Category Archives: Work

Job Hunting Hell

If I had a dollar for every hour I’ve spent sweating my ass off over this computer filling out on-line job applications, tweaking and re-tweaking my resume, and writing brilliant cover letters, I could afford to take a vacation someplace where there are cool breezes and tall, icy drinks decorated with paper umbrellas….

Okay, maybe I could rent a paddle boat on a lake somewhere.

I’ve finally developed a high tech solution to the job application nightmare. I have a spreadsheet with all the little detailed job duties, “knowlege, skills and abilities” grouped together on one sheet; addresses on another sheet; references on another sheet. Then all I have to do is remember to open the damn thing when I’m on line, and copy-paste, copy-paste, copy-paste, etc, etc, etc. I actually think someone should hire me to develop a universal job application information dump where all human resource departments would have to go to post their jobs, and all job applicants could fill out one form one time for all jobs they want to apply for in a given time frame, and just edit as necessary as they change jobs.

Now, wouldn’t that be sensible, and efficient, and time-saving? And never likely to happen.

On being productive

Tuesday night I went to one of those meetings of the local computer counter culture. Another attempt to expose myself to another way of thinking, working, solving problems. Kind of like taking a calculus class (and, oh, I suck at math). I’m never very sure going in if I’m actually going to get anything useful out of these meetings, aside from satisfying my curiosity, and in truth I usually end up thinking, “well, that’s not something I can do” (or, at least not until I figure out wtf they were talking about).

The topic was productivity — although the title of the talk was “Scrumming things done.” Yeah, I have absolutely no idea where the term “scrumming” came from (although it sounds vaguely sports-related), or why it applies. But I was probably the oldest person there by a substantial margin, and one of only three women. So. Language barriers kind of go with the territory. [Update -- here's a link to a video that explains "scrumming"]

[Oh, and note to presenters. Acronyms. Not everybody knows what they all mean. If you're going to use them, have a slide with the words spelled out. If you don't want to do this, don't open your meetings to the "public."]

Now. Productivity is something everyone can use a little help with, so I figured I’d learn something. In fact, I had what might even pass for one of Havi Brooks‘s “hot-buttered epiphanies” [Okay, I couldn't find something to link this to, but, trust me, she talks about them.] Most of the guys that were there are software developers/web designers/programmers or closely related species. (Then there was me.)

They all spend a lot of time at their computers writing code, entering data, doing research, reading and writing e-mails, and Twittering. Hopefully not all at the same time. Setting boundaries around tasks, prioritizing, and deciding on time lines in advance is the only way to keep that kind of mess sorted out in a way that can make work flow toward a finished product of some sort. These people really have to manage their time, and there are all kinds of tools available that let them micromanage it if they want.

I realized that the reason I never felt like I was getting anything done when I was working for the Kentucky Division of Water was that I wasn’t doing those time management things very effectively. Why not? Well, nobody really told me I needed to or showed me how. So, why didn’t I already know how? I’d had other jobs…which I started to examine.

I worked at a zoo. Work flow = arrive at work, clean cages, feed animals. Next day — clean cages, feed animals. Next day — clean cages, feed animals. Next day — well, you get the picture.

Then I worked at a lab where we did parentage tests for the Jockey Club, the U.S. Trotting Association, and the American Saddlebred Horse Accociation. There the job was — run gels, read gels; or run gels, make gels, read gels; or run gels, make buffers, read gels; and sometimes run gels, read gels, run more gels, read those gels.

Not a whole lot of need for productivity management tools. That was my epiphany. Not really even so much “hot-buttered” as “oh, duh.”

Then I compared what I do now to the kinds of things they were talking about, and realized that, yeah, I let things distract me from writing articles for my blog, drawing and painting, etc. I check my e-mail, read other people’s blogs, read Twitter, do housework, fritter my time away. Not that doing those things is always bad. In fact it’s absolutely essential to do something else when I lose my focus on some tasks, or I run the risk of making a real mess.

When I’m drawing, especially when I’m working with my colored pencils, I get completely absorbed by what I’m doing. All the internal noise just goies away for a while. As soon as it starts trying to intrude, I have to walk away from what I’m working on. Sometimes I only need a minute or two — I check on the dogs, get something to drink, then I can get back into that zone. But if I dont’t get up, I’ll mess something up.

It’s a little different with writing. If I mess up a watercolor painting, I can sometimes pretend that I “meant for that to happen,” but if I make a big enough mistake on a drawing, it can’t always be erased away without damaging the paper. With writing I can always use some of what I’ve done, even if I chop out huge chunks before I’m finished. Writing is like drawing in that I get completely absorbed, especially when I work with pen and paper, like I often do for first drafts. But when I draw, I don’t hear words in my head. I don’t consciously hear anything. It’s very peaceful. But not something I can sustain all day.

Toward the end of the meeting one of the guys said he felt lucky on days when he got as much as six hours worth of work done. I think he probably gets more done than he realizes. I think we’ve all been programmed to see only certain things as qualifying for “getting things done,” and the rest is fluff. I think a lot of the fluff matters. When I get up from my work table and look out the kitchen window and see my dogs curled up asleep on their hay bails, it rassures me that everything is okay, and I can go back to work or on to the next task. And it may seem counterproductive to do housework to avoid studying for an exam, but there’s always the possibility that you’ll study more effectively in a clean environment. Or should I say cram?…or would that be “scrum?”

Hard-Ass Work

An interesting thing happened a couple of years ago. I belonged to a community list-serve, which I largely ignored. But one day I got an e-mail from the list from someone talking about starting a new group locally for “creatives.” It said that whoever considered themselves creative was invited to attend something called “Refresh Bryan/College Station,” or “Refresh BCS.” I thought, “hmm, that sounds like me.” So I went.

What a shock I was in for. It wasn’t about art, or music, or writing, it was about computers. At the time I wasn’t aware of any overlap among those things. My creativity mostly involved pencils and paper, sometimes paints and brushes, and my computer was only another writing tool, with some incidental research and communication functions thrown in. At the meeting, I kept hearing about design, and I heard things like “twitter,” and “flikr,” and “facebook,” which had no meaning at all to me at the time. But I was intrigued, and thought I might be able to learn something, so I went to another meeting the next month, and another the next. I still felt like I was in another country where I didn’t understand the language, but the natives were friendly, didn’t seem to mind my advanced age, and it certainly gave me an excuse to get out of the house.

Of course, when someone says “Do you stumble?” my first thought is, “well, sometimes when I get new shoes, because my left foot is a little longer than my right… (and by the way, what an odd question),” but that’s not at all what they mean, I feel totally out of it. These days I know different. I almost said better, but I’ll reserve judgment for now. Now I know how to Stumble, and how to use Delicious, and I’m on Twitter and Facebook and MySpace and Linkdin and Digg. All these things are supposed to help me network and increase readership on my blog and get me noticed by people who can help me in my career or just invite me to more social gatherings. But none of it changes the fact that I’m a frakking megaintrovert and unless I’m forcing myself the whole time, I just sort of let those social things slide.

It’s ironic that all the advice givers say you have to be willing to work hard at what you love to be able to make a living at it. To me the hard work is all this peripheral stuff. I almost don’t have the energy to do the work I really love. Go figure.

Notes on a local collection

My favorite place locally is the Texas Cooperative Wildlife Collection (TCWC). It is not a well-known attraction, but every former student of the local university who majored in Wildlife and Fisheries Sciences (WFS) or Renewable Natural Resources (RENR) knows what and where it is.

The “collection” is a natural history collection, in short, dead animals. Dead animals in drawers, dead animals in jars, dead animals in tanks. Technically, they are called study skins, alcoholic preps, or just specimens. They represent wildlife, large and small, from all over Texas and the world, and from every imaginable habitat on land, sea and air. They are arranged, within the collection, according to a taxonomic or systematic scheme. They are in order phylogenetically, which means that the presumed oldest groups are “first.” For instance, the sharks and their closest relatives are in the front ranks of the fish study (ichthyology) collection. As creatures with cartilagenous skeletons, they are presumed to predate the “bony fishes.”

There is a lot of “stirring the pot” going on in the field of systematics because of molecular genetics and the new field of “evo-devo.” Groups of organisms are being rearranged with new and different relationships to other groups of organisms. It won’t mean one group of mammals ending up in a closer relationship to fish than to other mammals — nothing that radical — but for instance whales and cattle have moved closer together. And some of these moves are being supported by new fossil evidence, too, not just molecular data. Hard specimens are still important, although many institutions have packed up their collections and dispersed them to other holding facilities because there are no more funds or caring individuals to properly maintain them.

About eight months after I moved back home to help take care of Pop, I looked up TCWC on the web and sent them an e-mail, asking if I could come and work a few hours a week as a volunteer. Why? Because I’m one of those former WFS students and I always felt a connection to those stuffy rooms in the basement of Nagle Hall, and later the basement of Evans Library. Now the collection is housed in one section of the former Texas Instruments plant east of the Highway 6 by-pass (now known as Earl Rudder Freeway) between University Drive and Harvey Road. They have a lot more room there and have absorbed some of those orphaned collections from other places. But they aren’t really any better funded for collection maintenance, and the neglect is starting to take a toll.

You might think, well, aren’t they preserved? and doesn’t that mean indefinitely? Or you might think, what’s the loss if they crumble to dust? And, yes, they are preserved, but like a lot of things, some were prepared better than others and hold up better. And if they crumble to dust and are lost forever — what’s one more vanished piece of history? Yes, we value our history, or we wouldn’t have museums at all. I think a few people would kick if the Italians decided to stop wasting funds trying to keep the Colluseum from falling down, or if the Egyptians knocked apart the Sphinx to make room for an apartment complex, but what are a few drawers full of field mice, or jars of minnows, or toads? I mean, really.

It’s only a matter of scale — scale of size, scale of focus, scale of appeal. Nearly everyone can appreciate some aspect of the Roman Colluseum or the Great Sphinx, but it takes a special individual to get excited about those drawers full of field mice.

Drawer full of field mice.

Drawer full of field mice.

Case in point. Who finds this picture exciting? Intriguing? Mildly interesting? Not even mildly? How sad. Because there are about 12 cases of these guys in the collection. Each case holds up to fifteen of these drawers, and as you can deduce, that means there is room for just buckets of mice.

What’s the point of having so many? They represent a range of sizes and conditions through space and time, grouped by country, state, counties within states in many instances. Often the size and color of a population reflects where within the range of the species it is found. If only one member of a population is collected, it could be a fluke. Only by having a representative sample size can you begin to draw conclusions about the life history of a species. And when the specimens fall apart or get eaten up by bugs, your representative sample is no longer so representative.

It took me several hours, working one drawer at a time, to get this whole case looking this organized. This one case had apparently been skipped during a previous cleaning bout, because it was the only one that needed so much attention. There were other cases — some with pocket gophers, some with squirrels — that needed to be rearranged to alleviate crowding in some drawers, but I’ve barely started. And I only have a few hours a week to spend there. No one is paying me, or anyone else, to do it. And that’s a shame. It’s honorable work. It’s a labor of love.

Technical stuff

You might have noticed that I’ve changed the theme — again. I keep trying to find one that has really EASY customizing features, so I won’t have to sit down and sweat bullets while I rewrite the code — like I even can. Anyway,  if I ever figure out how to install my header with my black and white photo/logo of “crazyboy,” it will blend in with the color scheme of this theme. So for the time being, this is it.

I have also signed up for the Amazon.com affiliate program, so if you see a book title highlighted, the link will take you to the Amazon.com page where you can order the book, if you’re interested. And if you do order the book through that link, I get a “commission” on the sale. Pretty slick. All this “behind the scenes” work has been putting me behind on generating content, but not to worry, I have a list of topics to write posts about, and will start getting them in the works. In the meantime, I will shortly be adding links to some of the blogs I like to read, websites where I go to consume “eye candy” (I’m talking roses, here, and other flower-sellers sites, so get your minds out ot the gutter), and websites of places I want to visit.  Maybe you’ll find something you didn’t know about that will amaze and delight you, too.

Life's little turmoils

The past two weeks have been off-routine for me. I had to skip the Wednesday doggie update, and for that I apologize. Today’s post is also going to be a little off-topic, as I haven’t been working much on my drawing/painting efforts. A week ago yesterday I had a job interview that I spent a lot of time preparing for. I felt great about how I did, and I was on pins and needles all this week hoping to hear that I got the job. Yesterday I got the letter saying another applicant had been chosen.

The feeling of let-down was intense. The job was one that I would have enjoyed — not just something to do to pay bills. I would have been able to learn new things, exercise some of my creative muscles, and not be cooped up in a lab or an office or tied to a computer all day every day. In a word — ideal. But not to be. And that is the way my life has been going for the past several months. I’ve had other job interviews, and thought I had the job in the bag, but no dice. Just when I would get over one disappointment and get back to the “okay, I’m going to make something of this blogging thing and figure out how to make it pay me,” I’d get a call for another interview, and have to get all pumped up about a new job possibility. To say it made me feel a bit schizophrenic would be putting it mildly.

But I have learned some coping mechanisms — many of which involve chocolate. Fortunately for me in this case, the new Star Trek movie came out this week, and the Science Fiction Channel is having a two-day Star Trek “Trekathon.” So I can watch space fantasy while munching on my Oreos. Escapist Nirvana. I also have some writing to catch up on (like what I’m doing now), and a project to finish for my monthly jewelry artists’ guild meeting tomorrow.

Maybe I could become a job-interview-failure-recovery coach. But how lame would that be? After a while, you get used to being disappointed; you almost come to expect it. More lameness. I remember many years ago, my dad gave me a little wooden wall hanging for a birthday gift or something. It had a photo of a cocker spaniel lying in the grass looking all relaxed and cute, with the saying, “Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed.” I remember thinking about it for a while and wondering, “is he trying to tell me something?” But he told me he picked it up and thought the dog was cute, so he got it, before he took time to read it and think about it. Anyway, it’s something I’m reminded of at times like this — that there’s some comfort in the thought that, if you can learn to not lower but suspend your expectations, you can blunt the pain a bit.

It helps to have fall-back options, or activities to distract yourself with, if nothing else. It is dangerous to grow overly attached to or identified with a job, or a notion of a job, even. Any more, jobs don’t follow the kinds of traditional patterns some of us grew up with — us Baby Boomers. But I think it’s fabulous to see things start to change like this. I have struggled a long time with the idea that to be a “writer” I have to follow the same path that writers have always followed. I have even been bothered by the “what if no one buys my books and all those trees were chopped down and made into paper for nothing?” That wouldn’t sit right with me. Yes, I really would squirm all the way to the bank. I promise.

But I’ve decided to follow the cyber-publishing path, instead. No gate keepers deciding whether what I’ve written will have any popular appeal. My “audience” can decide directly. Since one of my favorite pastimes is reading, I plan to write a lot of book reviews. With practice, I may reach a point where I can contact publishers and request books to review before publication. That would be cool, and people pay for those things. In the meantime, I will set up ways to make this website pay for itself, and maybe some of my bills, too. I may also have to allow some ads on my site. This is my new job. It is a work in progress.

Thoughts on the economy

I know all about trying to find a job in the current economic climate. But I didn’t lose my job because of it. When I moved back to Texas to take care of my dad, I left a job where I was making good money, thinking I could go back to work “later,” like after I figured out just how much “taking care of” my dad needed. His pension and Social Security, plus my brother’s income, were enough to cover my bills and groceries along with the rest of the household expenses. The biggest adjustment was living under the same roof with the two of them. And it was a lot more of an adjustment than I expected to suddenly not have a job to go to every morning.

That was 2002, and my dad was 91. He recovered fairly well from the mild stroke that had brought me home from Kentucky, and his natural cantankerousness would always prevent him for asking for help or admitting he wasn’t feeling well. I found myself on surveillance duty, and bored out of my skull. The chores I would have kept myself busy with were things I enjoy doing most when I’m on my own — without an audience — without an old man insisting he needs to help and getting hurt feelings when I turn him down. Add stress to the boredom.

This was long before I knew anything about dealing with a dementia sufferer, and long before my brother and I knew that was what was happening to our dad. So, of course, we didn’t handle things all that well.

I started hanging out at the Texas Cooperative Wildlife Collection about a year after I moved back home. The collection belongs to the Wildlife and Fisheries Sciences Department at Texas A&M, where I got my B.S. degree many years ago. I helped the curators as a volunteer three days a week and enjoyed getting out of the house. And I started looking for a “real” job, so I could make some of my own spending money. 

It was always hard having to ask my dad to write me a check, even though it was for groceries or the water bill or whatever. He was a little funny about money. He never had a savings account or any kind of investments. The “Great Depression” had left a deep impression.

My dad died last September, before the current situation achieved crisis proportions. He would not have been aware of what was going on at any rate. But his passing also ended that source of income — what made it possible for me to continue in this “life of lesiure.” And since I live in an area overrun with college students for most of the year, it’s hard to find a job around here even during normal economic times.

I did have a couple of part time jobs for a while, teaching biology for a couple of semesters at the local junior college, and running PCR and DNA analysis in a lab at A&M. Neither of those jobs “worked out.” I really wanted to teach biology, but I just wasn’t prepared for how brutal and merciless a room full of college students can be. They’re fine in small groups, and I have been making a little money as a freelance tutor, but in mobs of twenty or more, they scare the stuffing out of me. Something I had not expected.

So, here I am, faced with many more dire consequences of not having a job/income, yet dreading what it will mean if I do go back to work. I’ve gotten used to managing my own time. My creativity has come out of hiding. I’m painting, drawing, making things, and writing. I play with my dogs (I make fun of them a lot, but I love to have them around for comic relief — for stress relief). I sleep better than I have in years. The pain level from my arthritis is lower. I smile more, I laugh more. Frak it, I’m happy!