Backpacks, France, Tipper Gore, and Architecture

Yesterday was great. In the afternoon, I volunteered for the second time to fill 600 backpacks with school supplies for children in need.  One of the other volunteers had this tattoo on his neck and let me take a picture.

All the work me and a few other volunteers did ahead of time served us well. It went super smoothly. Well, there was a slow working odd lady in her 50s with frizzy 1970s hair and glitter patches all over face (I found the lip liner particularly disturbing) but watching us working carefully around her was entertaining enough to make up for any delays.

Last Monday was the first time I helped out. It was me alone in a room with boxes of backpacks that needed to be unpacked and labeled. The repetition of the work involved many wandering thoughts. Making a game of such tasks always serves me well. Trying to unpack each box faster than the last, finding new little tricks to make that happen, are desperately needed to make six hours of organizing alone an entertaining way to pass the day.

Something about thinking about late summer and going back to school triggered a reflection on the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college. I certainly had my fair share of problems growing up but if I could justify the expenditure, the money was always there.

The summer of 1994, I continued a French class in France for a few months. The best part of that trip was meeting an Australian, whom I also shared an amazing summer in New York two years later while working as an intern at a museum. She invited me to stay in Europe a bit longer to see more of France, followed by Italy and Switzerland.

I called my father, who was happy to pay for it-- if that was really what I wanted to do. It was so much more expensive then living with a host family during my language classes that I decided to go home to DC instead. I missed my high school friends.

Once home, I combed the Help Wanted section of the paper and quickly found some odd jobs, many of which were as much fun as unwrapping backpacks. I had a few shifts each week as a cashier at a nice deli. The slow hours seemed to drag on forever but the thick activity of breakfast and lunch was intoxicating. I would calculate change in my head, impressing most customers but annoying a few who didn't know for sure how much I owed them.

Late one afternoon, after the lunch rush, Tipper Gore came in with secret service and a friend. She ordered a fancy coffee drink from me. While giving her change, I complemented her speech from the day before-- which I had seen on CSPAN the previous night.
"You watch CSPAN?"
"I don't work here all the time."

On another day, a friend's mom stopped in asked if I had found a major. When I told her I was planning to become an architect, she arranged for me to meet her friend-- a successful woman architect-- for lunch. When I was looking for a winter internship, literally sending a letter of interest to dozens of firms, she recommended me at a firm recently started by a former employee. It was the first job I had in my field.

A year later, when I was interviewed to be an intern at a museum, I was told that 6 week internship was the reason I was being considered. It set me apart since no other applicant had experience with architecture. If I hadn't been working in that deli, I wouldn't have gotten that first job in New York.

Kentucky KVI

The past week has been another Summer vacation. This time was in Kentucky. It was a great week. Key Vacation Indicators (KVI) listed below:

Miles Driven: 2,015

Hours floating: 9

Dairy Queen Blizzards: 4

Friday Summary

Looking back each week, I feel like I've done a lot but since I don't have a job there is a different sort of rhythm and satisfaction. Tons has happened in the world this week--  Kagan, 9.5%, A-Rod, BP, 49th birthday, Russian fire, Prop 8-- but dialing it back, here is how just me spent 168 hours.



Movies: 5
Whip It 
The Incredibles
Shanghai Surprise
Sliding Doors
Home for the Holidays

Books: 2
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Museum: Behind the Scenes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Museum: 3
Always talk to the security guards. They live with the work. It's just like asking about roommates.

Exercise: 4
You know you're a Central Park regular when you chat with friends you bump into while running. This happened twice this week.

Volunteer: 1
Fancy fundraiser.

Scheduled meet ups not included above: 13
Sunday trip to Mitsuwa, a Japanese mall in New Jersey, resulted in many ginger flavored treats.

A Candidate or A Courtesy

The best part of not working is being a better friend. Moving? I can help pack. Having a rough day? Give me a call. Preparing for a marathon? I'll run with you at 6:00 am. Surgery? I'll look after you.

I've volunteered to be on post-op smile duty for two short days in the middle of August. It's the least I can do considering how much my friends are there for me and how much free time I have on my hands.

Let's back up a minute. Six weeks ago, I applied for a job that is a good fit. This "good fit" came from a friend who works in another department. It sounded like they would be excited to meet with me, once they had a look at my credentials.  Three weeks ago, I had an extremely positive informational interview. Within a week, I heard that lead to being recommended me to the head of the department.

I was asked to schedule an interview and replied to with a phone call immediately. Just to recap, here is the time line so far:

June 25: Background meeting about job
July 1: Applied for job
July 20: First interview
July 27: Call in response to email about scheduling second interview
July 28: Email about second interview

Aug 2: Reminder call about second interview
Aug 3: Reminder email about second interview
Aug 5: Follow up with first interview about second interview


That step lead to a flurry of behind-the-scenes emails, resulting in a proposed interview during the two days I have committed to candy striping.  It was easy to explain to my friend that I appreciate the opportunity but another day would be better. Now the interview is scheduled before the surgery. Did I mention the interview is supposed to last 15 minutes?

One of my friends told me about how, when she applied to law school, she had a letter of recommendation written by a trustee. Like, a building named after him trustee. Instead of getting updates on the application process sent to her, they were sent to the trustee. Scheduling this second interview reminds me all too much of her story.

Clearly, the person who is interviewing me is interested in keeping my reference happy. It is unclear if he is considering hiring me. Does it matter if I am a candidate or if I'm meeting him as a courtesy? I'll find out in a few weeks.

Second interview is scheduled for Aug 16. Wish me luck.

Why I Love to Volunteer

Yesterday,  I helped assemble gift bags for an event for about 250 people. In my mind, that is a very small event. The volunteer coordinator apologized to us for not having music to help keep us happy while we helped out.

The people working on the event had the room well laid out for an assembly line, starting with an open bag, passing the bag down the line to another volunteer to add a trinket from the station and pass it down.

Since I've worked for many non-profits and my old job involved supervising the events team, I enjoy helping out with a large scale events. It's always fun to be at a party and  I like seeing the variety of ways in which people solve event day problems. 

The people you work with also make these events fun. Yesterday's star was at the station after mine. Let's call her Xio. One of the gifts was a branded basil plant. Seeing the plants Xio says "Can you smoke that when it grows? They should have a plant you can smoke as a gift. That would be great!"

She was laughing at her joke and I was like a moth to a flame. I decided to stand next to her. Nothing is better than working with someone without a mind-mouth filter to pass the time.

Wait. I take that back. If Xio was an everyday coworker, I would daydream of her as the bunny in The Book of Bunny Suicides.

Xio was really entertained with her joke about smoking. "I wish I could have something to smoke right now. Roll it up and smoke it. Basil."

Everyone politely ignored her.  She chatted with the person on her other side. He was in real estate. Her spouse owns a real estate company. She went on and on about it and didn't let the other guy say another word.

I loved the look on his face. He was tall, dignified, and black. Being in sales, he knows how to make himself more interesting by pretending to listen.

We got a nice little rhythm going with the bags and the trinkets. There was the hum of bags shuffling between stations.

"I'd love a drink right about now. Beer. Maybe vodka mixed with something. I wonder how long before we can take a break for a drink."

Oh, Xio. You don't need to say everything you're thinking. But it certainly was entertaining. I didn't laugh but I just had this image of her as a total train wreck of a woman smoking and drinking and stuffing bags all the time.

No one responded. The hum resumed its proper place as the dominant sound in the room. A few minutes later Xio engaged me for the first time. "What do you do?"

"I'm between jobs right now." I was so excited to see what she would do with this piece of information without any of the qualifiers I might have attached to it under other circumstances.

She just let it all out. "You'll find something. I wish I had more time off in the summer. You could go to the beach for a few months. That would be fun. I bet you're having a better summer than anyone with a job. That sounds great."

Xio put this whole scenario in my head. While sipping mia-thais at my ocean side bungalow, a job would knock on the door. I'd throw on a slik wrap over my bikini and put on a pair of high healed slippers with pom-poms on top before answering.

"What do you do?"

Xio was eager to tell me. "I'm in marketing and PR for a law firm."

Job applications: 0
Networking events: 2
New contacts: 2

Awkward Interview Moments

 

Last week, I had a terrible interview. It was so bad that I’ve been debating for a week if I should write about it at all.

It was not an in person interview but a phone screen for a position that would have significantly less responsibility, better hours, and more money than my last job.  It would also be much less interesting. A recruiter friend suggested I apply although it may not be the right fit.

My first job out of college was as an office manager and administrative assistant of a small architectural firm. The job I was applying for was essentially the same role with some light project management on top of that. The carrot of a normal workday and a good salary had me thinking I should apply and if I was offered the job I could ask myself if it was really the right job for me at that time.

Over a decade after leaving that first post-college job to help with the installation of a multi-million dollar public art project, I find myself answering my cell phone on a blanket in Central Park, agreeing to an unscheduled phone screen.

The man on the other end of the line doesn’t have questions for me. He has concerns. The first concern was innocuous enough. He was concerned that the office environment would be different from my last job. I had no trouble making him feel better.

That’s when he said with all seriousness, "We're concerned you've never directly managed a contractor. Since that would be a large part of this job, it’s a serious concern.”

It took a lot of strength for me not to say "Would you mind taking 10 seconds to glance at a resume before calling someone you are looking to work with five days a week?"

Instead, I swallowed my pride and told him about the jobs where I've directly supervised contractors, starting with an office move as an intern at a museum in 1996.  He could probably detect that I was offended by the question so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get a call to schedule an in-person interview.

That question echoed in my head for days. How could anyone who has taken a passing glance at my resume ask me something like that? This is the part of the job search process that I was unprepared.  In the past, by the time someone is talking to me about a job, they are excited to meet me or at least optimistic that I have something to offer.

This reminded me of the end of an interview I had in May. The person who would be my boss told me he was concerned about that my computer skills were not advanced enough to handle the position.

I said “I’m confused. Are you asking about my computer experience?”

“What do you mean?”

“The computer based aspects of the work sound straightforward.  Since we haven’t discussed my computer skill, maybe we should.”

“Well, this program we use is pretty complicated.”

“I learned a dozen programs created by the internet company I worked at for the past few years and helped them redesign a program similar to the one you use here. Before that, I taught myself Photoshop, HTML, and basic AutoCAD. I got my first computer in 1984.”

Clearly, these are not the right jobs for me. I’ve had several incredibly positive meetings this week so my mood has improved.

On Tuesday, a recruiter I didn’t know called about the exact same job where the man in the phone screen told me they were concerned that I had never supervised a contractor.

“That’s crazy. It’s all over your resume! You’re a perfect candidate. I was so excited when I saw your qualifications. Sometimes people don’t know what they’re looking at and they miss out. I’m sorry that happened to you this time but I’ll keep you in mind for other positions. With a resume like this, you’ll find something great soon.“

Spending two minutes of the phone with her, having a stranger give me a pep talk saying all the right things, made me feel so much better. I know I’ll end up in the right place but getting there certainly has it’s awkward moments.

Job applications: 1

Networking events: 2

New contacts: 1

Laundry

In the spring of 2000, I moved to an area now called Prospect Heights. At the time, it was called Crown Heights. There was no laundry in the building. The apartment was huge, inexpensive, and recently renovated. It had a back yard that I spent hundreds of hours turning into a garden.

The back yard was so derelict when I moved in, that any urbanite could help by digging out anything solid: be it a rock, old pipes, a car battery, or tricycle. That first spring, I made paths, beds, planted a few shrubs, and wildflowers. I came home one day to find that my landlord mowed over everything. He expressed concern about rodents with all that stuff growing back there. He talked about making a large concrete patio with an awning.

I should have suspected as much when, at the end of that first long move-in day, the woman who lived there before me stopped by to pick her things up.

"Sorry to bother you but I forgot something."

"Really? I didn't see anything unusual when I moved in."

"I forgot my toilet seat."

"Your what?"

"The toilet seat."

"What did you do with the old one?"

"Oh-- the apartment didn't come with one. I needed to go out and buy it. None of [our landlord]'s apartments have them so I'm taking it to my new place."

Ring. Ring. Phoning the real estate broker who-- a few days earlier-- accepted a check for her fee: a month and half rent. I really wish I remembered the details of her half of the conversation because she actually defended the guy for several minutes. How do you justify not including a toilet seat with an apartment?

Using a between-you-and-me tone, I said "You can't be serious. I've just signed a 2 year lease, paid you four figures, and the apartment doesn't come with a $15 toilet seat?"

Someone paid and it wasn't me.

Another situation that I had not anticipated was driving miles away to do laundry over the next two years. You see, it wasn't safe for me to go to the laundromat closest to the apartment. I couldn't help myself from interfering with certain aspects of the local after-school-special child-raising customs. So in order to keep myself from doing something stupid, I needed to do my laundry in the gentrified part of Brooklyn.

When I moved to my current apartment in The Odd Couple part of Manhattan 2 years later, I didn't have laundry in the building. There were a few options: drop things off around the corner (30 seconds), a place 4 blocks away that was open 24 hours without a place to sit (6 minutes plus wait time) or a place 2 blocks away with wash-and-fold (people who do the laundry for you) and self service (3 minutes plus wait time).

The place 4 blocks away appealed to me because there isn't room to hang out. To better understand why this appealed to me, see above. About two years ago, the place 4 blocks away closed.

I tried the place 2 blocks away but since the last wash needed to be in before 6pm on weeknights, it didn't work out because I never got home on time. I don't like doing laundry on the weekend so I started to drop my clothing off around the corner.

At first, I would just drop off anything that could withstand high heat like my sheets and towels. I could spare a half hour doing one load myself during the weekend and drying these dedicates at home. It quickly degenerated into dropping off everything, at the peril of a few nice items (may they rest in peace).

Although I did my own laundry in New York for over a decade, the past few years I've fallen into the habit of paying $30 each week for someone else to do it for us.

In June, I decided to start doing laundry again. It's an easy way to save a few dollars. The day before I went to Montana, I did all the laundry. Then I changed the sheets.

So you can imagine my surprise when I got home, checked the household account, and saw a $52 charge to the laundry guys. In order to have the house sparkle for my homecoming, all sorts of things were washed while I was away: the bedspread, shower curtain, bathrobes, towels-- pretty much anything heavy.

Next time I have a money saving plan, I'll be sure to mention it to the rest of my household.

Job applications: 1
Networking events: 2
New contacts: 2