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*

Meat Jell-o

Yesterday I worked my ass off!  That is figurative as I have a big butt already and it would take a long time to really work it off.  So anyway, I worked f'in hard! I spent the first half of my day cleaning as a real bona-fide housekeeper at a condominium time-share resort.  The units are rented out fully furnished for a week at a time (this is also where I had been stripping temporarily which I now know is a much easier job and more fun too).  The unit inhabitants only have one week to mess them up then a crew comes in and wipes, washes and polishes all the nooks and crannies to ready it for another round of Canadians or people from Texas (I know this because the units have the visitors name and hometown info on the room cards and most of them are Canooks or Texans).    I went into it thinking it wouldn't be so bad since my stripping experience was rather like a piece of cake.  Cleaning = not fun = people are pigs.  

After one week in a clean slate condo people manage to spill all sorts of crap in the fridge and apparently feel no need to wipe anything up.  In every fridge I cleaned there was the inevitable goo under the produce drawer.  I refer to the goo as meat jell-o as I think it is most likely hamburger, steak or chicken juice/blood that drips off the racks and puddles under the drawer.  Not only is it gross to look at it--the junk is also stinky and sticky and takes way too much elbow grease and time to rub out.  Blah!  Wipe it up people!  WTF!  You were there one week!  What does your home fridge look like?!?!?!?!?!  Also, when staying at a hotel/resort, please tell your children NOT to take the tube of toothpaste and squirt lines off it across the bathroom mirror.  Someone has to clean that.  Someone else also has to clean the pine needles off the couch cushions.  Why were there even that many pine needles on the couch cushion?  Did you take it to Glacier National Park on a hike and use it to sit on the trail when you were tired?  I am still perplexed by that one.  

My saving grace of the day was pairing with an OCD maid who had a penchant for bathrooms (thank God!  I shall refer you back to my earlier postings about hairy toilets...) and wearing my red Dansko clogs (I love you Dansko.  You make my feet happy).  I did the front half which is the kitchen and living areas.  Wipe and dust EVERYTHING.  Clean EVERYTHING.  Polish EVERYTHING (even the pots and pans).  By EVERYTHING I mean each frickin surface you can see and can't see.  Much like cleaning an apartment or house for a new tenant--that kind of clean--except it is fully furnished and decorated with pictures on the wall that need dusted and the glass cleaned and silverware to boot.  Kicked my ass!  It was quite a work-out too.  So if you look at the bright side--which I do as I am usually an optimist--I got paid to work-out yesterday.  Woot!  Woot!  I will just keep telling myself that the cleaning gig is like that exercise boot-camp that chicks pay craploads of money to attend only I get paid to attend.  Next, I shall trick others into coming with me and start my own cleaning agency/boot camp and not only will I get paid by those I am cleaning for, I shall get paid by the rich bitches that are too stupid to realize that they are paying me for the opportunity to clean someone's house.  Oh yeah.. Now that is a plan.  I shall work on putting that into action....(I didn't realize I could become an entrepreneur until I typed that..I am so onto something here) 

In Which I Get a Job

Ok.  So it is not really a long term job however I did so well working temporarily as a stripper I have been asked to be a housekeeper.  Woopee!  This too shall be temporary and on Fridays but at least it is a little bit of income.  Plus, someone likes me and feels that I am employable unlike a bazillion and a half others (Wal-mart...).  The head of housekeeping said she missed me terribly on Friday and the new girl is not so good.  Yay me! So now I shall be cleaning and not stripping.  It is a step up and offers more pay. Now I can afford a new pair of sandals for summer and some new resume paper.  I am running out.....


In other news, a recent study shows that most professionals are unemployed after lay-offs for an average of eight months.  This means, on average, I should find a new job in about two months.  I will be ready then.  I will also be tanned and fit.  I love summer...What better time to be unemployed than when you can go outside without a parka or an umbrella.

Gottcha Where I Wantcha....

On Friday, while working at my condo-stripping job I was reminded of a series of horribly stupid, long-winded jokes that we used to tell as children.  Maybe you remember them.  The jokes all center around people staying in a hotel and checking out early based on scary voices they hear chanting mantras such as "Gottcha Where I Wantcha, Now I'm Gonna Eatcha," or "When the log rolls over we will die, we will die."  Usually a brave person tracks down the source which ends up to be an old women in a closet holding a bloody booger on her finger or a bunch of talking flies sitting on a turd that was left in the toilet.  Not the best jokes but they were funny to a 7 year old.  The funniest part is why my temporary job on Fridays cleaning hotel rooms would remind me of fodder that is embedded in my mind from almost 30 years ago.  Any guesses as to why??  Honestly, the truth would make you barf.....No pictures associated with this post.  I am still too busy trying not to vomit little bits in my mouth in order to draw what I have witnessed.


Note to Self:  While staying at hotels or resort, be sure to bring ample kleenex and not to use the bed sheets as tissue paper especially while suffering from bloody sinus pressure.  *Barf*  Don't get me started on the toilets again....  

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?)

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.