So, as you might have guessed, I remain without job. I could go ahead and suggest that I'm only doing this to provide my readers with more of what they expect from this blog (whatever that is) but I'll cop to simply continuing to be without employment (temporarily). Ok, it's only been two weeks or so but I'm an impatient little (&$#er.
As I mentioned, Unemployment Compensation comes in at roughly half of what I was making, resulting in a few small changes. The lavish parties, complete with drugs and loose women, have had to stop. Now it's just allergy meds and the wife. No more buying stuff because it's on sale. I know Guitar Center is having a sale too and I can get a bigger discount if I buy two guitars. Something tells me this logic isn't going to fly with the Shoe Buying Person.
We've even had to cut down on the amount of cat food the dog gets. This is what really hurt.
The last time I left the house, I came back to discover that the dog hadn't eaten or drank anything. We started to wonder if he was like Schroedinger's Dog, wherein he stopped existing when we weren't there to observe him. We devised all sorts of clever scientific tests to answer the question but in the end, we couldn't come up with anything that would prove the case once and for all.
Not to worry. Marshall, as usual, came to our rescue. When we got home, this is what we found:
He had gotten into the recyclables, spreading them out nicely across the floor. There's our PROOF that he still exists when we're not there to observe him. BUT WAIT!!! He not only spread the recyclables out, he bloody sorted them. Most of what you see is soda cans. He separated the soda cans (in the kitchen) from the cat food cans (in the dining room). Each cat food can was lovingly placed in the next room and licked clean of any miniscule bits of cat food that might remain after rinsing them out.
I think we should get him a job in recycling and he can support us for once.
MORE JOB STUFF
So there has been another great rush of recruiter contacts this past week. More jobs in Ohio, Wisconsin and across the state from me. One genius saw my resume and wanted to know if I wanted a job in the exciting field of insurance sales. I put my own resume together and can assure you that the words insurance and sales do not appear ONCE. Are they truly that desperate? Do they get paid for each email sent out?
Some of the Job Nonsense is caused by 'someone' putting out the wrong or incomplete job description. I applied for a network security job that turned out to be helpdesk; installing and supporting programs and being on call to answer users' questions and running the phones. Ummmmm... no. I didn't work my butt off in security so I could get a job placating end users who can't grok rebooting their machines, as well as making sure they're plugged in (no offense to the great and tolerant people who do this).
The next job someone sent me wasn't for security at all; it was for a high level engineering job. Also no. I would hate to repeat what someone told me once about recruiters: some of these folks can't get a job selling used cars (not all of them, of course).
Many have asked me about consulting. Well, since I hit the FULL TIME button on all the applications, I dare you to take a stab at my answer.
Perhaps I should consider that insurance sales gig after all.
Quite frankly, I'm not sure I could make it to a job interview anyway. As I was driving down the street, two out of three lanes had been blocked off by those nice men in their day-glo green t-shirts. It seems that the local authorities released some cash for a Neighborhood Improvement Project. Since our area didn't get hit as badly this winter with potholes, the local government decided to heed the loud cry of the area for parity and take some time to install potholes and a few new trenches in the road. I don't know about you but I feel better about the hood now.
I will also have to allow a lot more time to get to an interview due to my unique ability to make any traffic light turn red, simply by approaching it. My wife looked at me in great surprise at a light, informing me that she always makes this light (except when I'm in the car). As if that weren't enough, when I hit the aforementioned hole-installing project, the guy holding the SLOW sign immediately turned it around to STOP. Some people would see this as a curse. Thus far I'm choosing to see it as amusing (or not see it at all).
My dear neighbor (the good one) wanted to know if the house was going up for sheriff's sale (bless his pointy little head).
My other dear neighbor (the 437 year old crazy demon from Uranus) bitched my wife out because some trees were hanging over the fence and all she ever does is sit on the steps and smoke cigarettes and why doesn't she ever clean anything.. yet shooting a neighbor is still illegal. It's a good thing the Crazy Lady is terrified of me... I'd unleash a verbal barrage that would blast her back into her cave before I even noticed what was coming out of my mouth. It would fail, though, as everything else has, because she's crazy AND mostly deaf.
I finally realized what the best (legal) revenge is: keep the place in disarray. She has nothing better to do than look at our property and seethe because it's not up to her standards. So I'll make sure to keep it that way, while still adhering to the letter of the law.