For you numbers crunchers out there:
Duration of job search: 3 months, 21 days
Positions applied for: 118
Versions of resume prepared: 5
Number of times resumes were revised: 11
Versions of cover letters prepared: 8
Actual cover letters written from scratch: 37
Percentage of applications transmitted by snail mail: 19
Percentage of applications transmitted by email: 78
Percentage of applications delivered in person: 3
Hours spent online, searching and applying for jobs: 265 +
Restless nights since the beginning of the search: 94
Pounds gained just prior to and during search: 26
Herpes outbreaks valiantly fought back with lysine: 2
Dollars spent on paper, toner, envelopes, postage, clothes, tooth whitener, eye drops, nose hair clippers, shoe polish, gasoline and other accoutrements: 380
Percentage drop in overall self-confidence and self-worth: 66.6
Invitations to interview: 11
Actual interviews: 9
Offers of employment: 3
Sense of relief to have found a great job: infinite
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
Just when I thought it was over . . . . . .
NO! The mighty and powerful hand of GOD (or another high-level manager) has reached down and pointed his bony finger at me and said:
"I have plans for you, my emotionally spent and fragile son. You will receive three offers of employment in one day, the last day possible to consider these offers before you start the job you already accepted two days ago.
"The first offer will be for that job you liked so much in Santa Fe, but at a lower salary than you expected.
"The second offer will be from the language school that so unceremoniously dumped you and now regret their short-sightedness.
"But the third offer . . . the third offer! It will glow like the sun in the sky, it will shimmer like the stars at night, it will fill you like a bottomless urn of nectar, it will caress you like a Babylonian whore. And you, my son, will know that the decision is clear - although three doors have been opened and sentinels beckon you, only one door is bathed in the glowing golden light of probable satisfaction, genuine fulfillment, and all that is great and good in this world.
"So choose, damnit! Choose!"
Yes, yes, I had an interview yesterday with the Children's Hospital Development Department. They've had over 200 applicants over the last three months (holy shit). They conducted something like 40 telephone interviews (I had one last Friday). They had only one in-person interview. That was me. It lasted two hours. The entire staff was present. Here's what I learned: the job is phenomenal (helping to raise money to purchase diagnostic and treatment equipment for the leading public children's hospital in a three-state area). The pay is above-satisfactory. The people are some of the most genuinely kind and intelligent I've ever met. The bennies are so damned fine that I'll be playing catch-up with my physician, endodontist, acupuncturist, psychologist, surgeon and pharmacist for at least a year. The location is very pleasant, in a new building next to a shady park adjacent to the hospital. The opportunity for advancement is tremendous. The office decor is soothing (plum and eggplant with touches of nectarine and a plethora of art created by kids). The boss is dynamic and smart and athletic (she's an ex-basketball coach) and very very sweet.
I left the interview thinking, "Crap! Another great job that I won't get." I slept fitfully.
This morning I received calls and emails from about seven ex-supervisors, some going back to 1980, if you can stand that! Evidently, the prospective boss called each of them and asked for a candid, off-the-record appraisal of me. They all claim to have raved about me, which I find quite surreal, but it must be so, because . . . . . .
Just a half hour ago, the fickle finger of fate pointed at me and I was offered the position!
I have to go pee in a cup, get a couple of shots (because I'll be working in a hospital), and swear my allegience to helping sick kids get the best treatment possible. Think I can do that.
Woo hoo! Hooray for me!
P.S. A great big THANK YOU to all the people who wrote supportive comments to me on this blog - I couldn't have made it through without you! Sheila and Alex and Beth and Tracey and Jackie and Sybil - you're in my thoughts and in my heart. Mwah!
"I have plans for you, my emotionally spent and fragile son. You will receive three offers of employment in one day, the last day possible to consider these offers before you start the job you already accepted two days ago.
"The first offer will be for that job you liked so much in Santa Fe, but at a lower salary than you expected.
"The second offer will be from the language school that so unceremoniously dumped you and now regret their short-sightedness.
"But the third offer . . . the third offer! It will glow like the sun in the sky, it will shimmer like the stars at night, it will fill you like a bottomless urn of nectar, it will caress you like a Babylonian whore. And you, my son, will know that the decision is clear - although three doors have been opened and sentinels beckon you, only one door is bathed in the glowing golden light of probable satisfaction, genuine fulfillment, and all that is great and good in this world.
"So choose, damnit! Choose!"
Yes, yes, I had an interview yesterday with the Children's Hospital Development Department. They've had over 200 applicants over the last three months (holy shit). They conducted something like 40 telephone interviews (I had one last Friday). They had only one in-person interview. That was me. It lasted two hours. The entire staff was present. Here's what I learned: the job is phenomenal (helping to raise money to purchase diagnostic and treatment equipment for the leading public children's hospital in a three-state area). The pay is above-satisfactory. The people are some of the most genuinely kind and intelligent I've ever met. The bennies are so damned fine that I'll be playing catch-up with my physician, endodontist, acupuncturist, psychologist, surgeon and pharmacist for at least a year. The location is very pleasant, in a new building next to a shady park adjacent to the hospital. The opportunity for advancement is tremendous. The office decor is soothing (plum and eggplant with touches of nectarine and a plethora of art created by kids). The boss is dynamic and smart and athletic (she's an ex-basketball coach) and very very sweet.
I left the interview thinking, "Crap! Another great job that I won't get." I slept fitfully.
This morning I received calls and emails from about seven ex-supervisors, some going back to 1980, if you can stand that! Evidently, the prospective boss called each of them and asked for a candid, off-the-record appraisal of me. They all claim to have raved about me, which I find quite surreal, but it must be so, because . . . . . .
Just a half hour ago, the fickle finger of fate pointed at me and I was offered the position!
I have to go pee in a cup, get a couple of shots (because I'll be working in a hospital), and swear my allegience to helping sick kids get the best treatment possible. Think I can do that.
Woo hoo! Hooray for me!
P.S. A great big THANK YOU to all the people who wrote supportive comments to me on this blog - I couldn't have made it through without you! Sheila and Alex and Beth and Tracey and Jackie and Sybil - you're in my thoughts and in my heart. Mwah!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Well, that's it - I'm a paralegal again, I guess
I start on Monday as a paralegal in the District Attorney's Office. The only thing that could possibly change that is if someone from another office or agency made me a firm offer today or tomorrow. Otherwise, 8:00 a.m., coffee in hand, I'm there.
I think I understand now how abused wives get corralled into bad marriages.
Okay, I'm not saying it'll suck. Maybe it won't. The work itself is interesting (much more so than the impression I originally had of it being a glorified copy clerk). I'll be pulling together charging documents on meth lab prosecutions. Kinda fun, in a legal/governmental way. The pay is more than I was expecting, and the benefits are phenomenal. Although it means staying in Albuquerque and not doing the big move to Santa Fe, I'm pretty damned happy in my situation here - cool housemate, low expenses, supportive environment, dogs and cats. I just was thinking how fun it would be to live in Santa Fe and have the aesthetic and pleasure portion of my life racheted up a few notches. But I could do more to make life more fun for myself here in Abq. I mean, hello, pottery class, fer Gawd's sake! And there's leather night at the Manhole.
Oh well. Oh well.
"Our revels now are ended." What's that from? Shakespeare?
I spent the last ten years flying by the seat of my pants, and it was fun and scary and challenging and fulfilling and VARIED. It was radically different from my previous government career, and in many ways I got what I wanted: to find out what it's like NOT to be nestled in the secure - and stifling - world of government service. Now I willingly return to that nest, grayer and more frayed around the edges, but ready for the peace of mind that comes with security. It ain't too exciting, and it's not much of a story to tell, and yes, I'm settling.
Am I doing the right thing? I honestly don't know.
There is a huge irony in this, though: my successful vacation rental business, the business I devoted five years of my government "break" to growing, the business that was going to bring me all the things I thought a government job couldn't bring me - excitement, creativity and riches - collapsed because my beloved business partner got addicted to meth and destroyed it all, including himself. Now I'll be helping to put meth manufacturers in jail.
Strange world.
I think I understand now how abused wives get corralled into bad marriages.
Okay, I'm not saying it'll suck. Maybe it won't. The work itself is interesting (much more so than the impression I originally had of it being a glorified copy clerk). I'll be pulling together charging documents on meth lab prosecutions. Kinda fun, in a legal/governmental way. The pay is more than I was expecting, and the benefits are phenomenal. Although it means staying in Albuquerque and not doing the big move to Santa Fe, I'm pretty damned happy in my situation here - cool housemate, low expenses, supportive environment, dogs and cats. I just was thinking how fun it would be to live in Santa Fe and have the aesthetic and pleasure portion of my life racheted up a few notches. But I could do more to make life more fun for myself here in Abq. I mean, hello, pottery class, fer Gawd's sake! And there's leather night at the Manhole.
Oh well. Oh well.
"Our revels now are ended." What's that from? Shakespeare?
I spent the last ten years flying by the seat of my pants, and it was fun and scary and challenging and fulfilling and VARIED. It was radically different from my previous government career, and in many ways I got what I wanted: to find out what it's like NOT to be nestled in the secure - and stifling - world of government service. Now I willingly return to that nest, grayer and more frayed around the edges, but ready for the peace of mind that comes with security. It ain't too exciting, and it's not much of a story to tell, and yes, I'm settling.
Am I doing the right thing? I honestly don't know.
There is a huge irony in this, though: my successful vacation rental business, the business I devoted five years of my government "break" to growing, the business that was going to bring me all the things I thought a government job couldn't bring me - excitement, creativity and riches - collapsed because my beloved business partner got addicted to meth and destroyed it all, including himself. Now I'll be helping to put meth manufacturers in jail.
Strange world.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Firm offer of employment - #1 (hopefully there will be more)
I got my first firm offer today - - - remember this interview? More than two months ago, I met with these people. One of the interviewers was so hostile that I figured there wasn't a chance in hell it would work out. I've seen cross-examination scenes on hit TV shows where the witness received more courteous treatment. But I suppose it was actually just good old-fashioned passive-aggressive attorney intellectual conceit (the sting of the question is ever so much more important than the answer because it shows how brilliant the questioner is), also known in lawyer circles as "strong interviewing technique." The fact that I was able to withstand bursting into tears until after I was out of the building is testament to my strength of character/fear of public embarrassment.
Anyway, I predicted that if I were offered the position, I'd die of an embolism after squatting in front of a copier for two minutes trying to clear a jam.
They want me to start ASAP (like, in a couple of weeks). Can I string them along while I hope for another offer? Should I turn it down flat? Or should I just take the damned job and be done with this agony?
Ironically, I interviewed for a GREAT government job this morning, in Santa Fe, for more money, and in a much more laid back atmosphere. The interviewer, a great Erin Brockovich type, said they would make a decision by Friday. She's the one who said my resume was fascinating (no, I didn't list my stint as a Lullabiologist). I also looked at an apartment in Santa Fe that is being offered to me by one of my ex-language instructor underlings, and it's just fantastic, prime location (I could walk the half mile to work in the park along the river between work and home) and it's being offered to me at half the going rent. This is what I really want. Santa Fe. Healthful living. My own apartment (small, but my own). A good job that's not a stressful nightmare.
Should I call Erin B. and say, "The position with your department is definitely my first choice, but I just received a serious offer here in Albuquerque and I need to give them my answer by Friday." Oh I can't do this sort of thing. In the circus of life, I'm just not a juggler.
What to do, what to do.
Advice? Ideas? Give it to me, ladies.
Anyway, I predicted that if I were offered the position, I'd die of an embolism after squatting in front of a copier for two minutes trying to clear a jam.
They want me to start ASAP (like, in a couple of weeks). Can I string them along while I hope for another offer? Should I turn it down flat? Or should I just take the damned job and be done with this agony?
Ironically, I interviewed for a GREAT government job this morning, in Santa Fe, for more money, and in a much more laid back atmosphere. The interviewer, a great Erin Brockovich type, said they would make a decision by Friday. She's the one who said my resume was fascinating (no, I didn't list my stint as a Lullabiologist). I also looked at an apartment in Santa Fe that is being offered to me by one of my ex-language instructor underlings, and it's just fantastic, prime location (I could walk the half mile to work in the park along the river between work and home) and it's being offered to me at half the going rent. This is what I really want. Santa Fe. Healthful living. My own apartment (small, but my own). A good job that's not a stressful nightmare.
Should I call Erin B. and say, "The position with your department is definitely my first choice, but I just received a serious offer here in Albuquerque and I need to give them my answer by Friday." Oh I can't do this sort of thing. In the circus of life, I'm just not a juggler.
What to do, what to do.
Advice? Ideas? Give it to me, ladies.
Friday, September 01, 2006
My last day as an English instructor and supervisor
So ends another career for Stevie-poo. Sigh.
I was thinking I'd list all the job titles I've had in my life. Here goes, starting with me at 14.
Lawn Mower Boy
Theater Geek (set builder, sound and light tech, and later set and lighting designer)
Music Director (that's what it said on the program - I composed a song or two for some local productions)
Treasurer/Vice-President of an arts association (I was 16 and thought I was hot shit to be elected by all these adults - didn't realize they thought it was quaint someone actually wanted to do it)
Bicentennial project chairman (see above)
Flunkie in a doctor's office. My first real job. I was in charge of getting the doctor's car washed, wiping down all surfaces with isopropyl alcohol and sharpening the 12 pencils in each of six examining rooms - daily - I kid you not. I also typed forms all day on an IBM Selectric: "Clear, cooperative, ambulant, cheerful, not in apparent distress." This applied to everyone. Then I added: "Inquinal Hernia the size of a grapefruit" (if the doctor was hungry) or "Inguinal Hernia the size of a softball" (if he wasn't).
Telephone answering service operator (a la "Bells are Ringing;" my first job to become obsolete)
Paint store clerk (yes, like Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, but I didn't wear mylar shirts)
Cook at the Shrimp Pot (we called it the Shit Pit)
Clerk-Typist (thus begins my federal career)
Secretary
Courtroom graphics maker
Paralegal Specialist
Programs Manager
Advisory Board Member
Board of Directors Member
Grant Writer
Special Events Coordinator
Victim-Witness Assistant
Executive Assistant (oh, the dreaded EA - Sheila can relate - and so ends my federal career)
Psychic Reader (done while floating in a pool in Palm Springs - ahh, the perfect job)
Music Therapist (get this - I called myself a Lullabiologist - I sang tones to sick people - no, really - just sat there in front of them and went, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" - I have quite the basso profundo type voice - I even was on the alternative radio station every Sunday afternoon doing it by request: "Um, Mr. Steve, could you sing to my kidney?" "Of course, dear!" Maybe I need to lump all these Palm Springs jobs under "Flim Flammologist")
National Anthem Singer (to try to drum up business as a Lullabiologist, but the minor league baseball set in Palm Springs was not really my primary market)
Superclerk (the next self-employment gambit)
Strident, in your face, Act-Up militant Queer (briefly)
Landlord (I stank at this - much too lenient)
Vacation property developer
Interior designer
Bossman (I stank at this - much too lenient)
Business partner (I stank at this - blinded by besotted unrequited love, I didn't see my business partner's meth addiction rising up to destroy five years of exhausting labor to build a somewhat successful company)
Free-loader (I hid in the basement of a rich friend for nine months while I looked for work)
Association manager
Website developer
Proofreader and editor
and now Language Instructor, Service Rep and Supervisor
Oh - and back to Psychic Reader/Job Seeker/Binge Eater (today only)
That's it.
Who else wants to list their occupations? Come on, I did - go for it!
I was thinking I'd list all the job titles I've had in my life. Here goes, starting with me at 14.
Lawn Mower Boy
Theater Geek (set builder, sound and light tech, and later set and lighting designer)
Music Director (that's what it said on the program - I composed a song or two for some local productions)
Treasurer/Vice-President of an arts association (I was 16 and thought I was hot shit to be elected by all these adults - didn't realize they thought it was quaint someone actually wanted to do it)
Bicentennial project chairman (see above)
Flunkie in a doctor's office. My first real job. I was in charge of getting the doctor's car washed, wiping down all surfaces with isopropyl alcohol and sharpening the 12 pencils in each of six examining rooms - daily - I kid you not. I also typed forms all day on an IBM Selectric: "Clear, cooperative, ambulant, cheerful, not in apparent distress." This applied to everyone. Then I added: "Inquinal Hernia the size of a grapefruit" (if the doctor was hungry) or "Inguinal Hernia the size of a softball" (if he wasn't).
Telephone answering service operator (a la "Bells are Ringing;" my first job to become obsolete)
Paint store clerk (yes, like Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, but I didn't wear mylar shirts)
Cook at the Shrimp Pot (we called it the Shit Pit)
Clerk-Typist (thus begins my federal career)
Secretary
Courtroom graphics maker
Paralegal Specialist
Programs Manager
Advisory Board Member
Board of Directors Member
Grant Writer
Special Events Coordinator
Victim-Witness Assistant
Executive Assistant (oh, the dreaded EA - Sheila can relate - and so ends my federal career)
Psychic Reader (done while floating in a pool in Palm Springs - ahh, the perfect job)
Music Therapist (get this - I called myself a Lullabiologist - I sang tones to sick people - no, really - just sat there in front of them and went, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" - I have quite the basso profundo type voice - I even was on the alternative radio station every Sunday afternoon doing it by request: "Um, Mr. Steve, could you sing to my kidney?" "Of course, dear!" Maybe I need to lump all these Palm Springs jobs under "Flim Flammologist")
National Anthem Singer (to try to drum up business as a Lullabiologist, but the minor league baseball set in Palm Springs was not really my primary market)
Superclerk (the next self-employment gambit)
Strident, in your face, Act-Up militant Queer (briefly)
Landlord (I stank at this - much too lenient)
Vacation property developer
Interior designer
Bossman (I stank at this - much too lenient)
Business partner (I stank at this - blinded by besotted unrequited love, I didn't see my business partner's meth addiction rising up to destroy five years of exhausting labor to build a somewhat successful company)
Free-loader (I hid in the basement of a rich friend for nine months while I looked for work)
Association manager
Website developer
Proofreader and editor
and now Language Instructor, Service Rep and Supervisor
Oh - and back to Psychic Reader/Job Seeker/Binge Eater (today only)
That's it.
Who else wants to list their occupations? Come on, I did - go for it!
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