quick story

em the hunter--update #1

I'm still pecking away trying to land a new job. It's been since Sept 25, and money is now a serious problem. I’ve still got a few good prospects, but each has each has pluses/minuses, and the process is soooooo slow. I'm progressing with some, and adding new prospects in the event that wave 1 does not yield a job. Here's my update:

• New! Editorial Director, medical education projects: This is my best opportunity. The current editorial director is a former colleague who contacted me to see whether I was interested in coming on board. Um, yes. And she is advocating on my behalf with the company president. It's a lateral move, so presumably the money will be commensurate with my experience, and it's not a 100-mile drive to the office. Hiring experts say the best way to get a job is via networking, so I'm very hopeful about this one.

• Editor, dental publications: Would be a reprise of working for Charismatic but Volatile Executive, but this time at the company that he started when he left my former employer at the first acquisition. Trying to navigate these complex financial times himself, he can only offer 60% of my last salary. Welcome to 1995. Ouch.

• Editor, retail publications: Step down both financially and professionally, just not sure to what degree.  Not a bad commute (25 miles of highway). Have met with them twice now, the first session consisting of a personality test and several aptitude tests.  Welcome to 1979. Guess I faked my way through, however, since they called me back in for more interviewing. According to HR director, it could be several more rounds--including a dinner out (?!)--before a decision is made. Note to self--elbows off the table.

• Editorial director, medical projects: Right in my wheelhouse--variety of media and topics, fast pace,  good company. But! A 90 mile commute.They've gone silent on me.

• Update! Community publisher, physician networking Web site: Electronic media is where I need to go, given the die-off among print publications. Interesting work too, involving courting of key opinion leaders, acquisitions, long-range strategizing, audience generation efforts, and writing and editing. But! Would entail moving from lovely Trenton NJ to a suburb of Boston.   Not impossible, just daunting. I had 3 long telephone interviews before they went silent for  2 weeks. Received an email Friday--they want me to come to  Boston to interview in person. Yes!

•  Update! Senior editor, medical publishing: A women-owned medical communications company, I’d be taking a step down, financially and professionally, but it seems like a great place to work. Another 90-mile drive to the office, but as a nonsupervisor,  I think I could finagle a work from home arrangement. Had a second round of interviews, this time with the 3 principal owners (tough talkers). They like my resume but do not immediately see a fit for me in their organization. They offered some freelance editing, which I took, as a means  of assessing my editing  chops (suffice it to say it has been a while since I had to get into the nitty gritty of a manuscript). In waiting mode.

• New! Another colleague received an offer from a headunter and referred it to me. I had a very nice talk with him Friday night, and he's very optimistic about my chances to find something good. He has put me in the running for a good job in Big Pharma. Not a bad place to be in uncertain times. 

• New! Had a nice long interview with the headhunter for a medical education project director opening. Job is right up my alley as far as skill-set and salary. Drive is in the vicinity of 1 hour 1 way--doable. Headhunter thinks I have a chance!

Lock and load.

Denny Crane.

A breach in the fortress

An intruder entered em manor twice in 3 days. A drug-fueled Trenton gangbanger perhaps? No, but it was the burliest flying squirrel you've ever seen. The first night the little fellow scurried up between the screen and the window, so we (by “we” I mean .rz) were able to open the screen and it found its own way out again.

Silly thing came back last night. It perched on the curtain rod, and .rz and I tried to capture it in a towel, but it launched its little body into the air and glided straight at Joey, who squealed and ran away down the hallway. We had it trapped in the room, but the animal’s superior speed and evasive maneuvering ability made it next to impossible to get a good shot at draping a towel over it.  I caught numerous toys, dirty socks, and .rz’s foot in my towel-net, but no flying squirrel. It finally found a secret hidey-hole and we had to give up for the night. 

I wish we hadn’t. Cat got on the trail at approximately 5:00 in the morning and rapidly had the poor thing clenched in his mouth and then quickly retreated to the first floor, under the couch. Poor little guy.

But how were you getting in? Despite climbing around on the roof, I can not find your tiny doorway to the upstairs front bedroom.

Magical thinking

I can not stand being unemployed. Day after day of grinding anxiety over money, unpaid bills, the health of my children, the loss of my identity, the looming economic depression. Lately, I'm catching myself mentally making deals:

• Paying for parrot food: if I select the Donate $1.00 to Homeless Animals button at the PetSmart checkout then I will surely get a job tomorrow.

• Screeching to a halt on the Interstate, if I let that guy into traffic in front of me then the editor job is all mine.

• Accelerating into the final mile of a jog, if I maintain at least a 7 minute pace, then my phone will ring within the next 30 minutes with a job.

• Walking into the kitchen, if I tap the tip of  my nose 3 times and spin around twice, then an amazing employment opportunity will shortly follow.

WTF is going on inside my head?

Incisive election commentary

I enjoyed watching the election-coverage programs with my mom. A dependable liberal Dem, she manages to combine strong partisanship with unshakable politeness.  Thus, I was surprised by the following exchange.
Well-behaved em mom: “It’s time for McCain and his funny little arms to get off the stage.” 
em: “I know! What is with those arms?? They’re like robot arms that can’t bend! ”  
Well-behaved em mom: *Scolding* “His arms were injured during his POW imprisonment. They strung him up by them for days.”
em: *Guilty* “Oh. Well that’s just awful.”
Well-behaved em mom: “None of that means he can govern effectively for anyone other than those in the upper class. Anyway, they’re more like Tyrannosaurus Rex arms.”
em:  “Or short little fetus arms.”

Interview #10

Returned to Ramsey NJ for a second interview today at a medical education agency. Distance: 85 miles. Drive time: 1 hour 40 minutes.  Position: step down. Salary: dunno. 

Met with the owners of the company, 3 women.  Jane took the lead in drilling for information and  weaknesses.  She began the discussion by admitting that my background really didn’t seem to fit with their current needs and then invited me to change her mind, like Rachel Maddow, who asks her guests to “please talk me down.”  I wish I thought of that at the time, but perhaps it's best not to make reference to a far-left-leaning host of a political television show who also happens to be an out lesbian until you know your audience a little better.

Instead, I rolled with my newly perfected Barack Obama hand gestures.  I deployed 3:

• The loose fist with pads of pointer finger and  thumb clasped together; it works best as a quiet emphasis-adder and much better than an arrogant finger jab, a la Bill Clinton as he denied having “sexual relations with that woman.”;

•  The fingers together and slightly closed, like you’re gently holding a glass; this is another subdued emphasis-adder;

• The open palm with pushing movement; this is to emphasize extra-important points.

The upshot is they will toss me some freelance work on a big insomnia project to see how well I do. They hope to get more funding to continue the project into ‘09, and if that happens, I think I’m golden. But how to pay the bills until then?

Things that fly by

1. While walking outside with the dog one morning the other day, a large hawk caught my eye about 20 feet above me. It coasted straight toward me and passed right over my head. With at least a 6-foot wing-span, it threw quite the shadow as it swooped on by. Interesting twist--it clutched a large fish in its talons, and the light of the morning sun made that fish just sparkle up there in the sky. 

2. Also while walking the dog last week in the early morning light, I spotted a Bald Eagle floating waaay up against a blue blue sky. Even though the bird was far away, I could easily see that it was indeed a Bald Eagle, because every time it turned this way or that, the light from the rising sun caught the pristine white feathers of the head and tail just so, with a glinting wink right at me.

3. And after years of close observation, I have finally heard a Great Blue Heron. While running last week, I startled one from nearby on the riverbank and it flapped off with one or two massive pumps of those enormous wings. But as it went, it let out a loud pterodactyl squawk. Sorry big guy, did not mean to startle you.

4. So as the weeks fly by while I peck away at trying to find a new job in the middle of this hideous economy, I will try to stay focused and avoid a meltdown of an emotional nature. The natural beauty around here really does help.

em the hunter

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. Forgot my own password in fact.  This happens when work and family get in the way of a healthy blogging habit.

Well, I no longer have the old "job" excuse. I was laid off Sept 25, a few days before the whole economic collapse escapade. It’s been almost 5 weeks. I’m on the trail of a few good prospects, although each has pluses/minuses.

• Editor, dental publications: Would be a reprise of working for Charismatic but Volatile Executive, but this time at the company that he started when he left my former employer at the first acquisition. Trying to navigate these complex financial times himself, he can only offer 60% of my last salary. Welcome to 1995. Ouch.

• Editor, retail publications: Step down both financially and professionally, just not sure to what degree.  Not a bad commute (25 miles of highway). Have met with them twice now, the first session consisting of a personality test and several aptitude tests.  Welcome to 1979. Guess I faked my way through, however, since they called me back in for more interviewing. According to HR director, it could be several more rounds--including a dinner out (?!)--before a decision is made. Note to self--elbows off the table.

• Editorial director, medical projects: Right in my wheelhouse--variety of media and topics, fast pace,  good company. But! A 90 mile commute.

• Community publisher, physician networking Web site: Electronic media is where I need to go, given the die-off among print publications. Interesting work too, involving courting of key opinion leaders, acquisitions, long-range strategizing, audience generation efforts, and writing and editing. But! Would entail moving from lovely Trenton NJ to a suburb of Boston.   Not impossible, just daunting.

• Senior editor, medical publishing: A women-owned medical communications company, I’d be taking a step down, financially and professionally, but it seems like a great place to work. Another 90-mile drive to the office, but as a nonsupervisor,  I think I could finagle a work from home arrangement.

Lock and load.

Denny Crane.

That's me, I swear!

It was a quiet evening at home, the day before the Thanksgiving holiday. I was scratching around the Intarnet, and when no one was looking, I did a quick Google on myself (as ya do). And up came a list of work-related kafocta, but the second entry down on the list stood out as definitely not work-related. (And another entry in there revealed my non-blogging alter-ego via bookgroup, so sorry JtH, but I've got to delete that post because I can't fix it.)

You know how Google truncates that stuff? The item on the list showed [insert really complimentary adjectives here]. Update: My wonderful friend and online protector Em3 has pointed out that a simple Google using the exact phrases originally posted here provides another backdoor to my secret identity. Crap. But anyway, please carry on with the post] and I thought OH that is SO me! And I called the kids and my brother and the cat and the bird over to see the glory that is me! Ok, ok, was me.
Sam: "Pfft. That's not you."
Kate: "God mom."
Joey: "Can I have a Yoohoo?"
Brother: "Uh huh, nice."
Cat: "Bird!"
Bird: "Cat!"

But it actually was me, an entry on a blog from someone I had lost touch with from way back in the day--back when you better believe I was smart, funny, well-dressed, and strangest of all, cool. Her post was about losing touch with friends. And ever since I read it, can I just say that I've been feeling as if I was given an extravagant and special gift? And for that, I am very thankful.

Too bright

The new super-duper anti-home-invasion infra-red satellite-equipped security system that i had installed right *after* we got robbed woke me up last night with its incessant beeping. I slipped right into panic mode, as I couldn't recall what I was supposed to do in the event that the system was breached. I slunk like a mongoose down the hallway, hugging the walls all the way, and peered at the control panel in the pitch dark--why can't they illuminate this thing? How am I supposed to tell through which sector I'm being invaded? I stopped peering and stood stock-still and listened with all my might. Nothing. I looked around me, took in the darkness, and wondered who put out all the lights, including my new multi-colored lights that hang in a festive fashion in the stairwell, providing a colorful yet muted disco ambience for your walk to the kitchen in in the middle of the night. I retreated to my bedroom and looked out the windows--black as your hat in all the homes on the street. And so, by the Mighty Powers of Em Deduction, plus the growing presence of large fire trucks filing down the street, I determined that power cable had snapped again, and when I looked out the front window, Lo! there it was, dangling dangerously close to the metal fire hydrant, again.

I plopped back down in my bed and checked my watch--1:30. Within 5 minutes the firemen had the place cordoned off to prevent accidental electrocution. And 5 minutes after that they had the most intensely bright lights set up outside my house to shed some light on the work at hand. In fact, I think they dragged in a dwarf red star to brighten up the night.    

Note to PSE+G: It's time to run new wire for those power cables that carry the 40,000 volts up and down the streets. 

Totally crap runs

Sure, I could blame the lingering effects of the tunamush sandwich, but it's been happening for a long time now. And yesterday was no different.

It's a rare run that doesn't involve, well, the runs. I'm no doctor (altho I am a fiiinnne medical editor) but a person shouldn't be overcome by a mutiny of the bowel on a simple jog, especially when  the bowels have been purged just prior to the run. In response, I've developed ways of coping, including identifying public rest stops along the way that won't turn away a runner in distress, and I plan my routes around them. I hear that this is a somewhat common occurance amongst runners, but no one ever really discusses it, let alone offers solutions that can prevent this crap in the first place. Yes, I mentioned it to my doctor once, but he went flying off in the wrong direction and faster than rat-a-tat fart he had me undergo a sigmoidoscopy. Now there's an unpleasant experience.      

So I manage as best I can. And yesterday, I managed to wedge myself in a stall in the bathroom at the public school on Bellevue Ave--Sam's school. I like to meet Sam when school lets out. She only contorts ever-so-slightly with mortification when she sees my smiling Mom face and the rest of me dressed in multi-layers of running-gear and looking kind of like a hobo.

She's doing pretty good at the school, fitting in in her own way, although she did report a small mistep. The school administration placed her in Computer Basics, and she made no friends when she compulsively answered every one of the teacher's questions to the class--   
Teacher: "OK class, what is this called?" *holds up a keyboard*
Sam: *happily blurting* "A keyboard!!"
Teacher: "And what is this?" *points to the monitor*
Sam: "It's the monitor you dork. Oops, sorry."
Teacher: *shoots Sam a look* "Now who can tell me what this device is called?" *swings a mouse on its cord*
Sam: *lets forehead fall down on desk* a muffled "The mouse" escapes.
So Sam was removed from that class, but other than that, she's doing well!

But I was telling you how I got stuck in the school bathroom. I arrived at her school a bit early, as planned, and asked the security guard who let me in the locked door if it was OK for me to use the bathroom. I slipped quickly through the scarred wooden door with the frosted panes and into the ladies room and was taken aback by the size of the bathroom fixtures--but only for the briefest moment, because I had urgent school business to take care of. So I slid sideways into a stall that was only about a foot wide and lowered myself, and lowered myself, and lowered myself some more, carefully putting my arm on top of the toilet paper dispenser to avoid wedging my shoulders in the cramped stall, until I finally made contact with a tiiiinnny toilet that stood about half a foot off the floor.

Needless to say, I needed this to be fast. For one thing, I was afraid I was going to break that toy toilet and for another, I wanted to avoid an encounter with some poor unsuspecting student. I finished up and just as I was turned around backward to flush, there was a knock on the door. OK, I'm a grown-up people, and I had every right to be in that bathroom doing bathroomly duties, but can I just say I experienced an intense panic at the sound of that knock?

Me: *nervously blurting* "I'll be right out!"
Muffled male voice: "Wa wa-wa wa waa."
And in an instant, my leg was stuck between that teeny toilet and the stall wall, and with my leg stuck like that I couldn't open the stall door more than a few inches because the door opened inward, and I was in a goddamned Lilliputian bathroom, a 1:16 scale model of a real bathroom.   

Another knock followed shortly, and again I piped out in a shakey voice "I'll be right there!!" as I fought like hell with the door, my stuck leg, and the toilet until I was hit with the solution to this weird puzzle--with my free leg I stood up on the toilet seat and shook free the trapped leg, and once I was out of the way on top of the toilet, I could easily open the door. Just in time for the Vice Principal to walk in and see me standing on top of the school's toilet, head and shoulders above the stalls.

Hello! Did I mention I'm a grown-up? Mortification knows no boundaries.