The Unemployment Follies #8 - Will the Kurds Get Their Whey?

[The following takes place between the last time I wrote and today.]

Good morning, good afternoon and good evening, dear readers.  It's great to be here today. In fact, it's great to be anywhere.

MUSIC APPRECIATION

Many years ago, when I still flew, I went to Los Angeles on vacation. I visited a lefty guitar store, one of the main ones at that time.  It was truly Disneyland for me.  A store where almost every guitar was a lefty.  He had one of everything.  The one that really rung my bell was a 1958 lefty Stratocaster.  It was like heaven made from wood in my hands.  It was so magical that it almost played itself.  It was only twelve grand or so, just a hair out of my budget.

Hidden away in the back room was a treasure: a 1960 lefty Les Paul standard.  There were only three ever made.  McCartney had one, someone in another country had the second and I got to hold and play the third.  It was a decent guitar at a decent price - only $95,000.  I was a little disappointed, mentioning to the store owner that it only played like a $35,000 guitar.  Price aside, it was not for me.

Yesterday I opened an issue of Vintage Guitar magazine and discovered that one of these Les Pauls just sold at auction, for the bargain price of $194,000.  Don't I feel stupid for not picking the guitar up when it was under a hundred grand...

THE CONTINUING SEARCH OF BUNGALOW LEFTY

To no one's surprise, I am still without a job.  Of course the title probably clued everybody in anway. Let's emphasize the positive and state that when I get a job, I'll have to go back to writing... well... whatever it is that I used to write before the hammer fell. And you'll have to read it, so let's just give thanks where we can.

You were probably wondering what sorts of interesting job search results have appeared.  Let me ease your burden and list some of them:

• Visual Impairment Service Team Coordinator [VIST Team - FREEZE!]
• Customer Destruction Specialist [now here's one we can all get behind]
• Concierge-Event Planning [because I love people and hospitality]
• Java Developer [I'm more of a java consumer]
• Tumor Registrar [a room for how many organs, sir?]
• Freelance Sports Photographer [because I love sports and can't take a picture with an idiot-proof camera]
• Geospatial Technician [huh?]

I had an incredible interview the other day.... it was an intensive security position with a very large company. Everything looked good, I liked the job description and they seemed to like me. Then BOOM - the anchor dropped.  The job required over fifty percent travel.  I don't know about you but two months in beautiful downtown Utah just doesn't make my nipples swell.

I have spent a whole lot of time consuming job interviewing tips from all over the place. I can safely say that I know what not to do and even a bit of what TO do.  The key to a good interview is to anticipate the questions and have answers ready, in addition to examples. During a phone conversation, it should go something like this:

Tell me about yourself.  Hi, my name is lefty and I make people nervous.

What is your ideal day on the job?  Thanks for asking. I'd start with an intensive review of the evening's security events, followed by some chocolate, pizza and then the strippers. I'd close with some oral.

Wait - I need to put you on hold - my wife is flashing me.

Where do you see yourself in five years?  Certainly not in this dump. I intend to avail myself of all the benefits and run like the wind. With any luck, I'll be able to blame it all on the boss.

You were laid off?  Why?  I'm glad you chose to ask this highly illegal question.  My position was eliminated, right after I eliminated the CIO and half of the board.  Just because I soiled his wife was no reason to be so upset. Yes, that was a chainsaw, but I couldn't have done it because I could never start the damn thing.

How do you keep current with security news?  Websites, news readers and Juggs magazine.

With preparation like this, it's amazing that I don't have multiple job offers.

IT'S OK, I'M INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY

Remember the well-meaning neighbor?  The one who asked when our house was going up for sheriff's sale?  We're finally one-up on him: we called the mortgage company and, as it turns out, they're not all that keen on calling the sheriff.  The best moment was when we were going over our finances, Lieutenant Mortgage came to the conclusion that without our mortgage payment, we were four dollars in the hole.  Suffice it to say, they're quite content to work with us.  This works out well, as I can't rely upon public wifi to write these sagas.

NOT QUITE ERRATA

I passed the dog on my way in.  He had his face buried in something of weird color.  Then I got distracted by the neighbor washing her car in those shorts and.... 

Ok, so I passed the dog on the way in. When I got back to him, he was finishing up someting.  Minimal detective work indicated that he had bored through a pizza box to get at the poisoned pizza that he stole from the trash.  He has a cast iron stomach, largely from eating cast iron.

Speaking of trash, I mentioned our new automatic trash can.  Wave my hand over it and it opens, then closes on its own.  Apparently it needs a tuneup because it tends to open and close for no apparent reason.  Every night we sit in the living room and hear the can opening and closing.  It's almost a form of cheap entertainment these days (as everyone knows, I'm a cheap and easy date. Mostly easy).

Last but not least, I need to unburden myself.  This is just between us, ok? I don't want the wife to find out.  You see, it's about the wife. For some reason, perhaps due to all that loud music when she was little, her hearing has gone to hell.  I didn't want to be the one to tell her that she answers her cell phone in speakerphone mode, then puts it to her ear.  Mostly she puts the phone down and talks to it REALLY LOUDLY. I keep telling her she's shouting. She keeps telling me she's sorry, then goes back to shouting at the phone again. It's getting so I can't hear the tv or watch porn on my laptop.

I feel much better now - thank you.

The Unemployment Files (#4)

Greetings, friends and neighbors, fellow bloggers, readers, and everyone here from the Wide World of Water Sports.  This is the next in the Unemployment series, otherwise known as Episode 4 (or Why Am I Still Typing This Shit?).

As you know by now, I remain without work, unless you count the constant drone of the wife, barking out orders for me to do menial tasks like carrying stuff, cleaning stuff and mowing. I'm a knowledge worker - this kinda stuff is beneath me.

SEARCHING

You have been privy to all of the interesting search results I've gotten as well as all of the lovely recruiters who have called and emailed.  This installment's Best Of would have to include the offers for work in Houston, New York, four counties over, and of course, the three month consulting arrangement in Arkansas.  Come to Arkansas, work three months is their new state slogan.

A friend suggested a new game: collect all the coins for the states for which we're invited to work. The one with the most coins wins.  No, I don't know what.

In my own searches online, I have come across a few winners also. Business to Business insurance sales, wound nurse and my absolute favorite: lactation consultant.  I have to tell you that the last one had me considering a career change.  I'm somewhat of a subject matter expert in that general area anyway, going pro wouldn't be that difficult.  I can already properly size a bra and check for lumps, so I know wherefrom I speak.  Ok, I am a bit lacking in lactation - it's simply a fetish better left for others.

THE HIRSUTE CANINE CHILD

The dog has been enjoying the hell out of having me home full time, according to my wife.  As I type this, he's sitting next to me, putting his nose under my arm and insisting on all attention being provided to him and him alone.  Unfortunately all the attention has spawned more of a little monster... when we go somewhere, he becomes Spaniel Detective and hunts down anything edible, no matter where it is.  He used to be such a good dog when we left.  Last week he got half a bag of my Reese's Pieces (the bastard).  This was doubly evil, as my wife was supposed to get me Peanut Butter M&Ms, not Reese's Pieces.

He's defintely acting out.  Yesterday he ate half a loaf of wheat bread... the kind with all that sawdust on the top.  Wheat bread.  No matter how bad chocolate is for dogs, he will consume whatever he can reach.  Fortunately it doesn't bother him (it bothers me though).  My wife, who is sometimes forgetful (like it's sometimes humid in PA), left a whole bag of trail mix on the floor.  Strangely, the dog has left it there.  Yes, we've finally found the single substance that the dog won't touch. Remember - this is the guy who has eaten raw brussels sprouts.  Just not trail mix, please, Dad.

Meanwhile, the cat is also enjoying more attention.  The fastest way to get one of them to come is to call the other one.  Sibling rivalry at its finest.

Speaking of the cat, he has developed a new talent.  If you remember, the dog has trained the (good) neighbor to come out and feed him upon his command (bark).  The cat, no slouch himself, saw what was going on and figured he needed to get in on the action. So he, the cat who makes no noise at all, now sits on the fence and goes meow...Meow... MEOW and the neighbor comes out and feeds him too. We have unleashed two beggars upon the neighbor.


THANKS FOR THE HELP

The neighbor with the good intentions, who last time asked if the house was going up for sheriff's sale had another piece of wisdom the other day.  He saw my wife smoking on the front step and lectured that she must stop smoking; it's costing us too much money.  Of course the guy is one hundred percent correct; he's just lucky he didn't get a Subaru through his thorax.  The wife is a little jumpy where ciggies are concerned.

Armed with this great information, my wife decided to save us some money on cigarettes.  Whenever I hear 'save us money', I start to shake.  This usually means that she has purchased two of something 'because it was on sale' or 'because it was cheaper'.  When she gets home, she tells me how much money she has saved us.  I volunteer to save us even more money.... Guitar Center is having a sale and I can get two guitars for just a bit more than one.  Think of the hundreds I can save us!  Oddly enough, it is at that exact point that her math fails her (as well as her sense of humor).

Where was I?  Oh yeah, cigarettes.  She saved us loads of money by buying.... are you ready?  can you guess?  wait for it...  Roll Your Own cigarette parts.  We now have a tray table dedicated entirely to assembling cigarettes. Or rather, a tray table dedicated entirely to holding all the paraphernalia required to assmeble cigarettes.  I figure this is a practice best done when she has enough ciggies already. The moment she's out, she'll run shaking to the tray table, try putting together a single cancer stick, fail miserably, and run screaming to the store to buy a carton of regular old cigarettes (for $77 plus taxes).  In fact, it turns out that the tobacco companies are the ones that started the Roll Your Own movement.

INTERVIEWS - WE GOT INTERVIEWS

Hey, I haven't spent the entire week sitting on my ass.  I've spent the entire week looking for jobs, while sitting on my ass, thank you very much.  I have to admit I've had a decent amout of 'hits' on my resume lately, some from actual caucasians (who aren't Indian and trying to pound me into any job they can fit me into).

The prospective employers are getting smart about things, as I mentioned, and doing phone interviews (screenings) to weed out the bad prospects before calling them in physically (if not mentally).  I have had a bunch of phoners, as I call them.  Each one teaches me something, namely that I hate interviewing and that I can learn from my mistakes. And I make rather a lot of them.  And I insist upon making each one of them repeatedly.  Getting feedback helps to learn what to do next time.

So I've learned a lot, largely by failing.  Some call it Trial and Error.  I call it Error and Error.

This week I got a call from a recruiter for a job that turned out to be pretty damn local.  If there's anything I like (besides not having to mow the lawn), it's a very short commute to work. So I sat on the phone with the recruiter, very patiently, and answered questions. Very early in the process it became apparent that the technical recruiter had absolutely no concept of technical matters.  It would only make sense, you know.  I was charming and helped with technical acronyms.  Having gotten through that, I was informed that there was another phoner with their actual technical person.

A few days later, their actual technical person called, only he wasn't entirely technical either; he just knew all of the terms and acronyms. I suspect I was less charming this time but I passed muster. I know this because I was then invited to meet him in person.  In a small county, one state over. Tomorrow, if I didn't mind. For anybody keeping score, this was two phoners and an in-person, just to get past the recruiter.  The visit was pleasant, he asked great questions, we all talked about pets, kids and the coffee situation brewing (get it?) in South America, causing prices to rise exponentially.  I must have been in good form because I passed muster again.

How did I know I passed muster again? The recruiter was going to pass my resume along to his client. IF the client likes my resume, there will be... hang on..... guess what?  a PHONER!  If he likes the phoner, an in-person will be scheduled.  For anybody still keeping score, I will have gone through three phoners and two in-persons before I know if I got the job or not.  And this is for a consultant slot.  This has city government or extreme corporate obfuscation written all over it. I hope they don't take measurements when I show up. I typically disappoint.

Then there was the other phoner/screener for a large retailer.  It was being gang-interviewed, possibly by monkeys, judging from the zoo-like background noise.  It felt like home because I used to work in a zoo.  Well, not a traditional zoo, but they were really loud and sometimes smelled like animals. The secretary's husband likened calling there to a soccer riot.

And there we are - this week's installment.  Although it would break my heart, I am perfectly willing to discontinue this series and get back to the (ab)normal stuff.