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Three Sprocket Haiku

The other day, while I was putting on my shoes to take Sprocket for a walk, I was inspired to write a few haiku about her. I share them with you here:

Four-legged smile
The dog of my heart and dreams
Sprocket, I love you

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Good Girl Sprocket
Looks up with loving brown eyes
You are so precious

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I bask, yes bask, in
her glorious dogginess
the dog of my life

Do Clothes Indicate Skill and Expertise?

I guess there are times when you need to be reminded that there are very superficial business people out there.

Last week I got an email in response to my resume posted on Craig's List. This is what it said:

"Can you send references and salary history?"

That's it. No mention about what kind of work this person was interested in. It was signed by a lawyer.

So I replied that I wanted know what this was in regards to before I sent such information. This was the response:

"I am looking for an executive assistant who can proof read, knows grammar, and is conscientious, organized, has excellent people skills. Would this be you?"

Now, lets step back a bit. The headline for my resume is, "Editorial Professional with 10+ Years Experience." I've been in marketing for more than 15 years. So, I'm thinking why would this person think I'd be interested in an executive assistant position. So I reply:

"Well, yes I do have those qualities, however I'm not really an executive assistant. I'm more of a marketer or publications editor. But thank you for thinking of me."

Later that day, he calls me. Apparently he's having difficulty finding someone who can read and write. So he convinces me to come in for an interview at 1:30 pm today. He even confirms this time in writing via email.

So today, I'm en-route to the interview and at around 1:15pm he calls me again and says our interview was at 1pm. I said I had 1:30 and I was on my way. He said it was probably his mistake and looked forward to meeting with me.

So I get there. I'm wearing my typical interview outfit: my nicest trousers (beige cotton linen) and a nice blue knit top. I've worn this outfit to interviews where I've been offered the job. I've been dressing this way for more than 15 years and no one has ever commented on it.

What is this lawyer's first comment to me? First, that he knew he made the appointment for 1pm because he was seeing a client at 2pm. And then, asked me what kind of job I was looking for because I wasn't dressed nicely enough. He had clients coming into the office and expected a certain "image."

I told him that I had been dressing this way to corporate positions for years without comment and that I would not be comfortable in a place that required more. I was out the door and out of the parking lot before the 20 minute deadline for free parking was up.

I mean really, if I had showed up in flip flops and a skirt with no nylons I would understand. Oh, and to make matters worse, his front office assistant was wearing a casual, almost hippy-ish dress. I was definitely dressed more professionally than her.

What a waste of my time. I'd much rather work with people who appreciate my skills and talents and not how I dress -- not that I dress like a bum or anything. But my philosophy is life it too short for uncomfortable clothes and threw off that yoke years ago and never intend on looking back.

Hot Buttons

Nothing riles me more than being accused of something I have not done.

For example, when I was in college I was playing a game of Scruples with my roommate and her friends. The basis of the games is a set of cards, each with a morally ambiguous situation. As each person takes their turn, they read off a card and state what they would do in that situation. Then all the other players vote as to whether the person is lying or not. Depending on the results, the person whose turn it is gets to move forward or not.

Anyway, the situation I picked up was this: I is 2am on a dark country road. You see someone at the side of the road with a flat tire. Do you stop to help?

I said, "Heck no! That could be a trap!"

The others said I was lying.

Well, I wasn't. I got so incensed that no one believed I was telling the truth that walked away from the game in a huff.

Why do I share this story? Because it happened again this week and it bothers me so much I just want to break something.


A few weeks ago, I hurt my back. I don't have health insurance because I'm between jobs, so I went to a walk-in, low-cost clinic. The doctor gave me some muscle relaxants and Vicodin, stating that she could tell I wasn't a person there just trying to get drugs.

Now, I don't know about you but I don't like Vicodin. I doesn't seem to do anything for the pain and it makes me rather nauseous.

Well, my back gets slowly better. I get a job and on my first day by back goes out again -- only worse. I was in so much pain, I couldn't drive home. I was 36 miles from home and my husband was planning on bicycling up to get me. Fortunately, AAA made an exception and had me towed home. I got home early enough to go back to that clinic.

This time, the doctor said she wasn't going to give me Vicodin because she could tell I was an addict.

Yeah. Right. I love feeling nauseous and still being in pain. Give me some more of that Vicodin.

Erg! I still had Vicodin left. And it does squat for me. I really don't understand how people can be addicted to it. I mean, really, if I'm going to be addicted to something, its going to be something that makes me feel good -- not sick.

Then yesterday, I was talking to me dad and found out that Vicodin doesn't work for him either. Well that does it. No one is going to make me pay for Vicodin again, it is just a waste of my money.

Drug addict, indeed.

The Silver Lining to Unemployment

The other day, I was thinking how much I'm enjoying spending time with my wonderful dog, Sprocket. And then it occurred to me that being between jobs has its perks. The past month I've been able to really enjoy my dog's company and spend quality time with her.

We go for three, sometimes long, walks every day.

I spend about an hour a day grooming her.

I spend time just watching her exist.

I even snap photos of her in her various poses. Here are just a few.



Oh! And I write songs about her, too. My latest goes to the tune of The Pussycat Dolls' song, Don't Cha:

Don't cha wish your doggie was a cute as mine? Don't cha?

Happy May!

Finally -- A close encounter with a parrot

Back in my December 16, 2006, post, I mentioned that there were wild parrots here in SoCal. Well, this morning, as I took my dog for a walk to the post office to mail some letters, I was finally rewarded with the opportunity to take close ups of these guys. Here's the photo gallery I made of the four shots I took. I hope you enjoy them.

Tying Up My Camel

In The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974), Sinbad says at some point, "Trust in Allah, but tie up your camel!" I've always liked that quote. It's kind of a snarky way to say, "God helps those who help themselves."

I bring this up because I'm going to have to trust in God again, while I frantically try to tie up my camel. I lost my job Monday in a layoff and I only have about two months worth of funds to float us by.

I'm both calm and anxious.

I'm calm because I know I have a strong skill set and that I am in an area that has a great need for my services. (So if you know anyone in the greater Los Angeles/Orange County area who needs an award-winning editor with more than 15 years experience in marketing communications, publications management, public relations writing and web content development, send them my way!)

On the outside, I'm my typical chipper self, although maybe a little bit more so than usual.

On the inside is another story.

I knew this was coming in advance. The night I found out, I dreamt that I was outside of my body watching someone perform surgery on me. He had this huge, oversized, plastic wrench that he was using to move around my large intestine. At some point in the dream, he invited me over to feel my intestines. It was really weird. I could feel the muscles moving the stuff inside along. I woke up with a horrible pain in my side.

I'd say the stress is getting to me. But there is a bright side.

For the past four weeks I've been coming into work and it has been torture. There hasn't been much to do because I was in employee communications and we weren't communicating more than once a week. The little work I did was to organize the employee questions coming in to the CEO via a Web form (90% we love you and we're in this with you and 10% explicatives and vitriol) and to gather the news clips (the company is going down the tubes, etc.). Gee, that was fun.

So, as I said, I'm trusting in Allah/God/The Great Spirit/The All There Is/the Universe that something will come my way swiftly and we'll be O.K.

But, on the other hand, I'm tying up my camel and setting up interviews with potential freelance work to help us get by while I play the job search game. Would you believe that within a hour of posting my resume on Craig's List I received a call for a freelance job? Gotta love Craig's List.

Anyway, I guess I just felt I had to get all this yuck off my chest without depressing my husband. Thanks for being there, oh anonymous blog reader.