Caterwauling

Not only have I had four photos published in D.C./Baltimore outlets, but I just got a call from a Major Local Sports Team, saying my photos will be included in a Brand-Spankin’ New Commercial. Oh, and can they pay me, too? Um, hells yeah! 😉

Is it possible that the first candidate you interview for a job is the one who gets it? I go on instinct with everyone — employers, friends, dates. I can tell if it clicks. I need for it to click, actually, because I’ll know I made the right decision.

I just talked to someone who, for all intents and purposes, is a fit for what I need. She seems calm and inquisitive, whereas I’m pretty scattered and hyper lately. Hell, I could very well hire her on the spot when we meet next week. I’ll know it when I see her; the phone is hard because I don’t get anything out of the candidates. They can speak in complete, grammatical sentences. Whoopty-doo. Their voices don’t scratch on my nerves. Bonus points. But throw four projects at them and tell them to shove them out the door as perfectly as possible, and that will knock my socks off. Yet, how can you ascertain that in conversation alone?

I was sort of hoping the *ideal* candidate (i.e., one I specifically have in mind) would see the job posting and jump for joy — I’d pull the ad down in a heartbeat if I could get this person to apply. (Which is unethical for me to even mention it in passing, so a girl’s got to pray. And rely on her friends to spread the word.) 😉

We all know I’ve been trying to tell my stupid apartment management since DECEMBER that I intended to vacate. So they never answer e-mail or pick up a phone, right? I went and gave my notice, only for them to fuck up and tell me I’m outta here sooner. So I went and got a new place for the adjusted (i.e., closer) date. And THEN I came home to a note saying I was LATE in giving my termination notice (?) and that I have to pay on the apartment till an even LATER date.

May Karma scorch your crotches even more so than she already has, you slimy mofos.

“Well be pleased, girl
If this is what you wanted
The whole world
Is watching you take the stage
What will you say?”

— Plumb, “Real”

Life’s been one weird sequence of events lately. I’ve now put down a deposit on a FOURTH apartment this morning, as I cannot decide because I don’t love anything enough to take it but I don’t want to lose them in case the journey keeps getting more abysmal. I like this one. I always liked this one. I didn’t apply at it when I was moving last year because I thought it was too expensive, but this year? It’s the best value for what I get. And I was such a bitch, trying to give it the white-glove test today. I’d like to take it; we’ll see about that damn credit score before we get our hopes up!

Mom came down to visit this weekend. I love having her here. I forget how much I miss her until I see her. It’s hard for me to go to where she lives because my grandfather is everywhere and I can’t talk past the lump in my throat, knowing he’s not there anymore. She just got the final autopsy report (three months after the fact) and she thinks she sees a real point we can sue over. God, I hope it’s there. I’d rather have him here, but if he’s not, then hot damn somebody had better pay for destroying the best human being who ever walked this earth.

Mom brought the new boyfriend to meet me. We spent most of the weekend in Baltimore, as I am one of those D.C. denizens who runs like HELL when there are tourists in town (i.e., Paddy’s day parade on Sunday). Of course, dummy here didn’t count on B’more having its parade on the same goddamned day (d’oh!), but it was fine. We hung out at the Inner Harbor, ate dinner at Ruth’s Chris and just enjoyed the break from routine.

It occurs to me that I am to do some charity volunteering that requires getting like donations and shit. Damn. How much of a check do I have to write (or, *can* I write) to fulfill whatever expectation they had?

Speaking of expectations (and falling short, apparently), my boss never visits me — he’s one of those people who trusts that he’s hired adults who can do their jobs. Which I love, natch, but of course the one time he’s visited me in the past two months, I was staring off into the sky, daydreaming. 🙂 Hey, at least I had a stupid grin on my face!

As I’m wading back into hiring hell, something Tiff said to me yesterday made all the sense in the world. A good interview isn’t necessarily one that results in a job, but in both parties reaching the same conclusion — that both parties either see the fit, or they agree that it’s not a fit. Either way, it’s still win-win.

Now that I’m not the one job-hunting as though my life depended on it (because it did), I’m in familiar territory — a busy hiring manager with a pile of resumes that are great for ANY JOB BUT THE ONE THEY APPLIED FOR.

I don’t want to see writing samples because any good editor can fix up crappy copy, and thus the applicant has good clips. (I’ve run into that before, with people who actually can’t write a declarative sentence when you give them an on-site test. *shudder*) I don’t even care so much about the resume itself — junior-level staffers don’t always have the “right” experience yet.

Personally, I was lucky to fall into jobs that, while they may have sucked, they gave me a few interesting things to write on a resume, so that’s important but I’m happy to be the one to provide that good experience. There’s something about finding someone unjaded and untainted by the world that holds magic — I have a great opportunity to train them correctly and not spend half my time breaking their bad habits.

But damn, people, put some fucking THOUGHT into cover letters. It’s my first “conversation” with you. And as of today, it’s our last if I can’t remember you.

I think the reason I love Simon Cowell is that he’s able to tell people, “I can’t remember your name.” It’s like when you have a crush on someone at school and they see right through you, when you walk down the hall. You don’t have to give up on the dream — you just have to figure out how to be noticed.

The last person I hired stood out above everyone because her application package contained no bullshit whatsoever. She wrote a clean, direct letter, her resume was easy to read, and she gave me URLs of her writing samples. All in two pages.

Hell, when I last found myself looking for jobs, I did that. I put my clips online in PDF and Word format, and all anyone had to do was do a lil clickey-clickey, and there I was. Saves people the hassle of asking me for the stuff I already knew they were going to want. Thus, I could present myself as an efficient, planful person who was already thinking about how I could help them.

But really, it would help if people SHOWED that they took the time to read the ad. It’s pretty easy to see when someone’s just doing a mass mailing. And I can’t fault them for it — we all did it at one point or another. And while you won’t see my name on the ad and you don’t know who I am personally or what exactly I need you for, I try to give a good enough description of who I need for YOU to be.

I KNOW you don’t have the technical knowledge you will eventually acquire with me. But I really wonder how people seem to think that writing about sweeping floors and lifeguarding taught them how to be deadline-oriented. Hey, I’m not ruling out the possibility that it can happen, but show me, don’t tell me.

One resume had me banging my head off the wall. Don’t tell me you’re fluent in Spanish and have a “general working knowledge of English” when you’re appling to be a copyeditor. I applaud your skills, really I do, but I asked for proficiency/fluency in grammatical and stylistic nuances. Others need not apply. *bonk*

They’re not all bad, though. Again, you might not be an exact match, but there are other positions in the can that you don’t know about, and I’m happy to keep you on file when they become available.

The thing with “kids today,” and everyone in general, really, is they’re title-happy. I always was, too, so I can make peace with my snobbery. 😉 I wouldn’t have applied for the job I had immediately prior to this one based on title alone. But desperation kicked in and I learned about the expectations (and the salary), and hey, call me Purple People Eater for all I care — if I’m learning a new skill and paying my bills, it really doesn’t matter.

I made the fabulous transition from non-profit sector to corporate whore. And while it damaged my credit score more than I’ll ever be able to repair, I got scads of good experience and got good titles because people don’t last in that realm, and charitable organizations may not be able to pay you but they WILL call you an impressive name. Jazzed up my resume enough to be impressive enough for the for-profit world. I’d recommend that career path to anyone just looking to establish themselves.

I also look at work history periods. I do expect people to put in a year at every place. One resume, the girl just started her job in January and is now applying for a new one (in March). I’ve HATED jobs but always resolved to put in that year. There’s a certain “I don’t give a fuck” spirit that helps to get you through it — that, “Oh, thanks for the shitty review. It’ll be the last time you get to degrade me on paper. Eat me!” moment that gives you some inner triumph when the world is stomping on your spirit. (I take exception if it’s an internship, of course, but their last job was a “real” one, so I’m left to wonder whether you’ll do the same to me.)

But see, in that last note, I go back to the earlier point that if it ain’t a fit, it ain’t a fit. And I’m thrilled to celebrate the employer and employee who say, “You know what? I’m just not that into you.” That’s why we do 90-day probationary periods — it’s our legal and ethical “get out of jail free” card.

The hard part of it is the attitude I have, which is that you need to put in your year. And a hell of a lot of training goes on in those initial three months, so it’s hard to lose someone after all that time. A warm body is still a body, but is it better than an outright void?

My team is legendary for exhaustive interviews. It’s like we interview senior V.P.s and departmental assistants equally thoroughly. But it’s because each is so thoroughly integral to all of our processes, and it’s not a title thing; it’s a compatibility issue. I think so many (other) companies hire just for the sake of filling an open position, especially one that was open for awhile or one that pops up for a new project — it’s easy to someone’s qualifying characteristic to be “has a heartbeat.”

We do the same in interpersonal relationships, but it always turns out to be a disaster if we date someone just because we’re lonely and not because the person has the potential to be a solid life partner.

But I don’t. I don’t want someone in my life just for the sake of being there, and I’m trying to maintain my highest standards of excellence when it comes to the person who will be helping me to meet all the goals that are contingent upon us all getting a nice bonus next year. 🙂 Primadonnas and putzes need not apply — I can help you to achieve your dream career, I can help you to get the experience it will take you to get a better job (even if it’s not with me) or I can help you now to realize just what your career path should instead be.

My boss said something interesting to me during my performance review, that he sees me more as a leader/visionary than a manager, and he looks forward to seeing me develop the people I’m going to bring on board. So, that’s not something I’m going to take lightly — we work our asses off, and we all grow together.

My only fear is that there’s so much work that the opportunities for creativity sometimes fall by the wayside, under the pressures of juggling deadlines. But a huge part of our long hours is the relationship-building. We don’t pass up chances to bond and really, truly get to know each other. We drop everything to help someone who needs direction. We collectively pitch in when the “to do” pile is growing faster than the outbox. We CAN put in the hours and expend the effort that we do because circumstance has made us into a family … but one we choose, over and over again, to be part of.

So, if my standards for an incoming person are high, it’s because I’m going to need for them to meet the expectations that were in place long before they got here, and will remain in place whether they’re on the journey for the long haul or not.

This is an interesting time in my life and career. I’m no longer interested in the opportunities I might be missing somewhere else. I’m in a terrific position to create my own, and to be a big part of everything else that’s going on. And what will help me as a leader is that whomever I decide to hire, is someone I’m going to mentor so that they can know what it’s like to actually love getting up every morning and being part of something huge. They just don’t know it yet. But I do. 😉

So, while I’m not looking for that perfect pair of jeans that fits beautifully right off the rack, I’m looking for the ones that you wash a few times and when they get nice and soft, they’re the pair you go back to, time and again, when you want to make a hell of an impression on everyone around you. Accordingly, when I meet the person who makes me want to cut off the tags and keep them in heavy rotation, I’ll know them when I see them.

But first, I’ve got to see them. So, O Potential Hire(s), show me why you’re the one I should be investing in, and believe me, I will. …

This is officially the best fucking day of my life. Seriously. I don’t even know where to start, so I’ll just leave it at that. Woo!

Ah, review day. I was up at 5 a.m. writing my self-assessment. Because I am really positive at this hour about my life, career and future. NOT. 😉

Turns out my apartment complex really did fuck up and give me the wrong lease-expiration date. Which, duh. And I asked about more available units on-site, and I swear things get more expensive every time I call. Last week the 2BR/2BA was going for a month free and $1,500. Now they’re telling me the 2BR/1BA is going for $1,500 plus a half-month free. So I just lost a bathroom AND a half-month concession? Shit. Why don’t they just say, “We don’t want you here anymore?” Maybe I’d stop calling! (And for $1,500, why do I not have my own washer/dryer and personal housekeeper/sex slave?!?!)

I’m exhausted, kids. The candle burned from both ends and the wick is nothing but a long cigarette ash. (Oh, yeah, for those interested, I’m doing EXTREMELY well with my New Year’s resolution to start smoking again!) I think I smoke now not just to cope with the stress, but because it was my thing with my grandfather, long before I quit. I wish I hadn’t gotten on him for the past couple of years about how bad it was — I really wanted him to live forever, but how was I to know the incompetent twats at the VA Hospital would kill him and not, say, lung cancer?

Anyway, I hope I’m awake for my review, and hopefully I can take it sort of easy otherwise today. (Ha.) And, God willing, it’s enough of a raise to pay for this apartment adventure — Jesus, it’s expensive to house two people! I need to take an old W-2 form from when I was earning peanuts and go qualify for Section-8 housing or something!

I think my mom might have met Mr. Right, which is sort of funny and ironic and nerve-wracking, all at the same time. Trust me, I ain’t begrudging her if it does happen — more power to her; she deserves it. But then I wouldn’t have to move if someone marries her! 🙂 Actually, I already gave up my unit, so I’m moving anyway, but I’d just go to a better unit and not necessarily a bigger one.

I hate uncertainty. I used to embrace it, on the theory that “anything’s got to be better than the way it is now.” But these days, I’m OK with where/who I am. Change is hard. I’m too old for this shit. 😉 Damn it, I just need some beauty sleep — the worry lines are starting to show, and you could probably lose a VW Bug in the crease I’ve acquired from furrowing my brows half the day!

Nothing bothers me more than when people fuck stuff up, then chaos ensues, then they finally fix what they broke in the first place … and THEN, the accolades start to fly.

Like how my car sat in a bed of ice for a week, undrivable, and I was reliant upon neighbors, colleagues and cabs to lug my fat ass around. I just saw our apartment’s monthly newsletter, congratulating one person in particular for all his heroic efforts to get the parking lot in tip-top shape in a hurry.

Seriously?

Christ, well then let’s give him a promotion and a big fat bonus for doing his JOB … and late and half-assed, at that.

Of course it’s followed by the bullshit line of asking us to thank him when we see him. Yeah, I saw him a week after the ice storm — where was he in the interim? I assume now that we’re expected to get four inches of white, fluffy shit today, he’ll be burrowed like a goddamned groundhog till the sun comes out again!

So I was up worrying about having less time than I’d imagined to do this move (I swear, I’ve been calling that damn rental office since December — if anyone woulda returned a call, this wouldn’t be an issue. And I still think the mistake is theirs), but I was too drunk to stay awake (as I passed out on the floor clutching my wine glass).

Anyway, I had the best dream — the ideal solution, actually. I dreamed a friend and I decided to team up and buy a house and call it a satellite office, because it makes a lot of sense to just live at work. They brought their staff along, to be our tenants so we could make money off the extra bedrooms.

But true to form, I was in command in the dream. (I’ve been telling everyone that my next career is as a rental agent, because I know all the questions to ask and I’ve inadvertently become a professional at that biz.) I approved everyone but one and told that person they were fired and to get out of my house. Their credit wasn’t good here. 🙂 I found an acceptable substitute, and we all worked happily ever after.

Otherwise known, as dinner tonight.

*hic*

Actually, it’s a bottle of Riesling, and if I am not drunk by the time I’m done with it, I’ve got a bottle of port. You know, a dessert wine for, well, dessert!

I’m so stupendously over this day, it isn’t even funny. I appreciate anyone who made me laugh — it was no small feat, and I’ll remember it … well, I’ll remember it once I hopefully sleep off the hangover I’m hoping for. …