I read an article in the job section of the paper. This guy-lucky him- had been laid off a few years back and now found himself in the same boat again. (Due to economic circumstances and the fickle fortunes of corporate work.) This time he was laid off only a month or so. How did he create this miracle? He applied for short term contract work. He said in the article that he'd learned from the long 18 months of unemployment last time.
Something about this hit a cord with me. On the surface it makes no sense. If you are contract you have no benefits and you are basically putting yourself out of the job race for the length of the contract. But looking deeper I see that being employed anywhere is better than sitting at home. Sometimes contract work can lead to permanent employment or contacts into permanent employment.
So I applied for a job listed as a 6 month contract. The recruiter called me two days later. Told me I was perfect for the job (as if I haven't heard that one before...) and asked me to send a clean copy of my resume. So I agree with him that I am perfect for the job-Creative Manager-overseeing the creative department and editorial- and I sent him a word doc of my resume. Now I sit and wait.
I'll keep you posted on what happens next.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Filling Endless Saturdays
For the record, I have applied for 30 jobs so far in the month of August. I have had no calls for phone screens and no interviews.
I feel as if the world is looking at me like-what are you doing wrong-which is why I took the time to count this month's job applications. No, I'm not on unemployment and the only person I have to report to is myself. I am concerned. If no job is found in the next 90 days it will be February before things get back to speed. That would be 18 months of job hunt and humiliation...I hope I'm jumping the gun.
To fill the endless days-when I'm not surfing the web for any new and interesting job board or job- I have decided to use this time to write a new book. This one is a different genre than my published books. So far I have been able to write ten pages a day on the book. (Yes, this is a lot.) When asked how I do it...I simply shrug and say, "I have NOTHING else to do." Emphasis on nothing.
I recently read, "The List" by Steve Martini. In it the "hero" is a frustrated writer who takes to blowing up piles of rejection letters. Or simply using them for target practice. This made me smile. It's probably best I don't have a gun. (She says with a wink and a smile.)
I feel as if the world is looking at me like-what are you doing wrong-which is why I took the time to count this month's job applications. No, I'm not on unemployment and the only person I have to report to is myself. I am concerned. If no job is found in the next 90 days it will be February before things get back to speed. That would be 18 months of job hunt and humiliation...I hope I'm jumping the gun.
To fill the endless days-when I'm not surfing the web for any new and interesting job board or job- I have decided to use this time to write a new book. This one is a different genre than my published books. So far I have been able to write ten pages a day on the book. (Yes, this is a lot.) When asked how I do it...I simply shrug and say, "I have NOTHING else to do." Emphasis on nothing.
I recently read, "The List" by Steve Martini. In it the "hero" is a frustrated writer who takes to blowing up piles of rejection letters. Or simply using them for target practice. This made me smile. It's probably best I don't have a gun. (She says with a wink and a smile.)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
My dirty little secret
Here's the deal-as insane as this is...as wrong as this is...I don't want to get a job. I don't want to get a divorce. I don't want to move yet again. I want the life I thought I had-damn it!
I sound like the little girl in the Pedisure commercial- I don't like broccoli...
God, no wonder women stay in bad marriages. No wonder people live in miserable lives. they want to live those lives- they-like me- keep hoping that those lives will magically become the lives they want. But there is no magic. No amount of therapy will change a man who says he is who he is. I know this. I know I'm supposed to take care of me. I know I deserve a relationship where I can trust the other person. Maybe even count of them in a pinch. But here's the deal- I grew up in such a way that I think those things are as unreachable as going to the moon. Great fairy tales but no where near real life. So it's really freaking hard for me to leave-especially as the job hunt drags on...
Same with jobs- I've had one miserable job after another. Worked for more than my fair share of horrid bosses. So much so that, when I step into an interview and smell the copy machine and bad coffee, I get PST flashbacks and am grateful that they don't call back because I just know it's horrible working there. (All three of the places I interviewed with last month have ads back in the paper with slight variations of job title but the same description. No- they never did call back.)
My experiences have taught me to be cynical and bitter. Life is the office-an endless pit of bad bosses, crazy assignments and low pay. Relationships suck.
So much better to hide in my office and create novels-worlds where thing happen the way they do in fairy tales-where even murder seems cool. Sigh. If only I could make a living doing that...
But that doen't pay the bills-so, I send out endless rounds of resumes-always imaging how cool the job could be-when I get a call I plaster on the "Interview Barbie" personna and take a pill to keep the flashbacks at bay until I get out of the interview....then I come home-shower off and reveal the deep rage that the world is not the way I want it to be- and I may have to go down to Walmart and get a job-to live in a trailer if that's what it takes-all in the pursuit of a happier life.
I sound like the little girl in the Pedisure commercial- I don't like broccoli...
God, no wonder women stay in bad marriages. No wonder people live in miserable lives. they want to live those lives- they-like me- keep hoping that those lives will magically become the lives they want. But there is no magic. No amount of therapy will change a man who says he is who he is. I know this. I know I'm supposed to take care of me. I know I deserve a relationship where I can trust the other person. Maybe even count of them in a pinch. But here's the deal- I grew up in such a way that I think those things are as unreachable as going to the moon. Great fairy tales but no where near real life. So it's really freaking hard for me to leave-especially as the job hunt drags on...
Same with jobs- I've had one miserable job after another. Worked for more than my fair share of horrid bosses. So much so that, when I step into an interview and smell the copy machine and bad coffee, I get PST flashbacks and am grateful that they don't call back because I just know it's horrible working there. (All three of the places I interviewed with last month have ads back in the paper with slight variations of job title but the same description. No- they never did call back.)
My experiences have taught me to be cynical and bitter. Life is the office-an endless pit of bad bosses, crazy assignments and low pay. Relationships suck.
So much better to hide in my office and create novels-worlds where thing happen the way they do in fairy tales-where even murder seems cool. Sigh. If only I could make a living doing that...
But that doen't pay the bills-so, I send out endless rounds of resumes-always imaging how cool the job could be-when I get a call I plaster on the "Interview Barbie" personna and take a pill to keep the flashbacks at bay until I get out of the interview....then I come home-shower off and reveal the deep rage that the world is not the way I want it to be- and I may have to go down to Walmart and get a job-to live in a trailer if that's what it takes-all in the pursuit of a happier life.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Waking up is hard to do
I'm losing faith in the job hunt. Only applied for three jobs this week-after having gone through 160 pages of jobs in Careerbuilder, 60 pages of jobs in hotjobs, pages in Monster. My last interview was a month ago. It was for a company that makes lab supplies. Again the job title was Marketing Services Manager, but the woman who interviewed me (The Marketing Director) had my credentials... (I had more experience than she did at this particular job having worked for a similar company years back.) She was looking for someone she could impress. (She had only been at her job three months.) I was not impressionable enough....sigh.
As an aside, I think I applied for her job and didn't get the call...hmmm.
On an interesting note: I read an article on three actresses in Parade Magazine on Sunday and was surprised to see that Meg Ryan also said she "woke up." Her marriage was undone for the same reasons mine was. Only she had the entire world picking on her-from America's sweetheart to adulteress...no mention of the man who she propped up for years through addictions to drugs and booze. Anyway-it was interesting to see she used the same words I did-she "woke up."
It took her years to get work again. Let's hope my not-so-famous self can find work a bit faster...and let's hope I don't need a scary face lift to accomplish the job.
As an aside, I think I applied for her job and didn't get the call...hmmm.
On an interesting note: I read an article on three actresses in Parade Magazine on Sunday and was surprised to see that Meg Ryan also said she "woke up." Her marriage was undone for the same reasons mine was. Only she had the entire world picking on her-from America's sweetheart to adulteress...no mention of the man who she propped up for years through addictions to drugs and booze. Anyway-it was interesting to see she used the same words I did-she "woke up."
It took her years to get work again. Let's hope my not-so-famous self can find work a bit faster...and let's hope I don't need a scary face lift to accomplish the job.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
It's not you...it's me
I received a call for a healthcare publications manager position with a large healthcare insurance company downtown. After a 15 minute initial interview, they set up a face to face interview. I pick up the suit from the dry cleaners. I go over my presentation. This is stuff I know. I've been doing healthcare publications for nearly ten years. I take the train an hour and a half into town. I walk ten blocks-change shoes in the park. Slip on my jacket and enter the glass skyscraper. I go to the front desk with my printed out e-mail and tell them who I'm supposed to ask for. They photograph me and create a badge. My escort will be right down. I wait. Ten minutes later (Is waiting a power thing? I think so...) my escort shows up. A lovely older woman who is breathless and chats about how she has worked for the company for over forty years. We go up to the 27th floor. She walks me through the glass halls-all secure as only a badge can open the doors-to a conference room where the person before me is running over time.
I chit chat about the construction going on above them-seems the building will go from 30 floors to 60 by the end of the year. she tells me they have to evacuate the building every time the crane hauls up new equipment for safety reasons. Finally the conference door opens. A man is escorted out. I go in. It is a good interview with two people-the manager who will be the boss and an art director. I like them. We get along well and I sail through the "tell us about a time when you X" questions. As I'm leaving for the second part of the interview, the boss tells me that they will call next week for second interviews. I'm happy, smiling, hopeful. Part two takes me to the top floor and a conference room bigger than my living room. As I'm taking it in, I note a six foot television screen with my image on it. I say, "Holy smokes, that's bad." Not seeing the smiling woman on the other side. It's a video interview with a woman in another part of the country-a counterpart to the boss. I sit down and put my game face on. I go through another round of "Tell me about..." questions. I'm not sure how this interview went. There were significant pauses as she typed my answers in. Eye contact is at a minimum but I bravely get through it. After 45 minutes I'm thanked for my time and sent out to the hallway to wait for my escort.
She is about five minutes late and happily takes me to the edge of the floor to ceiling exterior windows to "show me the view" completely unaware that I am afraid of heights. She is so enthusiastic about the city views that I do my best to ooh and aah. I must have been convincing as she takes me to the other side to see the construction and the park some 30 odd floors beneath us. I start to get woozy and step back. It was then that I noticed all the stairwells and stairs are glass. I'm really getting spooked. But wipe off the cold sweat on my forehead and gently guide her back to the elevators where I get to go down. Thankful to hand over my badge and get out of all that glass.
The next week-Friday- the boss guy calls. I'm not sure if I am hoping to see him again or not. But it's a good job. He would be great to work for. I even went out and bought a second suit. But boss man didn't call to schedule a second interview. He called to kindly tell me that-it rarely happens but...they had more than one candidate who actual worked in health insurance-not just publications and they went with those candidates. "Oh-" I say. "All right," thinking about the second suit hanging in my closet with the price tags still on it.
"I wanted to speak to you personally," he kindly tells me. "Because I wanted you to know that you interview very well. You are clear and concise in your examples-something well suited in communications. Unlike other candidates we interviewed."
"Oh, well, thank you..."
"Your welcome. I thought you should know and not have to wonder what happened."
Nice guy. I'm wishing I could work with him-but am glad not to have to worry about spending sixty hours a week up in the air with nothing but a pane of glass between me and 30 stories of air.
I chit chat about the construction going on above them-seems the building will go from 30 floors to 60 by the end of the year. she tells me they have to evacuate the building every time the crane hauls up new equipment for safety reasons. Finally the conference door opens. A man is escorted out. I go in. It is a good interview with two people-the manager who will be the boss and an art director. I like them. We get along well and I sail through the "tell us about a time when you X" questions. As I'm leaving for the second part of the interview, the boss tells me that they will call next week for second interviews. I'm happy, smiling, hopeful. Part two takes me to the top floor and a conference room bigger than my living room. As I'm taking it in, I note a six foot television screen with my image on it. I say, "Holy smokes, that's bad." Not seeing the smiling woman on the other side. It's a video interview with a woman in another part of the country-a counterpart to the boss. I sit down and put my game face on. I go through another round of "Tell me about..." questions. I'm not sure how this interview went. There were significant pauses as she typed my answers in. Eye contact is at a minimum but I bravely get through it. After 45 minutes I'm thanked for my time and sent out to the hallway to wait for my escort.
She is about five minutes late and happily takes me to the edge of the floor to ceiling exterior windows to "show me the view" completely unaware that I am afraid of heights. She is so enthusiastic about the city views that I do my best to ooh and aah. I must have been convincing as she takes me to the other side to see the construction and the park some 30 odd floors beneath us. I start to get woozy and step back. It was then that I noticed all the stairwells and stairs are glass. I'm really getting spooked. But wipe off the cold sweat on my forehead and gently guide her back to the elevators where I get to go down. Thankful to hand over my badge and get out of all that glass.
The next week-Friday- the boss guy calls. I'm not sure if I am hoping to see him again or not. But it's a good job. He would be great to work for. I even went out and bought a second suit. But boss man didn't call to schedule a second interview. He called to kindly tell me that-it rarely happens but...they had more than one candidate who actual worked in health insurance-not just publications and they went with those candidates. "Oh-" I say. "All right," thinking about the second suit hanging in my closet with the price tags still on it.
"I wanted to speak to you personally," he kindly tells me. "Because I wanted you to know that you interview very well. You are clear and concise in your examples-something well suited in communications. Unlike other candidates we interviewed."
"Oh, well, thank you..."
"Your welcome. I thought you should know and not have to wonder what happened."
Nice guy. I'm wishing I could work with him-but am glad not to have to worry about spending sixty hours a week up in the air with nothing but a pane of glass between me and 30 stories of air.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
I've become comfortably numb
Got a call from a well known drug store corporation. The position was Employee Benefits Communications Manager. I spoke at length with the recruiter who was all smiles on the phone and telling me how I was perfect for the job and she would recommend to send me through for a face to face interview. A week later I get a call setting up the interview. Once again I put on the now twice dry cleaned suit. I arrive on time-sign in- get my badge-go to the HR room. A very large room with cubicles on the ends and many couches and tables in the middle. I wait...and wait...after 30 minutes one of the receptionists in the cubicles calls me over. She takes my prefilled out application form and hands me a clipboard with more forms and points to a desk. I fill out the additional forms and bring them to her. She now sends me to a computer where I sign away my life-allowing any number of invasive background checks-understanding that they will check my body through a physical-drug test, etc. Check my background-credit check, criminal records check. Their demand for the surrendering of my rights makes me feel as if they have strip searched me with a camera-but I submit because I need a job. I am directed back to the chairs...where I wait another 15 minutes. Then a woman from down the hall calls my name...sort of like the doctor's office. I follow her into a glass conference room and sit down at a table. She goes over my paperwork, my portfolio and asks me the now standard..."talk about a time when you X" questions. After 45 minutes of this, she stands up and tells me the next person will be in in a moment. I thank her for her time and sit down...and wait....and wait...and wait... 30 minutes later one of the cubical receptionists pops her head in to tell me the other woman is running a tad bit late...(right) and will be right in...oh, do I want any water? No, I shake my head. I'm fine. (I'd probably spill it on my silk blouse anyway.) She hands me an employee benefit packet for something to look at while I wait. So, I settle into the hard metal chair and wait some more...after another 20 minutes-and just as I've decided to get up and leave in pops the second woman. She apologizes for being late and her appearance-its casual summer... she goes over my stuff- asks more questions. (I have all the right answers.) She nods and writes. Then she looks up and shares the details of the job and how the position fits into the company. I smile and nod- by this time I'm so tired- I'm not comprehending any of the terms she is using-because it is HR and I'm marketing-but I'm a quick learner so I smile and nod and agree. Finally, it's over- she shakes my hand and stands up and says..."We are just getting started in our search so it could be a while before we have second interviews. Don't worry, we'll call." - (Translation: Don't call us, We'll call you.) Big sigh. I thank her for her time as she walks me out- I surrender my badge at the gate and go to my car where I take off the suit coat and settle in for the 40 minute ride to my house.
Eight days later there is the job ad-same job- same title- with the banner-just out today. There is no second phone call. I'm back to combing through Careerbuilder.com, Yahoo!hotjobs.com, Monster.com, Journalismjobs.com, jobs.com, smuz.com, cybercoder.com, paladin.com and several corporate websites for new job postings.
Eight days later there is the job ad-same job- same title- with the banner-just out today. There is no second phone call. I'm back to combing through Careerbuilder.com, Yahoo!hotjobs.com, Monster.com, Journalismjobs.com, jobs.com, smuz.com, cybercoder.com, paladin.com and several corporate websites for new job postings.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Finally-a decent interview-but no job
The next interview was good only because the woman interviewing looked at me and my portfolio with big eyes and said, "You are highly qualified." Finally! Nice stroke to the old ego- but no job. Here's what happened:
I got a call for a Marketing Communications Manager for a local health care system. Cool, I've done a lot of health care publications. I do a short phone interview with a man who wasn't very bright. He sets me up with a face to face interview and tells me to park in visitor parking, go into the hospital main entrance and axe the receptionist for Human Resources... yes, a professional man said, axe the receptionist... once again I put on the suit. Take a 40 minute drive to the middle of a town so scary the trees are all shriveled. Graffiti is on the light posts. Why are hospitals in bad neighborhoods? Do they need them more there?
I park-and go into the hospital-passing two security guys-big men with guns- and a cop car. I enter the lobby it echoes with the smell of antiseptic and the sounds of coughs, moans and low whispers. I ask the gray haired woman behind the massive desk for directions to Human Resources. She point the way to a bank of elevators and tells me to go to the basement take a right and a left. I find the elevators-get on with two orderlies. The basement has that distinct underground feel and I wonder if I'm being sent to the morgue. I find HR. I'm on time-but again I wait. Ten minutes go by. A couple of people who look homeless come in to fill out applications. Finally a small man in a neon tangerine dress shirt comes out to see me. He smiles, shakes my hand and brings me back to his office where he thanks me for e-mailing him...I didn't...I smile back. He then asks me how freelancing is going....I never spoke to him about freelancing and say awkwardly that I'm here for the Mar/Comm position-not freelance... right? Oh, Right! He says and smiles as he sifts through papers. Right. Silly him. He asks me some questions. I show him my stuff. He tells me to show it to the woman I'm to interview with. Then he gives me a benefits package and tells me all about the insurance and bennies you get should you get the job. He asks me my salary requirements I give them to him. He pauses-blinks- moves on.
We go upstairs-thank goodness- to a hall full of offices for the second interview of the day. The person is not in her office-the door is shut and locked. He glances at his watch. He finds another office and asks for the woman. She is in a meeting with the CEO-so I'm shown to an office across the hall where tangerine shirt man abandons me. I wait 15 minutes before the woman rushes in- all apologies. I smile. Shake her hand. We sit and talk. I show her my work. Her eyes get bigger and bigger the more we talk. She says, "You are highly qualified." More than once and I get the distinct impression I am more qualified than she is...and she would be my boss... it was a bit of a high. She ends the interview with the now standard..."Well, we just started looking. So it will be quite a while before we get back to you. Don't worry." (translation: Don't call us. We'll call you.)
She walks me to the elevator. I get on. Halfway down the elevator stopped and another man went to get on-stopped as soon as he saw me and apologized-then asked if this was the doctors only elevator. I said no. I'm not a doctor. Just a Communications Director looking for work...we both hit the lobby-go passed the security and out into the dirty parking lot. I go home-happy to finally have impressed someone-but had to take a shower to get clean, all the while knowing they wouldn't be calling back.
I got a call for a Marketing Communications Manager for a local health care system. Cool, I've done a lot of health care publications. I do a short phone interview with a man who wasn't very bright. He sets me up with a face to face interview and tells me to park in visitor parking, go into the hospital main entrance and axe the receptionist for Human Resources... yes, a professional man said, axe the receptionist... once again I put on the suit. Take a 40 minute drive to the middle of a town so scary the trees are all shriveled. Graffiti is on the light posts. Why are hospitals in bad neighborhoods? Do they need them more there?
I park-and go into the hospital-passing two security guys-big men with guns- and a cop car. I enter the lobby it echoes with the smell of antiseptic and the sounds of coughs, moans and low whispers. I ask the gray haired woman behind the massive desk for directions to Human Resources. She point the way to a bank of elevators and tells me to go to the basement take a right and a left. I find the elevators-get on with two orderlies. The basement has that distinct underground feel and I wonder if I'm being sent to the morgue. I find HR. I'm on time-but again I wait. Ten minutes go by. A couple of people who look homeless come in to fill out applications. Finally a small man in a neon tangerine dress shirt comes out to see me. He smiles, shakes my hand and brings me back to his office where he thanks me for e-mailing him...I didn't...I smile back. He then asks me how freelancing is going....I never spoke to him about freelancing and say awkwardly that I'm here for the Mar/Comm position-not freelance... right? Oh, Right! He says and smiles as he sifts through papers. Right. Silly him. He asks me some questions. I show him my stuff. He tells me to show it to the woman I'm to interview with. Then he gives me a benefits package and tells me all about the insurance and bennies you get should you get the job. He asks me my salary requirements I give them to him. He pauses-blinks- moves on.
We go upstairs-thank goodness- to a hall full of offices for the second interview of the day. The person is not in her office-the door is shut and locked. He glances at his watch. He finds another office and asks for the woman. She is in a meeting with the CEO-so I'm shown to an office across the hall where tangerine shirt man abandons me. I wait 15 minutes before the woman rushes in- all apologies. I smile. Shake her hand. We sit and talk. I show her my work. Her eyes get bigger and bigger the more we talk. She says, "You are highly qualified." More than once and I get the distinct impression I am more qualified than she is...and she would be my boss... it was a bit of a high. She ends the interview with the now standard..."Well, we just started looking. So it will be quite a while before we get back to you. Don't worry." (translation: Don't call us. We'll call you.)
She walks me to the elevator. I get on. Halfway down the elevator stopped and another man went to get on-stopped as soon as he saw me and apologized-then asked if this was the doctors only elevator. I said no. I'm not a doctor. Just a Communications Director looking for work...we both hit the lobby-go passed the security and out into the dirty parking lot. I go home-happy to finally have impressed someone-but had to take a shower to get clean, all the while knowing they wouldn't be calling back.
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