This winter I became somewhat infamous for livetweeting (should that be capitalized? someone get back to me on this) The Bachelor. Monday night someone asked me if I would be doing the same now that The Bachelorette is premiering.
(An aside: I'm spellchecking right now and Blogger does not recognize "bachelorette" as a word. Really, Blogger? Livetweet I can imagine, but bachelorette? WTF?)
I never get that into The Bachelorette, for a variety of reasons. The guys on the show have a different mindset than their Bachelor female counterparts. They don't get as catty or devastated when they don't get a rose (although, in the five minutes or so I watched Monday night a couple of the guys did take it unusually hard and choked back tears. But then again, The Bachelorette was cutting 10 people on this episode so it was probably inevitable that someone would be an unhappy camper). And, of course, for me the eye candy factor is not there on The Bachelorette.
Still, now that I have more of a presence on Twitter than I used to, I somehow feel an obligation this season -- if for no other reason than gender equity. I failed at it Monday night. But, for better or worse, I will try to do better at livetweeting The Bachelorette.
Apologies in advance. You've been forewarned.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Never Decline a Job Interview
One rule I've always lived by is, never decline a job interview.
Clearly if you're unemployed this makes sense. But there have been times when I was gainfully employed and not looking for other employment when I was approached to interview for somebody and I've always found a way to clear my schedule for it. It's good practice for those times when you interview for a job you do want -- polishing your interviewing skills, practicing your smile, your firm handshake, your answers to the tough questions. And hey, you never know. The job opening might be more intriguing than you think.
I'm fortunate that this policy has paid off for me this month.
A couple of weeks ago, I was offered a job in which I would basically be a one-man sports department for a weekly newspaper out in the Berkshires. I recently received an MFA, and this was a writing job. Perfect. I wasn't excited about moving -- again, but the prospect of covering a couple of minor league baseball teams, two Division III colleges and high school sports was appealing. Ten years ago I left the world of journalism, expecting never to return, but you never know when life will come full circle and here was one of those instances. I looked for a place to live out in the Berkshires. I also nearly drove off a cliff.
In the meantime, all the job-searching I've undergone the past few months began to pay off. Past experience has taught me that it usually takes weeks or even months from the time a company posts a job opening to the time they start interviewing candidates, and now companies I applied or sent resumes to began to call me to schedule job interviews. Part of me was like, "Great. NOW they call." But the other side of me said, "You know what? You have a couple of weeks to kill before you head out west. Go interview. Can't hurt."
So I did. And sometimes you're at your best when you feel you have nothing to lose. Three different companies invited me in to chat with them. And through phone calls and emails they continued to engage me in dialogue after the interview. I was beginning to think they were really interested in me.
The benefit for me was, while all this was going on, things were changing out in the Berkshires. After I accepted the newspaper job, the job transformed before my eyes. Some new responsibilities were being thrown at me, responsibilities that weren't part of the original job description, and responsibilities that I wasn't interested in performing. I wasn't thrilled about the conversations I was having out there. And, when I was all set to write a check and put down a deposit on a place in Adams, thing were unraveling.
These seemingly unnecessary interviews came to the rescue. I've been offered all three jobs. One is a 35-hour-a-week job. Another is a part-time job (depending on the week anywhere from 5-25 hours). A third is a glorified freelance writing gig -- dull writing, but writing nonetheless. Who knows what will happen from here. But, faced with two scary choices -- moving across the state for a job I no longer want or turning it down and going back to Unemployment Square One -- I feel like this allows me sidestep the fear and gives me an opportunity to land on my feet.
So I've resigned from the newspaper job before it begins. Hopefully there will be no hard feelings out there. But I'm glad I figured all this out before putting down a deposit. I'm glad I don't have to muster up the energy to move again.
And I'm really glad I went on those interviews.
Clearly if you're unemployed this makes sense. But there have been times when I was gainfully employed and not looking for other employment when I was approached to interview for somebody and I've always found a way to clear my schedule for it. It's good practice for those times when you interview for a job you do want -- polishing your interviewing skills, practicing your smile, your firm handshake, your answers to the tough questions. And hey, you never know. The job opening might be more intriguing than you think.
I'm fortunate that this policy has paid off for me this month.
A couple of weeks ago, I was offered a job in which I would basically be a one-man sports department for a weekly newspaper out in the Berkshires. I recently received an MFA, and this was a writing job. Perfect. I wasn't excited about moving -- again, but the prospect of covering a couple of minor league baseball teams, two Division III colleges and high school sports was appealing. Ten years ago I left the world of journalism, expecting never to return, but you never know when life will come full circle and here was one of those instances. I looked for a place to live out in the Berkshires. I also nearly drove off a cliff.
In the meantime, all the job-searching I've undergone the past few months began to pay off. Past experience has taught me that it usually takes weeks or even months from the time a company posts a job opening to the time they start interviewing candidates, and now companies I applied or sent resumes to began to call me to schedule job interviews. Part of me was like, "Great. NOW they call." But the other side of me said, "You know what? You have a couple of weeks to kill before you head out west. Go interview. Can't hurt."
So I did. And sometimes you're at your best when you feel you have nothing to lose. Three different companies invited me in to chat with them. And through phone calls and emails they continued to engage me in dialogue after the interview. I was beginning to think they were really interested in me.
The benefit for me was, while all this was going on, things were changing out in the Berkshires. After I accepted the newspaper job, the job transformed before my eyes. Some new responsibilities were being thrown at me, responsibilities that weren't part of the original job description, and responsibilities that I wasn't interested in performing. I wasn't thrilled about the conversations I was having out there. And, when I was all set to write a check and put down a deposit on a place in Adams, thing were unraveling.
These seemingly unnecessary interviews came to the rescue. I've been offered all three jobs. One is a 35-hour-a-week job. Another is a part-time job (depending on the week anywhere from 5-25 hours). A third is a glorified freelance writing gig -- dull writing, but writing nonetheless. Who knows what will happen from here. But, faced with two scary choices -- moving across the state for a job I no longer want or turning it down and going back to Unemployment Square One -- I feel like this allows me sidestep the fear and gives me an opportunity to land on my feet.
So I've resigned from the newspaper job before it begins. Hopefully there will be no hard feelings out there. But I'm glad I figured all this out before putting down a deposit. I'm glad I don't have to muster up the energy to move again.
And I'm really glad I went on those interviews.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Things You Don't Want To Hear While Apartment-Hunting
1)
Landlord's phone rings.
Landlord: "Hello."
Voice on the other line: "Yes, this is the Massachusetts Department of revenue calling about your delinquent taxes."
2)
Me: "I wanted to see if your place is still available."
Landlord: "Trust me, you don't want to look for a place up here."
3)
Landlord: "You go down Route 8, then after the Cumberland Farms and McDonald's you tale a left and then a quick right and you're there."
Me: "Great! I'll meet you there in 15 minutes."
Landlord: "Oh, I'm not gonna be there. You're just gonna see it and call me if you like it."
Me: "How am I gonna get in to see the place if I don't have the keys."
Landlord: "Oh, don't worry, it's unlocked. I always leave the front door unlocked."
(Ironically, the front door was locked when I got there.)
Landlord's phone rings.
Landlord: "Hello."
Voice on the other line: "Yes, this is the Massachusetts Department of revenue calling about your delinquent taxes."
2)
Me: "I wanted to see if your place is still available."
Landlord: "Trust me, you don't want to look for a place up here."
3)
Landlord: "You go down Route 8, then after the Cumberland Farms and McDonald's you tale a left and then a quick right and you're there."
Me: "Great! I'll meet you there in 15 minutes."
Landlord: "Oh, I'm not gonna be there. You're just gonna see it and call me if you like it."
Me: "How am I gonna get in to see the place if I don't have the keys."
Landlord: "Oh, don't worry, it's unlocked. I always leave the front door unlocked."
(Ironically, the front door was locked when I got there.)
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
My Brush With Death -- On the Hairpin Turn At Mohawk Trail, North Adams, MA
Being a native of Eastern Massachusetts, I'm used to Route 2 being an Interstate highway-type road. Out in Western Massachusetts, though, once you get past Gardner, it turns into backroads.
Tuesday I was on my way to North Adams, where it's not only backroads but also mountainous, as you're now in the Berkshires. I got a taste of this firsthand when I discovered that, as you cross the North Adams city line, Route 2 forms a hairpin turn. Your defensive driving skills and a guardrail are all that's stopping you from sliding into a ravine. Not good news for me, a stressed-out and control-freakish driver. Headed westbound, you're going downhill as you cross into North Adams so I slowed down to about 20mph and, despite some stress on a slick and rainy day, I negotiated the hairpin turn without incident, and the rest of Route 2 in North Adams was fine.
Then there was the trip back home.
On the way back, I took it even slower (10-15 mph). Of course, heading back east you're going uphill on the hairpin, and because I was taking it so slow, I didn't give the car enough gas. I stalled right at the turn.
And so I'm sitting there with my foot on the brake, I'm scared to bang it in reverse because I'm not sure how close I am to the edge of the road, and I'm scared to take my foot off the brake because I might roll in reverse, right into the guardrail and ravine, before I can get the foot back on the gas.
It's beginning to rain harder. Also, a car is coming up behind me.
I said to myself, "Great. This is how I die."
Then I said, "Here goes nothing," slammed my foot on the gas as quickly and as hard as I could and got my way up the hill. Shaken, but on the road back to Fitchburg.
If you want to see where this hairpin turn is, go to Google Maps and type in "Golden Eagle Restaurant, Clarksburg, MA" (it's on the Clarksburg side of the border with North Adams). Yes, there's a restaurant here. I look at it on Google and the hairpin turn doesn't look all that bad. I feel like a bit of a wuss. But I'm a Type A driver and I never like to feel that I'm not in control in the car. And, for about 15 seconds, I felt like I lost all driving control, and a quick perusal of the restaurant web site indicates the hairpin turn is 1,700 feet above sea level, and 1,700 feet is not a place where you want to feel out of control.
I will never take Route 2 all the way into North Adams again.
Tuesday I was on my way to North Adams, where it's not only backroads but also mountainous, as you're now in the Berkshires. I got a taste of this firsthand when I discovered that, as you cross the North Adams city line, Route 2 forms a hairpin turn. Your defensive driving skills and a guardrail are all that's stopping you from sliding into a ravine. Not good news for me, a stressed-out and control-freakish driver. Headed westbound, you're going downhill as you cross into North Adams so I slowed down to about 20mph and, despite some stress on a slick and rainy day, I negotiated the hairpin turn without incident, and the rest of Route 2 in North Adams was fine.
Then there was the trip back home.
On the way back, I took it even slower (10-15 mph). Of course, heading back east you're going uphill on the hairpin, and because I was taking it so slow, I didn't give the car enough gas. I stalled right at the turn.
And so I'm sitting there with my foot on the brake, I'm scared to bang it in reverse because I'm not sure how close I am to the edge of the road, and I'm scared to take my foot off the brake because I might roll in reverse, right into the guardrail and ravine, before I can get the foot back on the gas.
It's beginning to rain harder. Also, a car is coming up behind me.
I said to myself, "Great. This is how I die."
Then I said, "Here goes nothing," slammed my foot on the gas as quickly and as hard as I could and got my way up the hill. Shaken, but on the road back to Fitchburg.
If you want to see where this hairpin turn is, go to Google Maps and type in "Golden Eagle Restaurant, Clarksburg, MA" (it's on the Clarksburg side of the border with North Adams). Yes, there's a restaurant here. I look at it on Google and the hairpin turn doesn't look all that bad. I feel like a bit of a wuss. But I'm a Type A driver and I never like to feel that I'm not in control in the car. And, for about 15 seconds, I felt like I lost all driving control, and a quick perusal of the restaurant web site indicates the hairpin turn is 1,700 feet above sea level, and 1,700 feet is not a place where you want to feel out of control.
I will never take Route 2 all the way into North Adams again.
Monday, April 30, 2012
My Week In Retail
While I was waiting to hear from a couple of other jobs, I was offered a job as part-time assistant store manager at a chain convenience store. My unemployment ran out a couple of weeks ago, so it was better than nothing. (I did get a lot of part-time job offers as my unemployment expired; not sure whether to categorize that as dumb luck or impeccable timing.)
Saturday: My first day on the job. Completely forgetting my Census Payroll Empire roots, I forgot to bring my checkbook so I'd have my routing number information handy. I try to recite it from memory. I scribble down a number that sounds vaguely familiar and move on. The store manager tells me that I'll probably be bouncing back and forth between another store in the chain that is scheduled to open in a couple of months, which in real-time means that the store will open in a year-and-a-half. The rest of the day I stock merchandise, which is a welcome relief. I hate dealing with customers. I'm in stocking heaven. The first day is great.
Sunday: Day off.
Monday: My first night shift. Also, after a quick tutorial, my first day running the cash register. Groan. Customer interaction. I brush up on my Spanglish and try not to let people annoy me. (When I'm a customer at a convenience store I annoy myself.) The night goes by smoothly -- only one customer throws f-bombs at me, and he seems like he's not all there mentally so I don't take it personally. At 8 p.m. the other assistant store manager tells me she can't believe I haven't taken a break yet and tells me to go get something to eat. At 9 she closes the store and tells me about thee time she got robbed. We reconcile the cash register. I was six cents over for my shift. The other cashier was $21 over. I survive my first night shift.
Tuesday: Day off.
Wednesday: I walk in and tell the store manager that I've been offered a job elsewhere that I will be taking. Part of me wants him to tell me to get lost. And really, it doesn't make sense to train me to do stuff when I'm not going to be there anymore. Instead, he begs me to finish out the week because he's understaffed. This means today (Truck Day) I have to unload 1,100 boxes off of the delivery truck. Only I suspect they forgot the extra zero at the end because it felt like 11,000 boxes. The truck was supposed to arrive at 11 a.m., but because the truck driver accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and crashed into one of the other stores earlier in the day he's running three-and-a-half hours late. He finally arrives at 2:30 and we unload everything. Then he bitches about how we're not unloading fast enough -- because, you know, he didn't keep us waiting or anything. Anyway, great workout, although I'd much rather go to the gym for that. Also, on Wednesday, after three days we finally get in touch with the home office, and despite the fact that they acted like they couldn't be bothered, I pester them long enough for them to tell me that I did indeed get my routing number right. I can't believe I have that number memorized.
Thursday: Day off.
Friday: This is supposed to be my last day. I'm scheduled to work in the morning, but because I overcelebrated with some friends Thursday night I'm in no condition to work. I call the manager and ask if I can swap out and work Saturday instead (hoping he'll tell me to call it a career instead). He says, yes, Saturday would be perfect because he's understaffed.
Saturday: The least I can do for putting in minimal effort in my week in retail is get the staff a card, so I do and sign it. It's my final day and I'm back on register. This time I'm 76 cents over, I guess my counting skills are getting worse as I continue in retail. The manager comes in right as I'm leaving and I give him the card. He starts tearing up. He says he has the best staff ever, that he was impressed at how quickly I picked up everything and if it doesn't work out elsewhere to give him a call and he'll rehire me immediately.
It was a long week, but I learned a lot about myself, about what I'm capable of and how I can handle situations under duress. And now I have a Plan B, just in case. In that sense, it was totally worth it.
Saturday: My first day on the job. Completely forgetting my Census Payroll Empire roots, I forgot to bring my checkbook so I'd have my routing number information handy. I try to recite it from memory. I scribble down a number that sounds vaguely familiar and move on. The store manager tells me that I'll probably be bouncing back and forth between another store in the chain that is scheduled to open in a couple of months, which in real-time means that the store will open in a year-and-a-half. The rest of the day I stock merchandise, which is a welcome relief. I hate dealing with customers. I'm in stocking heaven. The first day is great.
Sunday: Day off.
Monday: My first night shift. Also, after a quick tutorial, my first day running the cash register. Groan. Customer interaction. I brush up on my Spanglish and try not to let people annoy me. (When I'm a customer at a convenience store I annoy myself.) The night goes by smoothly -- only one customer throws f-bombs at me, and he seems like he's not all there mentally so I don't take it personally. At 8 p.m. the other assistant store manager tells me she can't believe I haven't taken a break yet and tells me to go get something to eat. At 9 she closes the store and tells me about thee time she got robbed. We reconcile the cash register. I was six cents over for my shift. The other cashier was $21 over. I survive my first night shift.
Tuesday: Day off.
Wednesday: I walk in and tell the store manager that I've been offered a job elsewhere that I will be taking. Part of me wants him to tell me to get lost. And really, it doesn't make sense to train me to do stuff when I'm not going to be there anymore. Instead, he begs me to finish out the week because he's understaffed. This means today (Truck Day) I have to unload 1,100 boxes off of the delivery truck. Only I suspect they forgot the extra zero at the end because it felt like 11,000 boxes. The truck was supposed to arrive at 11 a.m., but because the truck driver accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and crashed into one of the other stores earlier in the day he's running three-and-a-half hours late. He finally arrives at 2:30 and we unload everything. Then he bitches about how we're not unloading fast enough -- because, you know, he didn't keep us waiting or anything. Anyway, great workout, although I'd much rather go to the gym for that. Also, on Wednesday, after three days we finally get in touch with the home office, and despite the fact that they acted like they couldn't be bothered, I pester them long enough for them to tell me that I did indeed get my routing number right. I can't believe I have that number memorized.
Thursday: Day off.
Friday: This is supposed to be my last day. I'm scheduled to work in the morning, but because I overcelebrated with some friends Thursday night I'm in no condition to work. I call the manager and ask if I can swap out and work Saturday instead (hoping he'll tell me to call it a career instead). He says, yes, Saturday would be perfect because he's understaffed.
Saturday: The least I can do for putting in minimal effort in my week in retail is get the staff a card, so I do and sign it. It's my final day and I'm back on register. This time I'm 76 cents over, I guess my counting skills are getting worse as I continue in retail. The manager comes in right as I'm leaving and I give him the card. He starts tearing up. He says he has the best staff ever, that he was impressed at how quickly I picked up everything and if it doesn't work out elsewhere to give him a call and he'll rehire me immediately.
It was a long week, but I learned a lot about myself, about what I'm capable of and how I can handle situations under duress. And now I have a Plan B, just in case. In that sense, it was totally worth it.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The Unpredictabilities of Life
Life surprises you sometimes. I wanted to get a lot of writing done Tuesday and it never really happened. I got some writing done but not nearly as much as I had hoped or anticipated. I think it's a function of bad planning and procrastination. And now I'm blogging and it looks like Blogger has changed some things.
In the future, I will try to handle the unpredictabilities of life better. Hopefully the future will begin soon.
In the future, I will try to handle the unpredictabilities of life better. Hopefully the future will begin soon.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The OT I Didn't See
For the past few days my Internet has been spotty. I called Comcast and they scheduled a techie to come visit Sunday evening.
Also Sunday evening, the Bruins were fighting for their playoff lives, down 3 games to 2 to the Washington Capitals. The techie arrived and fiddled with some things and then found that a wire outside was frayed, and he needed to run a new line in. This meant he would have to take TV, phone and Internet offline.
Right as the game was tied at 3, going into overtime.
I tried flipping the radio to 98.5 (Bruins flagship station) but I got lousy reception. I sat there, without TV or Internet. The TV teased me, frozen to a picture of a Bruin carrying the puck in the Boston zone, while three Capitals lie in wait at center ice. I waited for an hour for the techie to run the wire up and restore services, knowing that at any point the Bruins season may have ended, or that the game might be well into double overtime.
NBC came back on at 7:05. Dateline NBC was on. Thus, the game was clearly over. I clicked onto NHL.com, where I discovered that Tyler Sequin kept the B's season alive.
I may have to cut off my Comcast on Wednesday night for Game 7.
Also Sunday evening, the Bruins were fighting for their playoff lives, down 3 games to 2 to the Washington Capitals. The techie arrived and fiddled with some things and then found that a wire outside was frayed, and he needed to run a new line in. This meant he would have to take TV, phone and Internet offline.
Right as the game was tied at 3, going into overtime.
I tried flipping the radio to 98.5 (Bruins flagship station) but I got lousy reception. I sat there, without TV or Internet. The TV teased me, frozen to a picture of a Bruin carrying the puck in the Boston zone, while three Capitals lie in wait at center ice. I waited for an hour for the techie to run the wire up and restore services, knowing that at any point the Bruins season may have ended, or that the game might be well into double overtime.
NBC came back on at 7:05. Dateline NBC was on. Thus, the game was clearly over. I clicked onto NHL.com, where I discovered that Tyler Sequin kept the B's season alive.
I may have to cut off my Comcast on Wednesday night for Game 7.
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