.
I came outside to see everything more clearly and said, "Those are unoccupied, but this one has some activity," and I pointed to the wasp's nest near an electrical outlet. The Boy said, "Well that's easy to take care of" and promptly kicked the plastic covering on the electrical outlet.
I screamed.
And then I scurried to the door.
And I tried to open it.
But I failed.
Because I had locked myself out.
[I got into the habit of locking my door at all times in college, and now I can't open my door without immediately locking it again unconsciously.]
So there I was, locked outside with my little brother. At least I was showered and my teeth were brushed. But I was wearing a bandanna, sweatpants, and no shoes.
(Barefoot and pregnant? Yes and yes.)
Well, so much for my productive day without interruptions. Instead of visiting inside the house, The Boy and I enjoyed one another's company on our ride to Murray's work to pick up his copy of the house key. But hey, I saw a bald eagle for the first time in Utah on our way, so I'm thinking there might have been a divine hand in all of this after all.
(Safely back at home, in front of the computer.)Get up, get dressed.
Well, I've been working independently now for almost a week. I haven't made a dime, of course, but I feel like I'm really close. Really, really close. I'm coming to find that I hate setting prices and I hate negotiating. It's all just so uncomfortable. Oh well.
I haven't been doing the best at my get up and brush my teeth and shower goal. But I think that'll get better. I told Murray this morning that without my commute, I still don't feel like I magically have extra time, and he suggested that maybe it's because I'm sleeping away that time. Good point. But it takes 10 hours a night to incubate a baby properly, doesn't it? At least I don't reach a mid-afternoon slump. But the laundry is piled up around the house and we still haven't unpacked, and the dishes are stacked to the ceiling. But hey. I've actually been preparing meals.
So basically this new life is going to take some getting used to. I didn't do my hair this morning. I don't think that the bandanna counts, necessarily, but I'm calling it good. Anyone who's known me for a while knows that the bandanna is a summer staple for me anyway, due to the fact that I'm a head sweater, so basically no haircut is going to look good during the summer months.
Last day of work
Friday was my last day of work. For about the last two weeks, I've had pretty much constant dreams about work. There was one night that I actually worked an entire day of work during my sleep, and woke up realizing that I had to do it all over again. Other dreams included packing up my office (again and again and again) but in my dreams, my office had as much stuff as an apartment. I hate moving. Another dream was about all my coworkers stealing my sweaters because they thought I was giving them away. Clearly, my mind had a lot of anxiety about work.
I left my job because 1) it's in Salt Lake and that's a big commute for me (2-3 hours a day), and 2) once I found out I was pregnant, Murray and I decided that the thought of combining the commute with an expanding belly wasn't the funnest idea. And so here I am, striking it out on my own, starting up as a contract worker. We'll see how that works out for me. I'm grateful to have Murray to support us through this so that we can take a risk and see what happens.
It wasn't easy leaving my job, though. I woke up early Friday morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so I just got ready and made the last commute. My last day mostly consisted of cleaning up my office and finishing up last minute details, and explaining projects to my coworkers so that they could tie up any loose ends. And of course, there were lots of jokes about Toby from The Office, since the season finale was all about his last day. (In my exit interview, I was not asked, "Who do you think you are" or "What gives you the right?")
In order to clean all my files off my computer, Murray suggested I take in one of his external hard drives and just put my personal stuff from my work computer onto there. (No, I didn't steal company files, like all of the fonts, which apparently someone did do before.) Of course, he didn't know which hard drive had space, so told me to take the suitcase with all his hard drives in it. And so I walked into the building at 7:00 a.m. looking like I was carrying a bomb into my last day of work. I expected a SWAT team to burst in and take me out.
Here's the last picture taken at work, which includes my coworkers who came to escort me out of the building (which is better than Security, like Toby got).
Ah crap. In looking at this picture, I realize that there's a bunch of papers on my shelf that I was supposed to give and explain to Polly. I'll have to give her a call.
Anyway. Now moving on to the world of self employment, I realize that I'm going to have to set up some structure and some rules for myself. Like shower and brush my teeth every day. And do my hair. And get dressed. So far I'm not doing so well.
So yeah. I've got to get on with the day, and do some responsible things to get ready for our big vacation. So this is me, signing out, and reminding you that if you have work for me to do, I'd love to do it. For pay.
(Oh, and sorry for dropping the ball on sewing skirts... I'm going to have to do it AFTER my trip. There was too much to do what with leaving my job and all to leave time for sewing.)
I left my job because 1) it's in Salt Lake and that's a big commute for me (2-3 hours a day), and 2) once I found out I was pregnant, Murray and I decided that the thought of combining the commute with an expanding belly wasn't the funnest idea. And so here I am, striking it out on my own, starting up as a contract worker. We'll see how that works out for me. I'm grateful to have Murray to support us through this so that we can take a risk and see what happens.
It wasn't easy leaving my job, though. I woke up early Friday morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so I just got ready and made the last commute. My last day mostly consisted of cleaning up my office and finishing up last minute details, and explaining projects to my coworkers so that they could tie up any loose ends. And of course, there were lots of jokes about Toby from The Office, since the season finale was all about his last day. (In my exit interview, I was not asked, "Who do you think you are" or "What gives you the right?")
In order to clean all my files off my computer, Murray suggested I take in one of his external hard drives and just put my personal stuff from my work computer onto there. (No, I didn't steal company files, like all of the fonts, which apparently someone did do before.) Of course, he didn't know which hard drive had space, so told me to take the suitcase with all his hard drives in it. And so I walked into the building at 7:00 a.m. looking like I was carrying a bomb into my last day of work. I expected a SWAT team to burst in and take me out.
Here's the last picture taken at work, which includes my coworkers who came to escort me out of the building (which is better than Security, like Toby got).
Ah crap. In looking at this picture, I realize that there's a bunch of papers on my shelf that I was supposed to give and explain to Polly. I'll have to give her a call.Anyway. Now moving on to the world of self employment, I realize that I'm going to have to set up some structure and some rules for myself. Like shower and brush my teeth every day. And do my hair. And get dressed. So far I'm not doing so well.
So yeah. I've got to get on with the day, and do some responsible things to get ready for our big vacation. So this is me, signing out, and reminding you that if you have work for me to do, I'd love to do it. For pay.
(Oh, and sorry for dropping the ball on sewing skirts... I'm going to have to do it AFTER my trip. There was too much to do what with leaving my job and all to leave time for sewing.)
Resume time again.
We're going through resumes at work right now. While I won't say anything specific about the resumes that I have seen in the last little while, I would like to share some general guidelines with you for preparing your resume and cover letters. I also wish that I could email some of these people individually and give them pointers...
- One page. No, seriously. Apparently in the last couple months, someone sent out a memo to the world announcing that it's okay to have resumes that are over one page. This is not true if you are applying for an entry-level position. And no one wants to read through pages and pages of resume. I am definitely okay with references being on a separate page, but please try to keep all the rest to one page. (I know that there are exceptions to this if you have about 50 years of experience and you're applying to be the CEO of a major company.)
- Keep it relevant. You need to send out a different resume to pretty much every job you apply for. Read the job requirements and tailor your resume accordingly. I honestly don't care about your horseback riding skills. Not one bit.
- I don't care about your GPA either. I'm just saying. (That's personal though.)
- I don't care what you did in high school.
- Edit, edit, edit. And then give it to a friend to edit. This especially applies if your aplying for an editter position.
- Save your sense of humor for the job interview. Leave it out of your resume. (Unless you're applying to be a comedian, then have at it.)
- Save your interests and your hopes and dreams and your personal life philosophy for the interview. Or don't, because it actually helps the employer weed you out before you even get to the interview and waste his/her time.
- If you're including on your resume that you were an AP on your mission, consider the fact that the people reading your resume may very well have loathed the majority of their APs. And that then they'll make fun of you before tossing your resume in the trash in honor of every one of those loathed APs.
- Make sure you have the correct spelling for the name of the company you're applying to.
- EMAIL ADDRESS. I've said this before, I'll say it again. Have a professional email address. And have an email address from a respectable company. I use gmail, and it works great. I won't mention any names, but some other email providers include ads at the bottom of your emails. Do you really want your email to your potential future employer to have an ad for weight loss at the bottom of it? I'm not kidding. This is a real example: "Burn fat. Finally, a diet plan that works." At the bottom of someone's cover letter. I wouldn't toss a resume out for something like that, but I would wonder why the person hasn't clued in that sometimes you need to be a little more professional.
Why I Love Work
Remember a while ago how I said that I am designing bags and fabric? Well, I try not to post too many pictures because I feel it's company property, but I can't resist sharing this with you.
Part of the great thing about my job now is finding all the samples of my work coming in. Sometimes they just appear on my desk while I'm out of my office. Sometimes, like the other night when Murray was at the office with me, I start looking around at all the bags and purses in the area and realize, "Oh, hey, I designed that fabric," or "Oh, hey, I designed that zipper pull."
Today, I got back from the gym and found this in my office---a sample fabric that I did. I'd make a couple tweaks, but generally I like it. Oh, and since I can't resist an opportunity to brag about Murray, I'll say that these flowers came from a trip that Murray and I took to Red Butte Gardens, where we sketched flowers for an evening so that I could use the shapes in my work. Murray, you are the wind beneath my wings.
I am being terrorized. I am a victim.
Last week, as I was locking up my office for the day, I noticed a binder clip on my key chain. It didn't just accidentally get tangled up with it. It was intentionally fed through the ring onto my key chain. See Exhibit A.
Squirrel Boy doesn't have an office. I remind him of this every now and then. His cubicle is right outside my office, so I asked him if he saw anyone come into my office. I showed him my key chain and explained that since the binder clip was in between my home key and my office key, I would have noticed if it had been on the key chain earlier. It meant that someone had entered my office, strung the clip onto my key chain, and left. Squirrel Boy said he didn't do it.
Today, after serving the community and donating blood, I came back to my office and decided to indulge in a delicious piece of chocolate cake to reward my blood-donating efforts.
I opened my drawer to find my box of utensils and noticed the following. See Exhibit B. These knives were inside my box of utensils. I know that the clips were not there earlier today because I'd already used a spoon from the box and given a coworker a fork.
Again, I confronted Squirrel Boy because he should certainly be keeping an eye on my office. I know it's not him because he says that he really wishes it were him because it's so funny. Someone is coming in and terrorizing me. It's so subtle. So deliberate. So terrifying.
I will get to the bottom of this.
This picture is now hanging on my door.
Exhibit A
Squirrel Boy doesn't have an office. I remind him of this every now and then. His cubicle is right outside my office, so I asked him if he saw anyone come into my office. I showed him my key chain and explained that since the binder clip was in between my home key and my office key, I would have noticed if it had been on the key chain earlier. It meant that someone had entered my office, strung the clip onto my key chain, and left. Squirrel Boy said he didn't do it.
Today, after serving the community and donating blood, I came back to my office and decided to indulge in a delicious piece of chocolate cake to reward my blood-donating efforts.
I opened my drawer to find my box of utensils and noticed the following. See Exhibit B. These knives were inside my box of utensils. I know that the clips were not there earlier today because I'd already used a spoon from the box and given a coworker a fork.
Exhibit B
Again, I confronted Squirrel Boy because he should certainly be keeping an eye on my office. I know it's not him because he says that he really wishes it were him because it's so funny. Someone is coming in and terrorizing me. It's so subtle. So deliberate. So terrifying.
I will get to the bottom of this.
This picture is now hanging on my door.
A Job That Fits
This weekend, my mom said to me, "You seem to be happier these days. Is that because all the fun design work you're doing is distracting you from the fact that you're still not married?" (Okay, so I might be exaggerating her verbage slightly, but you get the idea.)
The fact is that my fun design work is making me happy. Which makes me seriously question my career goals.
When I was dating Viper, he would stay late at work as often as he could (which, because he was a busy guy, turned out to only really be Mondays). One day he was telling me that he doesn't mind writing the occasional email on work time because a lot of the time he's thinking about work while he's in the shower, and he doesn't charge them for that. I think that those two things---wanting to stay late at work and thinking about work when you're not at work---are good signs that you're in a career that really fits.
And at the time, it didn't escape my notice that I always left work the moment I could (and all too often a couple moments before I'd worked a full day), and I never, ever thought about work problems in the shower.
But now that I am doing design work as opposed to straight editing, I really find that I am happier. (Not that I was depressed before... it's just that my parents are constantly probing me for my state of happiness and asking me to describe it as a number, and even though that number is usually a 9, they can somehow pick up on the unquantifiable difference between 9-but-I-don't-have-a-husband and 9-did-I-tell-you-about-my-latest-design?)
I stay late at the office and I don't even mind (and I don't mind the overtime that will be coming my way, either). This morning, I was even thinking about work in the shower so that I could start my workday running. Close friends and family will attest that every time I finish a batch of designs, I send out mass emails showing the work I've done.
Editing is just slightly different. Sure, I send out mass emails whenever I find some true editing gem, but when's the last time that happened? It's true that I find editing fulfilling and that I take pride in my little editing library here at home.
But it doesn't get me as excited as my design work. And it's not as fun as my design work.
This is where it gets tricky. See, I studied editing because I love the English language and because I love perfecting anything that is printed or published. I chose it as a field because I'm good at it. Design is something that I have always had a knack for but that I never studied in depth. So while working in design energizes me, I feel that I am not prepared to do design professionally. While I understand some principles of design, there are many others that I'm sure I'm not even aware of. Take color theory for example. One of the hardest parts of my work in design right now is finding colors that work well together. Think making a stripe pattern is easy? Finding the right colors, the right order, and the right variation of line thickness drives me crazy and I'm rarely pleased with what I manage to come up with.
I guess that's all to say that I'll feel like a poser if I ever abandon editing to go into design, even though design is what I enjoy more (yes, even making those pesky stripes). My current situation is actually absolutely ideal and perfect---where I find professional fulfillment as an editor and extra enjoyment doing design work on the side. I guess that means that when I say I'm a 9, I really mean it (and a raise and a gas grill and possibly a husband would put me at a 10).
The fact is that my fun design work is making me happy. Which makes me seriously question my career goals.
When I was dating Viper, he would stay late at work as often as he could (which, because he was a busy guy, turned out to only really be Mondays). One day he was telling me that he doesn't mind writing the occasional email on work time because a lot of the time he's thinking about work while he's in the shower, and he doesn't charge them for that. I think that those two things---wanting to stay late at work and thinking about work when you're not at work---are good signs that you're in a career that really fits.
And at the time, it didn't escape my notice that I always left work the moment I could (and all too often a couple moments before I'd worked a full day), and I never, ever thought about work problems in the shower.
But now that I am doing design work as opposed to straight editing, I really find that I am happier. (Not that I was depressed before... it's just that my parents are constantly probing me for my state of happiness and asking me to describe it as a number, and even though that number is usually a 9, they can somehow pick up on the unquantifiable difference between 9-but-I-don't-have-a-husband and 9-did-I-tell-you-about-my-latest-design?)
I stay late at the office and I don't even mind (and I don't mind the overtime that will be coming my way, either). This morning, I was even thinking about work in the shower so that I could start my workday running. Close friends and family will attest that every time I finish a batch of designs, I send out mass emails showing the work I've done.
Editing is just slightly different. Sure, I send out mass emails whenever I find some true editing gem, but when's the last time that happened? It's true that I find editing fulfilling and that I take pride in my little editing library here at home.
But it doesn't get me as excited as my design work. And it's not as fun as my design work.
This is where it gets tricky. See, I studied editing because I love the English language and because I love perfecting anything that is printed or published. I chose it as a field because I'm good at it. Design is something that I have always had a knack for but that I never studied in depth. So while working in design energizes me, I feel that I am not prepared to do design professionally. While I understand some principles of design, there are many others that I'm sure I'm not even aware of. Take color theory for example. One of the hardest parts of my work in design right now is finding colors that work well together. Think making a stripe pattern is easy? Finding the right colors, the right order, and the right variation of line thickness drives me crazy and I'm rarely pleased with what I manage to come up with.
I guess that's all to say that I'll feel like a poser if I ever abandon editing to go into design, even though design is what I enjoy more (yes, even making those pesky stripes). My current situation is actually absolutely ideal and perfect---where I find professional fulfillment as an editor and extra enjoyment doing design work on the side. I guess that means that when I say I'm a 9, I really mean it (and a raise and a gas grill and possibly a husband would put me at a 10).
Start Having a Good Life
Here are my reasons that I am thrilled to be in the Real World now. I wonder why I took so long to graduate---seriously, why was I afraid to move on?
Jeans Friday is better than Team-Spirit Friday. Yes, Team-Spirit Friday in which we were supposed to think that all of us wearing the same shirts was really fun and "special." Jeans are so much more comfortable and special.
Corporate meetings / parties / events: I'm coming from a job where they wouldn't spend money on a roll of double-sided tape for me. Yesterday, I spent the day at a company kick-off meeting where we had about two hours of meetings, two hours of movie-watching, and one hour of catered lunch. And although that only totals five hours, we were paid for eight. And during the meeting, we were provided with free beverages. During lunch, we were provided with, well, lunch. During the movie, we were provided with free popcorn, beverages, candy bars, and peanuts.
My own office, or my own cube, if we really want to be technical. But the point is that it's mine and it has a window. And I'm the only one in the area who has a cube, so it's not like I'm lost in a cube maze. And I get drawers in which to put fat-free fig newtons and I even brought a milk crate in to work that I can leave under my desk and use as a foot stool to put my feet up whenever I want to. This is much different from last summer when I was sitting so close to my coworkers that when they sneezed, I got wet. (No exaggeration.)
Getting paid to work out: I will never get over how cool this is.
Having a name badge that opens doors: It makes me feel so much better than all of you who can't walk in the doors I can walk in.
Employee discounts: 30 percent is a wonderful thing.
Testing merchandize: The company I work for makes handbags and brief cases and totes. The guy who designs them is a real Italian import and his office smells like leather. He has told me to stop by his office and pick up a bag that I can use and give him feedback on. For someone who already has a mild purse fettish, live doesn't get much better.
Flexibility: My previous student job could be very strict on punctuality and schedules. They said that they were preparing us for the Real World. Well, it turns out that the Real World by all accounts is much more flexible. Get in your hours. If that means you show up at 8:00, great. If that means you show up at 9:00, more power to you. Want to eat lunch at your desk and leave early? Go for it.
I love the real world. Love it. I'll love it even more next week when I get my first check. I mean, seriously, they pay me to have this much fun?
Jeans Friday is better than Team-Spirit Friday. Yes, Team-Spirit Friday in which we were supposed to think that all of us wearing the same shirts was really fun and "special." Jeans are so much more comfortable and special.
Corporate meetings / parties / events: I'm coming from a job where they wouldn't spend money on a roll of double-sided tape for me. Yesterday, I spent the day at a company kick-off meeting where we had about two hours of meetings, two hours of movie-watching, and one hour of catered lunch. And although that only totals five hours, we were paid for eight. And during the meeting, we were provided with free beverages. During lunch, we were provided with, well, lunch. During the movie, we were provided with free popcorn, beverages, candy bars, and peanuts.
My own office, or my own cube, if we really want to be technical. But the point is that it's mine and it has a window. And I'm the only one in the area who has a cube, so it's not like I'm lost in a cube maze. And I get drawers in which to put fat-free fig newtons and I even brought a milk crate in to work that I can leave under my desk and use as a foot stool to put my feet up whenever I want to. This is much different from last summer when I was sitting so close to my coworkers that when they sneezed, I got wet. (No exaggeration.)
Getting paid to work out: I will never get over how cool this is.
Having a name badge that opens doors: It makes me feel so much better than all of you who can't walk in the doors I can walk in.
Employee discounts: 30 percent is a wonderful thing.
Testing merchandize: The company I work for makes handbags and brief cases and totes. The guy who designs them is a real Italian import and his office smells like leather. He has told me to stop by his office and pick up a bag that I can use and give him feedback on. For someone who already has a mild purse fettish, live doesn't get much better.
Flexibility: My previous student job could be very strict on punctuality and schedules. They said that they were preparing us for the Real World. Well, it turns out that the Real World by all accounts is much more flexible. Get in your hours. If that means you show up at 8:00, great. If that means you show up at 9:00, more power to you. Want to eat lunch at your desk and leave early? Go for it.
I love the real world. Love it. I'll love it even more next week when I get my first check. I mean, seriously, they pay me to have this much fun?
Dignitaries
Here is a picture of me on my last day of work. This picture will have particular meaning to Ambrosia and anyone who ever worked with me who was forbidden to sit in these awful chairs.You see, at my previous place of employment, our company rented space from another company that owned the building. I should be very clear with you that the building (which I have called a cement bunker) is not pretty. It is not a place where you want to bring people. It is not decorated nicely on the inside. It's junky and old. There. I said it. And I'm in no danger of losing my job because of it.
Well, the other company has about five or six hideous turquoise leather chairs in a hallway that I suppose they thought doubled as a reception area. No one is ever received in this area. When Ambrosia and I first started working there, we were informed that the chairs were off-limits to student employees.
Later at a meeting, a supervisor made it clear to everyone that the other company had been complaining about student employees using the chairs. We were not allowed to use them. Period. We were specifically not allowed to sit in them while we waited to leave, sit in them while we talked on cell phones, sit in them to do homework, or sit in them and sleep. Off-limits. The other company said that those seats were there for visiting dignitaries.
Visiting dignitaries. What a joke! None of us had ever seen any visiting dignitaries.
Well, before I left, I had the chance to see visiting dignitaries in our building. There was a small group of Japanese dignitaries who had come to visit. However, they were not using the chair. They were standing in a row by the door and when I approached, they opened the door for me and then bowed as I walked through it.
And I thought, "Hey. I could really get used to this dignitaries thing..."
Crystal Ball
Does anyone have a crystal ball I can borrow? I am starting to think that life's decisions will be easier to make if I can actually see my future. So here's what's going on:
El Senor bought a condo in SLC. It has two rooms and my room has a 16-foot walk-in closet. That's 16 feet, folks. That's longer than my front room, and the fact that I'm hosting a party in my front room tomorrow means that I could actually host parties in my closet (although now that I think about it, I may not want to advertise for an "in the closet party"...).
Unfortunately, I interviewed for a job in Provo (note: Provo is not SLC). When I sent in a resume to the job, I was just applying to all jobs in the Provo-SLC area that I found online, and El Senor had not yet purchased my 16 feet of closet real estate. When the job called me back, I figured I'd probably just go in for the interview for a little bit of practice in interviewing.
So I went to the interview. And the morning's interview went okay, I thought, but I felt that I said a lot of ums. But within a half hour of my interview, two of my references (thanks girls) called me back to say that they gave me glowing references, and then the job called back to invite me for a second interview with the CEOs.
Here's where things get difficult. They weren't so difficult because the pay for the job was a lot lower than I am shooting for, so I would just use pay as an excuse to turn down the job if it was offered to me. But the job had other perks. Like a four-day work week and four weeks' paid vacation. My friends, I'm not going to get four weeks' paid vacation anywhere else.
And things got more difficult when I went back and met with a few other potential coworkers/supervisors/CEOs and I realized that I really---I mean really---liked these people. Oh, and forget the fact that the job was basically everything I was looking for because it combined writing, editing, design, French, and Italian. It doesn't actually get better than that, does it? Oh, and the fact that I'd be integral in the production of a worldwide publication, which wouldn't look half bad on future resumes.
And things got even worse when they asked me what my concerns about the job were and I told them that my concerns were location and compensation---I wanted to move to SLC and get out of Provo, and I expected higher compensation than what they were offering. And then the CEOs left the room to discuss my compensation. Yikes! And they came back and made me a higher offer.
But I just kept on thinking about that 16-foot walk-in closet...
I told them I needed till Tuesday to make up my mind and today, I finally made up my mind. I do actually need to get out of Provo. I'm ready for a new city for my new phase of life. So I called today to let them know. And when I talked to one of my interviewers, she was so nice and said she understood, and that she had thought I'd turn down the offer actually because I would be so tired of Provo and I'd need to get away. She was right. But then she was so kind and told me that I interviewed very well and had great talents, so she was sure that I'd be able to find employment up in SLC. But that if I changed my mind, to give them a call. And I let her know that the decision was really hard to make (because it was---great coworkers, long weekends every week, four weeks' paid vacation...). And we left on good terms.
So now, I just need to dream about my new condo and wonder how much money it's going to take to buy my list of needs...
I need:
El Senor bought a condo in SLC. It has two rooms and my room has a 16-foot walk-in closet. That's 16 feet, folks. That's longer than my front room, and the fact that I'm hosting a party in my front room tomorrow means that I could actually host parties in my closet (although now that I think about it, I may not want to advertise for an "in the closet party"...).
Unfortunately, I interviewed for a job in Provo (note: Provo is not SLC). When I sent in a resume to the job, I was just applying to all jobs in the Provo-SLC area that I found online, and El Senor had not yet purchased my 16 feet of closet real estate. When the job called me back, I figured I'd probably just go in for the interview for a little bit of practice in interviewing.
So I went to the interview. And the morning's interview went okay, I thought, but I felt that I said a lot of ums. But within a half hour of my interview, two of my references (thanks girls) called me back to say that they gave me glowing references, and then the job called back to invite me for a second interview with the CEOs.
Here's where things get difficult. They weren't so difficult because the pay for the job was a lot lower than I am shooting for, so I would just use pay as an excuse to turn down the job if it was offered to me. But the job had other perks. Like a four-day work week and four weeks' paid vacation. My friends, I'm not going to get four weeks' paid vacation anywhere else.
And things got more difficult when I went back and met with a few other potential coworkers/supervisors/CEOs and I realized that I really---I mean really---liked these people. Oh, and forget the fact that the job was basically everything I was looking for because it combined writing, editing, design, French, and Italian. It doesn't actually get better than that, does it? Oh, and the fact that I'd be integral in the production of a worldwide publication, which wouldn't look half bad on future resumes.
And things got even worse when they asked me what my concerns about the job were and I told them that my concerns were location and compensation---I wanted to move to SLC and get out of Provo, and I expected higher compensation than what they were offering. And then the CEOs left the room to discuss my compensation. Yikes! And they came back and made me a higher offer.
But I just kept on thinking about that 16-foot walk-in closet...
I told them I needed till Tuesday to make up my mind and today, I finally made up my mind. I do actually need to get out of Provo. I'm ready for a new city for my new phase of life. So I called today to let them know. And when I talked to one of my interviewers, she was so nice and said she understood, and that she had thought I'd turn down the offer actually because I would be so tired of Provo and I'd need to get away. She was right. But then she was so kind and told me that I interviewed very well and had great talents, so she was sure that I'd be able to find employment up in SLC. But that if I changed my mind, to give them a call. And I let her know that the decision was really hard to make (because it was---great coworkers, long weekends every week, four weeks' paid vacation...). And we left on good terms.
So now, I just need to dream about my new condo and wonder how much money it's going to take to buy my list of needs...
I need:
- a sewing machine
- a 20-inch iMac with Adobe CS2
- a couch
- a closet organization system
- a 32-inch flat panel television
- TiVo
- a new bicycle (a cruiser)
- an FM transmitter for my mp3 player b/c I think that Clicky's CD player is broken
- car insurance
- new clothes (to fill my closet)
- other hip furniture for the condo
- a surround sound system
Traffic Stopper
I need a car.
This morning I had a job interview. The job is in Provo, but it is a few miles down Canyon Road. I needed a ride to my job interview because I couldn't walk because I would have shown up a sweaty, unkempt mess. I borrowed Redras's car. I said a lot of ums and ahs during my interview.
Still, they called me back for a second interview not half an hour after the first interview ended. We set up an appointment for 4:30.
Which was great except that I couldn't borrow Redras's car because she'd need it for work. So I got a coworker to drive me there.
After my job interview [insert lack of details here because I don't want to talk about it right now], the plan was that I'd call Limon and he'd come pick me up. I got out of the interview at 5:00. Limon's shift ends at 5:00. I called Limon's phone and got his voice mail. I started walking down Canyon Road.
I eventually realized that Limon might actually be working late. It took me ten full minutes to come to this conclusion. We don't get cell reception in our cement bunker. So I called my private line at work. Limon eventually answered. I asked him to come pick me up, but I knew it would take him at least twenty minutes to get to me.
I didn't mind because I'm training for a half marathon and my training today was "walk 30-40 minutes."
I continued walking down Canyon Road in my business best: a knee-length pencil skirt, a summer sweater, nylons, and nice shoes. And a briefcase.
I brought out a sweat rag because I am a head sweater (I called my mom this morning when I was getting ready for my interview and threatened to sue her for giving me the head-sweating genes). I occasionally (every twenty seconds) mopped my face and neck.
And before Limon could come get me, two cars pulled U-turns to ask if they could give me a ride. Actually, maybe I don't need a car. Perhaps if I add a limp to my sweat-mopping, I'll receive more solicitations to give me rides... Anyone want to walk with me to Salt Lake City?
This morning I had a job interview. The job is in Provo, but it is a few miles down Canyon Road. I needed a ride to my job interview because I couldn't walk because I would have shown up a sweaty, unkempt mess. I borrowed Redras's car. I said a lot of ums and ahs during my interview.
Still, they called me back for a second interview not half an hour after the first interview ended. We set up an appointment for 4:30.
Which was great except that I couldn't borrow Redras's car because she'd need it for work. So I got a coworker to drive me there.
After my job interview [insert lack of details here because I don't want to talk about it right now], the plan was that I'd call Limon and he'd come pick me up. I got out of the interview at 5:00. Limon's shift ends at 5:00. I called Limon's phone and got his voice mail. I started walking down Canyon Road.
I eventually realized that Limon might actually be working late. It took me ten full minutes to come to this conclusion. We don't get cell reception in our cement bunker. So I called my private line at work. Limon eventually answered. I asked him to come pick me up, but I knew it would take him at least twenty minutes to get to me.
I didn't mind because I'm training for a half marathon and my training today was "walk 30-40 minutes."
I continued walking down Canyon Road in my business best: a knee-length pencil skirt, a summer sweater, nylons, and nice shoes. And a briefcase.
I brought out a sweat rag because I am a head sweater (I called my mom this morning when I was getting ready for my interview and threatened to sue her for giving me the head-sweating genes). I occasionally (every twenty seconds) mopped my face and neck.
And before Limon could come get me, two cars pulled U-turns to ask if they could give me a ride. Actually, maybe I don't need a car. Perhaps if I add a limp to my sweat-mopping, I'll receive more solicitations to give me rides... Anyone want to walk with me to Salt Lake City?
BYU HonorColorado
I got an odd phone call today at work. The phone rang and Limon picked it up. He immediately shoved the phone to my ear and I listened to the garbled sounds of a recorded message. I didn't get the first part of the message and I had no idea why he was making me listen to it. I couldn't really figure out exactly what it was saying. When the message ended, I hung up and asked Limon why he'd given me the phone. "It said your name," he said, "and that it was a warning."
Soon after we hung up the phone, it rang again. Same number. I picked it up this time. The message said, "[Cicada--it used my first and last name]. This is a warning from the BYU HonorColorado. This is a demo. To remove your number from this list, press 3." I pressed 3, but nothing happened. I was just really confused. The BYU HonorColorado? An automated message? A warning? What could it mean?
Limon looked suspicious but maintained that it wasn't a joke he was playing on me. He openly acknowledged that he was looking and acting suspiciously but that was only because he was enjoying my confusion way too much. I explained to him that I'd given my work phone number to three people: Redras, Viper, and the car dealership I went to yesterday.
Limon and I checked out the phone number that the calls were coming from. It was an on-campus number, so I called it. The number belonged to someone in the Physical Science department (and I am enrolled in a PS class right now...) but it still didn't account for the fact that only three people had my work phone number. The call went through to voice mail.
About an hour later, the phone rang again. It was the same number. "Cicada. This is a warning from the BYU HonorColorado." A coworker who sits behind us started getting involved and I reminded him that I was at his house after midnight last night, so if I was getting in trouble with the BYU HonorColorado, I was going to get him in trouble with the BYU HonorColorado, too. Whatever the BYU HonorColorado is.
I talked to the secretary about it and she had no clue what it might be. Eventually, I called the BYU operator to explain what was going on and ask if they'd received similar reports. After talking to her supervisor, my operator told me that so far I'd done everything right (I'd called the number of origin and I'd called the BYU operator) and the next step was to call the campus police. She offered to connect me but I told her that I'd rather make sure that someone wasn't playing a prank on me before calling the police.
After hanging up the phone, I announced fairly loudly that the next step was calling the police, expecting some coworker to come forward and confess. But nothing happened. Limon told me that of all the people who could be pranking me, it was most likely a former coworker who we'll call Bengay. Recently, Bengay left our place of employment, but he was still on our work IM list. I sent him a message and asked him what he knew about the "BYU HonorColorado." He played dumb for a bit and then confessed that it was, in fact, him who was pranking me. But I couldn't believe his confession, either; I thought that he was joking again and I really didn't know what to believe. So I told him to prove it if it was really him. To make the phone ring and the message come back. He said, "Okay, but put it on speakerphone when it rings."
The phone rang.
I put it on speakerphone.
And a robotic, automated voice filled the whole office:
"Cicada. We have the results of your pregnancy test. It's a boy. Congratulations."
Soon after we hung up the phone, it rang again. Same number. I picked it up this time. The message said, "[Cicada--it used my first and last name]. This is a warning from the BYU HonorColorado. This is a demo. To remove your number from this list, press 3." I pressed 3, but nothing happened. I was just really confused. The BYU HonorColorado? An automated message? A warning? What could it mean?
Limon looked suspicious but maintained that it wasn't a joke he was playing on me. He openly acknowledged that he was looking and acting suspiciously but that was only because he was enjoying my confusion way too much. I explained to him that I'd given my work phone number to three people: Redras, Viper, and the car dealership I went to yesterday.
Limon and I checked out the phone number that the calls were coming from. It was an on-campus number, so I called it. The number belonged to someone in the Physical Science department (and I am enrolled in a PS class right now...) but it still didn't account for the fact that only three people had my work phone number. The call went through to voice mail.
About an hour later, the phone rang again. It was the same number. "Cicada. This is a warning from the BYU HonorColorado." A coworker who sits behind us started getting involved and I reminded him that I was at his house after midnight last night, so if I was getting in trouble with the BYU HonorColorado, I was going to get him in trouble with the BYU HonorColorado, too. Whatever the BYU HonorColorado is.
I talked to the secretary about it and she had no clue what it might be. Eventually, I called the BYU operator to explain what was going on and ask if they'd received similar reports. After talking to her supervisor, my operator told me that so far I'd done everything right (I'd called the number of origin and I'd called the BYU operator) and the next step was to call the campus police. She offered to connect me but I told her that I'd rather make sure that someone wasn't playing a prank on me before calling the police.
After hanging up the phone, I announced fairly loudly that the next step was calling the police, expecting some coworker to come forward and confess. But nothing happened. Limon told me that of all the people who could be pranking me, it was most likely a former coworker who we'll call Bengay. Recently, Bengay left our place of employment, but he was still on our work IM list. I sent him a message and asked him what he knew about the "BYU HonorColorado." He played dumb for a bit and then confessed that it was, in fact, him who was pranking me. But I couldn't believe his confession, either; I thought that he was joking again and I really didn't know what to believe. So I told him to prove it if it was really him. To make the phone ring and the message come back. He said, "Okay, but put it on speakerphone when it rings."
The phone rang.
I put it on speakerphone.
And a robotic, automated voice filled the whole office:
"Cicada. We have the results of your pregnancy test. It's a boy. Congratulations."
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