The phone did ring this morning. It was the postal clerk from the town with the invisible posters for the lost cat. She apologized for taking so long to call me back, but it took her this long to find a poster with a phone number. I thanked her and wrote down the number. Then I waited until after 9:00 a.m. to call because my mother always said, "Don't phone someone before 9 a.m. or after 9 p.m." I left a message on an answering machine. Now I wait some more.
I have another phone call to make. I heard from another store owner that she is interested in learning more about my product. I've stopped by her store twice and missed her both times. Honestly, I had never been in a store called "a sensuality boutique." It is a modestly advertised second-floor store on a busy street in Portland that sells books, gifts, toys, and accessories for adult women. I emailed the owner this week, and she got right back to me. She would like to talk to me about the product and price, which I'm willing to negotiate at this time because I have an inventory that I would like to get "out there." I will call her later today.
I have not gotten a phone call about the job I interviewed for a week ago. It doesn't help to keep rethinking what I said and could have said and shouldn't have said. Second-guessing is never helpful. Things played out the way they were meant to. Interviews are artificial situations that do not really give a true picture of the person who wants the job. Some people are able to put their best selves out there under stress, and some of us struggle through hoping that the interviewer will see some glimmer of what we have to offer. Again, I will wait some more.
I need to make two calls to let companies know I do not want them to share my information with other companies. New privacy policies went into effect October 1. I have to call a credit card company to confirm what I have to do to keep 0% interest on a transferred balance - just want to make sure we have the same understanding so I don't get zapped in January because of some fine print.
Last evening Ken called the credit card company to take the hold off our account [the card that was in his wallet that he left at the post office where the postal clerk called the company to let them know the card was safe]. Well, there was miscommunication there because the company cancelled our account. They are sending us new cards...with a new account number...again. We went through this with this card just months ago when our LLBean credit card changed from this company. We need to apply for the new LLBean card, which I was on the fence about until I wanted to order an item and remembered that I no longer have free shipping.
Well, I've put off vacuuming long enough. I haven't wanted to interrupt Leo, who is napping quietly behind the couch. I will wait a bit longer but at some point I have to make all that noise. If Leo is like my daughter's cats, she will not take kindly to the racket and make a beeline for the furthermost corner of the house. Leo and I have come to an understanding and found a way to co-exist. I don't want the vacuum cleaner to come between us now.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Are You Leo's Owner?
I was tired last night. Just plain worn out. I didn't walk long distances physically, but I travelled quite a few miles yesterday on behalf of lost things.
The morning started with a call to our local post office. Sunday afternoon Ken couldn't find his wallet. Anywhere. He looked throughout the house, and then I went through every room and drawer because I was sure he just didn't see it. Then we searched the garage and car. No luck. He thought back to the last time he had it in his hand...and it was just before noon on Saturday at the post office, just before closing time.
So I made the call when they opened, and sure enough Ken's wallet was there. The woman tried to find him on Saturday. The problem was that she was working with information on Ken's license, which still lists our old address. That led to a call to our old phone number, which is now my daughter's number, and she doesn't have an answering machine. The postal worker went above and beyond - she also called the credit card company to let them know the card was safe and not stolen in case Ken called to cancel the account. Now that's service.
I figured that while I was out and about collecting Ken's wallet I would stop one town over to check out the posters for the lost cat. Problem: there was not a poster to be found. Someone mentioned the posters on Sunday, so where were they? I stopped in at every business that was open. Every person I talked to remembered seeing the posters but could not put their hands on one. One guy said his neighbor lost an orange cat, so I trooped next door to talk to a woman who lost an orange cat this summer, but he did not match Leo's description. The complicating factor is that the posters were for a cat lost in an area about ten miles from my house. However, I did not want to give up in the unlikely event that Leo is that cat.
Back at my house I called the town hall in the lost cat's town. Not open until 1:00 on Monday. I was supposed to meet my daughter at 1:00 when she left her car at a garage near her house. My daughter had called while I was out to say she would meet me there. I called the mechanic to say I would be late and my daughter might be late, but we were coming and not to give her slot away.
At 1:00 I called the lost cat's town hall. Yes, the woman remembered seeing the poster. No, she did not have one there. Someone else in the office said maybe there was one at the post office. I got that number and called there. Not open until 2:00. Small towns have a whole 'nother concept of time. It has taken some getting used to.
I met my daughter at the garage. Her car was already on the rack. The braking system light that comes on is not dangerous but needs to be fixed - the problem is that the mechanic has never seen that numbered code before and isn't sure what it means. We left the car in his capable hands.
Once at my daughter's house we each took a deep breath. It was only 2:00 and we felt like we'd been up for two days. Time for tea.
I called the other town's post office. Again, yes, she knew of the posters for the lost cat. No, she did not have a poster. She knew where one might be, and if she saw it on her way home she would call me and leave the phone number.
I called the humane society where my daughter got her cats. They could help me in a pinch, but I would have to surrender Leo to them for her to get checked out and vaccinated. I thanked the woman I talked to and hoped I could find Leo's owner soon. My daughter and I chatted about how strange things have been lately - missed connections and miscommunication. I did a bit of sewing, and it was time to get her car, which is in good shape but still needs another visit to fix the mysterious code.
Once back at my house, I hoped to find a message from the postal clerk about the poster. No message. What now? I told Ken the story, wracking my brain for any other places I could call. Bingo! In every town there is a "corner store" that everyone frequents. Sure enough, there was a store listed in the phone book. I called, talked to one more lovely woman who wanted to help, had seen the posters, but did not have one there. She went one step further and offered to make a "found cat" poster and list my phone number. Done.
Now I will wait for the dust to settle and the phone to ring.
The morning started with a call to our local post office. Sunday afternoon Ken couldn't find his wallet. Anywhere. He looked throughout the house, and then I went through every room and drawer because I was sure he just didn't see it. Then we searched the garage and car. No luck. He thought back to the last time he had it in his hand...and it was just before noon on Saturday at the post office, just before closing time.
So I made the call when they opened, and sure enough Ken's wallet was there. The woman tried to find him on Saturday. The problem was that she was working with information on Ken's license, which still lists our old address. That led to a call to our old phone number, which is now my daughter's number, and she doesn't have an answering machine. The postal worker went above and beyond - she also called the credit card company to let them know the card was safe and not stolen in case Ken called to cancel the account. Now that's service.
I figured that while I was out and about collecting Ken's wallet I would stop one town over to check out the posters for the lost cat. Problem: there was not a poster to be found. Someone mentioned the posters on Sunday, so where were they? I stopped in at every business that was open. Every person I talked to remembered seeing the posters but could not put their hands on one. One guy said his neighbor lost an orange cat, so I trooped next door to talk to a woman who lost an orange cat this summer, but he did not match Leo's description. The complicating factor is that the posters were for a cat lost in an area about ten miles from my house. However, I did not want to give up in the unlikely event that Leo is that cat.
Back at my house I called the town hall in the lost cat's town. Not open until 1:00 on Monday. I was supposed to meet my daughter at 1:00 when she left her car at a garage near her house. My daughter had called while I was out to say she would meet me there. I called the mechanic to say I would be late and my daughter might be late, but we were coming and not to give her slot away.
At 1:00 I called the lost cat's town hall. Yes, the woman remembered seeing the poster. No, she did not have one there. Someone else in the office said maybe there was one at the post office. I got that number and called there. Not open until 2:00. Small towns have a whole 'nother concept of time. It has taken some getting used to.
I met my daughter at the garage. Her car was already on the rack. The braking system light that comes on is not dangerous but needs to be fixed - the problem is that the mechanic has never seen that numbered code before and isn't sure what it means. We left the car in his capable hands.
Once at my daughter's house we each took a deep breath. It was only 2:00 and we felt like we'd been up for two days. Time for tea.
I called the other town's post office. Again, yes, she knew of the posters for the lost cat. No, she did not have a poster. She knew where one might be, and if she saw it on her way home she would call me and leave the phone number.
I called the humane society where my daughter got her cats. They could help me in a pinch, but I would have to surrender Leo to them for her to get checked out and vaccinated. I thanked the woman I talked to and hoped I could find Leo's owner soon. My daughter and I chatted about how strange things have been lately - missed connections and miscommunication. I did a bit of sewing, and it was time to get her car, which is in good shape but still needs another visit to fix the mysterious code.
Once back at my house, I hoped to find a message from the postal clerk about the poster. No message. What now? I told Ken the story, wracking my brain for any other places I could call. Bingo! In every town there is a "corner store" that everyone frequents. Sure enough, there was a store listed in the phone book. I called, talked to one more lovely woman who wanted to help, had seen the posters, but did not have one there. She went one step further and offered to make a "found cat" poster and list my phone number. Done.
Now I will wait for the dust to settle and the phone to ring.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Harvest Supper '08
The 23rd annual Harvest Supper for the county Democrats was last evening. It was inspiring to be in a room full of like-minded people who are excited about the possibilities for the future of our state and our country.
Before supper there was time to mill about and meet neighbors ~
As well as time to check out the 120+ items available in the silent auction ~
Then it was time for dinner and speeches by local and statewide candidates ~
I will be interested to hear how many people attended the supper, which is one of the two largest fundraisers for the county held each year. I recognized a few people and met a few more. We all had name tags, so I tried to put faces with names of people I have heard mentioned or may have talked to on the phone.
Before supper there was time to mill about and meet neighbors ~
Then it was time for dinner and speeches by local and statewide candidates ~
I will be interested to hear how many people attended the supper, which is one of the two largest fundraisers for the county held each year. I recognized a few people and met a few more. We all had name tags, so I tried to put faces with names of people I have heard mentioned or may have talked to on the phone.
It was the first time I've taken part in a silent auction. Individuals and businesses donated items, services, and gift cards. On a slip of paper beside each item you write your name and bid - and then someone else can leave a higher bid. You know when the auction will close and wait until the last minute to leave what you hope will be the highest bid on your favorite item(s). I had the highest bid on two items: a coffee punch card for 17 cups of coffee at one of my favorite bakeries and a beautiful stoneware platter that I have to forget I have until Ken gives it to me for Christmas.
I donated a basket with four jars of bruschetta toppings and a bag of bagel chips. I valued it at $10.00 and several people bid throughout the evening. The highest bid was $15! Well, the money is for a good cause.
*Leo update: As I write this post, Leo is sitting on my lap. We invited her in to watch a movie with us Saturday night, and she was so well behaved that we have invited her in to visit since then. She still camps out in the garage to eat and sleep. She looks better every day. Someone mentioned there's a sign for a lost cat in the next town over, so I will check that out today. Someone else has circulated an email with Leo's photo to everyone she knows in my town. If no luck, I will call the animal shelter in the city where my daughter lives to see if they will check Leo over. Then we will look for a good home for her. She is a real sweetie who loves to be with people.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
An Army of Women
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Last week I heard a report about Dr. Susan Love's creation of "an army of women" to help with breast cancer research. The idea is for women to register and become part of a database. Emails that detail the need for women who meet certain criteria (age, locale, background, etc.) will be sent out for women to decide if they want to volunteer to participate, which I understand will be as simple as giving a blood, urine, or tissue sample. I just signed up on Dr. Love's foundation website, which took less than a minute. In the upper right hand corner is a link to "Join the Army." Volunteers are essential for this research to go forward.
This most recent push is to find the causes of breast cancer by studying women who have not had cancer or women who have been cured with no recurrence. Treatment is better than it was thirty years ago. Women are diagnosed earlier than they were thirty years ago. But women still get breast cancer. And women still die from breast cancer.
I will admit that I was weary of the pleas for money - I give a small amount every year to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. This battle against breast cancer has been raging for as long as I can remember. What good does my $20 really do? I was feeling useless this year.
Then three things happened:
1) I saw breast cancer survivors on Oprah, women who were diagnosed, treated, and determined to help other women. Who am I to question what will help or not help when these women have fought for their lives and continue to fight for the lives of other women? Who am I to take my health for granted when I may be able to help other women in some small way?
2) I saw Dr. Susan Love speak on a morning show about her "army of women." I was interested. There might be a way little ol' me can help with research? Sign me up.
3) Elaine, over at WiseWomenCoffeeChat, walked 60 miles this week-end to raise money for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Elaine has raised over $5,000 for breast cancer research. Anne wrote a post about Elaine's walk here. I stopped over and left a comment to thank her for reminding me that there is something each one of us can do in this quest to find the cause(s) of breast cancer so the next generation does not have to lose mothers, daughters, lovers, and friends to this disease.
This most recent push is to find the causes of breast cancer by studying women who have not had cancer or women who have been cured with no recurrence. Treatment is better than it was thirty years ago. Women are diagnosed earlier than they were thirty years ago. But women still get breast cancer. And women still die from breast cancer.
I will admit that I was weary of the pleas for money - I give a small amount every year to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. This battle against breast cancer has been raging for as long as I can remember. What good does my $20 really do? I was feeling useless this year.
Then three things happened:
1) I saw breast cancer survivors on Oprah, women who were diagnosed, treated, and determined to help other women. Who am I to question what will help or not help when these women have fought for their lives and continue to fight for the lives of other women? Who am I to take my health for granted when I may be able to help other women in some small way?
2) I saw Dr. Susan Love speak on a morning show about her "army of women." I was interested. There might be a way little ol' me can help with research? Sign me up.
3) Elaine, over at WiseWomenCoffeeChat, walked 60 miles this week-end to raise money for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Elaine has raised over $5,000 for breast cancer research. Anne wrote a post about Elaine's walk here. I stopped over and left a comment to thank her for reminding me that there is something each one of us can do in this quest to find the cause(s) of breast cancer so the next generation does not have to lose mothers, daughters, lovers, and friends to this disease.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
A Stray Cat
A stray cat has wandered into my life ~
Last night Ken and I settled in to watch The Colbert Report online.
Ken: There's a cat on the porch.
Me: What?
Ken: There's a cat on the porch.
Me: What kind of cat?
Ken: A regular cat...looking at me through the window in the door.
Me: You're kidding....No, you're not kidding. Where did a cat come from?
[We have one neighbor on one side and no houses within sight in any other direction. This cat walked 150 feet up from the road, climbed a full set of stairs, and walked the length of the porch to sit in front of the door to our living room.]
Ken: I don't know.
Me: What should we do?
What followed was a conversation about whether to go outside or stay inside and hope it went away. We did the latter while the cat made itself at home on the mat in front of the door. We watched our show and s/he stayed put.
Our son appeared, headed for the porch to send a text message on his phone [remember that we get no cell reception inside and reception outside in one corner of the porch]. His reaction was much the same as ours. He volunteered to go outside to check out the cat. Turns out the cat was friendly and wore a flea collar.
Me: Well, let me call the neighbor to see if it's theirs [I called and left a message]. It's too late to call animal control.
Ken: I don't want that cat in the house.
Me: Okay. I don't think that would be a good idea, either.
Son: Well, what are you going to do?
Me: It's not safe to leave it outside because there are fisher cats in this area [we learned today that there are also coyotes]. We could put it in the garage [which is attached to the house and heated]. Son, why don't you walk it down to the garage.
I wish I had a video of what happened next. Our son walked across the porch, down the stairs, and around to the garage door, and the cat followed right behind. We got the cat into the garage and then talked about what to do next. I thought it was probably hungry, so I opened cat snacks I just bought for my daughter's cats [Not to worry Iz and Beaz, I will get more]. The cat lapped a few tidbits right up, purring the whole time. Then it meeoowwed. I gave it more snacks. Then I shared bits of chicken left over from dinner and put down a bowl of water. The cat stretched and my son saw it was declawed. One eye looks clouded over and there are patches of matted fur under its chin. But friendly! The cat comes right up and rubs your leg. It purrs at the sight of a human. We decided s/he is probably a housecat.
My son put a piece of wool fabric over the rug by the garage door. I needed a name because it didn't feel right to keep calling the cat It. I decided on Leo, which works for Leona or Leonard. We came into the house for the night.
I thought about all we know and wondered about all we don't. Since Leo is probably an inside cat, s/he knows how to use a litter box. Ah, something else Leo needs. I found a box and Speedy Dry, which Ken uses for spills at work, and set up a litter box. Again, I told Leo good night.
This morning I talked to the animal control officer, who told me the local shelter will be under quarantine for at least another week due to an outbreak of something contagious . He could take the cat to a shelter further away, but I told him I'd check around in the next few days to see if I can find the owner. I took Leo a bit of tuna and assured her [I keep thinking of Leo as a she] that we will keep her until we find her a home.
She'd love to come inside and did skitter in while we loading the car for the recycling barn. She walked right through the downstairs like she knew where she was going. Fortunately, she doesn't mind being picked up. I don't think she really minds the garage but wants to be near people.
Then we took Leo's photo to half a dozen places in town to see if anyone recognized her. No takers. I bought dry cat food.
When we got home she was waiting by the garage door, sitting quietly on her haunches on the piece of wool. I petted her and gave her dry food, which she ate right up. I think she's been hungry for awhile. In petting her and picking her up I realized how thin she is under her fur. She doesn't looked well cared for, or she may have been left alone for a period of time.
[While we were gone our neighbor called to say their cats are all accounted for.]
Whatever her story, Leo will be with us for a few days. She's gentle, personable, and obviously starved for food and attention. Ken and I don't want to own a cat right now, or we would keep her. She would be the perfect pet for a nursing home because of her temperament.
I have never had a stray cat find me before. In fact, I have always been suspicious when someone told me a cat "found" them. Really? How does that happen exactly? Well, now I know, and I live in the middle of nowhere.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Menopauseland
My daughter found a magazine ad that starts:
Greetings from Menopauseland!
What a wild ride so far! Smooth, beautifully paved stretches of road followed by some nasty bumps and potholes, and back to smooth all over again....
That ad came to mind yesterday when I realized I was again on a stretch of road with nasty bumps and potholes. I appreciate the smooth stretches, although they never last long enough. It takes me a week or so to realize I'm back in pothole territory - sleeplessness and night sweats for more than a few nights in a row indicate the terrain has changed.
I had a reprieve on smooth road before and during my trip south. A break in the routine always helps, and travelling to a different place for a week is the best remedy. Then I got home and needed a few days to get back into the routine here. Consciously, I felt good about the trip; subconsciously, I now know I have been working some things out. I was home for a short time when the sleeplessness, night sweats, and hot flashes started again. I kept hoping it was just a blip, but it's been almost two weeks.
Being on this stretch of road came to light yesterday during my appointment for massage therapy. We always start my monthly appointment by talking about what's been going on for me and how my body is doing. Yesterday I shared stories about my trip, time with family, and my interview.
The woman I see for massage therapy is amazing. She has extensive training in a variety of areas and a sense about the connection between people's bodies and their lives. She has known me for almost ten years and is always right on about what is going on with my body.
We talked yesterday about my journey to where I lived as a child and how I am trying to help my mom with her transition. We talked about how the changes we make in ourselves affect the people around us and the energy it takes to be a channel for change. She wondered out loud if my body is ridding itself of "old stuff" with the heat it's emitting. I agreed. I reminded myself that this is a process that will take a long time, even though I have been here many times before and think I am ready to move on.
We talked about fear, how humans still feel fear even though it's often not needed for survival, and how we can overcome the fear by acknowledging it's there and going forward anyway. I thought about how unsure of myself I was during the interview, and then I gave myself credit for doing it anyway. I will never know what's possible if I don't give myself a chance to find out.
I talked about a place in me that I can't get to, that feels like it holds things I need to know. Years ago a counselor likened therapy to peeling an onion, one layer at a time. I get flashes of self-knowledge, and I pay attention because each is a piece of the puzzle. Massage therapy helps me body process the changes I'm going through and makes me aware of the connections between how my body feels and what I know. The combination helps me "be" who I am.
Massage yesterday focused on my abdomen, hips, and legs. The abdominal area "holds" family, security, beginnings. My right hip was a bit off, which was making my neck hurt. The muscles in my legs have been tight the last few months, and they loosen up more easily with each treatment; my legs ground me and help me move forward. I felt better afterward - I always do.
Yesterday afternoon I was the most relaxed I've been in two weeks. I spent time at my daughter's house while my car was at the garage for a new oil pan. I walked two miles and kept moving throughout the afternoon. I was able to get two projects finished.
While my body was busy I was able to think more clearly about Wednesday's interview. Later I revisited the job description that had me so excited about the position. The questions I was asked focused on just one aspect of the job, while the ad lists meeting with established groups of stakeholders around the state and working with schools to develop a protocol for identifying students who would benefit from available services. I took a deep breath. Last night I emailed the woman I met with to thank her for the opportunity to interview for the job and acknowledged that it will be an exciting 18 months for the person who gets the job. When I told my son, he said it sounds as if I'd like to have the job. I think he's right.
Greetings from Menopauseland!
What a wild ride so far! Smooth, beautifully paved stretches of road followed by some nasty bumps and potholes, and back to smooth all over again....
That ad came to mind yesterday when I realized I was again on a stretch of road with nasty bumps and potholes. I appreciate the smooth stretches, although they never last long enough. It takes me a week or so to realize I'm back in pothole territory - sleeplessness and night sweats for more than a few nights in a row indicate the terrain has changed.
I had a reprieve on smooth road before and during my trip south. A break in the routine always helps, and travelling to a different place for a week is the best remedy. Then I got home and needed a few days to get back into the routine here. Consciously, I felt good about the trip; subconsciously, I now know I have been working some things out. I was home for a short time when the sleeplessness, night sweats, and hot flashes started again. I kept hoping it was just a blip, but it's been almost two weeks.
Being on this stretch of road came to light yesterday during my appointment for massage therapy. We always start my monthly appointment by talking about what's been going on for me and how my body is doing. Yesterday I shared stories about my trip, time with family, and my interview.
The woman I see for massage therapy is amazing. She has extensive training in a variety of areas and a sense about the connection between people's bodies and their lives. She has known me for almost ten years and is always right on about what is going on with my body.
We talked yesterday about my journey to where I lived as a child and how I am trying to help my mom with her transition. We talked about how the changes we make in ourselves affect the people around us and the energy it takes to be a channel for change. She wondered out loud if my body is ridding itself of "old stuff" with the heat it's emitting. I agreed. I reminded myself that this is a process that will take a long time, even though I have been here many times before and think I am ready to move on.
We talked about fear, how humans still feel fear even though it's often not needed for survival, and how we can overcome the fear by acknowledging it's there and going forward anyway. I thought about how unsure of myself I was during the interview, and then I gave myself credit for doing it anyway. I will never know what's possible if I don't give myself a chance to find out.
I talked about a place in me that I can't get to, that feels like it holds things I need to know. Years ago a counselor likened therapy to peeling an onion, one layer at a time. I get flashes of self-knowledge, and I pay attention because each is a piece of the puzzle. Massage therapy helps me body process the changes I'm going through and makes me aware of the connections between how my body feels and what I know. The combination helps me "be" who I am.
Massage yesterday focused on my abdomen, hips, and legs. The abdominal area "holds" family, security, beginnings. My right hip was a bit off, which was making my neck hurt. The muscles in my legs have been tight the last few months, and they loosen up more easily with each treatment; my legs ground me and help me move forward. I felt better afterward - I always do.
Yesterday afternoon I was the most relaxed I've been in two weeks. I spent time at my daughter's house while my car was at the garage for a new oil pan. I walked two miles and kept moving throughout the afternoon. I was able to get two projects finished.
While my body was busy I was able to think more clearly about Wednesday's interview. Later I revisited the job description that had me so excited about the position. The questions I was asked focused on just one aspect of the job, while the ad lists meeting with established groups of stakeholders around the state and working with schools to develop a protocol for identifying students who would benefit from available services. I took a deep breath. Last night I emailed the woman I met with to thank her for the opportunity to interview for the job and acknowledged that it will be an exciting 18 months for the person who gets the job. When I told my son, he said it sounds as if I'd like to have the job. I think he's right.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Another Soggy Wednesday
This just in: Maine had the wettest September on record since 1871. And October started amidst the raindrops.
Because it was so gray today, for my interview I wore the brightest blazer I own. The blazer is a shade of red that's more on the coral side than the fire engine side. I feel good when I wear it. I paired it with a white long-sleeved jewel-neck shirt. Then I donned black slacks and my favorite beaded necklace.
I was as ready as I could be. I asked someone to read the job description and share her impressions; I used her insights and questions to prepare for the interview. I reviewed the organization's website and, in my mind, made connections to other projects and organizations I have worked with.
The interview was in the same building complex I worked in last year, which made it easy to get there and find parking. I was greeted by a receptionist behind a solid glass window, and she called the woman who had scheduled the interview. We proceeded through a door, that opened with a security code, to the "pink wing" where the rooms have been painted different shades of pink to bring some color to the maze of small office spaces. We went into a small room painted a deep rose color, just big enough for a round table that seats four people.
Small talk. Then the first question: Do I have a reliable car? Yes, I do. Why? Because this job requires miles and miles of travel all over the state of Maine. To put that in perspective - I live an hour and a half from the southern border of Maine and at least six hours from the northernmost border. That's not to say I would need to drive that far, but she mentioned towns that are four hours from my house.
The interview continued with a number of questions about how I would go into a community, one that I have never visited and where I know no one, and start a youth advisory group. Those are tough questions to answer. It's one thing to have connections and a place to begin. It's another thing to start cold calling to ask community members to recommend young people who may (or may not) be interested in joining an effort to create a group to advise adults on the mental health needs of youth.
I was asked questions based on situations the interviewer has faced herself. I answered the best I could. She has already faced these situations. She already knows what she did when she was faced with disgruntled community members and schedule conflicts.
It was my turn to ask questions, and I asked if she and I would be working together. Ummmm... not so much. She is juggling multiple projects and wants someone else to manage this grant. We would have a chance to talk, but for the most part the person hired for this job will be working on their own.
Well, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I'm looking for a job where I am part of a team. I want to share ideas and work with other people toward a common goal. I am disappointed that this is not part of this job.
My son was the first person home this evening. He asked me how the interview went, and I explained to him what I have written here. Then I asked him if he could see me doing a job like that. He said he only knows me as a teacher, so he really doesn't know.... Then he asked me if I would take the job if it was offered to me, and I didn't know how to answer him.
I have no way of knowing who else was interviewed or what their qualifications are. This grant project was supposed to begin two months ago, so time is short. The person hired needs to hit the ground running. The person who interviewed me has had things happen in her personal life that will push back hiring someone until next week, at the earliest. Would I take the job if it was offered to me?
I really don't know. This is not what I want to do, and it would be an 18-month commitment. There aren't that many openings for the kind of work I want to do, so would it be wise to pass up any opportunity to work in the social service field? I will put that question out to the universe if an offer comes my way.
After the job interview I met with the store owner who is interested in carrying my product in her store. That was the best part of my day - talking product development with someone who wants to work with me. That's what I want to do. Maybe that's the answer. It's not a paycheck, but it does fulfill my wish to work with people toward a common goal. It would be wonderful to be paid for the work I love to do. Maybe that's not meant to be right now....
Because it was so gray today, for my interview I wore the brightest blazer I own. The blazer is a shade of red that's more on the coral side than the fire engine side. I feel good when I wear it. I paired it with a white long-sleeved jewel-neck shirt. Then I donned black slacks and my favorite beaded necklace.
I was as ready as I could be. I asked someone to read the job description and share her impressions; I used her insights and questions to prepare for the interview. I reviewed the organization's website and, in my mind, made connections to other projects and organizations I have worked with.
The interview was in the same building complex I worked in last year, which made it easy to get there and find parking. I was greeted by a receptionist behind a solid glass window, and she called the woman who had scheduled the interview. We proceeded through a door, that opened with a security code, to the "pink wing" where the rooms have been painted different shades of pink to bring some color to the maze of small office spaces. We went into a small room painted a deep rose color, just big enough for a round table that seats four people.
Small talk. Then the first question: Do I have a reliable car? Yes, I do. Why? Because this job requires miles and miles of travel all over the state of Maine. To put that in perspective - I live an hour and a half from the southern border of Maine and at least six hours from the northernmost border. That's not to say I would need to drive that far, but she mentioned towns that are four hours from my house.
The interview continued with a number of questions about how I would go into a community, one that I have never visited and where I know no one, and start a youth advisory group. Those are tough questions to answer. It's one thing to have connections and a place to begin. It's another thing to start cold calling to ask community members to recommend young people who may (or may not) be interested in joining an effort to create a group to advise adults on the mental health needs of youth.
I was asked questions based on situations the interviewer has faced herself. I answered the best I could. She has already faced these situations. She already knows what she did when she was faced with disgruntled community members and schedule conflicts.
It was my turn to ask questions, and I asked if she and I would be working together. Ummmm... not so much. She is juggling multiple projects and wants someone else to manage this grant. We would have a chance to talk, but for the most part the person hired for this job will be working on their own.
Well, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I'm looking for a job where I am part of a team. I want to share ideas and work with other people toward a common goal. I am disappointed that this is not part of this job.
My son was the first person home this evening. He asked me how the interview went, and I explained to him what I have written here. Then I asked him if he could see me doing a job like that. He said he only knows me as a teacher, so he really doesn't know.... Then he asked me if I would take the job if it was offered to me, and I didn't know how to answer him.
I have no way of knowing who else was interviewed or what their qualifications are. This grant project was supposed to begin two months ago, so time is short. The person hired needs to hit the ground running. The person who interviewed me has had things happen in her personal life that will push back hiring someone until next week, at the earliest. Would I take the job if it was offered to me?
I really don't know. This is not what I want to do, and it would be an 18-month commitment. There aren't that many openings for the kind of work I want to do, so would it be wise to pass up any opportunity to work in the social service field? I will put that question out to the universe if an offer comes my way.
After the job interview I met with the store owner who is interested in carrying my product in her store. That was the best part of my day - talking product development with someone who wants to work with me. That's what I want to do. Maybe that's the answer. It's not a paycheck, but it does fulfill my wish to work with people toward a common goal. It would be wonderful to be paid for the work I love to do. Maybe that's not meant to be right now....
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