What's the Plan, Stan?

"Always have a plan, even for the little things.  Don't just go out and say you are going out for a Coke.  Decide ahead of time - if they don't have a Coke, then have a Pepsi.  If no Pepsi, then a Fanta.  Don't ever get caught by surprise, learn to always think ahead, be prepared."  Carlos Fonseca.  

Sandinista: Carlos Fonseca and the Nicaraguan Revolution; Matilde Zimmerman

I have always been one to have a plan and goals.  I remember my earliest ones starting in high school. Get the hell out of there.  So I doubled up on classes and graduated a year and a half early.  It then moved into getting a job that pays at least $8 an hour (in the early '90's that was a decent pay and gas was still under $1 a gallon).  Then my goal morphed into getting a promotion.  Did it.  I floundered a bit because I did somethings backwards and got married and had a baby.  Got divorced at 20 so I moved to Idaho to begin again.  Started the job thing all over.  My goal changed from getting a promotion (although I did get raises) to going to college.  After three (3) years of working, I was finally in a place where I could work part-time and go to school full-time.  While I was in school my goals were educationally attainable.  Get a 4.0.  Done.  Dean's List.  Done.  Scholarships.  Done.  Go to Oxford.  Done.  

After college, I just had my part-time job become a full-time job.  I then advanced a few times from that position.  I got bored with Idaho.  I changed my goal to moving and finding a job at the same time.  Done.  Then it was the regular milestones of monotony:  make more money.  Government jobs are good like that.  My goals meshed with moving up so I became a certified floodplain manager; certified residential building inspector; and finally a certified planner.  I think I was also certifiably stupid because even with all the credentials I didn't foresee the economic downtown in construction.  I wasn't prepared to lose my job.  Metaphorically speaking it was as much of a shock as taking your dog for a walk and a car jumps the curb and runs over your dog - killing it in front of you while the leash is still in your hand.  (That is a real scenario too.  My friend, Bad Luck Amanda, had it happen to her).

Had I prepared, I would have had a plan in place rather than flailing around and collecting a pitiful amount of compensation in the form of unemployment benefits.  I would have been able to walk out of the planning department, breathed a sigh of relief and jumped into my next adventure.  I never would have ended up at the assisted living facility wiping asses for almost a year.  I wouldn't have ended up in the comfortable position I am in now and thoroughly enjoy, even though it does nothing to promote my job interests resume-wise.  

I am so frustrated with it all right now.  I could wish for a break that lets me use my strengths (e.g., typing, writing, customer service, analytic thinking and research) or I could actually do something about it.  And that's what I'm going to do, dammit.  

Right now I have a part-time position on the horizon. It is back in the planning field.  I can work it around my existing job.  It would allow me to use my brain again and I would be continually learning.  Honestly, that is what I miss the most about my former line of work.  I was learning every day.  I had to research trends and apply them to a local community level.  I had to memorize them so I didn't look like a bumbling idiot answering questions on the public access channel that replayed the videos of the city council meetings.  It was as if I was still in school.  

I am also applying for a part-time position as a research assistant.  It won't require ever meeting my boss.  It would involve researching material for that person to write a book and communicating online.  And typing, loads of it.  Transcription.  Tons of it.  F-U-N!  Plus, it would be something that would allow me to feel like I am contributing something by no longer being idle and just preparing paperwork.  If wishes were fishes, the sea would be full.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.

*Note:  I am afraid I have lost my sense of humor.  I still love to smile but not much is funny.  I am beginning to think it is the winter.  Maybe I have S.A.D. or maybe I am bored from not thinking.  Either way it needs to stop.  I will have to figure it out.  Lately my only source of enjoyment has been pinterest and trying out new hairstyles including fish-bone braids and no heat curls.  For Christ's Sake!  Somethings gotta give*

Summer Dreamin'

I am a dreamer.  I daydream.  Often.  Some may call me spacey or off-focus but I'm not.  I am really just living another life out inside my head.  In fact, I am the mayor of my own little village of idiots in Nikki-land.  It is a really rockin' coastal community somewhere warm.  The sun always shines and the wind never blows.  I can't tell you how to get there unless you climb into that little door that will also take you into John Malkovich's head.  You should stop by sometime.  We can have umbrella drinks.

Mostly I just go to Nikki-land to escape.  Honestly, life just seems so demanding and overwhelming at times.  I wish I could just sit down and veg out like my kids can but I can't--too much to do.  The school year is always a blur.  This past year working the job from Hell took a toll also.  I couldn't count on anything like making plans with friends or going to a movie.  Twice I went to funerals and actually got calls from my work while I was paying my respect to the deceased. (Note: I turned off the frickin' cell phone when I was at them so they didn't actually ring when I was in the funeral but as soon as I left and turned on the damned phone, I had messages calling me into work).  We made plans with friends and we had to cancel because I got called in because someone was sick or didn't show up so I had to go in and work the floor.  Blah!  I couldn't even get my drink on without the fear someone would call.  That combined with the hell of being unemployed for so long, catching up on bills, juggling the boys' needs and then Alan being out of work when we closed the pizza place left me longing for more.  Hence, Nikki-land sprouted forth.

This summer is a bit different.  The boys both left.  One is at Grandma's and one is traversing the Pacific Northwest visiting other family.  Alan has a decent job with regular hours and I have a job that I am currently Lah-ov-ing!  I cleaned the house the first week the boys left and the bathroom has stayed clean.  The trash only goes out every few days and the dishwasher is crying because it rarely gets used.  We stopped grocery shopping.  The nights Alan works we get dinner there for free.  The days he has off we defrost something from the freezer.  The only thing we really buy is beer.  That is the only store run I make now.  Every 2 weeks I also buy a 1/2 gallon of milk for coffee and maybe cereal if I want some.  Complete 180 from the usual life.

The sad part: I don't know what to do with myself!!!  Like I said, the house is clean, there is nothing to cook, the yard looks great.  Once a week I spend about 2 hours mowing or weeding and then it is done for another week.  I have been outside often but I get a sun rash because I am a freak of nature so I really only go out after the hottest part of the day.  I don't want to get the rash on my face!!!!!  I have gone through my clothes. Organized pictures and had a yard sale for three days.  Finally, that heap of crap from the storage unit is gone (Thank you Jesus!).  And again, not sure what to do.  I can't focus for long periods of time because I am so used to being interrupted with calls of "MOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!" every 5 minutes.  That means books are out of the question right now and I have read all my magazines cover to cover.  

Alan and I don't go to bars because we are old.  We don't eat out together because he works at a restaurant in the evenings and plus, I covered that already.  I have been trying to convince him to start walking with me but it makes us seem like old people.  :)  He is going to put my exercise equipment out for me so I can work out.  That is about all I have to do.  B-O-R-I-N-G!!!

I will be excited to have the kids come back.  I really miss them.  I guess I miss the hectic life more than I thought I would.  

This is how my summer has really been without the kids and that treasured work-life balance....

In Which I Get a Job that I like!!!!

I have undergone quite the transformation in the past year and half.  I went from a highly professional job where I was valued for my knowledge and treated in high regards to some very different types of positions.  [It is funny when I think back to it.  Sometimes I remember events and for some reason everyone in my head speaks with an English accent and sometimes I am wearing a wig like George Washington.  Ok, so that is when I have dreams about my old job but still...it is kinda odd don't ya think, chap?  End Rant Here.]  I was a pizza delivery driver, pizza maker, house keeper and finally an overqualified butt wiper.  I know my last job wasn't really all butt-wiping but it was the part that I had NO IDEA about before I had accepted it.  Granted, it was only when I had to work the floor or as a last resort, but just not my cup of tea (see, the English thing again).

Overall the dynamics where I worked for 9 months were not ideal.  Many times I felt like Lloyd in Dumb & Dumber (*Note, to truly understand the torment please click on that link).  I could go on and on and I am sure over time I will post little snippets of the hellish ordeal but for now I am trying to remove it from my memory and focus on the good.  Which is why I am writing in the first place and it brings us full circle to one year ago........

Last year I interviewed for a position that I knew I could totally do and was offered the job in a round-about way.  They basically said they couldn't afford me.  They said what they could offer and I agreed with them because at that time, my naivety about how dire the job market would become was unfathomable.  I was still expecting to find a job that made within $5 and hour of what I had been making.  So needless to say, I went on my merry way and continued to drudge forward through unemployment for another 6 months {Rant--my husband continually said "I told you to accept that other job" whenever I complained about the job I had accepted. Rant ends here}.

Fast forward 13 months later: While perusing through Craigslist I spied the same job that I had turned down last year!!!!!   No way!  Could it be?!?!  Since I had accepted the other job and "settled" for a lower salary that was commensurate with what they had offered me I wondered if I should go for it.  When I told my husband about it his response was "I told you to accept it last year!"  So I contacted them and told them my situation: the past year was pure hell and I had kicked myself for not accepting it before and I GOT THE JOB!!!!  That simple!!!!!!  Holy buckets!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I started at the new job about two weeks ago.  It is a job I can do.  It is a job that makes me happy.  It is a job where I am appreciated.  It is a job where I am no longer on call, ever!!  I can have nights and weekends and holidays free!  I can go out of town.  I can drink too many beers and not get a call that someone is sick or didn't show up or there is a major crisis that I can't deal with because I got my beers on.  I can take the kids to school in the morning and then go to work.  I can leave for a full hour at lunch and take my husband to work and not have to check out and let someone know I am leaving the premise on my own time.  Pay dirt baby!!!!

My new job is administrative--the kind of crap that I did before I went to college.  However, my experiences elsewhere have come in handy and I am actually highly-qualified!!!!!!!!!  My desk is behind a large counter.  You can't even see my head when you walk in unless I really sit up to peer over the ledge.  It is my happy place.  My very own happy place and I can't think of anywhere I would rather be from 8:30 - 5 pm, Monday through Friday.  Woot! Woot!

I AM A ROBOT....

Lately I feel like a robot.  Honestly, I find myself speaking all mono-syllabic and moving hurky-jerky style.  I feel as if I lost the up in my giddy-up and I am locked in the ho-hum hum-drum of unemployment.  This totally sucks!  Five months and counting.  I have created a routine and I am rather sure I have mentioned my routine in earlier posts but I am too lazy to re-read it looking for it to link to it.  Robots don't do things like that.  They only do what is in their routines and what they are programmed to do.  I am programmed to get up, read the paper, look for jobs, apply for jobs, clean the house, do laundry, go to work with my husband, make pizzas, deliver the pizzas, come home, look at Facebook, fold the laundry I put in the dryer before the leaving the house, empty the dishwasher, watch a rerun of  "Cold Case" and fall asleep.  Then repeat.  


I wish someone would push reboot or reprogram me to do something different.  Last week I did do other things but even those other things were work like mowing the lawn, weeding the flower bed, raking, waxing the floor and unpacking those boxes of weird shit I can't figure out where it goes but I know I have to keep it.  Aaargh.  I want to enjoy summer but summer enjoyment apparently equals money which one earns by working outside the home which is what I don't do and in my job with my husband--it is unpaid so the business doesn't have to pay someone else, so what fun is that?  


I think I may have a nervous breakdown and start beeping like Silas does when he is nervous.  For example:  First day of school,  "Hi.  I am your new teacher.  What is your name?"  "Beep." *Me* "His name is Silas."  "Oh, welcome Silas.  Let us find your desk.  You are sitting next to Libby.  Do you know Libby?"  *Him* "Beep."  "Well, you must be a little nervous.  That is ok.  Second grade is going to be fun.  What is your favorite sport?"  *Him* "Beep."  I finally left him at his desk even though he didn't stop beeping.  He always stops eventually.


Robots get stuck in routines because that is what they are made to do.  Not me.  If I am stuck in a routine I want compensated for it.  Here are somethings I would like to be paid for:  working and working.  I am good at working.  Mother f***er.  Beep.  Does not compute.  Does not compute.  Beep. Beep. Beep.

Stripping

In all my years I never once thought that I would ever utter the words "I have been working part-time as a stripper."  To clarify the aforementioned statement one should realize that by stripper I do not mean I have been baring my naked body while dancing on-stage to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" and performing acrobatic stunts while attached to a stripper pole.  I am referring to stripper in the form of the action verb for a job which entails removing the sheets and towels from resort- or hotel rooms in order to prepare the room for the housekeeper to clean.  It is a good stripper--not a bad stripper.  

Unlike the other type of stripping where you are paid to remove your clothes, I am paid to remove toiletries, linen and foods left in the refrigerator--most likely from Canadians as they seem to be the only tourists still visiting this town with money.  I do not receive tips like the other kind of stripper either.  The tips that were left in the rooms go to the housekeepers who following my stripping the room of the nasties and unmentionables that guests leave behind.  I also get to restock the rooms with linens and towels to replace the ones that were used and change out toilet paper, paper towels, soaps, candles, dish washing tablets and other assorted niceties that one would expect in a fully furnished condominium unit that is rented weekly.

Luckily, I have not been stationed in the laundry room as I had expected.  That is good because I do not fold symmetrically very well.  In fact, I can't even draw a decently round circle (it usually looks more lopsided like almost an oval or a badly shaped cookie).   Assigning me as a stripper was a much more logical approach.  My initial feedback after my stint as a stripper on Fridays is that I am the best stripper they have ever trained.  I asked questions that no one had ever asked before and it made the head stripper pleased as I could understand the logic of why things were performed in a particular manner and therefore wouldn't make mistakes like other strippers.  I am still unsure of what mistakes others would make besides not being able to count.  It is a rather basic process to determine if you need flat and fitted sheets for twin and queen beds and how many replacement towels would be needed to restock a room.  There is even an inventory sheet that shows how many of each item are required to be in a room.  (Example:  A room requires 6 striped pool towels.  I count the towels that are still folded in closet.  There are 4 so I go to the supply van and retrieve 2 more towels to bring that number back to 6.  See.  Easy as pie.)  I suppose the compliment was also related to the foresight that we were low on pillow cases so I restocked the supply vehicle without being asked.  I was particularly pleased with the compliment about being the best stripper that had ever been trained.  I was also told that I learn quickly.  Yeah!  :)  That actually did make me feel happy inside.  The best part is since the head of housekeeping is a friend of ours she told my husband what an excellent stripper I am!  She also said this in front of others who may not have understood the context for which it was intended to be referenced and that made it all the better......

Being a stripper has also taught me that from now on whenever I stay at a hotel, I shall ALWAYS leave my towels and washrags in the bathtub so the housekeeper or stripper doesn't have to walk all over looking for them.  I will remove the sheets and pillow cases from the beds and place those in a pile that is also easily accessible.  Finally, I shall verify that all toilets are flushed and that I haven't left pubic hairs all over the rim of the toilet like I shaved standing over it.  YUCK!!!!  (I am very serious about that last sentence.  There were 3 units where the toilet rim had more hair than a 20 year old man.  Frickin' disgusting.  Who would do that?  What is wrong with them anyway and is genital hair loss really an actual reality or are these sickos actually shaving their junk over the toilet?)

Shoulda been a Cowgirl

Yee-haw Buckaroo.  Ain't much goin' on in the job market here.  Ain't much of nothin' nowhere it seems.  Only promisin' jobs are for a phlebotomist (works with blood - yuck), attorney (which I ain't), pediatrician (which I ain't for sure and won't never be since I hate blood and don't really like sick lil' ones), hotel workers (I am only doin' that as a fill-in--don't wanna do it full-time) and line cooks (not into that neither).  It's enough to git a girls saddle bags in a bunch.


Although, there was one job I saw posted at Job Service no less.  I ain't lying neither.  It was for a range rider.   This is Montana ya know.   No shit.  Someone to watch over the cows on the open range.  $1,600 a month.  Cabin provided.  You gotta cook yer own tender vittlens and pay fer em too.  Didn't say if there were a stove or a fire pit.  Did say preferred to bring yer own horse and tack.  Wish I had my own horse and tack.  Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, that ain't true.  I hate poop.  I like long showers, doin my hair,  smellin' purty, and sleepin' indoors under clean sheets.  Don't think I would do so great on the open range. It was a nice idea while it lasted.  

Too bad this job wasn't posted back in 1937.  My grandfather wouldda loved it.  Matter of fact, he had a job similar in Oregon territory (actually it was a state by then).  Only difference is there was no cabin and he slept outside and sometimes they ran out of food and he had to eat rodents like squirrels.  He loved riding his horse though.  See--don't think I'm cut out to be a cowgirl or at least not a real one. I do have some very nice and slick lookin' Ariats.  I am in LOVE with my boots.  I guess I am more of a poser or a city slicker since as I said before I hate poop and don't like bein' dirty.  I would like the range rider job if I could dress like Dale Evans and get pampered too (see kick ass image below.  Note: My mom was named after Dale Evans).  That would make it all worth it.  Happy Trails and happy job huntin....

Temp Job....

Since I haven't found a job yet--this week marks the first week that I will be helping out a friend at a resort. My friend is the head of housekeeping so I will be in the laundry room.  Not much different than what I do at home on a daily basis. Honestly, I don't mind because I will be out of the house for a few hours.  I have never been in an industrial laundry room so this will be a new endeavor.  Also, the perk to helping my friend is maybe I can finally learn how to fold fitted sheets really well.  I've got towels and flat sheets down pat but fitted sheets always look a tad rounded and funky when they are stashed on a shelf next to their neatly squared-cornered sheet mate.  


The sad part is that I am helping a friend in the laundry room because I don't have a job anymore.  All those stupid diplomas and certifications don't mean anything right now.  Who am I going to impress with them?  "Look towels, I am going to fold you and you are going to like it.  You are going to listen to me and be folded nicely.  Sheets, you too!! You will respect my authority!  You will obey as I try to fold you into squares.  None of this balling up as I fold you, dammit! I graduated high school early. I went to college. I am a certified floodplain manager; certified planner; have my cpr certification and in the 8th grade I took boaters safety and got a certificate for that too.  You, laundry, shall do as I say because I know what I am talking about!"  For some reason I don't think it will matter what I have behind me or on the walls in the office (or in a box right now since I am in the process of moving).  Laundry probably won't care and neither will the people who use that laundry.  Do you think the tourists that stay at the resort will have remarks like "Look Honey!!! This towel was folded neatly into and "E" shape.  The folder is obviously an AICP."  "Oh my, these sheets have been arranged so nicely.  Obviously this was prepared by a college graduate."  Um....No.  Not going to happen.  In the meantime, I will have to forget my pity party as I am moving and will be busy folding laundry. 


Here is a picture of me folding towels.  I am not much of an artist so you will have to pretend those are towels.  Also, I will not be folding towels and sheets in the office as it will be at the resort my friend works at and I will not post all my certificates on the wall.  My picture is not an accurate portrayal of what it will really look like. I assume my hair will be messier and their will be lots of washers and dryers.   

Musing Over Unemployment

1. Things that eat at you: The next time I hear the words "over qualified" I am going to throw up on the person who is rejecting me as a future employee. At least they will have a real reason not to hire me AND and I will feel better (ever since I lost my job my tummy has hurt).

2. I am annoying like that kid that sat behind you in 7th grade math and made fart sounds and smelled like B.O.: When I actually go through the process of applying for job then obviously I am interested. Right? -- Nope. Apparently people assume that I just spend an hour or two re-tailoring my resume and filling out generic employment applications for shits and giggles. Hmmmm. Why yes! Now that you mention it, I do indeed enjoy this process. Ultimately my end goal IS to accept a job and then abruptly quit just to cause my employer the hassle of repeating the search process. I enjoy causing misery. WTF?!?! My goal is to obtain and sustain gainful employment. Like previously hinted at: I am not enamored with the job search process.


3. Watch your Ps and Qs: Most recently I have remembered that interviewing is not an activity I would chose to partake in more often than the bare minimum required. Yes, it is possible interview more often than just for employment. Those who choose to be involved in the citizen form of government must be interviewed by commissioners and councilmen prior to be appointed. Others are interviewed for research purposes or disseminating information to the general masses. Even those famous people that irk me so much I get an eye twitch when I see or think of them interview as often as possible to stay in the limelight (tilla tequilla *twitch*).

4. Does this simulation have a reset button? I would like to start this level over: I would much rather have an interview that is a simulation. Not just a typing test either. Maybe we could pretend that I already work there and I can make the coffee. We could talk about dinner last night and how I reprimanded with the children this morning about leaving the milk on the counter, again. Or, how last night my husband and I watched a tantalizing episode of 'Cold Case' that we had not been fortunate enough to have seen before. I can ask how their night was. "Did your mashed potatoes turn out too lumpy again or did you finally use the beaters instead?" "Oh, by the way, how was your pedicure? What color did you choose? Oh yes, yes, the french pedicure is classy."

After the chit-chat I can then proofread their latest report, correct the grammar and set the margins correctly. "Did you realize that your font changes for some reason in this section? You will want to fix that so it doesn't look like you are a noob user of Word." Finally, I can compile your notes into a delightfully modern PowerPoint presentation for your evening meeting and then I will smile while you practice your presentation and pretend that I didn't just rewrite it for you.

5. See you later Alligator. Not if I see you first. That should be enough to tell if I will fit in or not. How often will we be sitting here like this anyway? If it is much more than this initial interview then I definitely do not want this job. Thanks, I will just keep looking.