Tag Archives: Business

Money And Benefits? Eww.

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26

I’ve put up a bunch of posts the past week, but haven’t really talked about anything.

I could say I was busy playing with the various post formats, and sharing photos of volcanoes and British socialites, and recounting anecdotes about alcoholic beverages. All those things are true, but I also think I’ve been studiously avoiding reality. Because I learned early in the week I did not get the awesome job I interviewed for. Which, quite frankly, sucks.

Because I tend to overanalyze things worse than a neurotic Woody Allen character, I’ve figured out why I didn’t get the job. It’s not because I flubbed a question or lacked experience or had a coffee stain on my shirt. It’s because I broke a cardinal rule and decided I wanted the job midway through the interview.

There’s a secret to landing a job, you see. Sure, you should arrive on time armed with facts about the company, smile, maintain eye contact and execute a firm handshake. But I’m convinced the most important thing you can do is walk in there and not give a damn whether or not you get the job. Better still, work up half a dozen reasons why you flat out don’t want it. Maybe the commute is awful, or the pay is less than you’re aiming for. Perhaps the company is involved in a questionable endeavor, like manufacturing silencers for firearms or employing child laborers. Or maybe your ex-spouse works there. The more negatives you can come up with, the better, because when you walk through the front door all the pressure is gone and you can simply relax and be yourself. I would love to pull a stunt like Ray Romano’s character did on the season finale of The Office last week and grab a sandwich out of my briefcase mid-interview, but that takes huge cojones (and is a bit extreme – I’d settle for being quietly blase over the whole affair). Interviewers are like wild animals: they can smell fear, and when they do, their instinct is to pounce. On the other hand, a confident candidate will earn their respect (and quite possibly the job).

Magnifying glass

If you don't want the job in the first place, you'll never sweat the interview. (Courtesy of tipsinterview.com)

I knew this going in. Moments before leaving my car, I was on the phone with a friend, and she reminded me of this golden rule. “Remember, you don’t want the job!” she said discouragingly.

“Right,” I replied. “Who needs money and benefits? Eww. And I’d have to do some writing. Gag me with a spoon.”

OK, I didn’t really say those things. Mainly because A) This isn’t 1982, and B) I’m not a valley girl. But also because, you have to find some real reasons why you don’t want the job. In this case, the position required some public speaking. Not my strong suit. I didn’t know how much public speaking, of course, but I told myself I’d be giving speeches to auditoriums filled with 300 people twice a week. This mental argument was working really well for me, until I walked into the lobby and saw how awesome and modern and arty the office was. Nary a cubicle to be found. Damn. I was then greeted by a friendly (damn again) and cute (grr) receptionist who politely asked me to take a seat. While waiting, I thumbed through a beautiful coffee table book chock full of stunning photographs from around the Pacific Northwest. I hadn’t even met my potential boss yet, and I was already veering dangerously close to wanting the job. Clearly a course correction was needed, and fast. I imagined that she’d be a power-hungry cutthroat CEO type driven by greed and manipulation – sort of a cross between Donald Trump and Sue Sylvester from Glee - but as luck wouldn’t have it, she was cordial, nice, and smiled a lot. Still, I held the public speaking card in my back pocket, and quickly pulled it out. I asked her what that would entail exactly, and she said, “Oh, once or twice a year you’d meet with the board of directors for five minutes and discuss our marketing initiative.” That I could do. And that was the moment where everything unraveled, because suddenly I wanted the job, and the nerves kicked in while I tried to make the best impression possible. Don’t get me wrong, the interview went well, and I’m positive I was a finalist – but ultimately, maybe the lack of that devil-may-care attitude did me in.

So when the news came in the form of an e-mail delivered to my In Box bright and early Tuesday morning, I was pretty upset. Rarely do you find a job that you think sounds both intellectually stimulating and fun, and relies on your strengths and skills, and pays the salary you want, and is an easy commute from home. Naturally, this one had all of the above.

Fortunately, I had my parents to encourage me and cheer me up.

“No offense, but we don’t want you living under our roof again,” my mom said, nineteen years, seven months and some odd days since I left home for good.

“I think I’m more upset than you are,” my dad said, and then threw in for good measure, “If this keeps up you’re just going to have to take anything you can get.”

Gee, thanks, guys. So I turned to the couch for solace, and an afternoon of mind-numbing television followed by wine. That combination did the trick, and by the end of the day I was feeling better.

So, yeah. This sucks. The freelance writing assignments have mysteriously dried up, and my initial unemployment claim has just run out. I had to apply for an emergency extension which, hopefully, won’t take long to process (and approve) because they won’t send me any money before it’s OK’d, and I’ve got bills to pay. I’m really, really hoping something good comes along soon.

Err…I mean…not hoping.

What was I thinking there?!

Flutter By, Butterfly

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24

Earlier this week, I had a job interview.

I didn’t write about it before, because I am leery of jinxing myself. I wrote all about Groupon and that fell through, and then dished about my interview with my ex’s company. I prefer to keep these things on the down low now, just on the off chance that it is possible to control the universe through my words. Kind of like a Butterfly Effect, but instead of an insect causing chaos it’s a blog…I guess you’d call it a Bloggingfly Effect? But a couple of days have passed, and whatever is going to happen will happen. I would like to at least mention it because the blog is a reflection of my life, and when I’m old and decrepit I’d like to be able to flip through the pages of this virtual journal and remember what was going on way back when.

They say a butterfly flapping its wings can lead to a hurricane. Similarly, a blogger flapping his gums can lead to a lost opportunity. (Courtesy of duhokwriters.com)

The interview took place downtown, and as soon as I walked into the building, I was blown away. It’s a rather nondescript looking two-story white office building on the outside, but inside, it’s all artsy and funky. Lots of glass and wood, framed paintings, and natural light. There are offices along the walls, a reception desk in the middle, and an upstairs loft with a few more offices, including the President and CEO (whom I interviewed with). It’s all very cool and urban and hip. Cubicles? They don’t need no stinkin’ cubicles! So right off the bat, it earned brownie points with me.

As for the interview itself, I think it went very well. The P/CEO told me she’d looked over my online portfolio and was impressed with my work. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: those three days spent in November putting together the site were the best use of my time since I’ve been unemployed. Any writer, published or not, should have a portfolio to display his or her clips – it really does open doors. We chatted about my duties at my last job, freelance writing, and this position. While there are one or two qualifications missing from my work history, I’m hoping that they are minor ones. I asked her what skills her ideal candidate possesses, and she said – in order – writing and creativity. Definitely my strengths, and to prove the point, I came up with a marketing idea for her on the fly – a way to promote our local wineries – that she liked a lot. I wanted to show her I was an idea man, and I think that was a good move on my part. As the interview was wrapping up, I thanked her, shook her hand, and told her that I want the job. I read someplace that surprisingly few candidates ever come right out and say that during an interview, and I wanted to emphasize how much I really do want it. (I do…it would be perfect). But, of course, I’m sure the other candidates in the running all have their strengths and talents, as well. I am confident that I gave it my all, and certainly didn’t give her any reason not to hire me, as I have in the past (more on that in a second). She asked me for references as we were parting, and I forwarded those to her promptly, once I got home. That’s always a good sign. Doesn’t mean I’m a shoo-in, but if she wasn’t interested in me as a serious candidate, she wouldn’t ask. So now I’ll just wait with bated breath and see if anything comes of this.

The truth is, I’m in a tight spot. Money (or lack of) has become a real issue. On top of that, my initial unemployment claim is about to run out – next week, I believe. I know there are extensions available but that’ll probably entail more paperwork and who knows what else. I want to be a freelance writer, more than anything else (and the P/CEO asked me why I don’t continue pursuing that since it’s such an ideal lifestyle), but lack of a steady gig and no benefits are making it tough to stay the course. I’m considering some desperate options like withdrawing funds from my 401K that are last resort measures, but what choice do I have? I’ve got bills to pay and not enough $ to pay them. You know things are bad when my daydreams and fantasies all involve currency. Seriously, I’ve been thinking about money a lot lately. Drooling over it when I see it. How novel the idea of a paycheck feels to me now! I could actually pay my bills, on time, and maybe even have a little bit left over. That’s such a foreign concept to me now. It sounds wonderful. Funny, the things we take for granted in life.

Don’t it always seem to go/That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. 

Truer words were never spoken.

Twice upon a time, I completely blew any chance of landing a job before I’d even walked out the door. The first time, MapQuest led me astray. The company was located in a town I was unfamiliar with, and the directions I’d gotten online showed the building on the complete opposite side of the freeway from where it really was. I drove all over town looking for the place, and had to call and tell them I was lost. I finally found the place and got there fifteen minutes late for my scheduled interview. They then made me sit in the lobby another fifteen minutes before seeing me. That was a big group interview, and no amount of profuse apologizing on my part could soothe their bad tempers. There’s no worse feeling than knowing something is a lost cause but being forced to soldier on through it anyway.

The second time, I’d actually done pretty well in the interview. She and I clicked, and things seemed to be moving in a positive direction. She had told me that the company was growing, and they’d soon be transferring a bunch of jobs to their new Connecticut location. As she was walking me to the door, past the employees in her department, she asked if I had any additional questions. “Yes,” I replied. “When are you moving the accounting operation back east?” Her face darkened immediately, and she said in a fierce whisper, “My staff hasn’t been told about that yet!!” as heads swiveled in our direction from cubicleland.

Ooooooooooops……….

Which I think was very unfair. She never informed me that the information was confidential or that her employees hadn’t been notified yet. Why would she drop such a big secret on an unsuspecting stranger? I’m sorry if I unwittingly informed a bunch of people they were about to get canned! Sheesh. It was an honest mistake. I apologized like mad, but again, knew I’d dug a hole too deep to escape from. My last-minute, completely innocent question cost me another good job.

So, the fact that I walked out of Wednesday’s interview (which I had arrived a few minutes early for) without putting my foot in my mouth was definitely a positive step. I may not end up with the job, but if I don’t, it won’t be because of anything I said.

This time.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

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I broke up with somebody this morning.

We hadn’t been together long – just a couple of months – and I suppose our relationship was like so many others. It burned with a white-hot intensity and passion at first, but the novelty wore off quickly. Our 7 encounters a week dwindled to 4, and before long, even that felt like too many. Ours was no longer a mutually beneficial union. I put a lot of hard work and effort into our relationship, and while I know the other person was pleased with my performance, I myself began to dread the monotony. In fact, I started to feel used. Even though I was getting paid – hey, these talents ain’t free! – it wasn’t nearly enough to justify the time and effort I was putting into the relationship. I began to long for others, ones less demanding and more appreciative of my skills. I found another, through an ad on Craigslist, and began doing that one, too. And then I sought out a third.

No, this isn’t some sordid tale straight out of a trashy made-for-cable-television movie.

Unfortunately.

I’m referring to my freelance writing. Back in December, when I first embarked upon this adventure, I picked up a client who hired me to produce a batch of SEO articles every week. I was thrilled at first, and plunged into the work with gusto. Before long, however, it became tedious. I was responsible for seven articles a week, and that first month they all involved writing about car insurance. There are only so many different topics one can come up with relating to auto insurance, and believe me, I covered them all. Again and again. Just when I finally got used to that topic, they switched me over to kitchen cabinet doors. There are even fewer topics to write about for that subject. At that point they cut their writer’s assignments down to four a week, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I picked up a second client and found their how-to articles and topics considerably more interesting. For one thing, I got to choose the topics I’d write about. For another, they paid more. Still, I continued writing for my original client, out of a sense of duty and obligation, even though the return on my investment was minimal. And then, two weeks ago, they switched things up again and my new area of “expertise” became steel buildings.

Throwing it all away is tough to do! (Courtesy of mediabistro.com).

I couldn’t take it any longer. I found myself knocking out all four articles in a single day just to get them over with. Worse, they were eating into my valuable time, which could have been spent on the better-paying and more intellectually stimulating how-to articles instead. Factor in this opportunity with Groupon, and suddenly I knew it was time to cut my ties with them. So this morning I fired off a very polite e-mail, thanking them for the opportunity and letting them know that the experience was invaluable and I couldn’t have landed other clients without it, but I had to focus on other opportunities now since this is my sole source of income and blah, blah, blah. It was a very nice breakup letter, trust me. Their response?

Because you did not give us the required notice, you will not be eligible to work with us in the future.

Ouch. I had no idea there was any sort of notice required when severing ties – nothing was ever mentioned to me in the beginning. It appears somebody was taking this breakup rather poorly.

So help me, if I come home one afternoon and find a rabbit boiling away in a pot on my stove…

…well, I guess I won’t have to worry about dinner that night.

But also, I’ll be really freaked out and scared.

I wrote back and said I’d had no idea they liked to have a notice, and they told me two weeks was appreciated so they could reallocate their articles and continue to meet their client’s needs seamlessly, and I get that, I really do. I started to feel bad about the whole thing and almost volunteered to keep writing for another couple of weeks…but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. These articles are that mind-numbingly soul-sucking.

I was chatting with a friend about this whole thing earlier today. She asked, Are you concerned about being ineligible to work with them again?

My response? No, not at all…but I am concerned with developing a professional image.

Which is true. As corny as it sounds, I want my name to mean something out there. I want it to stand not only for quality work, but also for dedication and commitment. The whole thing has turned into a bit of an uncomfortable and sticky little mess, but I’ll just have to deal with any potential fallout and move on. All the freelance books I’ve read say you’ve got to know how to best allocate your time and can’t be afraid to say “no” to people. Today was all about me, saying “no.”

As for Groupon, things continue to move forward. I submitted my third and final sample article today, and will have feedback on it tomorrow. Matt – the recruiter I’m dealing with – said “this is your last, best chance to shine before you are evaluated by the writing committee.” Err…there’s a writing committee that will be checking out my work and making a final decision?! Yikes. I’m more nervous than ever now. I think I’ve done enough to impress them – Matt’s reaction to my first two articles was positive – but without hearing back on the third yet, and knowing it’s up to a bunch of strangers now, who knows?

On a completely unrelated note, yesterday I went back to my old place of employment to visit with my former coworkers and friends. First time I’d been back since that fateful day in late October when I walked out the door for the last time. It was a little surreal, walking into the lobby and seeing a stranger – albeit a hot one – sitting behind the reception desk where Kristy belonged. “Oh, she’s up in customer service now,” I was told. I signed into the log book, was handed a visitor’s badge, and then – because it was obvious everybody knew me, judging by the greetings I was receiving from people walking by – the hot new receptionist gave me free reign of the building. I ended up staying two hours, and it was great seeing all those familiar faces again. I shook a bunch of hands, doled out a lot of hugs, and recounted my unemployment journey thus far ad nauseum. Walking around the place I’d worked for more than six years felt familiar and comfortable, and by the time I left, I was feeling more than a little nostalgic for the past.

But then, as soon as I got back home and walked through the door, I remembered how much I prefer being my own boss instead, and felt a lot better about things.

In Orbit Around Planet Freelance

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Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. You can only put out feelers for so long without…well, without getting felt.

Yesterday dawned like any other, as routine as I’ve become accustomed to these past six weeks. I got up around 8:00 – my body’s internal alarm clock usually goes off around this time, give or take twenty minutes, regardless of whether it’s a weekday or weekend. Sometimes I lounge beneath the down comforter for a little while; after all, I don’t need to go anywhere, and these cold December mornings practically cry out for an extra few minutes in bed. But I’m pretty disciplined, and usually force myself out of bed at a decent time; anything past 8:30 feels decadent, and considering that it starts to get dark around 3:30 in the afternoon this time of year, if I slept in any later I’d feel like I wasted the day. So it’s up and at ‘em, teeth brushed, downstairs to brew a pot of coffee and feed the cat. I log on to check e-mail, and then begin my job search. I’ll take time out for a bowl of cereal and a phone call to my girlfriend, and then, it’s back to business.

All these things took place right on cue yesterday. I found a job to apply for on indeed.com, and went through the process of filling out an online application and recording it in my Job Search Log. The state of Washington requires you to apply for at least three jobs every week in order to keep the unemployment checks rolling in, and this was # 3, so I breathed a sigh of relief once that was finished. I’m always afraid I won’t be able to find three jobs that I’m interested in, and will be forced to apply for something menial (like a chicken plucker) but so far – knock on wood – I haven’t had any problems.

Then, I found a posting on Craigslist for a freelance “Web Content Writer.” Back when I was still employed but my final days were ticking away, a coworker sat down with me and we had a long talk about job search strategies. He’d been unemployed for a year before landing a job at KNA, and he had lots of good advice for me. My biggest takeaway? He praised Craigslist for their job postings, and told me to check there every day.

Now, I have more than a passing familiarity with Craigslist. I’ve bought items there (lava lamps, record albums), sold things there (concert tickets I couldn’t use), and even met people to date there. Over the years, it’s gained a bit of an unsavory reputation, so I was surprised that there would be legitimate job postings, but my coworker was right. Indeed.com is my usual source for finding listings, but Craigslist is a close second.

Anyway. The Craigslist ad looked like it was right up my alley. They were looking for a freelance contract content writer for their company, one who was experienced in and knowledgeable with SEO-production style writing. Fortunately, through my marketing position, I learned quite a bit about Search Engine Optimization strategies, and produced some content for a couple of our corporate websites utilizing this skill. I’m lucky; knowing what SEO is and how to use it is one of those in-demand skills nowadays that can take you far. It’s all about using keywords to achieve top rankings on search engines. The key is using them, not overusing them. It’s an art form, really. If you go overboard, you’re liable to spam your own site. It’s actually a fun thing to play around with, even if you’re blogging. I’ll admit, I’ve done it a time or two here on Word Press. The trick is to do it without people realizing you’re doing it. In other words, let it all flow naturally.

The trick is to get that arrow to point UP! (Image courtesy of ehow.com).

There were a list of ten questions to answer in response to the ad, and they wanted links to three of your published works that have utilized SEO writing strategies. This is where my online portfolio I just mentioned came in handy. Question # 4 was the most interesting; it asked, “What is the optimal keyword density for web content?” Hmm. Tricky question, because that depends on who you talk to. I responded that the answer was subjective and likely to vary, but “I feel, ideally, it should average around 3%; anything more and you are at risk for spamming your own article.” I was pleased with my answers, confident that my links would showcase my talents, and sent the e-mail off.

A short while later, I got a response. The moment I read the opening paragraph, I practically started doing backflips in the living room. We would like to move forward to the next step in the contracting process. Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes!!!

So, here’s the deal. They’ve got long-term assignments with a small group of writers – about a dozen – who get articles to write every week. They manage a network of websites in the finance/insurance/home improvement sectors that they are constantly adding content to, and this is where the writers come in. If you’re under contract, it’s up to you how many articles you choose to write every week. They pay based on word count, and while they admit that “this isn’t the highest payout in the industry,” they assign the same sites each week, so after a few weeks research should be minimal.

And, they gave me an official assignment. They want an 800-word sample article on assisted living facilities, with an exact number of specified keywords, by 12:00 PM on Monday. They will pay me for the article, regardless of whether or not I get a contract.

This is huge. It’s the breakthrough I’ve been looking for, and my chance to shine. If I can pull it off to their satisfaction, I could end up with a steady freelance gig, my very first (minus the book reviews, which are usually non-paid, though I do get to keep the books; this was a calculated move on my part two years ago to gain some publishing experience). This company says their few contracted writers earn between $400 and $4500 a month. I did the math, and to earn the minimum amount, I’d have to churn out about eight articles a week. That is certainly do-able. $4500 a month is a huge stretch, however; you’d need to write nonstop every minute of every day to make that much money, so I’m under no delusions that I’d become rich off this gig. BUT…the books I have read on making a career out of freelance writing all say that the key is to land at least one client who will provide you with a steady stream of work. Suddenly, I have a golden opportunity to land that client. And I’m excited as hell.

I’ve talked about making a living as a freelance writer ever since I lost my job (and dreamed about it for much longer). Everything I’ve done – the online portfolio, the custom business cards I had printed, the book reviews I’ve written – has been to further my chances at success as a freelancer. But, I’m a realist, and tend to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I’m the most optimistic person in the world, and that is great, but I didn’t really think I had much of a shot at making this dream come true.

But you know what? Maybe I do…

Suddenly, I can envision the life of a freelance writer. Never having to work for a corporation again. Setting my own hours, working from the comfort of my home. Yes, there are deadlines, and they are often tight; I can foresee late nights and weekends. The cash flow isn’t always steady. Projects ebb and flow, clients come and go. There is no health insurance or 401K plan, no water cooler to gather around with your coworkers and talk about last night’s awesome episode of Community. No coworkers, for that matter.

But, there is freedom. No coworkers means no bosses. No HR managers to pull you into their office and tell you that your position has been eliminated. Best of all, there’s the exhilaration of doing work that you truly love. Of following your passion. And, the sky is the limit. It truly is.

This weekend I will immerse myself in the world of assisted living facilities. I will write this article. And then rewrite it. And then rewrite it again. Finally, when it’s polished and I feel it’s the absolute best that it can be, I’ll send it off. This is monumentally important to me. The biggest writing challenge I have ever faced. Conceivably, my entire future could hinge on the words I come up with over the next couple of days. I realize that all sounds a bit dramatic, but I’m looking at this as a launching pad. One that could send me orbiting around Planet Freelance.

Time to strap myself in and enjoy the ride.

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The Perfect Sayonara

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13

I wake up this morning at 6:00 sharp, the predawn darkness enveloping me in a cocoon, thick and heavy.  My stomach gives a little lurch as I realize that today is The Day.  6 years, 4 months, and 22 days ago I walked through the front doors of KNA as an employee.  Today, I will leave there jobless, forced to say goodbye to a bevy of friends and coworkers, and step out into a cloudy future.  I would like to skip this part, just stay in bed, warm and toasty beneath the covers.  As long as I am there, I am safe and secure.  I am still employed.  But of course, I can’t.

I stop at Starbucks for a latte.  It is packed inside, full of people with destinations.  They are all going somewhere.  To work, to school.  I envy them.  Already, I feel like I am a separate entity, adrift on a sea of uncertainty.  The coffee shop is my lifeline, my tether.

Sink or swim.  Must keep moving.

I pull into the parking lot.  Back into a space, of course, because that is what I do.  Bag slung over my shoulder, coffee in my hand.  Through the door, swipe my timecard, climb the stairs.  This is the last time, I keep thinking.  The last time I walk past the conference room.  The last time I log onto my computer.  The last time I stick my lunch in the refrigerator.  Thinking of the lasts makes me think of the firsts.  There was such an air of excitement then; the world was fresh and new.  And different.  I’d left a job I despised, on my own terms, to come work for KNA.  It felt sort of like destiny; I’d once worked across the street from them in Portland, and was curious enough to research the company.  Then they moved to Camas, five minutes from my house.  I interviewed there, in 2002, but the timing wasn’t right.  Two years later, it was.  I am not a believer in astrology, but the day of my interview, I check my horoscope.  This day is flavored with that most unusual spice, deja vu.  This revisiting of the past gives you a chance to do better.  You’re now more mature, after all, and have the self-possession required to calmly finish any incomplete business. I cut it out of the newspaper even before it turns out to be true.  Post it on my cubicle wall as a reminder: things that are meant to be, will be.

Even if they aren’t meant to be forever…

I boot up my e-mail.  Immediately, there are problems.  Incoming messages bounce back to their senders as undeliverable.  My outgoing messages disappear into the ether.  I attempt to print a document.  I have access to none of my printers.  My files are unreachable, the paths to them cut.  Unlinked links.  I am here on my last day, completely willing to work…and completely unable to do so.

The perfect way to use up a few last business cards.

It doesn’t matter.  There are doughnuts in the warehouse, courtesy of my good friends in the Print Shop.  They have gone out of their way for me these past few weeks, and remain true to the very end.  There is an impromptu get-together, a gathering of folks from various departments.  They are all optimistic that I’ll land on my feet and end up better off somewhere else.  I think I have been feeding off this confidence for weeks, and it has made me stronger.  The business of business aside, I ask how I can go out in a blaze of glory.  ”Streak through the warehouse,” somebody suggests, and I laugh.  I have to do this delicately, without burning any bridges.  I have been thinking about the intercom.  It can be, and once was, a source of hilarity, until management clamped down on that years ago.  But on this, my final day, can’t the good times be resurrected once more?  Someone comes up with the brilliant idea of paging employees who are no longer with the company.  It’s a gem of a plan, and I am on board.  Harmless, inoffensive, and funny.  Perhaps annoying to some, but I see it as the perfect sayonara.

I page the ghosts of employees past periodically through the morning.  Brad, once in IT.  Chuck, our long-departed purchasing guy.  Rick, the man who hired me and later moved on.  My coworkers laugh every time a new old name is mentioned.  This, it appears, has been a great plan.

The HR Manager meets me at my cubicle.  She apologizes for “jumping the gun” and inadvertently turning off my access to everything a day early.  Instead of meeting at 1:30 to go over final paperwork, she suggests 10:30.  ”Then you can go home.”  I say that I want to be paid for the entire day.  ”Of course,” she replies.  This sounds like a pretty good deal to me.  We meet, and it feels surreal, signing my name to my Notification Of Position Elimination paperwork.  She hugs me, a nice gesture that feels more Personal than Corporate.  I am given time to make my rounds and say my final goodbyes.  There are more hugs and handshakes.  People liked me, I realize.  Even people that I barely knew.  They all think I got a raw deal.  I am both humbled and strengthened by this show of solidarity.

All too soon, I have run out of goodbyes.  I couldn’t squeeze everybody in – some were gone, some were on the phones, some (a few) I just didn’t want to bother with.

I pick up the phone.  Page one last person over the intercom.  Andy, our former CEO.  I never did receive a memo announcing his departure, come to think of it…

I walk into the warehouse.  Down the stairs.  Glance back once.  The hustle and bustle are in full swing.  Will I never really see the inside of this place again?

I am outside.  The fall air is crisp, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds.

I start my car.  The CD that had been playing on my way in picks up from where it left off earlier.  A band called The Cinematics.  ”A Strange Education.”  The lyrics are frighteningly apt.

I’ll walk this long road ’til I find my way home; to somewhere familiar, to lay down my bones.

As KNA dwindles to a speck in my rearview mirror, I think, that is exactly what I am doing…

Take This Job And Love It

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I had a long chat yesterday with a coworker who gave me lots of good advice on surviving unemployment.  Before he joined the company, he was out of work for twelve months.  Yikes!  I know a lot of people who have been in similar situations.  I was out of work myself for more than ten months when I lost a job in 2002, so I understand better than most the long, difficult road that lies ahead.  All I can do is meet it with optimism and hope for the best, and learn from my past experience.

By the way, I hate the phrase “lost your job.”  I didn’t lose it – I know exactly where to find it.  It’s right here!  Then again, after Friday, it won’t be here anymore.  “Lost it” just sounds wrong, but who am I to quibble over semantics?

This time will be different, though.  I won’t have a two-year old daughter to take care of during the day, for starters.  If there was one bright spot about being out of work in 2002-03, it was spending time with Danielle during a crucial period of her young life.  I still have fond memories of pushing her stroller through the neighborhood during our daily afternoon walks.  Sometimes, she was even in it!  So much has changed since then.  The kids are older and self-sufficient (and only around half the time); the house has been replaced with a townhome; there’s no mother-in-law living under the same roof; the wife is history, but now there’s a cat.  On the surface, at least, it seems like there will be far fewer distractions this time.  Fewer excuses, too. 

"I'm #1! Statistically speaking, that is." (Image courtesy of monlife.com)

Now that the end is drawing near, I’m starting to think about what my next job will be.  I googled “best and worst jobs” yesterday to give me an idea of some of the hot (and not) career fields.  Job search portal careercast.com used five key measurement criteria to determine their rankings – stress, working environment, physical demands, income, and hiring outlook.  The results were somewhat surprising.  First of all, “marketing coordinator for a pressure washer manufacturer” made neither list.  Go figure! 

Here is a list of the Top 5 Jobs for 2010, according to careercast.com.

  1. Actuary.  Interprets statistics to determine probabilities of accidents, sickness, and death, and loss of property from theft and natural disasters. This is the #1-ranked job?  Staring at pie charts and bar graphs all day?  Put me out of my misery already.
  2. Software engineer.  Researches, designs, develops and maintains software systems along with hardware development for medical, scientific, and industrial purposes.  Presumably also spends gads of time playing videogames.  Hell, invents videogames.  Sign me up! 
  3. Computer systems analyst.  Plans and develops computer systems for businesses and scientific institutions.  I picture a guy walking around with a clipboard going, “We’ll put a Mac in this corner, a Dell over here, a wireless router by the lunchroom…”
  4. Biologist.  Studies the relationship of plants and animals to their environment.  I’d be a natural.  I already know that whenever I shampoo the carpet my cat will cough up a hairball within twenty-four hours. 
  5. Historian.  Analyzes and records historical information from a specific era or according to a particular area of expertise.  Seriously? I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining this one.  The article goes on to say, while it may seem surprising that a seemingly obscure job like Historian would rank so well, in fact the career has many applications beyond just the classroom. Apart from academic settings, there is a great demand for Historians in the defense industry and State Department. Considering that the federal government is expected to be a top source of employment in 2010, this demand helps give Historian projected job growth of 24% through 2016.  Not only can I tell you that in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, but I actually minored in History in college.  Hmm…this may be my calling. 

So, those are some of the jobs I should consider.  How about the ones that are to be avoided at all costs?  Here are the 5 worst jobs.

  1. Roustabout.  Performs routine physical labor and maintenance on oil rigs and pipelines, both on and off shore.  Thank you for the description.  I thought that was a Yes song.  I think the gulf oil spill following the explosion on the Deepwater Horizon sufficiently scared most of us off. 
  2. Lumberjack.  Fells, cuts, and transports timber to be processed into lumber, paper, and other wood products.  I could never do this anyway, ’cause I’m a northern spotted owl-loving ultra-liberal tree hugger.  Though it would be cool to have a blue ox…
  3. Ironworker.  Raises the steel framework of buildings, bridges, and other structures.  Right – hundreds of feet up in the air.  I can’t even climb a stepladder without experiencing vertigo.  Pass.
  4. Dairy farmer.  Directs and takes part in activities involved in the raising of cattle for milk production.  Surely there are worse jobs than shoveling mounds of manure all day and, hey, possibly getting kicked in the head.  Moo-ving right along…
  5. Welder.  Joins or repairs metal surfaces through the application of heat.  Sweating off half your weight every day while dodging sparks and risking blindness?  What’s not to love?

Lists are both helpful and fun!  (Maybe I should become an actuary).  I’ve been inspired to come up with my own.  Here are 5 jobs that, while maybe not dream careers, are still things I can see myself doing.  And enjoying.

"Take this job and shove it!" (Image courtesy of nowpublic.com)

  1. Chilean miner.  Not only did these guys emerge with really bitchin’ Oakley Polarized Radar Range sunglasses (that retail for $260), but they’ve also been given food, clothing, wine, toys, and even sexy lingerie for the wives (and girlfriends, presumably).  Plus book deals, movie offers, meetings with the president.  Lucky bastards!
  2. Jet Blue flight attendant.  Nobody expects you to put up with rude customers – you can simply curse them out over the intercom.  And at the end of a long and trying day, you can get yourself drunk, deploy the emergency evacuation chute, and slide to the ground.  Wheee!!!  And, you become a folk hero with your own Facebook fan page.  Yes, please.
  3. The next Simon Cowell.  Where else can you get paid a gazillion dollars for hurling insults and crushing dreams?  You get to hang out with famous (if somewhat over-the-hill) music icons like Rod Stewart, the dress code is lax (stock up on tight black t-shirts), and there’s a never-ending supply of  Coke whenever you’re thirsty. 
  4. Wino.  Don’t be scared off by the low no pay - rent is cheap (it’s easy to find a cardboard box); you aren’t chained to a desk all day; you get plenty of fresh air and exercise; sometimes if you’re just standing around people hand you money; and you spend all your time in a blissful, ignorant stupor. 
  5. Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska.  Because, seriously, No Experience Required.  Also, you don’t have to know diddly about geography or current events or, umm, anything.  The scenery is beautiful.  And you spend all your time in a blissful, ignorant stupor.

So, there you have it.  Lists, lists, and more lists!  At this point, I can’t wait until I’m officially unemployed so I can get started on finding my dream job.

I wonder how much a one-way ticket to Wasilla costs?

Revenge Of The Pod People

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In the old days, we sneered at them in derision.  They were called “roach coaches” and, when they blasted their horns to announce their lunchtime arrival, we rolled our eyes.  At best, we might end up with a lukewarm burrito or a sandwich that wasn’t too soggy.  We certainly didn’t expect haute cuisine.  And yet, these days, a full-blown revolution is under way in Portland, Oregon.  The once-lowly food cart has been elevated to a lofty new culinary perch, one in which the food is varied and ethnic and inspiring and delicious, giving regular brick-and-mortar establishments a run for their money.  And, you know what?  I want in.

Mum's Kitchen dishes out "Indian South African" cuisine.

I remember my first food cart experience fondly.  Wandering through the Farmer’s Market one spring afternoon, I stumbled upon a green-and-white trailer with the name Mum’s Kitchen.  It billed itself as offering “Indian South African cuisine.” I’m not real familiar with either, and even less so with a fusion of both, but it sounded much more intriguing than a tired burger from a fast-food chain, so I ponied up for their special of the day – “roti rolls” filled with pork and cabbage, and chicken curry.  One bite and I was hooked.  They were aromatic and flavorful, wonderfully exotic and spicy.  So much so that tears were streaming down my face as I munched away.  Oh, baby.  I like it hot.  I was in heaven.  My initiation into the Portland food cart scene now complete, I decided to hunt down the cart that Portland Monthly named their best last year, Nong’s Khao Man Gai, on my next free Friday.

Southwest Alder Street, between 10th and 11th Avenues, is one of a growing number of food cart “pods” in the Portland area: clusters of carts set up in parking lots or vacant fields.  Think of an outdoor food court, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what they are like.  There are at least a dozen carts in this particular pod, probably the best-known in the city, catering to office workers and tourists alike.  Food choices range from sandwiches and frozen yogurt to Vietnamese pho and Polish Hunter’s Stew.  Nong’s cart, which not surprisingly had the longest line, serves one dish, and one dish only: khao man gai, a popular Thai dish that is, literally, chicken and rice.  Doesn’t sound very inspiring, and yet, I was amazed by the depths of flavor.  The chicken, served atop a bed of rice, is wonderfully tender, and the accompanying broth – a gingery, garlicky, sweetly spicy Asian blend – is to die for.  You also get a cup of winter squash soup which is refreshingly hot and tasty, and a side of sliced cucumbers.  For $6, this is a steal.  Nong’s lives up to the hype.

Typical lunchtime crowd at Nong's Khao Man Gai.

With so many great food carts spread around town, many of them earning rave reviews, I’ve begun to think that this is something I’d like to do.  I’m a pretty good cook, and watching shows like Top Chef, Hell’s Kitchen, and Master Chef has awakened in me dreams of running my own kitchen.  Only I have no formal training and can’t exactly afford to go to culinary school.  Sure, it would be great to own a restaurant, and Portland is quite the hot spot for foodies.  But my chances for success in that realm are slim to none: I’m hardly a skilled chef, and it takes hundreds of thousands of dollars to open a restaurant.  You’ll have to deal with permits, zoning issues, leasing or buying a building, hiring and paying employees, etc.  Even then, roughly half go out of business within a year.  Not very good odds no matter how you slice and dice (and julienne) it!  However, with Portland’s growing reputation as a food cart mecca (articles extolling the local scene have appeared in newspapers like the New York Times and Washington Post, and  Budget Travel awarded Portland first-place for “World’s Best Street Food” in 2010), I figure my best shot at becoming my own boss lies right here in my own backyard.  I’d love to open my own food cart.  Turns out, it’s surprisingly easy – and considerably less expensive than you might think – to get started in the Rose City.

The biggest expense is going to be the cart itself.  Those little umbrella-covered push-carts so ubiquitous to hot dog vendors are a thing of the past; nowadays, food carts are likelier to be renovated campers or Airstream trailers.  Still, if you scout around for a good deal, you can pick one up for a few thousand dollars.  Add in the cost of plumbing and electrical modifications, equipment, and a license from the city of Portland, and you could get your venture off the ground and running for less than $10,000 – dirt cheap when you consider the cost of starting up your own business in a more traditional environment.

Proof that food carts have come a long way! Khao man gai from Nong's.

I’m under no delusions that the work is easy, or a guaranteed way to get rich quick.  Even though the majority of carts around town are open Monday-Friday from, say, 11:00 to 4:00, most vendors put in considerably longer hours.  You have to be willing to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty.  You’ll wear many hats – chef, banker, carpenter, etc.  You’ve got to enjoy dealing with people, and you can’t escape health inspections just because you’re a restaurant on wheels.  But being mobile is an advantage itself; if one particular location isn’t working, you can simply move on to a new one tomorrow!  If you’re part of a pod, then your fellow food cart vendors become almost like a second family, offering encouragement, advice, and help when needed.  It’s hard work indeed, but at the end of the day, the person in charge is you, and that’s a pretty big draw in this era of downsizing.  I’ve been a part of corporate America ever since graduating from college nearly two decades ago.  Maybe it’s time I became an independent nation of one instead?

I’ve already decided on the cart.  I’ll cook, and serve, Hawaiian food.  I was born in Honolulu and pretty much grew up there, so I’m familiar with some of their more popular dishes, and adept at making them.  I figure I’ll do kalua pork, chicken long rice, a loco moco plate, macaroni/potato salad, and saimin.  I’ll have rotating specials periodically.  Oh, and hot malasadas for dessert.  I even have the perfect name: Ohana Nui, which is Hawaiian for “extended family” and also happens to be the name of the street we lived on from 1974-1977.

It’ll be a little taste of paradise in downtown Portland.  The perfect pick-me-up on a dreary winter’s day.

All I need now is ca$h!  Anybody want to invest in this little venture with me?