Yellow Pill vs. Green Pill

So. I've got choices regarding jobs. Quite the turnaround from my last blog. It feels good to have choices but I dislike having to choose in situations like this. Happiness vs. money/benefits is no joke.

Here are my choices. Both of them are, at this time, almost a guarantee.

Job 1: Baker's assistant at UNL. The company caters to frats and sororities and works during the school year. Training starts August 8.

PROS

1) Holidays AND summer vacation

2) It's not minimum wage: $9/hr

3) Enough people interaction to keep me happy but not overwhelmed (hopefully)

4) It deals with food, something near and dear to me

5) Gain/perfect interesting and practical skills

6) It's in town

7) Schedule allows me to continue freelance design

CONS

1) No benefits

2) Not sure how much growing I can do within this job

3) Close but not quite full time

NOTE: I'll have what I need money-wise, despite little wiggle-room. I like taking care of people and this would allow me to do so indirectly. I'm already pretty excited about this; oh, I get three chef coats. :-P

Job 2: Not sure on title but it's for a nutritional supply store. I would take inventory, place and help ship orders, label things.

PROS

1) Definitely not minimum wage: $15/hr

2) Benefits after a few months

3) Full time

4) Easy, as it is a routine

CONS

1) Four employees total

2) I'm in a small warehouse most of the time

3) It's in Syracuse, so one hour roundtrip

4) Sounds monotone, despite having to multitask

5) No growing opportunity

NOTE: I'm not money-driven, but a nice cash flow might allow me to do things that make me happy, such as traveling and going out, maybe even supporting a good cause. But is daily monotony worth it?

This might be a no-brainer. So, why is it so hard?

His Eye is on the Gecko

I called mom earlier today and she gave me some rather unexpected news: Al, the gecko that went AWOL last year, reappeared. He was beneath the boiler in our basement, warm and well-fed on wild crickets. (If you missed this, you can read it here.)

Call it miracle or coincidence, but it's a breath on fresh air as I feel polluted by discouragement. Mom wanted to save the events for my next visit but she felt I need them now: Now that I'm wondering how I'll pay August rent; now that I have been almost two months unemployed; now that I haven't had much freelance going. I have savings (I am trying to not touch that money) but I'm seriously considering returning home.

I don't know where you are with God, or if you even believe in Him, but little things like the above make feel that I will somehow be fine and Someone will take care of me. Maybe not in my beloved Lincoln (I've got to get used to the idea) but fine and in one piece.

I'm still waiting for instructions. For now though, I'll do my best to sit still.

The Perfect Job

Some Sunday Morning, Summer 2007:

The sun shines through my large, east window. My hair is in a loose braid and I'm wearing plaid boxers and a college shirt, probably from Project Impact. I'm sitting in front of my oversized computer monitor, PB & J sandwich in my left hand, mouse on the other: Photoshop-ing ink drawings and testing layouts and colour schemes for the Peanut Gallery.

It's late morning and I should look more presentable. But I don't care. I'm in the zone. I'm creating. I'm designing. I'm happy.

That's what my perfect job looks like.

Passive Aggressive Haiku

A few weeks ago I applied for a graphic designer position at the Portland Japanese Garden. I just received an email from them, thanking me for my interest but apologizing I would not be moving on to the interview process. Here is my response:

I would have been good

Pox on your lov'ly garden

Hope your bambo dies

"Claudia, DO SOMETHING!"

Within the last three weeks I applied and/or sent my resumé to four different prospective employers. (I'm doing a fifth, though it's not a track record to be engraved on a plaque.) I had a pre-interview with one but have heard nothing from the others. In the meantime, I find out a friend has an interview and another starts a new job next week.

My feelings are mixed - happiness with a touch of envy and pressure. At a young age I craved approval. Now as a "grown-up" I continue to want it at some level, this time with a job. I want a "professional" to tell me my skills are good enough. Thing is, I KNOW they are; my FRIENDS tell me they are; my CLIENTS are happy. These people, including me, matter. So, what the hell is my problem?

My friend, Michael, said, "Employment is just as much a sign of talent as grades are." True. I just don't want to be that friend. You know, the deadbeat who didn't do anything with his/her life. The one who somehow frustrates you because he/she didn't reach potential. Yeah, that friend.

While writing I've perked up. I don't necessarily need or want what others have; my long-life happiness isn't contingent on employment. (That's another blog for another day.) Right now though, I feel like comedian Margaret Cho when Wisconsin's Laotian community contacted her for help: "People are calling me and e-mailing me from there... going, 'Margaret, DO SOMETHING!'"

Take That, Cover Letter!

Currently I'm fighting for concentration while trying to rework an old cover letter. It's the thing I dislike most about a job application process. If professionalism could step outside for a minute or if I could take and tie it and lock it in the broom closet until my job app is finished, here's what I would actually say:

Dear Prospective Employer,

Hello. I'm writing this because I need a job and out of force must try to impress you with words. Thanks to technology we can ditch the watermarked paper and save myself some postage.

I love creating and would like to do it for a full-time living. I've created cool-looking stuff, including posters, invitations, banners and programs, some which were seen around the community. I even made directory that featured hand-drawn illustrations.

I'm good at what I do and I'm dedicated. My clients love my design work and I aim to keep them happy. I haven't had a single complaint since I began freelancing three years ago. They love me and you would too.

With the economy still in a shabby state I really need a job, preferably one I enjoy. (I would also like know I didn't waste time and money in college.) This seems to fit the aforementioned description, so I would appreciate it if you would hire me.

Sincerely,

Me

Not really. I'm fascinated by medical oddities but my overly empathetic nature makes me flinch whenever I see Dr. House's team make an incision.

Part of my wonderings stem from my lack of a degree-related vocation. Maybe I'm being too picky, but what ever happened to finding a dream job? Something that brings relevant experience would be fine in the meantime, but no one seems to want someone without enough experience. Wait, how the hell am I supposed to get it then? *Puzzled look on face*

This is why maybe I should've been something boring: an accountant, a nurse. No, not boring... Ah, "practical," that's the one. Society will always need medical attention, and a bilingual nurse would be an asset. "Yay" for affirmative action?

I'm not sure if "practical" is the life I want though; it's not one of my strong traits anyways. ;-)

F...M...L...

I work at a bakery where we offer a free slice to customers. There's a trash can next to the stand and breadboard. It's been there since I can remember, no biggie. The Health Department has never said anything about during their routine visits and I've never heard anyone complain about it.

Bored with an empty bakery gave me the urge to clean. I was sweeping near the stand and as I dumped the trash in the aforementioned bin, a lady walked in.

"Hello, ma'am," I greeted.

"It really bothers me that you're dumping that trash near that jelly and butter."

My, my, aren't we blunt? OK, she had a point. We have spreads near the breadboard for patrons to try and maybe the rubbish bin's location wasn't ideal. I just didn't appreciate her tone.

Not knowing what to say, I put down my broom and pan and went to wash my hands. I didn't want her "calling me out" on something else. As I rinsed the soap off she said, "Some people just don't think."

I "snapped."

"Well ma'am," I retorted in matching tone, "A lot of people just don't think about some things."

Talk about Freudian slip.

"I work with the Health Department, and you're supposed to do this because it's what they said, not because I'm telling you."

F... But she wasn't done. Oh no.

"You never argue with a customer about something like that." She paused. "You know, I think I'll come back another day. You're not the person I want waiting on me."

It's OK, you're not the customer I want to wait on either.

"Alright." I was fine with her leaving.

In one last effort to chide me, she turned before walking out and said, "I don't know your name, but rest assured I will call you in."

Ouch. Really, lady?

The radio and I were once again alone. I leaned on the counter and stared out the window, mulling over what just happened. I couldn't and still can't believe I talked back. Why did I say that? Usually I'm good at holding my comments in. And I wasn't grumpy: I was awake (I went in at 12:30), chirpy, sweeping and singing to the Oldies station. Maybe I'm just too tired to whip back verbally when I open at 7 a.m. My friend Kelly said I just happened to have a good comeback. See what happens when you're fully functional?

I am slightly worried about the Health Department calling. Working in food service is far from my life goal but I don't want to be fired. Right now it's the steadiest job I've got. I just need to not think about it anymore.

That lady was right about one thing: I should never argue with a customer; this reaction is not my norm at all. But as a behind-the-counter employee, I will only take so much from a client, especially in her tone. So to you customers, remember there might come a point where your cashier will fire back.