It's About the Haves, Not the Have Nots

Gobble, gobble!

Thanksgiving is the official kick-off of the holiday madness. For us sane people, it's a little difficult to steer clear of the doorbusters and early bird specials. However, I like my sleep, so getting up at 3 a.m. to go shopping does not really sound that appealing. Plus, believe it or not, I'm done shopping! Woot-woot!

So, today is a day to be thankful and appreciate all of the good things in life. I am very thankful for all that I have and even though this year has been a career bust, I still have plenty to be thankful for.

I'm especially thankful for the following things:

• I've only had to utter the phrase "Don't lick your sister" once.
• I get to eat deep fried turkey with people I love and cherish.
• I have a #1 fan who keeps me blogging! (That's you, Murph!)
• I get to see the Detroit Lions on TV for the first time this season. (Will most likely turn out to be a bad thing, but for now, I'm excited.)
• My husband is awesome and started our day out right with Starbucks and donuts.
• My kids will celebrate Thanksgiving with their best friends, O and C. (Bring on the Jello Jigglers!)
• I know to cook the green beans prior to making the green bean casserole. (That's a shout out to you, Lyons!)
• I won't be tripping over the dog, enroute to the table, with the turkey in hand. Yes, that actually happened when I was a kid. It won't happen today because the only pet in this house is a fish named Mimi!
• Mike is an honored guest at today's feast. I believe there are already 12 of the pomegranate variety chilling in the cooler. Is it too early to have one? What the hell, it's a holiday!
• I'm especially thankful that my parents live down the street and get to join us on holidays. Plus, my mom makes a mean apple pie!
• Our Thanksgiving eve tradition is to watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles. "You're going the wrong way!" "How would they know where we're going?"
• And, I'm especially thankful that I met the Husband for the very first time on Thanksgiving in 1998. We've been on a non-stop, fun-filled adventure ever since!

Happy Thanksgiving to all and remember that turkey isn't good medium rare and holidays are best when celebrated with the people you love. Bon Appétit!

So, What's Your Plan?

These days, I sure get asked the dreaded "what's your plan" question a lot. I'm not exactly sure how to answer that. I've kind of explored every option in the last year. I've sent out hundreds of resumes and networked with a zillion people. And here I am. Still sitting here. Still not working. And let me be the first to say that I'm really tired of looking for a job. It's exhausting. It's demanding. It's disappointing. It's just like a real job, only there's no paycheck for my efforts.

But there is no giving up, it's just not me. Plus, there are some pretty lofty goals on the board for 2011. And I keep thinking of a quote from my all-time favorite movie, The Silence of the Lambs: "All good things to those who wait." Granted, I shouldn't be taking life advice from Hannibal Lector, but it kind of fits, right?

Eventually, something will pan out; it just has to. In the meantime, it seems like I've encountered every flake in the business world and have endured disappointment after disappointment. Luckily, I see the big picture and I know that life is good and I'm very lucky.

While I'm waiting for something to pan out, I've been doing all sorts of things I couldn't do when I had a full-time job, like Christmas shopping in the middle of the day on a Tuesday and volunteering as a kindergarten room mom. It was kind of heartbreaking for me when one of the kindergarten boys said "What's your real job?" You're looking at it, kid! My new job is helping 5-year-olds tie their shoes and lifting the short kids (mine included) up to the monkey bars at recess.

Later this week, it will be the 1-year anniversary of the "phone call" and the day I first learned about India. I'm not sure how I'll celebrate on Thursday, but I can guarantee I won't be going to the Star of India for lunch. Funny how a lot of the people I know hate India a little bit more now than they did before the India Project. Case in point, my dad telling the Indian customer service rep to "put someone on the phone who speaks English!" My dad rocks. Or the Husband telling the credit card customer service rep to cancel his card. When the guy in India asked why, the Husband said "Because you're in freaking India." Love the Husband.

Also coming up in the near future is the expiration of my confidentiality agreement with Prison Media. I had to give them one year of silence. Come December 11, I'm officially free. Forever.

One more thing that will be easier this year: Finding the perfect turkey! I won't be digging through the bin of frozen turkeys, after work, with the rest of the working stiffs, searching for the elusive 16-pound turkey. No, I can go to the store on a weekday morning and casually select my bird. In fact, I think I'll do that tomorrow. Gobble, gobble!

It All Starts Here.

In case anyone was wondering, I've always hated corporate America. By always, I mean the majority of my 37 years. What kind of kid hates corporate America? Simple. One whose father gets transferred all over the country and makes her childhood a blur of moving vans, for sale signs, new schools and new friends. I vowed pretty early on that I would never work in corporate America. Alas, my dream finally came true late last year!

I won't turn Kate Off the Clock into Kate's Memoirs, but I will give the nutshell version. By the time I was 13, I'd lived in 6 states. And my family didn't make simple moves, like L.A. to San Diego or Detroit to Chicago. No, we made cross country treks. Multiple times. As a kid, the most dreaded question anyone could ask me was "Where are you from?" What 9-year-old kid answers a question like that with "All over, really." That answer immediately implied my parents were carnival workers, right?

When I was 7, my family moved to Alabama a few days before the start of the school year. On the day before my first day of school, my brother accidentally stabbed me in the arm with a utility knife. Supposedly it was an accident. Thirty years later and I'm still not so sure. Neither is my scar. Anyway, I had to go to the hospital and I was given a tetanus shot. Well, surprise, a tetanus shot in the ass when you're 7 is really not so fun. It hurt like hell and it totally affected my ability to walk. On the first day of school. IN A NEW STATE!

I limped into the school, a rickety old Catholic school that must have been built pre-Civil War, and was promptly introduced to the worst second grade teacher in the history of school: Ms. Pitts. I swear on my kids lives, that was her name.

She was this skinny, oily, short woman with a haircut like Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. She was dressed in an ill-fitting pants suit with flats. And the southern drawl was straight out of Deliverance. And I'm pretty sure I was smarter than her. At age 7. I remember the day like it happened last week and it was 30 freaking years ago! That's how traumatic the experience was. And to top it all off, I was all alone at the new school, as my brother had been sent to a different school due to the 4th grade being full because of a post-Vietnam baby boom. I dunno, that's just what I heard with my 7-year-old ears. Plus, the Brother had just stabbed me, so I don't know if I would have been thrilled to see him anyway.

As luck would have it, the cafeteria was in the basement of this God-awful school. Basement=stairs. Stairs=pain and embarrassment for my sore, aching body. I think everyone thought I was handicapped after catching a glimpse of me negotiating the stairs. I can't remember who was nice enough to sit with me at lunch, but I'm sure someone must have been, because I don't remember sitting all alone. Growing up, my recurring dream the night before the first day at a new school was this: It's lunchtime, I'm all alone and every time I attempt to sit down at a table, I get pushed out or told to go away. This was a legitimate fear, but thank God, it never actually became reality.

I don't doubt that I came home in tears after a full day with Ms. Pitts. I swear she wasn't speaking English and the throbbing in my butt made it impossible for me to focus anyway. To top it all off, my family had moved to Alabama from San Francisco, so the immediate rumor on the street was that my parents were swingers. Really? Yes. Most people in Alabama only knew California from the movies, so imagine their concern when a family from over yonder moved in.

What's the point? I swear I had one. Oh yes, the point is that these experiences from my youth are what fueled my lifelong hatred of corporate America. If it wasn't for my dad's corporate job, I could go to the same school every year, grow up with the same friends, have a place to be "from." I know it sounds a little dramatic, but it all made sense when I was 7.

When I was 13, my dad told corporate America to shove it, moved our family to Michigan and embarked on a self-employed adventure. I always say I'm from Michigan, as I lived there all through junior high and high school, and until recently, it was the state I'd lived in the longest.

I'll end with this story: At the same school in Alabama, during a social studies lesson on seasonal farming and migrant workers, a classmate raised his hand and asked the teacher "Is Kate's dad a migrant worker?"

What Happens in Vegas?

The Husband and I just returned from a trip to Vegas to celebrate our 10-year anniversary. (Yes, he's been putting up with me for a very long time!) Everyone knows the old "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" slogan. After visiting Vegas, I feel a strong urge to share some of the things that did, indeed, happen in Vegas. Also, it's always good to shed some light on popular myths, like the myth that there are free things in Vegas. There are not. In fact, things that appear free actually have a hefty price tag.

For starters, the myth of free drinks while gambling. If I have to spend $20 playing roulette to get a free drink, is it really free? Not so much. Every single aspect of the Vegas experience has been carefully planned by a financial genius. When I say you pay for everything, I mean everything. Consider the average hotel stay at a Holiday Inn Express, which typically includes free wireless internet, free computer use in the lobby, free breakfast, free use of a gym, coffee pot in the room and maybe a microwave and mini 'fridge too. Now, let's take a look at the same items at Bally's:

• Internet: $13.99 per 24 hours
• Computer in the lobby: $.25 per minute
• Coffee: $10 for a pot with 6 cups with a 30-minute wait time or a $3 cup of coffee in the lobby. By the slot machines. Coincidence?
• Use of gym: $22 for 24 hours

Now granted, you don't get the Vegas experience at a Holiday Inn Express in Omaha. So, if you don't actually go to Vegas, you don't get to learn these very important life lessons:

• If you look friendly and smile at old people, you'll end up with a digital camera in your face, hearing their life story through pictures. We actually met a woman with a dog named Keno. And she showed us at least 2 dozen pictures of her pets, her house, and her husband, whom she affectionately referred to as "Daddy."
• Just because you can see a sign or a building in the distance, doesn't mean it's close. For example, that pyramid down the street is actually 3 miles, not 3 BLOCKS, away.
• If you ever have to walk under a freeway overpass, be prepared to be knocked over by the stench of urine. And don't make eye contact with the people living in cardboard boxes at the top of the overpass.
• And if you're wondering why I know these things, please see bullet item #2. The In-N-Burger sign looked close, but you know... And yes, I would trek across the desert (or under a urine-soaked overpass) for my first Double-Double in 6 years.
• When crossing back over aforementioned overpass, if it looks like a hooker, it most definitely is a hooker.
• If anyone approaches you in a hotel and offers an insane amount of free stuff, tell them NO, you don't want to own a timeshare.
• When your husband looks he's about to plop his face in a plate of nachos, it's time to go home.
• An all-day food pass actually exists! $39.99 for all you can eat in 24 hours! Can anyone think of a better way to spend $40?!
• Hand sanitizer is a must. Even the Husband was eagerly using it by the end of the first day. Of course, I kept giving him one word prompts after touching escalator hand rails and cab doors, like "Hepatitis! Crabs! Scabies! Herpes!"
• I actually saw someone wearing a T-Shirt that said "I swear to Drunk I'm not God!" And no, I'm not dyslexic.
• Cross walks were invented for a reason.
• It takes 1 ambulance, 3 fire engines, and 4 policemen on bikes to tend to a drunk homeless man on the street corner. Hate to see what they bring out for a drunk high-roller who falls down on the street.

So there you have it, Vegas in a nutshell. Did we have fun? Hell yes! And did we stick to our promise to not discuss work, lack of work, Prison Media, India and what I'm going to do with my life? Absolutely. But, now that I'm back, it's game on! (And I don't mean that in a sports book sort of way...)

Lose Yourself

Eminem was on 60 Minutes tonight. It's a well known secret that I love him. I love all things Michigan, actually. Here's a shout out to TC and all of my MI peeps! See you next summer!

While I do agree that Eminem is rude and crude and his language would make a truck driver blush, I find him inspiring. Do I let my kids listen to him? Of course not. Duh. But, when I'm in the car alone, I love to blast his music. And I do have a few favorites.

My favorite Eminem song is the obvious "Lose Yourself." The opening words are a constant reminder to keep reaching for the impossible and following my biggest dream.

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment

Would you capture it or just let it slip?

It's also a great reminder to see my current situation for what it is: An opportunity. And am I going to capture it? You better believe it.

My other favorite songs aren't really blog friendly, but I definitely love "Business" and "Sing For the Moment" from the Eminem Show and "I'm Not Afraid" is a new fave.

Another Michigan person I love is Mitch Albom. Mitch wrote an awesome column about Eminem a few years ago. The column was so awesome that I sent Mitch an email and told him I loved it. And this is why I love Mitch: HE WROTE ME BACK! I still have the email. It used to hang on my office wall. Now it hangs on my home office wall. Unfortunately, I can't find the column online, so I can't post a link.

In other Michigan news, the Lions won today, their first win of the season. And yesterday, Michigan State gave Michigan an old-fashioned butt-kicking. Overall, a great weekend for the great state of Michigan!

The Ultimate Corporate Trap

I have 10 corporate theories. I've covered a few of them so far, but the majority of them are still to come, as I'm developing the theories into actual blog posts. Of course, my favorite theory is The Promotion of Stupidity (http://kate-offtheclock.blogspot.com/2010/06/promotion-of-stupidity.html). A close second is The Ultimate Corporate Trap.

This theory could also be called the Paycheck Theory. Generally, in corporate America, one can count on a small raise each year, sometimes referred to as a cost of living raise. There are a couple of exceptions to this, of course. For example, Prison Media hasn't given raises to the little people in half a decade. Yes, it's true, even pre-Great Recession, the purse strings were bolted shut at the Prison. They called it a "temporary salary freeze" but I think it's about time to define the word "temporary" in this context. 'Cause temporary suddenly looks like forever.

But anyway, the theory is pretty basic. The corporation starts paying you enough to keep you there, but not enough to keep you happy. While it's true that money doesn't buy happiness, a big paycheck sure makes it a heck of a lot easier to "don't worry, be happy."

You start making enough money that if you left to pursue another job opportunity or a different career path, you'd most likely be facing a pay cut since you have a couple of years of seniority at your current job. This could also be a less is more theory. Example: Two years of less becomes more.

Then, there is also the fear of job loss, which is even more relevant in this crappy economy. What if you leave a job for a new job only to be laid off from the new job? If you had stayed at the old job, would you still be employed? These are real scenarios that I often ran through my head and I'm sure others do too.

It's no secret that the corporate landscape has changed forever during this economic downturn. And as a result of that, the employers have the upper hand and probably will for a very long time. Case in point: The number of jobs I see that want a college degree, experience and pay an astronomical $10/hour. It's absurd. But, it's also the new reality.

My new reality is pretty clear: I'm extremely blessed and lucky. I'm no longer trapped in a corporate job and my life is my own. And I have to keep reminding myself that I hated my job. It ruled my life and made me miserable. Someday, I might be able to thank Prison Media for doing me a favor. Just not quite yet!

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?"