Vomit Monster

Now that my kindergartener arrives home daily with stories of vomit, I've started to think about my favorite barf stories. Some of them aren't quite fit to be printed here (Mardi Gras, anyone?), but one of them most definitely is.

Back at the book publisher in the late 90s...

There was a temp named Paul who worked in the production department. Nice enough guy. Somewhat non-descript is how I would best describe him. He was maybe in his mid-30s, quiet, buttoned up. He sat in a cube around the corner from my cube. My cube was always very noisy: lots of people stopping by, music playing, the phone ringing, etc. Typically, if there was a ruckus, it was coming from my cube. Except for this one day.

All of the sudden, loud, like sonic-boom loud, dry heaving noises filled the air. It was so loud, that Jane, who was around the other corner from me, called me and said "What the hell are you doing over there?" Funny how she immediately thought it was me!

Turns out it was Paul and he was vomiting loud enough for the entire company to hear. In the trash can. In his cube. And he had apparently never thrown up before, as in between bucketfuls of vomit, he was yelling for someone to call 911 because he was convinced he was dying. And we all just stood there, kind of frozen, like kids playing the statue game. I mean really, who was going to go help a grown-up man blow chunks into the trash can? What could we do, put a cold washcloth on his head and give him sips of water? Our fearless leader finally stepped in and led him out the door, to her car, where she promptly drove him to the hospital. (He was fine, of course. Mild case of stomach flu.)

The rest of the time that poor, pukey Paul temped at the office, we all very politely referred to him as the Vomit Monster. It didn't take him long to request a new assignment from the temp agency. And it didn't take long for his story to become legend. I haven't seen most of my former coworkers in almost 12 years. But, I guarantee that all of them would be able to finish the story if I started with "Remember that time when Paul threw up at work?"

"Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free."

Sooooo, after that last post about finally feeling better, would anyone believe that I actually got sicker? Yep, it's true. A chest X-Ray revealed pneumonia, so I went back on an antibiotic and spent many days on the couch. While on the couch, I decided to put my down time to good use and I read a couple of really great books.

The first one is "Rebound: A Proven Plan for Starting Over After Job Loss."

Let me just say that the opening chapter of this book spoke to me. It's almost like the author peeked into my brain and stole my thoughts. And it made me realize something important: Job loss is very difficult on your psyche. I don't care who you are or what you do for a living, having it all disappear at the snap of a finger is a difficult roadblock to get past. It's been 10 months and I'm still struggling with my failure to bring home a steady paycheck. Granted, I'm harder on myself that the average person, but it's still feels like I'm not contributing to our household and that is tough to deal with. As Chapter 1 so effectively points out, a crisis in self-worth comes along with a layoff. This is something that can't be fully understood until it happens to you. Trust me. (The rest of the book is good too, I highly recommend it.)

The second book, "Accidental Genius: Using Writing to Generate Your Best Ideas, Insight, and Content" spoke to me in an entirely different way. It gave me hope that I can write my way to a better future. I need hope right now because I'm feeling especially discouraged. I continue to struggle with knowing that I did everything right in my career, and yet I still ended up here: Unemployed. Eventually, I'm going to refer to myself as self-employed, as I it has a much better ring to it, yes?

The Husband's favorite movie is "The Shawshank Redemption." We have a giant, official movie poster of it hanging in our upstairs hallway. The slogan on it says "Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free." I need to start living by those words. Maybe it's true that the only thing holding me back is me. I've been given this incredible opportunity, really. What I do with it is solely up to me. So, I guess that's where I am right now. I'm trying to figure out my next great move; my next step up on the career ladder. Because I'm only going up from here. I'm completely open to ideas, so if you have any, please send 'em my way.

As always, thanks for reading. It really does mean a lot to me and keeps me inspired to keep writing.

Sick Times

Well, it's been a long couple of weeks over here, which has resulted in me neglecting my blog. But, the storm has passed, so I'm back. Ironically, Kate has been ON the clock a lot lately, which is a good thing, as the clock is now set to my own time. And I alone reap the rewards of being on the clock.

I think I've established through older posts that there are certain things that I miss about my old, crappy job: paycheck, coworkers, lunch plans and having adults to talk to on a regular basis.

Well, after the last two weeks, I'm now adding a new item to that list: SICK DAYS.

While freelancing is fabulous and a great fit for me, I definitely miss being able to call in sick when I am, in fact, sick. Just like there's no crying in baseball, there are no sick days when freelancing. As luck would have it, I caught a cold from the germy kindergarten class that quickly morphed into near pneumonia. Normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal. But it just so happens that the timing was about as horrendous as getting the stomach flu on the subway.

Why was the timing so awful? After months and months of looking for freelance work, I managed to pull in 3 months worth of work in 2 weeks. So, it's been chaos for the last 2 weeks, as I haven't had time to do anything but sleep and work and cough and sneeze. Now, I love to work and I find deadlines to be a complete rush. When I'm healthy. Totally different story when I feel like a semi-truck is parked on my chest. For the first time since last year, I actually missed something that my old job offered. And looking back, I didn't fully utilize my sick days. If you have sick days, stop and think about whether or not you're getting the most out of that benefit. And if you aren't, change that, pronto!

In 15 years in the work force, I can only think of a few times that I called in sick when I wasn't actually sick. One time, I called in sick from another state, as I was just having too much fun to drive the 6 hours back home. Another time, I called in sick to watch a 90210 Marathon. And the morning after the 1998 Seinfeld finale party, I definitely called in hungover, which is a form of sick, I suppose. And I think that's it as far as abusing the sick days. Looking back, what the hell was I thinking? Sick days are use 'em or lose 'em and I so should have been using 'em!

The Husband has several very funny stories about calling in sick. He worked as a recruiter for a staffing agency for many years, so one can imagine what he encountered. He still laughs about the woman who came in to apply for a job wearing a shirt that said "I used up all my sick days so I called in dead to work." True story. Another true story is the guy who called in sick from a local strip club. Gotta love caller ID!

What's that saying, "All is well that ends well"? I guess it's true. I'm finally feeling better and 90% of my work is done and billed. Next month will be awesome when all of the checks start showing up in my mailbox. And for the record, one of the jobs I landed was the direct result of having my resume on a jobs web site. Seriously, that really works? Apparently, yes.

God bless antibiotics. Good night.

Groceries Galore

Disclaimer: This post doesn't really relate to corporate America, but it's too funny to not share.

So, this weekend has been jammed packed full of parties, sporting events, out of town company and freelance work and by 3 p.m. today, I was pretty spent. I was trying to catch a few winks on the couch and asked The Husband to wake me in 15 minutes so I could go to the grocery store. That's when he made this blog-worthy statement: "If you have a list, I'll go to the store."

Now, it must first be stated that I am a grocery shopping fanatic. I organize my list in the same way the store is organized, so there isn't any backtracking, which makes for a very efficient shopping trip. I'm a coupon lunatic and all of the cashiers at the store know me and my coupons. I also look at every item on my receipt and go back for a refund if I find discrepancies. And truth be told, the first morning the kids were both at school at the same time, I went...grocery shopping! Alone! I guess I know how starved for adult conversation I am when talking to the King Soopers employees is the highlight of my day. Seriously.

One can imagine my dilemma. On the one hand, I was exhausted and I was dreading going to the store. On the other hand, I could just picture The Husband, wandering around, lost, confused, and just out of his element. I mean really, the husbands are so easy to pick out at the store!

I finally agreed, but only after he announced "I'll take The Girl with me, she knows where everything is!"

I reworked the list and added *VERY* specific notes to each item, like "check the date" next to pitas and "in the produce section" next to lemon juice. I even agreed to forgo the coupons on this trip. And off they went.

As soon as they were out the door, I noticed The Husband's cell phone on the counter and knew that was going to be a problem. Sure enough, after laying down for all of 10 minutes, the phone rings and the very ominous "King Soopers" shows up on the caller ID. Hmmm...

Me: "What's wrong?"

Him: "I'm at the courtesy counter and I have questions!"

Me: "OK, what's up?"

Him: "What does 2 cans of Campbell's nacho cheese soup mean?"

Me: "Really, you're asking me that? It means BUY 2 cans of Campbell's nacho cheese soup."

Him: "They don't sell that."

Me: "Yes, they do. Soup aisle, right side, top of the shelf."

Him: "Well, I couldn't find it. But I'll look again. Now, what kind of pull-ups should I buy? I have two different packages up here. One has a boy on it and one has a girl on it and how much does The Boy weigh?"

Me: "Huggies Over-Night Pull-Ups. Size 3T-4T, with a boy on the package, since they're for our SON to wear at NIGHT." (This was all on the note, of course.)

Him: "They don't have those."

Me: "Yes, they do. Go back and look." (I'm starting to wonder why the grocery store has suddenly stopped carrying the items I've been buying weekly for years!)

Him: "OK, bye!"

About 15 minutes later, my two shoppers arrive back at home. I start unpacking the bags and notice the following:

1. The pull-ups aren't the over night ones.
2. The pitas have an expiration date of tomorrow.
3. There is a stuffed giraffe in one of the bags. (! I KNOW that wasn't on the list!)
4. The Girl is now hiding a stuffed lion in her arms. (Again, !)
5. Donuts! (I'm OK with that one.)

Then, before I can say anything about what I've discovered, The Girl announces "Daddy dropped a jar of salsa at the check out and it broke!"

And then The Husband says "Well, they gave me another one for free!"

Suddenly I'm picturing "Mr. Mom" and I can hear that annoying grocery store woman yelling "Irv, clean-up at the check-out!"

I started inquiring about the above items and The Husband says "If you're going to scrutinize every single thing, I'm never going to the store again."

I don't really think that questioning the need for stuffed zoo animals qualifies as scrutinizing, but whatever.

In the end, The Husband left to get me a Starbucks so all is well in the universe again. But, I'm pretty sure that he'll never be allowed to grocery shop again. Unless I'm out of town. Or sick.

I have to make a couple of returns tomorrow, so I'll be sure to tell Cheryl at the service desk all about our shopping adventure. And I know she'll laugh!

Dress Code

Now that the Girl is in kindergarten, we're learning to abide by the school dress code. For me, it's fabulous, no arguing in the morning, not too many choices, plain and simple. For my precocious 5-year-old, not so much. The dress code officially ushered out the pink era and she's not so pleased about that.

The dress code concept got me thinking about the deterioration of the work place dress code. Now, I'm no fashion plate, which is an obvious statement for me to make. But, while I might not abide by the latest fashion trends, my clothes are always neat, clean and ironed. Exception to that statement is when my kids were babies and I occasionally showed up at work with spit up on me, which, SURPRISE, I didn't know was there.

When I worked at the Midwestern book publisher, there was no dress code at all. There wasn't even a common sense dress code, which resulted in people showing up to work in sweatpants, flannel pajama pants, old T-shirts and my personal favorite: cut-off sweatpants. Back at Prison Media, we had the tramp offenders who showed up to the office looking like they were ready for their pole dancing shift. Numerous emails went out about appropriate work attire, yet the ho-bags at fault never seemed to catch on. (Another corporate America pet peeve is the mass email about a few people causing a problem. Why not just go directly to the people at fault and leave the rest of us out of it? Too logical, I suppose.)

I recently received an email from a former coworker, let's call him Mr. Michigan, complaining about men in sandals. Here's an excerpt:

I'm all for comfortable, casual dress at work, especially during the summer, but I think men wearing open-toed shoes at work (sandals, flip-flops, and variations thereof) is just gross. Not that I care, but women pay attention to their feet and generally make sure that they're at least presentable to look at. Men do not. I really don't want to see hairy toe knuckles and overgrown, yellowing toe nails.

He does make some good points, yes? Even though I'm very casual and doing my best to keep Levi & Strauss in business, I'm all for a business casual work environment. How you look is a direct reflection of how you are perceived. How is the guy in cut-off sweatpants and an old T-shirt perceived? Picture it and decide on your own.

Now, in my new career as a freelancer, I'm constantly rocking the shorts and T-shirt. But today, I have an actual interview and client meeting, so I'm dressed in my business casual duds, ready to impress. And I have to admit, it felt really good to iron my pants this morning and get dressed for success. Am I ready to do it every day? Heck no! But once in awhile, it's definitely nice to get dressed up, leave the house and feel like part of the work force again.

I'm sure when I get home tonight, I'll follow the Girl's rules and immediately change my clothes. I think my Colts T-shirt is calling for me right now...

Teachers vs. Corporate America

Well, now that I'm a MOAK™ (Mom of a Kindergartner), I think I've found a worse place to work than Corporate America.

First of all, this is a shout out to all of my teacher friends. Teachers are a special breed and I applaud them. Loudly.

I've decided that being a teacher is worse than Corporate America for several reasons:

1. Not only do you have to teach, guide and mentor students, you have to do the same to their parents.
2. There are more politics in schools than the average workplace.
3. Germs. Vomit. And that sawdust-like stuff the janitor puts on the vomit.
4. Unlike a regular job, you can't leave the premises for lunch. (Remember, lunch is a big deal in corporate America! See http://kate-offtheclock.blogspot.com/2010/06/great-lunch-dilemma.html for a refresher.)
5. Balancing students, parents, fellow teachers and administrators is quite a juggling act. Plus, a teacher must be very tactful and patient, so that automatically rules out that profession for me.

Plus, it seems like teachers are always involved in very public salary disputes. Unlike Corporate America, where you don't get much of a say when it comes to salary. You get a pay cut. And that's the end of it. It doesn't become front page news like teachers' salaries seem to.

And then there is the issue of discipling kids and parents who don't like their kids being disciplined. (Isn't that an oxymoron?) I spent 3 hours in the Pre-K classroom last year and I was ready to smack some of those bratty kids into the next millennium.

I'm not saying I'd take a job in Corporate America over a job at a school. Those who really know me know that a P.E. teacher is pretty much my dream job! Yes, I'm serious. But, what I am starting to realize during this job searching journey is that there really isn't a perfect job. Although, blogging about it comes pretty close. Now, if I could just find a way to make this job pay...

It's Movie Night!

Well, 8 months later and I'm still looking for a job. I'm really starting to detest the dreaded "What do you want to do?" question. Eventually, I'm going to have to answer it like this:

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.

Big bonus points to anyone (other than Lance) who can name that movie.

I recently watched two of my all-time favorite movies from different eras. The first is St. Elmo's Fire (judge not!) and the second is Reality Bites. Both movies deal with groups of friends right after college graduation, the first in the '80s and the second in the '90s. The differences are astounding, yet the underlying theme, I think, is the same. Obviously, I identify more with Reality Bites, as it came out a year before I graduated from BSU, but St. Elmo's Fire is definitely a classic. And it's celebrating its 25th anniversary this year. EW covered it here: http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20406218,00.html

Anyway, the point is that when you graduate from college, you have gigantic dreams for your career, your future, your life. And then one day, you stop and observe and nothing is turning out like you thought it would. And realizing that's OK is probably the precise moment you actually grow up. Well, I'm finding the same logic to be true with the India Project. Sure, this isn't where I saw the career path going. But I'm venturing down a new path now and trying to figure out where I'll end up. Of course, until I reach my new destination, I seem to be taking every detour to nowhereville. (Yes, I made up a word.)

While I'm fairly certain that I'll never work in corporate America again, I'm not ruling anything out anymore. I see a correlation between never saying never and this quote from St. Elmo's Fire:

"I always thought we'd be friends forever."

"Well, forever suddenly got a lot shorter."

And remember what Winona Ryder's Lelaina said right before landing a job in Reality Bites:

"I was this close to selling fruit at intersections!"

Well, I'm not close to opening a lemonade stand on the cul-de-sac yet, so I think I'm in good shape over here!