So Mr. X joked with me today, that I've probably got my outfit already picked for the first day at work. Call that snarky, but the man does know a little about me anyway.
In fact, the one outfit I've thought of is probably going to be the winner. It's a stretchy navy dress which is very sleek looking (amazing with my giant gold necklaces), but comfortable.
And it's the dress I was feeling SO awfully flossy in the day they laid me off.
I figure, that dress deserves better.
And, from what I have seen at the downtown location of my new employer (this won't be my eventual home, but I'll report downtown day 1), it is appropriate.
Have I mentioned the surprising population of very nice looking young women I've noticed on my visits so far? I'm genuinely concerned they forgot their glasses the day they hired me; but maybe us middle-aged divas are located at the other office ...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Better and Better
The rain has come. I have hope that this will be actual, real rain; I drove through it an hour ago, but found the homefront dry. There was wonderful thunder as I got out of the car, but it wasn't very dark yet, and there was no rain forthcoming for some time.
It has just started. Great gawps of noisy rain - not noisy wind and not even noisy thunder. The thunder has been low, steady - unobtrusive. But the rain is making itself heard, making the sky just a little bit greyer now. It ha come.
I hope it doesn't leave in the hurry it's been in for the few appearances we've seen in the past three months or so. We need the rain. This is welcome rain, too; it's not nasty, it's temperate. It's easy and streaky.
***
And in the time I've written this post, it's stopped once again already. I hope that's just a spell, just an ebb between the clouds.
The ground beneath the maples isn't even slick with water yet.
***
Please ...
It has just started. Great gawps of noisy rain - not noisy wind and not even noisy thunder. The thunder has been low, steady - unobtrusive. But the rain is making itself heard, making the sky just a little bit greyer now. It ha come.
I hope it doesn't leave in the hurry it's been in for the few appearances we've seen in the past three months or so. We need the rain. This is welcome rain, too; it's not nasty, it's temperate. It's easy and streaky.
***
And in the time I've written this post, it's stopped once again already. I hope that's just a spell, just an ebb between the clouds.
The ground beneath the maples isn't even slick with water yet.
***
Please ...
House and Home
Before I start the new job, mom and I are embarking on a project - to paint my kitchen at long, long last. This morning, I've started to redeploy a few objects in there. What furniture there is has to be moved, the cookbook-shelves emptied and taken down, the pictures on the walls removed, the things on top of the fridge and some other miscellany put out of the way. Later on, I'll go for the cleaning solution we'll use to scrub down the walls (the place has been cooked in for thirty or forty years since the last time it got redecorated!), and the paint.
I'm listening to Deep Space 9 DVDs and digging in to a new project. Very cool, and I'm excited to see the new kitchen. My body could use the labor, and my heart and brain welcome the diversion, the to-do's.
Time for a new coat of paint. It's a hard time, change being what it is - but a good one.
I'm listening to Deep Space 9 DVDs and digging in to a new project. Very cool, and I'm excited to see the new kitchen. My body could use the labor, and my heart and brain welcome the diversion, the to-do's.
Time for a new coat of paint. It's a hard time, change being what it is - but a good one.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Yow
I keep having some "thing" in my knee which doesn't qualify as pain - but, as a twinge goes, it's unnecessarily assertive. Stop it, knee.
Stupid knee.
Stupid knee.
Klingon Poetry Jam
Suitable for my main character, this one ...
So honor the valiant who die 'neath your sword,
But pity the warrior who slays all his foes.
Too Rich for My BLOOD
Oh, this is very, very funny. A blogger breaks down the passion of the girl in Twilight for the vampire in Twilight, including his preternaturally sexy BREATH.
Very nicely done.
Very nicely done.
Working
I've reported for fingerprinting and drug screen paperwork, run some errands, done the drug screen itself, and returned home on a ludicrously hot afternoon. Start date should be the 19th, so mom and I are conspiring about kitchen painting.
Some bird keeps bumping (not terribly hard, but still) into my window. It must look nice and cool inside where the shade is. Poor, hot old birdbrain.
And now, to enjoy some more of my brand new Deep Space Nine season 2 DVDs. Season two is very enjoyable, and not *merely* because it features the lovely and talented (and delicious voice of) Mr. Frank Langella. It's entertaining in several other ways, too.
Not least of which is the delightfully creepy Mr. John Glover. Papa Luthor! Yay!
Some bird keeps bumping (not terribly hard, but still) into my window. It must look nice and cool inside where the shade is. Poor, hot old birdbrain.
And now, to enjoy some more of my brand new Deep Space Nine season 2 DVDs. Season two is very enjoyable, and not *merely* because it features the lovely and talented (and delicious voice of) Mr. Frank Langella. It's entertaining in several other ways, too.
Not least of which is the delightfully creepy Mr. John Glover. Papa Luthor! Yay!
Invincible Summer
Yesterday, it hit 105.6 degrees in the shade outside my mom and stepfather's house.
It's some HOT, y'all.
The title today comes from Camus ... In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. --Albert Camus (1913-1960) While not precisely apropos, the phrase certainly has a resonance right now.
Anyone in doubt of global warming, please form a line to the left, where you are cordially invited to jump in a lake.
Of fire.
It's some HOT, y'all.
The title today comes from Camus ... In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. --Albert Camus (1913-1960) While not precisely apropos, the phrase certainly has a resonance right now.
Anyone in doubt of global warming, please form a line to the left, where you are cordially invited to jump in a lake.
Of fire.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
To the Nines
Was online today discussing with other writers what they would like to/think they "should" wear for a meeting with an agent. It was interesting how reverse-snobby some people are about those who might choose to treat a meeting of this sort as if it were (*GASP!*) a professional meeting. Not that agents actually care; but the sense from one or two, at least, was that anyone not prepared to wear their cowboy hat, or revolver, or schmoopy fairy outfit, or sclubby slob wear was somehow actually not quite right (serious!) as a writer. To which I say: it's possible to have more than one gear, people. Good grief.
Anyway - my contribution. I liked it enough to replicate it (yes, with edits - dur) here.
One of the things I have hated most about unemployment is the unending parade of "dog walking pants" I have been wearing every day. I worked for about a decade and a half in financial services and other executive offices, and I have missed the opportunity to dress professionally very much. Those who dismiss professional dress are entitled to their opinions, but ... not to determining *mine*. Wearing suits and good clothing doesn't diminish my writing, nor cheapen my intellect somehow as a sellout. I like them, but I am much more than professional clothes; nor does my writing doesn't require me to costume myself as if I were one of my own characters, or as "An Author", or anything else. If I had a formal meeting with an agent, I'd simply feel most comfortable in heels and hose. That's ME. But it doesn't make me some sort of empty-headed dilettante - nor does it make me self-conscious, more concerned with appearance than content, nor some kind of wannabe hoping a good blazer will do for me what my hard work and talent can't
For ME, a suit happens to have a sense of occasion about it. That feels good to ME.
Here's the thing. I loathe and despise the idea of dressing the same way all the time. The number of people who express the desire to do exactly that, and by those who simply DO it, flat-out floors me. Doesn't matter which type people go for; any type, with no variation at all, is a deadly bore. Women who are made up all the time, men who can't get out of the (way oversized) Dockers and golf shirts, goth kids who NEVER put down the eyeliner - I don't discriminate based on genre; I'm astounded at *any* of these people's dedication to genre dressing. I like to be a bit of a vixen on a Saturday night, a sleek professional on weekday mornings; I also revel in being the middle-aged suburban hausfrau I undeniably am in my down time, with my dog.
I'd be bored out of my mind being any one of those things ALL THE TIME, forever, amen. My consideration of dressing for any occasion - agent meetings or anything else - is born of how much more interesting it is not to be the same old visual bore all the time. I clean up well, as they say. So I like to do it.
More to the point, it really is amazing how much more comfortable those dog-walking pants are after I've spent my day out in the world with actual human people, working for a living, put together to the nines ... and finally getting to come home and peel off all the accoutrements of professional battle. At the same time, jeans or what have you just AREN'T that comfortable if you wear them all the time; no matter the venue, whatever the dress code is. I've worn jeans to work. I've been unemployed for even longer stretches than this most recent stint. I swear by my heels and business clothes. I have lived, lately, for the opportunity to dress for church.
For the record, all of my agent meetings so far have taken place at my annual Conference. For this two-full-day occasion, I generally wear slinky black pants and some sort of bold colored tee, and oxford shoes for comfort. I've gotten two requests for reads thus casually dressed (out of, I think, four agent meetings conducted there ... this doesn't count the agent my very first year who passed on to a colleague of hers a partial of something which was hardly even a WIP at the time, nor ever became one).
Anyway - the point is: I know a suit is not ALWAYS the thing. But dang if I wouldn't treat a potential "getting agented" for real meeting as a more professional situation. And bloody love it.
Anyway - my contribution. I liked it enough to replicate it (yes, with edits - dur) here.
One of the things I have hated most about unemployment is the unending parade of "dog walking pants" I have been wearing every day. I worked for about a decade and a half in financial services and other executive offices, and I have missed the opportunity to dress professionally very much. Those who dismiss professional dress are entitled to their opinions, but ... not to determining *mine*. Wearing suits and good clothing doesn't diminish my writing, nor cheapen my intellect somehow as a sellout. I like them, but I am much more than professional clothes; nor does my writing doesn't require me to costume myself as if I were one of my own characters, or as "An Author", or anything else. If I had a formal meeting with an agent, I'd simply feel most comfortable in heels and hose. That's ME. But it doesn't make me some sort of empty-headed dilettante - nor does it make me self-conscious, more concerned with appearance than content, nor some kind of wannabe hoping a good blazer will do for me what my hard work and talent can't
For ME, a suit happens to have a sense of occasion about it. That feels good to ME.
Here's the thing. I loathe and despise the idea of dressing the same way all the time. The number of people who express the desire to do exactly that, and by those who simply DO it, flat-out floors me. Doesn't matter which type people go for; any type, with no variation at all, is a deadly bore. Women who are made up all the time, men who can't get out of the (way oversized) Dockers and golf shirts, goth kids who NEVER put down the eyeliner - I don't discriminate based on genre; I'm astounded at *any* of these people's dedication to genre dressing. I like to be a bit of a vixen on a Saturday night, a sleek professional on weekday mornings; I also revel in being the middle-aged suburban hausfrau I undeniably am in my down time, with my dog.
I'd be bored out of my mind being any one of those things ALL THE TIME, forever, amen. My consideration of dressing for any occasion - agent meetings or anything else - is born of how much more interesting it is not to be the same old visual bore all the time. I clean up well, as they say. So I like to do it.
More to the point, it really is amazing how much more comfortable those dog-walking pants are after I've spent my day out in the world with actual human people, working for a living, put together to the nines ... and finally getting to come home and peel off all the accoutrements of professional battle. At the same time, jeans or what have you just AREN'T that comfortable if you wear them all the time; no matter the venue, whatever the dress code is. I've worn jeans to work. I've been unemployed for even longer stretches than this most recent stint. I swear by my heels and business clothes. I have lived, lately, for the opportunity to dress for church.
For the record, all of my agent meetings so far have taken place at my annual Conference. For this two-full-day occasion, I generally wear slinky black pants and some sort of bold colored tee, and oxford shoes for comfort. I've gotten two requests for reads thus casually dressed (out of, I think, four agent meetings conducted there ... this doesn't count the agent my very first year who passed on to a colleague of hers a partial of something which was hardly even a WIP at the time, nor ever became one).
Anyway - the point is: I know a suit is not ALWAYS the thing. But dang if I wouldn't treat a potential "getting agented" for real meeting as a more professional situation. And bloody love it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Apropos of Nothing
I don't understand women who get into committed relationships based on their goals for themselves, rather than on the particular man they commit to. Yet this seems a terrifyingly common methodology.
Creepy.
Creepy.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Dream Job - Literally?
The offer letter didn't come on Friday; the staffing manager was off for vacation (she actually called me from home, kids in the background, to give me the offer) - so I should not be worried, I'm sure. But until the thing is in front of me; until I have signed and returned it, I'm going to keep feeling this whole thing is just a cruel hallucination.
I feel like I am holding my breath. And if you've read much, that is not a positive sensation for me.
*On tenterhooks until Tuesday morning*
I feel like I am holding my breath. And if you've read much, that is not a positive sensation for me.
*On tenterhooks until Tuesday morning*
Draught
I'm having a sip of the wine of celebration. When I lost the last job, one of the people I worked with was stirred to come by one day with a goodbye present, they objected so to the layoffs. The present consisted of three bottles of rather lovely wine. I have shared, of course; as drinking wine all on one's own is (a) a little much - particularly for someone as prone to headaches as I get! - and (b) a little melancholy, at that. My neighbors have helped toast to my good hopes; and tonight, we toasted to my better luck; with my "unemployment wine". It seemed quite right.
And mellow and delicious.
*On the last glass*
The evening was very nice; five of us, and the three dogs between us (well behaved, no less, even with the holiday sounds here and there). We shared tender shredded barbeque, good talk, and a soft evening. I have great neighbors, and am grateful and blessed. They were so sweet and full of congratulations.
It may not have been explosive, but it has been a great Independence Day, nonetheless.
I always think of the one seven years ago, and still ache for how hard it was on someone I hold so dear. I remember that one, and the one after that, when we were together and did the whole big BANG-BANG Fourth of July thing, down by some big water. The first was painful. The second: we had no idea then it would be our last (for some time yet ...). The Fourth may be more fraught than Valentine's Day, in my heart. I pray every year.
And this year, I'll sip a silent sip in remembrance and other feelings.
And mellow and delicious.
*On the last glass*
The evening was very nice; five of us, and the three dogs between us (well behaved, no less, even with the holiday sounds here and there). We shared tender shredded barbeque, good talk, and a soft evening. I have great neighbors, and am grateful and blessed. They were so sweet and full of congratulations.
It may not have been explosive, but it has been a great Independence Day, nonetheless.
I always think of the one seven years ago, and still ache for how hard it was on someone I hold so dear. I remember that one, and the one after that, when we were together and did the whole big BANG-BANG Fourth of July thing, down by some big water. The first was painful. The second: we had no idea then it would be our last (for some time yet ...). The Fourth may be more fraught than Valentine's Day, in my heart. I pray every year.
And this year, I'll sip a silent sip in remembrance and other feelings.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Committed
Well, I may not quite believe in the offer ... BUT ... I certainly didn't do my job slog today. In fact, I had a happy little interlude, deleting all the bookmarks for job hunting from my Favorites list. So much cleaner looking.
I may yet go back to those sites where I've applied in the past, to delete my profiles and even withdraw outstanding apps less than, say, two weeks old.
But still, it was nice to finally be able to get to that little task.
Even if I STILL can't believe I got the call.
I may yet go back to those sites where I've applied in the past, to delete my profiles and even withdraw outstanding apps less than, say, two weeks old.
But still, it was nice to finally be able to get to that little task.
Even if I STILL can't believe I got the call.
Job
I still can't believe I got the offer, and the fact that I haven't got the offer letter in hand (well, in electronig inbox, anyway) doesn't dispel the sensation. But it seems to me like they called me today. It seems to me they made a nice offer - and then discussed some specific things about me the managers are specifically and particularly excited about. It seems to me that means I can start work with a confidence in the direction I need to take, and the apparent implication that I was actually the runaway favorite candidate for this.
It seems all very true, and all very good, and like a huge piece of good news on a gloriously beautiful day, on a holiday weekend.
It seems wonderful.
I still can't believe it, though.
It seems all very true, and all very good, and like a huge piece of good news on a gloriously beautiful day, on a holiday weekend.
It seems wonderful.
I still can't believe it, though.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Mein Kopf Tut Mir Veh
So as I was doing that stuff you do between the phone interview at home, and the getting dressed to go interview in person, I puttered about the house a bit this morning. Amongst other puttering, I flossed my teeth. Squatted down to discard the floss under the sink, and found a small piece of trash next to the wastebasket; so reached over for that, and put it all in. Stood up.
Took a steel corner of the medicine cabinet to the forehead.
Well, that hurts.
I bled. Wah, wah, poor little baby girl me.
But it was a tongue-biter, one of those moments you just go "of COURSE, not that I had a job interview or anything today" and glare at the poor dog. You know, and dab for a while, daring the bleeding to just keep on one minute more. Gah.
As to that: it is true what they say. Head wounds do bleed, even little minor ones, more than you expect. Oiks.
Fortunately: bangs.
Unfortunately, though: I keep forgetting it's there, and touching the bruise accidentally.
Owie.
Took a steel corner of the medicine cabinet to the forehead.
Well, that hurts.
I bled. Wah, wah, poor little baby girl me.
But it was a tongue-biter, one of those moments you just go "of COURSE, not that I had a job interview or anything today" and glare at the poor dog. You know, and dab for a while, daring the bleeding to just keep on one minute more. Gah.
As to that: it is true what they say. Head wounds do bleed, even little minor ones, more than you expect. Oiks.
Fortunately: bangs.
Unfortunately, though: I keep forgetting it's there, and touching the bruise accidentally.
Owie.
Prognostication
If I'm honest, I don't think I'm going to get an offer. Not because I don't think I presented well today, or because my skill set isn't right on, or because there was any particular vibe either over the phone or once I went in for the site interviews. I just don't get a "lucky" sense here, for whatever reason. Not that I have that sort of thing generally, with interviews - or don't, that I can think of - but something about this speed I've been so impressed with seems to me almost "directed", if that makes any sense.
When the SVP told me this morning that I was the final candidate - and today it's only been two weeks since the LISTING even went up! - I just suddenly felt like a string was cut. Like my kite was let go. It just seems (a) too good to be true, and (b) far too "easy" to end in a get at this point.
I'm rightly confident in my abilities, my ability to present them in an interview, and my quality as an employee. I'm very interested in this potential employer. Maybe I'm more defeated than I realize.
But I don't think so.
I just don't believe this can possibly go as well as this would have to, for an offer to be a real likelihood here. I am good, but I'm not so d*mned good employers can detect it at this rate of speed, and act on it so fast.
No, it just seems to me that they did the legal requirement, with interviews, and someone else is in the wings for this role.
I will be disappointed, if I hear it's not mine.
But I would be positively stunned to hear that it could be.
*Sigh*
When the SVP told me this morning that I was the final candidate - and today it's only been two weeks since the LISTING even went up! - I just suddenly felt like a string was cut. Like my kite was let go. It just seems (a) too good to be true, and (b) far too "easy" to end in a get at this point.
I'm rightly confident in my abilities, my ability to present them in an interview, and my quality as an employee. I'm very interested in this potential employer. Maybe I'm more defeated than I realize.
But I don't think so.
I just don't believe this can possibly go as well as this would have to, for an offer to be a real likelihood here. I am good, but I'm not so d*mned good employers can detect it at this rate of speed, and act on it so fast.
No, it just seems to me that they did the legal requirement, with interviews, and someone else is in the wings for this role.
I will be disappointed, if I hear it's not mine.
But I would be positively stunned to hear that it could be.
*Sigh*
One Down
Okay, telephone interview done. I think it went well, but I never do feel like I make as good a remote impression as I do in person, and there is always an element of discomfort with the impersonality of contact like this. I did like the executive, and he's the senior member of the team I'm speaking with, and certainly the fit seems like it could be good.
Surprisingly, as fast as they have moved so far, I am the *last* candidate they're speaking with. And a decision should be made TOMORROW. Wow.
I don't know whether to shift my pointless obsessing from the question of "are they so enthusiastic about me they shifted from phone to in-person interviews?" to "are they able to move so fast because there is an internal candidate already, and going external is an exercise in lip service?" Eh, probably best not to pointlessly obsess at all, right? The good news in this context is that this employer has moved so fast I don't have as much TIME for the fretfulness, so its more just a pointless diversion than a genuinely engaging emotional state.
It's nice to see a place moving this quickly. Even if it's all just going through the motions and I have no real chance, at least there won't be some prolonged period of uncertainty.
Two to go now: 2:30 and 3:30 this afternoon. Still not time to go upstairs and get suited up yet.
*Speed-fretting*
Surprisingly, as fast as they have moved so far, I am the *last* candidate they're speaking with. And a decision should be made TOMORROW. Wow.
I don't know whether to shift my pointless obsessing from the question of "are they so enthusiastic about me they shifted from phone to in-person interviews?" to "are they able to move so fast because there is an internal candidate already, and going external is an exercise in lip service?" Eh, probably best not to pointlessly obsess at all, right? The good news in this context is that this employer has moved so fast I don't have as much TIME for the fretfulness, so its more just a pointless diversion than a genuinely engaging emotional state.
It's nice to see a place moving this quickly. Even if it's all just going through the motions and I have no real chance, at least there won't be some prolonged period of uncertainty.
Two to go now: 2:30 and 3:30 this afternoon. Still not time to go upstairs and get suited up yet.
*Speed-fretting*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)