Good Deed #14: Stop Counting!

Because I often have trouble keeping track of my own keys, and online passwords, I've decided to give my cluttered brain a break, and quit counting my good deeds! Fact is, I've done more than I have listed, I just find myself too tired, and feeling too self-absorbed when I number them.

So this last officially counted one, is actually two. One good deed for my mother, and one for me.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was slip in and out of consciousness, i.e. lay my lazy ass on the couch and nap sporadically... but I knew my mother needed her roots touched up, and I had already purchased the product. I'm pretty sure she wanted me to do them last night, because she asked if the "beauty shop" was open, but after she saw my eyes drooping and heard me yawn repeatedly... I think she didn't want to bother me. So tonight I called her and told her there was a cancellation and she could come whenever she wanted.

My mother hardly ever wears makeup... not even mascara; and claims to not know how to do her hair. She grew up with 60's stick straight long, brush-and-go hair... so it's very possible that she's telling the truth. Her former stylist did a great job with her cuts and colors, but she also worked where I was so unethically cut from the budget, so she quit seeing her. A display of loyalty? I'm not sure, but I do know that she doesn't need to go about town looking like a bag lady! I called my new hair guy and got her a hair cut appointment last week, but I think she has cut the coloring out of her budget too, so I am now her very budget-friendly (free) colorist. And I love it! Fact is, I considered becoming a cosmetologist when I was young, but felt it wouldn't stimulate my intellectual cravings enough. That may or may not be true, but working with a bunch of women who consider missing a Prada shoe sale the end of the world, would not have suited my personality.

I dyed her roots, washed her hair in the kitchen sink with the sprayer; blew her hair dry, and styled it. She looked great! And even those no-fuss women appreciate feeling pretty once in awhile... so her smile was suitable pay for me.

My other good deed is for me. The stop counting thing. I was feeling more pressure to remember them and write them in a blog... which was taking away from the pleasure of doing them. So, I'll stick to my plan to become a better me, a better person... and just blog about life as life goes on; no matter how good or how bad it may be.

The $9 Sweater and the 6 Year Old Skirt

Thank God it's Friday! I am ready for a break from my daily work wardrobe challenge! I had been going into the office every weekday since I was officially hired, and let's just say my wardrobe doesn't support a five day work week. Today, I wore my new $9 black cashmere sweater, and a 6 year old skirt. The sweater is a classic V-neck, and will be in style until it unravels from excessive wear... but the skirt... well... I may very well have been the only woman in America wearing that tired style. But, it fit, and it was an appropriate length for a conservative-leaning business atmosphere. Gotta do what ya gotta do, and I gotta wear clothes to work!

The projects kept getting handed to me today. I have no idea how these people manage to get so much done, or, how they have managed to get things done without another person on staff. One of the first things the director said was that "you just have to accept that your work will never be done here." I took mental note of that immediately, because I don't like unfinished business in my life. I knew I would have to set my own boundaries. A few years ago, I worked as a regional director of sales and training; overseeing 15 different locations, and answering to the corporate entity. My work was never done there... and I wound up working nearly 24 hours a day. No... I was not paid for my exhausting efforts hourly. People who work those types of jobs never are. My boss was an avid golfer schmuck, who left me to carry my load and his, while he spent sunny afternoons working on his short game. I wound up practically working myself to death; acquiring anxiety and depression, chronic sleep deprivation, terrible eating habits, and an all-consuming hatred for my job. I hadn't set boundaries... and if I would have... I probably would have been fired. After thinking I was going to die from a heart attack, alone, in a cheap handicap hotel room in Fort Wayne, Indiana... I quit, and it was the best decision I ever made.

Since I started this job, I made a point to leave my briefcase in the car... to not "bring my work home." It is very tempting to work "off the clock" so I can become the super hero they couldn't possibly let fly away; but after my previously mentioned experience, I know this would be cheating myself, both personally and financially. Balance. I have to maintain balance. It is hard to fight the urge to work like a mad woman, considering I have been without work for so long, and this job is definitely one worth working hard for; but I have to.

Next week I set a more efficient, and wardrobe friendly schedule. I will be working my 15 hours in 3 days, instead of 5. Practically, this saves money on gas, and allows me to get more work done in one day. Selfishly, this prevents me from having to find 2 more outfits, getting ready (which costs money) 2 more days, keeps me from rushing home from work to change into my ceramics clothes, and allows me more than one day off. Working 5 days there, plus my Saturday "man-sitting" meant I was working 18 hours a week... in 6 days. Not an ideal management of time. I cleared it with the director before I left, and they did tell me I could make my own hours, so it shouldn't be a problem. We'll see how the rest of the staff receives it when I get to work on Tuesday.

My day ended with an interview with a marketing and media representative for another non-profit. Their organization is wanting to expand their services, and a relationship with the organization I'm working with could be mutually beneficial. I may have just scored my first networking connection for them. While I was rubbing elbows with these "big wigs," I realized how short I have sold myself the last couple years. My most recent employment endeavors definitely did not let me perform at levels matching my capability. I'm not saying I am a nose-in-the-air-better-than-you kind of person... I hate those people! But what I have realized, is that I have almost made excuses for my intelligence, because pretty girls aren't supposed to be smart, or have opinions on anything other than shoes and handbags. And saying that, just made me uncomfortable. I don't even think I'm that pretty. I'm just me. I care more about who I am on the inside, than on the outside, because the inside is what I have created, the exterior is just a result of complicated genetics. But if I truly care about my inside, why don't I acknowledge my brain... why do I almost hide it? The girls I worked with at the salon spa seemed to hate me for being smart, and I'm a peace-loving kind of girl... so I confess to dumbing it down... and that sounds bitchy to me. I hope someone understands what I'm saying, because I just got confused trying to explain it.

Anyway... I think the point was supposed to be that my co-workers at my new job seem to embrace new ideas, intelligence and hard work; and even though I'm doing it in a $9 sweater and a 6 year old skirt... I feel like a million bucks!

Mrs. B and Sloppy Joe

Seven days. I have survived seven days as a semi-employed person, without getting lost in the maze of the hallway, getting confused over whom I have or haven't contacted, and, most importantly... getting canned! To "celebrate" my successful seven day survival... I received my first paycheck! HALLELUJAH! I may not have arrived just yet... but my train is nearing the station! This is the first paycheck I've held in my sad, and very empty, little hands since April 25, 2008!

I got my first dose of "office politics" today. I was asked to contact a marketing consultant, because the Director finds her personally difficult to work with, and thought that because this marketing woman didn't know me, that maybe she wouldn't be such a (word that starts with a "b"). Well. She was very wrong. I was appalled at the verbiage this supposed marketing expert used. She felt it necessary to point out how ridiculous it was for the organization to expect anyone to attend the event... more than twice. I was left to wonder why on earth anyone had ever chosen to consult her for anything other than the imminent end of the world. I tried to be "fluffy" with her... stroke her exaggerated ego, and appease her pseudo-genius; caring none at all if she felt I was sincere. After our "lovely" conversation, I returned to the Director's office to report the miraculously marvelous (cough cough) ideas this marketing b-word suggested.

"I can certainly understand what you were saying," I said.

"Uh-huh. So it's not just me!"

I rehashed the tennis-match telephone call, but refrained from telling her exactly what I thought of this woman I was forced to speak with. I've worked in catty, conniving work places... and I would rather not have to relive those experiences, so I have made a point to keep things as neutral as possible. Besides, it's always the bottom of the totem pole that gets buried and forgotten... and I need this job!

"You've got to tell Danielle this... come on." She said with a smile, as we began marching through the hallway maze.

Ugh. Here I go. Here we go.

A little circle gathered as the Director and I told the co-workers about "Ms. B's" pleasantries on the telephone. Thankfully, Danielle seemed to accept it as a legitimate complaint. Danielle said she felt that because Ms. B must think we are "pee-ons," that she speaks to us differently; concluding that this was not acceptable. No it wasn't... but I was letting it go before I found myself tangled up in a pile of cat claws!

After work, I came home, spun around in 3 circles; transforming from Betty Businesswear to Clay-Covered Clara... and headed off to the studio. It's safe to say I've gone a bit overboard with making the most of my extra studio time, and have completely lost count of how many pieces I'm working on and what stages they are in. I think I have three... no... four... waiting to be glaze-fired, and approximately four more awaiting a bisque fire. Add to that, four that I have drying on my shelf... and I have my own art show! Don't I wish!

I am definitely still a novice when it comes to working with ceramics, and I have no delusional expectations that my work would ever be called "exquisite." I do it for fun. To release my neglected creative energies from my previous life as a peace-pipe smoking, pro-peace-love-and-happiness, save-the-planet beatnik from the 60's. I don't even have a "plan" when I begin working with a slab of clay. I wait for it to "speak" to me, and tell me what it wants to be.

NO!

I am not on drugs.

Right now I am just trying to learn by trial and error, and master the few skills I have acquired through my casual pursuit of ceramics. This go-round, I've been experimenting with carving methods, with no rhyme or reason; as you can see from the picture below... well... okay... above. Apparently, I'm not cool enough to know how to place photos within my text!

Anyway...

After I finished playing in the mud, I came home to my sloppy house, and made Sloppy Joes. I spied a can of "Manwhich BOLD" on the shelf at the grocery store and found myself hypnotized by the imagined taste of these spicy sloppy joes. Next thing you know, I have a can in my cart, and I'm anxiously waiting for my leftovers to run out so I can eat them in real life! Tonight was the night. And they were tasty! Of course I had to alter the "recipe," so I added diced yellow onion. It was 1/4 of and onion, and it needed to be used, I swear!

Sloppy. That's what I've become, at home, since I've been mingling with the outsiders in the outside world. My current state of scattered-about-ness is nothing that can't be remedied with an hour of cleaning with the music cranked. It just appears sloppy. Like my dinner... which I did, by the way, eat at the table. I have not become irreparably uncivilized... I'm just adjusting to my new life as an almost working woman. I promise I'll clean up my act by Saturday. Swear.

Survival Tips...

Just a quick post to pass on some potentially helpful information to you readers in the hopes that someone, anyone, survives this devastating economy without losing everything they own!

A not-so-well-known, but very helpful job posting site:

http://www.indeed.com/

And a soon-to-be-well-known shared housing site:

http://www.nationalsharedhousing.org/index.html

It's All About the Green

I got to "sleep in" this morning. Didn't get out of my incredibly comfortable bed until 8:15 a.m. Well, actually, I did get out of it an hour and fifteen minutes earlier... to turn off the alarm clock. I'm almost embarrassed about how exhausted returning to work, part-time, has made me. It's not the work itself that is killing me; it's the long-forgotten daily getting ready routine that has been the most powerful shock to my system. Having no money, and, no where to go, for almost a year leads to a life most often spent on the couch, in sweats, with uncombed hair. What's the point of spending money on water for showers, shampoo, conditioner, styling products, electricity for blow dryers and curling irons, makeup, and laundry detergent for the clothes you put on; if you are broke as a joke, and a virtual shut-in?

My first hour of work was spent out of the office, interviewing an acquaintance of mine for the major project I have been assigned to. It had been well over a year since we had seen each other, and you always feel better when others see you at your best, so I used that as motivation to "get pretty" today. I decided to wear my new green cashmere sweater I had purchased Monday night, with my favorite black skirt and boots. My cheery green sweater is one of my greatest triumphs of late... originally priced at $90. Reduce that price by 90%, and you get to cozy up with $9 cashmere! Boy was I glad I took the time to overcome my visual A.D.D. long enough to find that fuzzy little treasure in the clearance rack at Kohl's.

That's the crazy cycle you get trapped in when you endure an extended period of time unemployed. You don't have any money, so you don't spend any. That's all fine and good. But, when you haven't purchased any clothes, let alone business clothes, in over a year, you either have to hope you don't get fired for wearing a tired pair of blue jeans, or gamble some cash on securing a permanent job and purchase a work-appropriate wardrobe. We are (hopefully) near the end of winter, and my job assignment is only confirmed until April, so I only picked up a few things: two $9 cashmere sweaters, one black and one green; a 70% off brown cardigan, and a sale-priced pair of brown patterned dress pants to avoid looking like I'm attending a funeral every day after work. I'll use those pieces to create "new" outfits from the few things I have in my closet.

One of my semi-estranged relatives sent a "Congratulations" card for my recent college graduation containing a check for $50, a very kind and unexpected gesture! I also had a $30 Kohl's gift card from Christmas to help offset my costs. There is something very humbling about shuffling around your finances, and negotiating a pair of pants from yourself. As much as I would love to believe that employees are judged by their contribution, and not their outward appearance, I think we all know this isn't true. So to make money... I had to spend money. The woman at the checkout gave me the usual "Would you like to open a Kohl's charge account and save $20 today" speech... I knew it was coming. "Think of it as a savings account. They send you discount coupons every month that even apply to clearance items," she says. A pretty good sell, however, why in the hell would I want a credit card, when I don't have a job? And don't they ask you about your employer anyway? What would I put there? God?

"Thank you for the offer, but I've been out of work for a very long time. The only reason I am here today is because I think they prefer me to come to work with pants on."

"Ohhhh. I understand completely, you have to have clothes to wear to work! Hopefully it turns into something permanent for you," she declared after I explained that my new job was temporary.

If there is to be a silver lining found in this economic nightmare, I think it is compassion. Because this disaster has affected everyone... rich or poor, I think people have begun to look outside of themselves, outside of their own lives, long enough to realize that we are all suffering, and being kind to one another helps to ease the pain. I watched Oprah today, because it was "Putting a Face on the Recession," an interview based show about fellow Americans who suddenly found themselves on the streets, some despite formerly making six-figure incomes. Parents who won't tell their adult children that they are now homeless to avoid burdening them. Single mothers living in homeless shelters, praying that one of the hundreds of strangers around them doesn't harm their children. People just as desperate for work as I have been for ten months. People just trying to survive.

On Friday I will receive my first paycheck in ten months! I'd really like to frame it, so I won't have to worry about forgetting what a paycheck actually looks like... feels like; but that beautiful piece of paper will need to be in the bank! Oh do I long for the day when I won't have to race to the bank in a "please don't bounce, checks" panic! A day when I don't have to analyze every spent dollar more intently then the federal government overseeing the GM bailout. A day when I can put on that $9 green cashmere sweater with a smile, and say, "You got me through through some hard times," and hopefully got me a (permanent) job!