Meet the President

April 9, 2013

One friend suggested I look into a professional packing career! Well, if I cannot locate my own toothbrush, that might prove to be a challenge. Hate to think those Q-tips clients would lose the sack of Depends.

Too much creamed coffee and not enough planning led me to an incomplete 2012 tax return, frustration around a specific and unique Cover Letter and stellar Resume, organizing the complex journey over the weekend that avoids expending too much gas. Sure.

Jumping from one idea to the next, spinning in circles and at the end of the day, I do not have a clue if I accomplished anything or simply complicated my life. Suppose I can create list of what an accomplished day would actually look or feel like!

The other job seekers and I look across the table from one another with blank stares and starry eyes. We have a plethora of information now, ungodly list of websites to browse and research to generate. Oh boy! As they say, we are six people away from meeting the President of the United States. So, it should not be that tricky to get a job…right?

Class clown

April 10, 2013

Overnight ice and snow sent a thrill up and down my spine like a child pulling out the sled to clumber onto the hilltop and careen down with abandon. Of course I have not been struggling with the dirty slopes on the side of the road, incessant shoveling, treacherous driving in it and despite inevitable layers, constant shivering for the past six months. Lucky me!

Seems counter-intuitive to revel in the winter yet I feel comfortable and even lighthearted acceptance since my attention and devotion revolves around the job hunt, tax preparation, bill paying and commitment to Taelor and Tyrus.

Workforce class with other job huntsman makes for an interesting week. The scuttle-butt in the corporate world is NOT solely dependent upon the umpteen emails from Job Boards so I am thrilled to not have to sit on the laptop for hours on end and respond to the URGENT job postings they throw my way. Too many balls to juggle!

Bedraggled to professionally attired folks surround the rectangular tables with grim, turned down mouths to bright and cheery anticipatory attitudes make up the class. The stagnant energy, oblivious to all of the employment opportunities we are “missing out on” takes us backwards to assess core values, marketable skills and specific examples of making a difference. It is tedious, brutally extensive and inevitably helpful.

Have an informational interview so I am required to prepare a new and improved version of my Resume. Most of the participants have one version of the document and I stagger under my all-embracing pile of options.  

Where is my toothbrush?

April 9, 2013

I am staying in the fifth place since my return three weeks ago. Being completely mobile and working out of a suitcase for even one night takes preparation and organization. What accessories do I need to be absolutely comfortable? What small item would I miss if I didn’t have it? How much can actually fit in the vehicle? When I get an interview this week, do I have the proper and professional attire to accommodate that? Is Tyrus going to behave?

As a guest in someone’s home I am ultra aware of the messiness of life. Or at least my life! Realizing I have moved necessities from one bag to the next, into my glove compartment, my briefcase, purse, laptop cover, jacket pocket, under the car seat, stored in my friend’s pull barn and unavailable or…yikes, where is it? I was taught by my ex that I need to put things in the same spot every single time I place it down somewhere. That has become an impossible rule to follow. I can barely recall what I had for breakfast let alone where I put my toothbrush in that “safe and perfectly accessible” spot!

With my crunchy snack bar and trusty stainless steel water bottle I arrive at my week long training class to assist the job seeker hat that is currently perched on my head. I thank my supportive and understanding friends from the bottom of my heart. Good thing Tyrus is flexible and gets along well with Sammie though he tends to steal his bed while Sam has his back turned!

Job Junkie

April 8, 2013

“Get a job” he blared out the cracked truck window as I cringed from the passenger seat. Wow, and to think I have been in the job search mode for the last three weeks, understanding more and more about myself, the lack of confidence and loss I feel around being productive. A blast from the Antarctic projects across the front seat to my ears and emits grief from my pores. This ingenuous man is seething with anger at “Them, those who are stealing the money from his wallet and are using the system, etc.” It takes courage to step forward, open my mouth and begin my story, explaining how each and every waking day is for me while I am unemployed. I am not living, breathing, being unemployment yet that is how it can show up when I hear the attitude expelling from someone who really does not have a clue about representing job seekers.

Sorted Affairs

April 7, 2013

Gloomy MN Sunday. My friend asked if I was bored since I requested the dog scoop to collect the piles in the vast yard this morning. A lot of composting dog food lies in the grass given three dogs live here. I haven’t thought about being bored for years now. When I have nothing to do, which is rare these days, I read (generally three books simultaneously) and write, contact my friends around the world and brush out the now shedding dog. The concept of boredom isn’t a predominant issue in my active life. The television is not a distraction since I have not connected to a cable system for many years now. My daughter did not grow up with a large collection of tv stations. We used our television as an avenue of viewing movies we mostly borrowed from the local library.

As I help prepare a close friend’s substantial house for the Market, I recall my last harried cross-country move. For as much as I downsized, sorted, processed through, disengaged from and donated, recycled, threw away packed and re-packed there was still far more excess than I imagined.  I detect  the horrified frustration and suppressed anger when my friend unexpectedly opens the cabinets to hide something from the realtor and discovers a stuffed set of shelves to deal with at a later date. Overwhelm is a constant drag on the heart and soul. The realization that we are collectors, hoarders, savers for the just-in-case-I-need-this-in-the-future mentality is daunting.  

My Sorted Affairs business clients made me more vigilant downsizing in my own home though I collected far too many books and shoes than I needed. I had two empty boxes set by the front door to fill each time I walked through a room which helped in the end yet didn’t take away from the fact that it was painstaking to go through each and every little object and have to make a dead man walking decision about it. The sentimentality around the items, circumstances around the object’s existence, experience around retaining it and what to do with it in the final days stopped me in my tracks more often than not.

Letting go of a home let alone all of the past memories that ride along like the dog who has no clue he is headed for the vet’s office for inoculations versus a play date at the Dog Park brings consternation to the heart. If we do not judge ourselves through a difficult and agonizing process we will be more at peace. Changing, shifting, growing and accepting are painful yet understandably a substantial part of our lives. If we didn’t have those experiences, we may not recognize the undeniable joyful ones.

Sanctuary salvation

April 6, 2013

I welcomed the time in a sanctuary at the church while attending a women’s retreat. I thought a lot about what it is I am focusing my attention and energy on these days…a job, what a surprise!

Discovered I was actually blaming the system, being too mature, lacking in education, unpracticed with Microsoft product knowledge, had too many relocations in my past, too much experience in some areas competing with the multitudes whom are willing to take a poverty-level salary, living too far away, the news reports on television regarding lack of employment, statistics about the economy, etc. It is so easy to blame. Yet, who is to blame? I realize I have had several interviews in the short period of time back in the States and certainly have no reason to blame anyone, let alone myself, for not attaining my goal of being employed by April 1^st.

I sat in the hum of soft music enveloping the sanctuary and forgave myself for being so ridiculous. Blame has been eating away at my stomach, scanning my body for the weak areas to settle-in and make itself comfortable. I started to float my thoughts around the others in my life whom are also struggling with the job hunt and even more whom have jobs that circumstantially do not generate enough income for them. More and more people came to mind whom I know throughout the US and around the world challenged by the lack of a proper, well-paid work or forced to accept employment sans satisfying benefits. Pets end up in shelters, children and relatives battle the consequences of fiscal insolvency and school teachers deal with undernourished kids. I let the calm and peaceful sensation wash over me, accepting what is so for many others and I felt satisfied. I am in the place I am meant to be. I can share my experiences with others and allow them to view the vulnerable places I earn like a Brownie badge in my tumultuous journey.

Our country, culture and planet is so greatly effected by the lack of decent and accessible jobs. We all deserve to take accountability for our part in it. I am committed to not forgetting those sensations in my gut and the whirring blender of emotions that ride along with it as I play my role as a job seeker.

Q-tips

April 5, 2013

Living out in the boonies with my grand friends is a treat however it really breaks the bank when it comes to commuting from the Tundra and back. It is an hour drive to almost anywhere I am required to show my face. Hamline University, family and friends homes not to mention job seeking activities and the grocery store for bread, rice milk and eggs. In the event I need or want to leave the house with my trusty coffee mug and a substantial snack for the tedious journey, I insist on making it well worth my gas money. Everyone knows just how frugal I can be! Many stops along the way, multiple necessary and sometimes unrequested visits. I simply place a call when I am in the area and pop on by to see my old pals and use the restroom since my coffee mug gets refilled numerous times. I am zipping off-course to drop by the Dunn Brothers Coffee joints to collect their burlap bags for a friend of a friend. Those little “wins” I get make the extra effort and the excess buzz of caffeine worthwhile.

I was on the road most of the day and had the opportunity to spend some time with a friend who lost her little dog this morning. I thought a lot about her comment regarding the fact that, in the end, she was not forced to bring the dog to the vet to put him to sleep. In my experience with many friends who had aged pets as well as volunteering with Hospice for quite a long time in several areas, I rarely witnessed the dreamy image of a soul dying peacefully in their sleep. It is certainly a goal of many and unknowingly unrealistic.

It became the emphasis of a conversation I had with friends who are a mere 94 and 91 years of age. They live in their own rapidly deteriorating home, he continues to drive precariously and she is homebond with discouragingly failing lungs. I spoke of the canine passing and the typical wish for an eternal life.  The woman wryly commented that her husband believed he would live forever. I suggested they consider having someone come in, even for a few hours a day, to visit with them, make healthy and flavorful meals (he claims he is a horrific cook) and check medication and oxygen intake. Little-by-little I hope to plant more seeds so they do not become yet another statistic. Elderly so frequently wind up in a Home where their lifestyle does not reflect who they have been all of their lives.

I barked the question “What is your first memory as a child?” One has to put up with tropical temps and a screaming conversation with this sweet and inspiring couple. Nonetheless, the answer came immediately. She was about 2 or 2 ½ years old and the neighbor boy, Ricky Johnson (the name has been changed to protect the innocent) and she decided to investigate one another’s bodies. Her dress was easy to slip over her head but she had to help him undo all of the buttons that graced each side of his shirt. Her mother discovered the two, struggling with the tiny buttonholes and shouted her dismay, ripping the two of them apart. Ricky left the area separating her from her first best friend at 4 years old. “Would you like to see his picture?” That led to hours of “This is your life” and it was a delight. Go spend some time with an elder!