Flavors of America: Best Bridge

Everyone should get to drive over the Golden Gate bridge in an American-manufactured convertible at least once in their lives and yell "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 25.1

This week I went to an orientation at the "career transition assistance" service that my ex-employer has engaged for those of us who got laid off.

In case you are lucky enough to have never experienced an career transition firm, they are basically hired to help you find your next job.  You get a career coach, classes on topics like interviewing and resume writing, access to an office where you can use a PC, fax, printer, copier, etc. and internet resources such as a job boards and online training.  They can be very helpful.

Going to the people hired by my ex-employer - let's call them CTA, embracing the awful descriptor "Career Transition Assistance"  - was a very interesting experience. 

First, I had no idea where the hell I was going when I was driving there.  Thank God for sat nav!  At one point I wondered if there was going to be a checkpoint and someone was going to ask me for my passport.  It's pretty much double the distance I used to drive to work.

Second, the office is in a horrible business park, in a nondescript building where CTA is the only tenant on the top floor.  So, as you get out of the elevator, if you look left rather than right, you are met with the encouraging sight of a huge empty office space, pockmarked with little piles of empty cardboard boxes.

Third, my ex-employer has not simply hired an outplacement firm and let them take care of us at their facility.  Nope.  My ex-employer had set up a special office for it's outcasts, manned by CTA staff.   But everything other than the staff is from my ex-employer.  The cube furniture, the equipment, the fridges with sodas, the snack machines, the coffee makers.  The coffee cups have my ex-employer's branding on them!  Way to help us move on!

I noticed all this stuff as I arrived at the facility and, by the time a CTA staff member collected us newbies for the orientation, I was starting to giggle.  It was just so ridiculous.

We were taken on a quick tour of the facility.  90% empty cubes, fax/copier/printer, some notice boards with jobs on them, a conference room, offices with closed doors where the career counsellors worked with their clients.  It was very, very quiet.  

I felt a little reassured when the CTA person explained all the services on offer for us.  Hmm, I thought, this could actually be very helpful.  

"There are so many resources," the CTA person smiled reassuringly, "that you can use to help you in your transition."

"Yeah," said a delightful New Zealander sitting next to me, "but I have to stop feeling pissed off first."

"Oh I know," said the CTA person.  "We have a graph that shows the phases you'll be going through.  I can show it to you."

I'm sure he felt comforted by that.

I could see that this whole thing could be beneficial, but I started to wonder how I could avoid trekking out to this empty cube farm hell every day.  I'd done my research beforehand, so I asked if I could please see a career counsellor in the CTA offices which are much closer to my home.  

"This is the office that [my ex-employer] has set up for you,"  I was told, meaningfully.

"OK," I said, "but where the hell are we?"

Rather than get my joke, the four people in the room with me explained that we were north of X and south of Y and if you go 2 miles down to Z street and turn right, and go another 3 miles, there's a great chain restaurant that does a really good lunch.

I want my next job to be in the city.  These people have suburban stripmallitis.  

"Besides," the CTA person went on, "if you come here this is where the networking really happens."

Oh great.  

I can drive for forty minutes, walk the silent corridors, sit in a soulless cube and, when I cant stand that anymore, I can meet someone in the kitchen and, both holding our ex-employer-branded coffee cups, we can chat about the good old days.  And about how we're moving on up and moving on out.  How it's time to break free, and nothing can stop us.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 25.0

Yesterday was a strange day.

First, some context:  I have been rejoicing and lamenting at the same time.  

Rejoicing for Fluffy Bear, who is working on a start-up and showcasing the intelligence, tenacity and talent that I always knew he had.  He is making real progress because of his hard work and a set of meaningful coincidences which have enabled friends to help his business get on it's feet.

Lamenting for me because I felt that the universe was not showing me clear signs like it seems to be for my husband.

But yesterday I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I realized last night, after my very full day was over, that there had been some signs...

First, I had lunch with an ex-colleague and her daughter.  Let's call my ex-colleague Nancy Drew, because she has an uncanny ability to fix problems.  And let's call her daughter Scarlett O'Hara, because she has such courage under adversity.

Scarlett O'Hara's life changed completely recently when she got a very rare disease.  After seeing a holistic practitioner and having tests, she also found out that she had two major food allergies.  And so her body is riddled with drugs and detoxing from years of eating foods it can't process.  She is tired, in pain and yet still managing to keep her job and live her life.  This huge change is being faced by a young girl whose major decision that day ought to revolve around what shoes to wear and which guy to date.  She is growing up, fast, and will see life completely differently, with a depth and maturity unmatched by many of her peers.

Sign No. 1: Scarlett represents someone facing huge, unexpected change with stamina, courage and grace.  I need to do the same.

Second, I met with She's So Lovely, my therapist.  We talked through what's going on with losing my job, trying to find another one and the fact that, at the moment, I feel like an upside-down swan.

The swan is often used as a metaphor for the perfect party hostess.  What you see is a beautiful, elegant bird, gliding effortlessly across the water.  What you don't see is the strong paddling going on below the surface.

Right now, if you look at me from the waist up, you see a lot of energy, positivity, pro-activeness.  I am networking, going to my old firm's outplacement consultants, sending out my resume, bla bla bla.  But actually, below the surface, I'm not really moving.  From the knees down I'm am sunk into the slushy, gloopy mud of fear and procrastination.  And not only that, sometimes I worry it might not be mud, but quicksand.

I haven't really done deep work on my resume, I haven't evaluated what I want to do and who I want to work for.  I just keep focusing on the large corporates who have offices in my city.  I don't have a plan.  I still haven't unpacked the case of stuff from my old cube. 

I'm stuck.   

She's So Lovely told me two important things.  First, how to do interventions and remind myself that I am talented, intelligent, marketable and would be an asset to any organization.  Second, she advised me to cast my net wider.  Think about jobs that would bring me closer to my creative side, where I'd have fun, be enthused and want to get up and go into work every day.

Sign No. 2: Intervene in stuck thinking and be freed to move forward.

Sign No. 3: Broaden your horizons.  Anything can happen.

Then I went to a networking thing with Fluffy Bear last night.  I'd forgotten how hard networking can be.  It takes energy to go up to total strangers, strike up a conversation and then weave your pitch into it in such a way that it sounds completely natural.

Think of all those radio and TV ads that try to recreate a conversation where one person recommends something to someone else.  Don't they always sound so fake?

So I move through the crowd, promoting my man and his killer idea, conversing with people half to two thirds my age, spilling my drink down my cleavage and getting my lipstick on my teeth. 

And then, just as I am starting to stroke Fluffy Bear's arm in that meaningful way that tells him I want to go home to my couch, fattening food and a mindless DVD, I meet Phoebe.  

I am calling her Phoebe because, like the character in Friends, she is very much in touch with her intuition.  I saw very quickly that she is a very intelligent woman.  She's show great courage in her past and had her taste of corporate America.  But she has a firm belief in keeping her eyes open for the signs that lead you to the right place at the right time.

She felt, a few years ago, that she should go to a country in South America.  She went there, alone, and started walking the streets, talking to people.  She came across families who were trying to rise up out of poverty, perhaps through opening a little tobacco stand, or repairing the roof over their heads.  And so she contacted people back home and began to raise money.  She didn't start an official charity, she just found funds, walked around and helped people.  Every time she thought she could get on a plane to go home, more money would come which she had to find a way to distribute.  Initially planning to be there for a few weeks, she eventually spent six months changing lives for the better, and she has been back to do it again another four times.

There were other personal stories which she shared which I won't go into here, but which clearly demonstrated that you need to listen to that little inner voice which tells you to do something, to go somewhere or to contact someone.  The effects can be life saving.  Literally.

Sign No. 4: Listen to your intuition, for it will lead you where you need to be.

And so I guess I need to apologize to the gods/the universe/my guardian angel/my ancestors - whatever it is that guides and protects us.  I've been bitching and moaning about no clear signs.  But they've been there all the time.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 23.0

I had to fire my cleaner today, and I cried.

I didn't cry because I can't bear the thought of scrubbing my floors myself, I cried for her, and for me.

Why did I cry for her?

I cried for her because I am sure I am not the only who has had to fire their cleaner.  And all the cleaners out there are going to be earning less.  All the people who do services that the middle class decide they can do themselves are going to be earning less.  And these are the people who can't afford to be earning less.

Here are the people who are going to be affected by Fluffy Bear and I being out of work:

1. Cleaner
   
2. Dog poop scoopers
   
3. Personal Trainer
   
4. Nutritionist
   
5. Masseur
   
6. Chiropractor
   
7. Dog groomer
   
8. Doggy day care
   
9. Hairdresser
   
10. Esthetician - I used buy my face products there, now I use off the shelf stuff from the grocery store
    
11. Dog trainer
12. Mowing service
13. Hedge trimming service

These are all people who run small businesses, or work for themselves.

And all because publicly held organizations serve shareholders rather than stakeholders and mistakenly believe that the Federal Government alone should fund a stimulus package.

I want to make T-shirts that say "Reject the Recession!  Buy something!" because each and every one of us who spends less makes this thing a self-fulfilling prophecy.  But I can't.  Because I'd be a hypocrite.  Because I have to spend less.  A lot less.

Why did I cry for me?

I cried for me because we did everything we could to keep our cleaner.  Of all the services we buy, her's was the last to get downsized.  Because we aren't stupid - we can forsee the petty arguments that doing (or not doing) chores around the house are going to bring.  And, with one of us boot strapping a startup and the other looking for work, stress levels are already running high.  

I heard a report on the BBC World Service the other day, centered on the book Getting to 50-50 - How Working Couples Can Have it All by Sharing it All where the reporter warned against getting rid of the cleaner when times are hard.  Easier said than done.

This isn't going to be pretty.

I also cried for me because firing the cleaner was a real sign.  A sign that everything is not OK, that maybe - just maybe - things won't be OK either. 

The event made a little chink in my armor, a little crack in the positive, gung-ho facade.

What if I don't find a job?  

What if our savings run out?  

What if we end up having to leave the US and live with family again?

What if, what if, endless what ifs.

But, here's the thing.

Tomorrow, I'll feel better.  Tomorrow I'll remember that we survived the meltdown in 2001.  Tomorrow I'll feel confident and network and jobhunt and think positive what ifs, like how I'd want my kitchen to be in my dream house.

And I'll buy a floor mop and get ready to clean this house.

Puppy Dog better get over his fear of the vaccuum cleaner, cos I'm gonna run that sucker over his shedding arse every morning from now on...  

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 22.1

After writing my previous post about interview prep, I started thinking about what the worst answers to those common questions might be.....

• What was your worst group experience?  
  Omigod!  Team building!  I hate that crap!  Just let me do my work already!
• What is the one good thing your last manager would say about you?  
  I give good head.
  
• What is the one bad thing your last manager would say about you?  
  That I won't just let him roll over and go to sleep after.
  
• You have six months to do a nine month project, what do you do?  
  Tell those managers where to stick it.  You can have on time, on budget or good quality.  Pick one.
  
• How have you demonstrated leadership at a previous company?  
  I quit before the fuckers could fire me.
  
• Tell me about yourself.  
  My resume is right in front of you.  Isn't that the POINT?
  
• If you could start your career again from the begining, what would you change?  
  I'd become a pimp.  Then at least I could laid.
  
• What would you like to accomplish that you weren't able to in your previous position?  
  The Indian Headstand Kama Sutra position.
  
• Tell me how you would handle multiple projects on the job.  
  Kill the ones I didn't find interesting. 
• Was there ever a time when a project you were working on had major delays?  What did you do?  
  Omigod!  There was this one time, in Frankfurt, where our project was just totally screwed up.  Everybody was freaking out and stabbing each other in the back.  I took a vacation.  I just can't let political crap at my job bring me down, man.
  
• Tell me about a problem that you failed to anticipate.  
  Well, hell, who knew you could get fired for taking your secretary on a little weekend side trip after a conference?  Isn't that what expenses are for?
  
• Which of your accomplishments have given you the greatest satisfaction?  
  That three way I had with my boss and her assistant.  Man, that supply closet will never be the same.
  
• Have you ever had to deal with ethical issues - like race or religion - on the job?  How did you deal with it?  
  You just to have a sense of humor.  I mean, when I called Salim "Saddam" in meetings, he knew I was joking.  We're totally friends.  And our clients totally thought it was funny, too.
  
• Why do you want this job?
  Pays the bills.  What other reason is there.  All you corporate twonks are the same.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 22.0

I had an interview yesterday.

It was through a friend which, once again, just goes to show that firing off resumes through Monster and TheLadders etc. doesn't get you as far as your own network does.

I was a little concerned that the meeting only lasted 40 minutes but I got on very well with the recruiter so maybe she just wanted to do a quick pre-qualify.  It wasn't for a role on their permanent staff, but to work through them if they get a specific consulting placement that I'd be a fit for, so that could also explain why it was a little less rigorous.  

I was looking at the firm's website while I was doing research and dreading having to look through my resume to prepare to speak about each role.  Then I remembered that, back in 2007 when I was job hunting, I wrote a bunch of "stories" about my career as interview prep.  So I dragged them out.

It was great because, even though they didn't cover my last job (obviously) they reminded me of stuff from my previous career.

First, I had a set of PAR sheets.  These were for each job I had.  I chose a story which I could, in theory, weave into a recap of that role.  A story which clearly demonstrated where I had made a contribution.  A clear, concise story on one sheet of paper in this structure:

• Problem - what was the issue
• Action - what I did to solve it
• Result - what was the positive outcome.

Insert trumpeteer here.

Then I found a set of story sheets.  These were responses I'd prepared to common interview questions like:

• Discuss the problems of a previous project.  How would you resolve them now?
  
• What was your worst group experience?
  
• What is the one good thing your last manager would say about you?
  
• What is the one bad thing your last manager would say about you?
  
• You have six months to do a nine month project, what do you do?
  
• How have you demonstrated leadership at a previous company?

etc. etc.

Re-reading these was really helpful in my interview prep.  

Of course I didn't read them enough and practice my answers aloud so they weren't really embedded in my head.  So I didn't remember to tell even one of my stories in the interview.  Ho hum.  Lesson for next time... don't just re-read them... work 'em!

Still, I don't think I did too badly.  

The point which seemed to really resonate with the interviewer was when I was honest about the time I tried to set myself up as an independent consultant.  She chuckled when I told her (don't forget my English accent) that I had been "spectacularly unsuccessful."

Quote Unquote - Directions to Soddom

A friend of mine - let's call her Dolly because, like the protagonist in Hello Dolly, everyone loves her - was in a meeting with her young assistant and a designer.

For reasons I won't go into - I'll just reassure you that it was part of a joke and not a homophobic comment - someone said the word sodomite.

"What's a sodomite?" the young assistant asked.

Dolly explained as best she could without getting too graphic.  At some point, a light seemed to go on in the assistant's eyes.

"Aah," she said.  "So is the guy on the bottom called a soddomitten?"

Hello from Puppy Dog - Mama's Pecadilloes

Hello Friends!

I know Mama has been writing about me, so I decided fair's fair - I am going to tell you about Mama's peccadilloes!

Mama talks to me in strange ways.  I know I'm still a (fur)kid, but she sometimes talks to me like I am still a little puppy who doesn't know anything about the world.  It can be a bit annoying, really.

She also seems to think I can't understand proper English.  So there's the high voice, and then there's the funny words:

• Haffgoddabaw? = Have you got a ball?  This means Mama is going to play Fetch with me when she sees me bring her a tennis ball.  So, even though it sounds kinda silly, it means we're going to play!


• Hoozgoobaw? - Who's a good boy?  This is when Mama is happy with me and it means I am going to get petted and scratched behind the ears and stroked.  He he he.  I like being scratched behind the ears.


• Wezzabaw? = Where's the ball?  This is when Mama decides she wants to play Fetch with me, which happens at the strangest times and is always a wonderful surprise!  So she is asking me to go find a ball so we can play together.  I always find one really fast.


• Cumseetya! = Come and sit here.  This is when Mama calls me to sit on the couch with her.  I can curl up and she scratches the top of my head and I can rest my chin on her leg and it's really snuggly and warm and mmmmmmmm....


• Wotchoodoo? = What are you doing?  Mama says this to me as she stamps both her feet on the ground and bends down, which means we are about to wrestle!  I get to run and jump and she holds my front arms and I bite her forearm and then she lets me go and runs to the bed and jumps on it and I jump on her and we roll around and she hits her flat hand on the side of my open jaws and I can't catch her hand to bite it and we both growl and it's so much fun!!!


• Kmup! = Come up.  This is Mama in the morning when she's fed me and let me out for a pee and then she goes back to bed.  Then I am allowed to get up on the bed with her and Dada and we all nap a little more together.  It's a happy, warm, sleepy family.

You know, I guesss if I think about it, everytime Mama talks silly to me, something pretty awesome happens.  So maybe it's not so bad...

By the way, I've decided to reveal my true identity, so become my friend on Facebook!  My name is PDog Chocolate Lab.

Lots of licks and woofs,

 

 

Puppy Dog

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 18.0

A considerably better day than yesterday. 

The sun is shining, my cold is finally clearing up, Peets Coffee made me a perfect blended decaf soy and we just happened to turn down a street that had a new icecream shop on it.  I had a scoop of coffee and one of walnut, in the sweetest, crunchiest, yummiest waffle cone.

Doesn't icecream just make everything OK?  I think it might just be proof that there is a Higher Being.

We took Puppy Dog for a long walk and swim and he was ecstatic.  It's so wonderful to see him bounding across fields, chasing tennis balls at top speed, or jumping into the water, lollopy-swimming through it (he's swims as if he is walking through the water - it's not that graceful), again, to retrieve a little lime green furry, bouncy ball.

Afterwards I happened to see an old colleague who I really hope will become a true friend - she's great.  Seeing her again was a nice way to reconnect with news of people I care about and don't get to see every day anymore.

I oscillate between being proactive and moving on, and grieving.  I guess that's natural.  I still haven't unpacked the case of all the crap I took from my cube.  I think that fact alone is pretty revealing.

But I also have an interview lined up next week, and it's a holiday weekend so - what the heck! - I'm gonna kick back now, watch some mindless TV, and eat something that is very bad for me.

Being a Doggy Mama - Puppy Dog's Peccadilloes 3

Ear Flaps

Puppy Dog has soft, flappy ears that hang down his head.  Not as long as a Basset Hound's but still, they hang and can get blown back by the wind, which is hilarious.

But the cutest thing is to watch him sitting at the screen door, looking out at the world.  And then focusing on his ears.  As he tunes in to different sounds, the ear flaps move: back, twitch, forward, twitch, then they lift up, then they relax down, twitch!  

It's like watching one of those men wave the little red paddles at a taxiing aircraft.

 

Active Dreaming

Many dogs do this, I know, but it's just that much funnier when mine does it.  He moves and makes noises when he dreams.

Sometimes he'll run, laid out horizontal, two sets of claws scratching on the wooden floor.

Sometimes he'll twitch, which I always imagine is that tiny moment, the instant he actually sees the Evil Squirrel in Dreamland.

Sometimes he'll growl or bark - softly, like invisible hand has turned his volume down two thirds of the way.

Strange - now that I think about it, I've never seen his tail wag in his dreams.  They must all be hunting ones, full of Evil Squirrels, Naughty Kitties and other furry creatures who are gonna totally get theirs.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 17.0

Today is a dark day.

I don't know why, but I have started questioning every career path decision I made at my previous employer.  Where did I go wrong?  Why was I so badly positioned that I was one of the 10% to go?

There were moments when I was advised to take a different direction, and I resisted.  Then, when I realized my mistake, and asked to change, I was refused.

And so the inner voices have been berating me, blathering on about mistakes and screw ups and blame.  It's like an orchestra of mean people creating a cacophony of criticism.

Part of me doesn't want to go back there, but part of me does.  A big part of me misses my colleagues who had become sorta-kinda-friends.  

But most of all, the it-always-has-to-be-an-A-grade part of me is standing on a high tower, holding a big bullhorn and screeching "FAILURE!" across the skies.

Deep inside, I know it isn't true.  But, just for today, it feels like it is.

Couch Potato - Filled with Glee

My new favorite show is Glee, about a Glee Club at a High School.  

As a foreigner, I didn't even know what a Glee Club was but, judging from the show it is some kind of singing club, kinda like Drama Club, at school.

If I had grown up in the US you can be sure I'd have been in Glee Club as well as Drama Club.  Yes, I was that kind of girl.  Hell, in a country where we didn't have cheerleading at school I set up a squad.... for the rugby team!

The kids in Glee seem to sing all sorts of songs, but all in that show-tune, belt-it-out, hit-the-high-note way that kids do.

The best moment for me was when the underdog school (our heroes) went to see their rivals for the state championships.  There they were, about 30 kids on stage, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, broad smiles, gelled hair and generally just the kinds of kids you wish your brat would bring home as a date.  And then they launched into a choreographed, knee-kicking, jazz-handing, squeaky-clean version of Amy Winehouse's song:

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said 'no, no, no'

Yes I've been black but when I come back you'll know know know

I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine

He's tried to make me go to rehab but I won't go go go

(see it here)

The only thing better than that moment was Sue Sylvester's crazy-ass cheerleading coach yelling through a loudhailer at her squad, who were trying to do an elaborate pyramid type thingy where the girls are on the boys' shoulders:

"You think this is hard!  Try living with herpes!  That's hard!"

Apparently the pilot is a hit because the songs, as sung by the cast, are now available on iTunes. 

Watch this. Trust me, once you do, you won't get this version out of you head for at least three days.

I can't wait for the show's official launch!  

Quote Unquote

On reading the post below, Fluffy Bear said:

"If I'd known it was worth that much, I'd have sold mine!"

Quote Unquote

This quote is rewritten from memory of it from BBC World Service radio:

"You have to go to bed with yourself at night and wake up with yourself in the morning and decide if you've done what's right for you."

Natalie Dylan, a 22 year old Women's Studies student from California who is auctioning her virginity.   The highest bids are rumoured to be over $3 million.  And, yes, that picture is of her.

Read more here.

Stuff Male People Like - Mini Maintenance

Today my husband asked me a very strange (well, I thought it was strange) question.  And I didn't answer him immediately because I was too busy thinking about whether I should do a quick wipe around the bathroom basin.  And then it hit me - I was thinking Microclean, he was thinking Mini-Maintenance!

And thus, Stuff Male People Like was born.

Mini-Maintenance

Male people are taught from childhood that they are responsible for fixing things.   Any self help book on opposite-gender relationships will tell the man of the couple that sometimes, his dear lady just wants a sympathetic ear, not suggestions on changes she should make.  But the Male Person can't help it contributing ideas for action - he's wired to fix, fix, fix.

Of course some Male People have this stereotype reinforced by wives who keep telling them they promised to change the light bulbs, take out the trash and wire any new plugs in their marriage vows, but I digress...

And so while the Female Person sees the need for a Microclean, the Male Person is ever watchful for opportunities for Mini-Maintenance.  This is important, you see, because doing Mini-Maintenance avoids having to do Major Maintenance, which is Mucho Moolah.

Hence you have household scenarios like this...

Scenario 1 - Household

The Female Person is about to grab a cloth and the All Purpose Cleaner to Microclean the brown blotch left on the ceiling from a dirty tennis ball thrown for Puppy Dog which bounced too damn high, when her brain is sideswiped by a question yelled from the kitchen by the Male Person:

"Why is the water pressure low?"

The Female Person has absolutely no idea how to answer this.  Water pressure?  Low?  How does he know it's low?  So what if it is low?  Why am I involved in this?  The Female Person chooses not to answer, hoping this confusing thing will just go away and she'll be able to reach the blotch on the ceiling without falling off the dining room chair.

"Is the washing machine on?" the Male Person yells.

Finally - a question that makes sense!

"Yes," the Female Person yells back. 

"Oh.  OK," the Male Person says.

None of this makes any sense to the Female Person - she is just glad that there seems to be a tone of resolution in the Male Person's voice and whatever that little thing was has now gone away.  Scary thoughts of being made to hold dirty tools while standing next to a muttering, cursing, angry Male Person attempting to perform some unfathomable type of household repair can now be put to rest.

Scenario 2 - Car

"Why is the petrol gauge showing full?" the Male Person asks.

Again, the Female Person has no idea how to answer this.  Her brain scurries to think of whether she filled up the tank recently.  Nope.  She couldn't get to the nice garage where they pump your gas for you before it closed so she just left it, driving past the self serve ones where you get dirty and break your nails.

The Female Person gives up.  Frankly, unless the little red light is on, who cares about the gas gauge anyway?

"This isn't right," the Male Person says.  "I filled up when we were at six thousand miles."

Once again, utterly meaningless to the Female Person.  Oh, wait - the odometer.  The Female Person does not understand the Male Person's fascination with this instrument.   Occasionally the Female Person will be stuck in traffic, notice that the last number is on a 9, and find some small, inexplicable pleasure at watching it click over to 0.  That's about it.

The Female Person stays quiet, for she knows that interjecting into the Male Person's internal dialogue would be relationship suicide.  The Female Person knows that the Focus Shift will come, she just has to wait it out.

As the journey progresses there is muttering.  The dashboard is tapped.  The engine is turned off at traffic lights and turned back on again to see what the gas gauge will do.  It is all very stressful to watch.  But, finally, there is a sigh and something about "covered under warranty" and it is over, for now.  The Focus Shift takes the Male and Female Person away from the dark place and back to whatever reason it is that they were in the car in the first place - thank God.

So let's take a look at what is happening in both of these scenarios.

1. Indication - There is a change, an sign that there could be a glitch somewhere in the machine.
2. Awareness - The Male Person notices the glitch.
3. Theoretical Analysis - The Male Person mentally analyzes all the things that could be causing the glitch, from a relatively benign temporary mishap through to a major moolah-munching malfunction.
4. Information Gathering - So as to make sure that things are not on the scary end of the scale, the Male Person starts by doing some digging.  As the Female Person is in the vicinity of the item with the glitch - she uses it every day - perhaps she's noticed something.  Poor Male Person.  He doesn't realize that, just as he doesn't see Microcleans, so she doesn't see Mini-Maintenance.  Until a red light blinks or there's an annoying beeping noise, the Female Person's fundamental presumption is that all is well with the world - as long as it's clean, of course.
5. Empirical Observation and Experimentation - Tapping, prodding, accelerating and breaking, pulling the steering wheel right and left, running hot then cold water, etc.  Here, the Male Person is trying to isolate factors that might be contributing to, or explain, the glitch.  He may also be trying to recreate a defect which, having occurred once while he was watching, is now irritatingly absent.
6. Recording of Observed Results - Basically: muttering.
7. Synthesis of Analysis and Reaching a Conclusion - Again: muttering.
8. The Go/No Go decision - To act, or not to act?  This is an important decision.  The Male Person firmly believes that dismantling the machine to find the root of the problem may save thousands in repair bills later, that stopping in to see the mechanic now may save having to purchase a major component which has to be shipped from a plant in Yugoslavia.  In short, acting now may prevent doom down the road.  
9. Execution - Depending on Go/No Go decision, this phase may or may not occur.  The carrying out of Micro-Maintenance is a testosterone-scented dance which should really be avoided by Female People at all costs.  The Male Person, depending on his actual ability in the area of question, may actually make an improvement and fix the glitch, or create a situation where the professional repair person has so much more to work with than they would have had if they were just called in in the first place.  Either way, the point is that the Male Person has carried out the Mini-Maintenance.  Even if the professional repair person has to be called in, at least the Male Person can instruct them with authority and ensure that there is no chance of being ripped off.  See?  Everyone's a winner!
10. Focus Shift - Once a resolution - to do nothing, or the achievement of the actual fix - is achieved, the Male Person's focus can shift to something else, and everything is OK again.

And so, by completing the cycle of Micro-Maintenance, the Male Person has saved the day.

Yes, he has, he really, really has.

Being a Doggy Mama - The PDog anti-depressant

You cannot be depressed around Puppy Dog.

Today I felt crappy, this F@#$%G cold still won't go away and the thought of job hunting felt too daunting.  I also felt foggy and tired, so decided to go back to bed.

I often run into the bedroom and jump on the bed to start a wrestling/biting game with Puppy Dog which is hilarious, but always ends with me screaming "OW!"  Still, it's squealy-funny, so it's worth it.  Unfortunately, that means that, if I go to bed in the middle of the day, he thinks it's game time.

So I get into bed and he jumps on top of me, growling and biting my right wrist.  I grabbed the covers and pulled them over my head and my arm.  This, of course, signalled a different game to him.  At last, the wrist bite combined with getting through the outer layer of fur!  So now I have a dog making that particular sniffling sound they make when they burrow through the outer layer of the animal to get to the soft, warm bits.  And next thing there's a cold, wet nose spchlocking me in the face.  I wriggled further under the covers and, hard as it was to do, ignored him.

Puppy Dog eventually jumped off, disappointed, and tried coming at me from the side of the bed.  I was lying on my side, so his nose prodded my lower back.  Boink!  Play with me, Mama.  Boink!  Boink!  I kept ignoring him.

Then the low, soft, growly whimpers started.  First one sound, then a pause, then a combination of low and high, then a pause, then a single sound again, high pitch.  It's a heartbreaking sound which really pushes your buttons, kinda like when a baby cries.  I sighed, but stood firm, and kept ignoring him.

Puppy Dog is very, very energetic.  He's only 2 years old and it shows.  He has to be walked for at least 40 minutes - an hour is much better - daily.  If he doesn't get to blow off his energy, he gets a bit nuts.

So now begins the demonstration of how badly he needs a work out.  There's the sprint from the bedroom to his cushion in the lounge, then through the dining room, kitchen and back door to the top of our small back yard, then back through the whole house to the front door, then back to the dining room to stop and do a major neck scratch with the left leg.  We have wooden floors so believe me when I tell you that I could hear every step from the bedroom.

I gave in.

Time to face the world.

I got out of bed, showered, took Puppy Dog for a walk and started hitting my network up for a job.

He said She said

"What do you see?" she said, holding up the packaging from a USB humping dog bought for them by the ever-hilarious Bill.

" 'USB meets love'," he said, quoting the packaging strapline.

"No, what else?" she said.

"Green fields and funny flowers," he said, describing the stylized design.

"No, what else?" she said.

There was a pause.

"BOOBIES!" he yelled, finally noticing that the pink hills at the top of the stylized field of flowers happened to have darker pink protruding mountaintops.

"When I asked N, a friend of ours who happens to be over 10 years younger than us, he saw them right away!" she shrieked.

"No fair!" he said.  "I was looking from the bottom up!"

"Yeah," she said, "right."

To read more in this series, click here.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 15.0

I got flowers! 

I was out with some friends and I got this phone call which was incomprehensible.  One of those situations where you have to run outside, explaining you are in a bar and then hope that this isn't a headhunter who works long hours and thinks it's ok to call at 6:30pm and who now thinks you are a drunk.  But no, it was someone saying they had flowers for me and would it be OK to leave them on our front porch.  

I said yes, and felt very sorry for the delivery person, because Puppy Dog, although angelic of face, can sound like a hellhound if anyone approaches his Den.  We also have a screen door, so it can be hard to see exactly how big the snarling barkmachine behind it is if you are standing at the bottom of our three steps wondering if today is a good day to die.  I can only imagine the poor delivery person ran up, plonked the flowers near the door and ran away as fast as his little legs would carry him.

When we got home, there they were - a stunningly beautiful arrangement centered on the protea, a favorite flower of mine for reasons I choose not to tell you.  Sorry, us women need to keep some sense of mystery.

Fluffy Bear had, of course, tried to take credit for the flowers - jokingly of course - but we both knew it wasn't him, so we were both really interested to see who they were from.

And the card read:

Love the blog

Love the protea?

Get well soon!

Everywhereventually

My dearest friend who lives across the pond and still, from afar, can make my day.

Being a Doggy Mama - Puppy Dog's Peccadilloes 2

 

Tummy is not for Mummy

Puppy Dog will not lie on his back to let me rub his tummy.  That is only for Dada, the alpha dog. 

Cleary the No. 1 Bitch does not have enough status - I can rub his tummy when he's standing up, when he's on his side, but I aint getting no on the back, hips wide open, penis airing tummy action.

PDog the Hypnotist

Puppy Dog firmly believes in his hypnotic powers.  As you sit comfortably eating dinner in front of the TV, you suddenly notice a very quiet dog, sitting completely still, staring deep into your eyes.  

You can almost hear his instructions:

"Look into my eyes... Yes... Relax... Clear your mind, you're quite safe... Yes... Just relax... Yes... You want to share your food with the dog... You want to share your food with the dog... You waaaant to shaaaare your foooood with the doooooooog." 

Poor Dog.  All he gets is us mocking him in the same old way:

"He's gone all David Blaine again."

 "Oooooooooh!  Scaaaary!"

"Maybe he's going to go and sit in his den for 57 days next."

"Maybe he's going to make the couch disappear."

"Nah, he likes the couch."

Poor Puppy Dog.

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 14.0

Well, it's official.  Fluffy Bear and I are both free agents.

As he is very well known in his industry, he's already had three calls from other companies who've heard he's available through the grapevine and want to talk turkey.  So he'll be fine.

I am toying with the idea of us doing something stupid and going away for Memorial Day weekend.  Just get away from it all, have some fun and then do the serious job hunt networking resume editing bla bla bla stuff afterwards.

But how to go away for a weekend and manage to just forget money woes?  Would we be able to not question every restaurant check, not look for the cheaper option on the menu and not make passive agressive toasts to our former bosses?  The whole thing might turn out to be anything but a destress weekend.  Especially for our friends who we're thinking of tagging along with.

Also I have done so much business and personal flying that the thought of even driving to the airport negates the happiness of a weekend away for me.  If it was a two week holiday I can put up with the shit airplane seats, the awful line at security, the moron in front of me who doesn't know they have to take off their shoes before they go through the scanner, but for just a three day weekend?  Hmmmmmm

A cabin in the woods might be nice.  We could take Puppy Dog, have nice walks every day, take our own food... It would be especially good if it had a hot tub.  Mmmmm... Now we talkin'.

Maybe I should do some online searching....