Jan note: This is a rerun from April, 2001, when we were living in Valdez
From what I hear from my friends, I think the weather in Valdez is as fanciful as that in Fairbanks. Is it winter? Is it spring? Does Mother Nature know? One day is warm enough for a sweater, the next day you’re dragging out a parka. One day you stand still in the middle of the sidewalk and let the blessed warmth of the sun flow over your face, the next day you’re huddled under a scarf trying to keep out the frigid wind from the north.
This is the time of year when you can start out wearing bunny boots and end up going barefoot; when you can start out wearing capris and end up buying a pair of cheap sweatpants at K-Mart so you don’t freeze your tush. It’s when you can go into the store when it’s genuine spring and come out an hour later to genuine blizzard. It’s using the windshield washers one day and shoving off snow with the scraper the next.
As is the tradition with us, we’re now parking one rig at the end of the driveway since only the 4-wheel-drive pickup will make it through the sea-deep wallows and slushy holes in our long driveway. I don’t catch a ride with Troy to the end of the driveway I slog through the mush in my boots and pray I don’t run headlong into the cow and calf moose that call our land their land. The sapling birches are surely too scrawny to climb and the boots to clumsy to run. If it happens that I run into them I only hope it’s in the morning when I’m grouchy enough to not want to put up with much guff.
It is nice to note that I made it through another winter with my sanity intact. Actually, this one was a breeze, quite unlike others which make you question whether you have the brains God gave you and, if so, why on earth you stay in a place that crawls down to 60 below. The only good side of the sanity factor is that it’s a comfort knowing if you do go over the deep end the government will take care of you.
And it could be worse. I read about a group of people wintering in the South Pole in the 1960s who were so bored that they watched the film “Cat Ballou” 87 times. People in another group, after tiring of the westerns, Disney features and porno films on hand, spliced them altogether into their own production and adopted a vocabulary based on their creation. The new language was so bizarre that relief crews arriving in the spring could barely understand them.
Anyway, we’re having some mighty iffy weather and I’ve outlined the differences below:
You think it’s going to be spring so you buy a summer wardrobe. You find out it’s not spring when three months later the tags are still on the clothes.
You think it’s going to be spring so you go on a weight-loss program fit for a bikini. You find out it’s not spring when you lose all the weight, look great for two weeks and then gain it all back. And it’s still not spring.
You think it’s going to be spring so you get out your favorite lawn chair. You find out it isn’t spring when snow turns it into another unidentifiable lump in the yard.
You think it’s going to be spring so you plant 30 flats of petunias. You find out it isn’t spring when they reach a height of 18 inches and have only a few leaves left.
You think it’s going to be spring when you wash your car one lovely April day. You find out it isn’t spring the next morning when you discover the wheels frozen solid in ice puddles and all the doors frozen shut.
You think it’s going to be spring so you clean like a crazy person. You discover it isn’t spring when the house slowly turns back into it’s normal mess and there’s still no sign of spring on the horizon.
You think it’s going to be spring so you pay $30 for a new short hairdo. You find out it isn’t spring when you pay $150 to the clinic to treat frostbite of the ears.
And finally, you think it’s spring so you whoop and holler and grin. When you find out it isn’t spring you sit down and shed a few tears.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Joy of Looking for a Job
NOTE: This column ran in 2002.
Looking for a job can be one of the most humiliating, defeating, ego-bursting, frightening, and humbling experiences there is—and that’s just the time you spend in the outer office, waiting for your turn. Things really fall apart when you go through the actual interview. You forget your name, any skills you ever had, any office equipment you can operate, except for a flush toilet, and just why you are there in the first place.
If you have never stuttered in your life you will during a job interview. You will also ramble endlessly with meaningless drivel and use sentences that are totally unstructured. Your laugh will change from something warm and cultured to a hideous shriek. You will forget simple things—like what you did on your last job. You will call the interviewer by the wrong name. You will say something brilliant to the interviewer, like “Just what is it you guys do here?”
Back in another lifetime when I managed the News-Miner’s North Pole office, I often had the pleasure of interviewing people for openings we had for writers or office help. It was the first time I had been on that side of the desk.
I knew what it was like to be the one being interviewed so I gave these people a lot of leeway and extra points and consideration for just being there. One lady I interviewed in North Pole came with her husband. He did all of the talking. He introduced them both and then answered every question I asked. He did quite well. Unfortunately, he had another job in the Air Force and she was too shy to even answer the phone.
Job seekers came in flip flops and shorts, men’s shirts and rollers. One lit up a cigarette during the interview and one of them cried. One, whose name was Amy, was the daughter of best-selling author LaVyrle Spencer. Since I was right in the middle of Spencer’s book “Hummingbird” that was one of the most enjoyable interviews I ever conducted.
These people all wanted one thing: an honest job.
On Sundays I look through employment ads. They go something like this: Administrative Assistant. Must know Power Point, Access, Excel, FrameMaker, Photo Shop, QuickBooks, PageMaker. Ten years experience, master’s degree, ability to supervise 24 employees and handle building maintenance and janitorial staff required. $7.50 hour. No benefits.
(However, if you are a dental assistant you can probably demand the world.)
During our Coldfoot years I interviewed dozens of people and looked at hundreds of applications. Some were clever and funny, but none as great as the actual job application, below, that was submitted to a McDonald’s in Florida. This 17-year-old landed a job because he was so honest, and so funny.
Name: Greg Bulmash
Sex: Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.
Desired Position: Company's President or Vice President. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying here in the first place.
Desired Salary: $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.
Education: Yes.
Last Position Held: Target for middle management hostility.
Salary: Less than I'm worth.
Most Notable Achievement: My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.
May we contact your last employer? If I had one, would I be here?
Do you have any physical conditions that would prohibit you from lifting 50 pounds?: Of what?
Do you have a car? I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"
Have you received any special awards or recognition? I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes.
What would you like to be doing in five years? Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde super model who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.
Do you certify that the above is true and complete? Yes. Absolutely.
Sign here: Aries.
Now this is a fellow who takes life seriously enough to know he needs to work but leaves enough space for important things such as cleverness, optimistic good humor and an upbeat outlook. I’ll bet he’s a great employee. I’ll bet he didn’t even sweat during his interview, let alone trip on the way in and get lost on the way out. He probably remembered his name, and could put 10 words together and have them actually make sense. I would have hired him.
Looking for a job can be one of the most humiliating, defeating, ego-bursting, frightening, and humbling experiences there is—and that’s just the time you spend in the outer office, waiting for your turn. Things really fall apart when you go through the actual interview. You forget your name, any skills you ever had, any office equipment you can operate, except for a flush toilet, and just why you are there in the first place.
If you have never stuttered in your life you will during a job interview. You will also ramble endlessly with meaningless drivel and use sentences that are totally unstructured. Your laugh will change from something warm and cultured to a hideous shriek. You will forget simple things—like what you did on your last job. You will call the interviewer by the wrong name. You will say something brilliant to the interviewer, like “Just what is it you guys do here?”
Back in another lifetime when I managed the News-Miner’s North Pole office, I often had the pleasure of interviewing people for openings we had for writers or office help. It was the first time I had been on that side of the desk.
I knew what it was like to be the one being interviewed so I gave these people a lot of leeway and extra points and consideration for just being there. One lady I interviewed in North Pole came with her husband. He did all of the talking. He introduced them both and then answered every question I asked. He did quite well. Unfortunately, he had another job in the Air Force and she was too shy to even answer the phone.
Job seekers came in flip flops and shorts, men’s shirts and rollers. One lit up a cigarette during the interview and one of them cried. One, whose name was Amy, was the daughter of best-selling author LaVyrle Spencer. Since I was right in the middle of Spencer’s book “Hummingbird” that was one of the most enjoyable interviews I ever conducted.
These people all wanted one thing: an honest job.
On Sundays I look through employment ads. They go something like this: Administrative Assistant. Must know Power Point, Access, Excel, FrameMaker, Photo Shop, QuickBooks, PageMaker. Ten years experience, master’s degree, ability to supervise 24 employees and handle building maintenance and janitorial staff required. $7.50 hour. No benefits.
(However, if you are a dental assistant you can probably demand the world.)
During our Coldfoot years I interviewed dozens of people and looked at hundreds of applications. Some were clever and funny, but none as great as the actual job application, below, that was submitted to a McDonald’s in Florida. This 17-year-old landed a job because he was so honest, and so funny.
Name: Greg Bulmash
Sex: Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.
Desired Position: Company's President or Vice President. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying here in the first place.
Desired Salary: $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.
Education: Yes.
Last Position Held: Target for middle management hostility.
Salary: Less than I'm worth.
Most Notable Achievement: My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.
May we contact your last employer? If I had one, would I be here?
Do you have any physical conditions that would prohibit you from lifting 50 pounds?: Of what?
Do you have a car? I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"
Have you received any special awards or recognition? I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes.
What would you like to be doing in five years? Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde super model who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.
Do you certify that the above is true and complete? Yes. Absolutely.
Sign here: Aries.
Now this is a fellow who takes life seriously enough to know he needs to work but leaves enough space for important things such as cleverness, optimistic good humor and an upbeat outlook. I’ll bet he’s a great employee. I’ll bet he didn’t even sweat during his interview, let alone trip on the way in and get lost on the way out. He probably remembered his name, and could put 10 words together and have them actually make sense. I would have hired him.
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