In which I haven’t posted in a month!
I’m alive, I love my new job, my trip to Seattle to see Amma was wonderful.
Someday I’ll write a real post. I promise.
In which I haven’t posted in a month!
I’m alive, I love my new job, my trip to Seattle to see Amma was wonderful.
Someday I’ll write a real post. I promise.
In which there is a running list.
6:02 wake up for no god damned reason
7:19 wake up for no god damned reason
8:10 turn off alarm, get out of bed
8:11 search ‘copy edit test’
9:00 eat a mushroom, asparagus, and cheddar omelet
9:15 leave the house
9:48 take copy editing test at the U-B
10:49 say “Yeah, I’ve been over it three times already anyway.”
11:03 reply to texts while sitting in Starbucks with a grande dark roast coffee
11:18 search for ‘ap stylebook’
11:59 change into fleece drawstring pants in bedroom
12:02 go to Loney’s
12:58 put groceries away
1:22 search ‘sardine recipe’, find this
1:45 cook and eat a really bizarre meal (ingredients were butter, garlic, mushroom, blackeye peas, cream, parmesan, avocado, and chives)
2:01 make the bed
2:05 drink cold, leftover coffee
2:15 surf more recipes
job hunt fuck around online some more, FB chat with Mel
4:33 wake up from catnap with actual cat
4:36 put some lentils on to cook
4:48 fold laundry
5:05 take lentils off, eat some
5:15 go visit the wendover-briggs machine
In which unemployment continues apace.
I got laid off three and a half weeks ago. I have no idea how it’s been three and a half weeks already, but it has.
I’ve been catching up on little projects, like throwing shit out and/or taking it to Goodwill and getting all the laundry done and folded and put away and the drawers and closet divested of any garment I haven’t worn in at least two years and cleaning unused products out of that little stand I store them in and in general getting rid of shit.
I’ve been sleeping 10 hours every night and it is GLORIOUS. God, how I love not waking up to an alarm.
I’ve applied for a grand total of exactly one jobs I’m interested in, and it’s part-time and probably pays a buck an hour over minimum wage. Having to have two part-time jobs would be very difficult for me because of scheduling around gigs, and to be honest if I had to choose between gigging and some part-time job, gigging would win.
I have yet to receive my first unemployment deposit, so I’m pretty much broke. Luckily I have gigs this weekend so I won’t starve or — even worse — have to go without cheap wine.
It’s currently 51F and raining outside. The daffodils and lilacs are blooming. I fucking love the weather in this town. Sorry if you’re one of those poor bastards with a foot of snow in your yard.
My Sprint contract is finally up so I’ve decided to switch to a pay-as-you go carrier instead. I bought a phone off eBay but, for some mysterious reason, it won’t work here and I have to return it. Dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of, really: I could activate it with a Portland zip code then come here to visit and it would work, but they can’t activate it here due to — I assume — roaming and contractural shit with the local tower owners. I guess Sprint gets yet another month of overpayment from me.
I wonder what it is about telephony that makes all phone companies, be they wired or wireless, turn into greedy bastards with shit customer service and massive overcharges. I mean, when I signed up they told me it would be $65 a month; it’s actually $82. That’s $82 a month for unlimited everything which I have never used but which I am required to pay for because of my choice of handset. Why didn’t they just tell me that in the first place? I’ll tell you: because they know I would have walked out and gone to Walmart and bought a TracPhone instead. Fuck subsidizing your network, Sprint. Get lean, you fuckers, don’t overcharge me. I barely even use your fucking network, and also fuck you for advertising ‘unlimited data’ when we all know you throttle like a motherfucker.
For the very first time in my life I left filing my taxes until the 15th. I owed $91 and I’m unemployed so I just didn’t want to pay it. I’m half-convinced the 1099 I received from Telcentris is a mistake (I really don’t think I contracted for them in 2012, but the laptop that has my timesheets and invoices on it is dead) and I couldn’t be arsed to spend hours trying to call them and dispute it and have it canceled. On the other hand, I might have invoiced them in 2011 but received a final check in 2012… eh, it’s ninety bucks. It ultimately doesn’t matter.
Free time, though, is awesome. You get to everything. You can pluck your eyebrows and take baths. You can organize shit that you’ve left sitting because it really isn’t that important and you’re more interested in fucking off when you’re not at work than you are in checking off that tiny little box. You make your bed every morning. You do your friend’s dishes when she’s out of town for the weekend and you’ve gone over to feed the cat. You finish all those books that have been sitting on your Kindle for a year.
Well, I gotta get motivated. Gotta send this cute little cell phone back and figure out what I can take to eat at the gig later. Have a great weekend, y’all.
In which I’m totally outta there and it hasn’t even been four days.
For some reason I got my final pay (56 hours regular, 40 vacation, and 30 severance) direct deposited almost immediately. Today my final pay stub came in the mail. My ex-employer has contacted me exactly only once to ask a question.
Wow. I guess my job really was superfluous. Either that or I left everything so well-organized that it’s totally… nah. I’m superfluous. Fucking awesome.
I need to get married and stay home and cook or something, because fuck this professional shit. I’m never going to find a part-engineering/part-data center/part-support gig ever, ever again. Such jobs don’t exist because the small ISP no longer exists. There are a couple of point-to-point wireless companies around here but I’m no longer interested in climbing ladders and towers to adjust radios after wind storms. (I mean five, ten years ago I would have been into it, but not now.) Not that either of them would be hiring anyway; they’re shrinking just like everybody else.
I’m only barely qualified to work IT at a school or hospital. I could certainly learn it all, but they generally want a couple years of managing Exchange servers and tweaking Active Directory and I haven’t had the misfortune of having to do that.
I don’t mind waitressing or working at a grocery store deli in theory, but I’m not terribly keen on standing all day or being utterly and totally trained on everything there is to know in under four weeks. I may look for some kind of office-y desk job; maybe there’s some industrial office that needs a bookkeeper/receptionist who doesn’t mind the occasional filthy joke.
Do you know I got an email only a few months ago telling me that my WorkSource account was about to expire? I had been gainfully employed for over a year so I let it go. Ugh! Now I have to rebuild my entire profile from scratch, and believe you me their data entry interface is a fucking tedious mess. Christ but resumes are a bother.
This morning I searched the JobSource website for all open jobs in Walla Walla. There are a grand total of eight. EIGHT JOBS. IN THE ENTIRE TOWN*. One of them is for a mobile phlebotomist; obviously not qualified for that. The other is RN; nope, I’m sure not a nurse. Couple of food service jobs, a trucking job… and one office job: it’s in a real estate office, and it’s a baby tier office chick position updating web sites and social media accounts and — insult to injury – it pays more than my last job did. UPLOADING PICTURES OF HOUSES AND RUNNING A FACEBOOK PAGE PAYS MORE THAN HAVING ROOT ON AN MX SERVER.
Ugh. I’m going to end up being that lady at the end of the aisle at the grocery store passing out samples of sugar-laden meatballs or some shit. Ugh!
I got bored of resume-building and went and did my taxes. I owe $91 dollars because I got a 1099-MISC from Telcentris (even though I’m really pretty sure I haven’t invoiced them since 2011 because I was working full-time at BMI all through 2012). Ugh. Ugh ugh UGH. So I either pursue a 1099 correction, or I pay the taxes, or I just leave it off my return and hope no one notices. Christ, 2013, WTF is wrong with you?
* Actually, that was a browser error – there were more like 80 after I refreshed. But I’m still not qualified for most of them because WHY DIDN’T I GO TO NURSING SCHOOL WHY WHY WHY.
In which I’m unemployed again.
In September of 2011 I had just finished a networking certificate at the community college and was beginning to freak out because my unemployment benefits were running out. Three days before they did, my ex-employer tracked me down and offered me a job with okay pay and a decent title. I accepted gleefully.
I was already trained on their ancient and kludgey software, knew the people, and could ride my bike to work. Great hours, no particular dress code, and a sweet office. Perfect!
A year later I realized that the title was titular; most of the real systems administration was being handled by some subcontractor in Europe and the company was rapidly putting more and more of what little stuff it had left into the cloud. I wasn’t being trained on anything new and wasn’t going to be. Most of my day was taken up with annoying and tedious first tier technical support calls, and attempts at little special projects I never got very far with because of the constant interruptions. Periodically a co-worker would log me into the other queues as well so I’d be taking billing and reception calls too. In essence, I was a first tier call center drone with an office instead of a cubicle.
During the past six months the workload has gotten lighter and lighter. More and more attrition, fewer and fewer calls, more and more services out of the data center and into the cloud. All I was doing, really, was first tier support, messing about testing mobile broadband devices and feeling guilty about not getting the vmail file cleaned up or moving those Hostopia sites. Any actual sysadmin duties were vanishingly rare.
Then they cut my hours and took me off salary, and started routing evening and weekend support traffic to a call center. As we all know, you never get your hours back: when you get cut it’s because they’re trying to keep you but can’t afford to. The owner of the company had cornered me a couple of times and told me he wanted me to go sit for my CCNA — even said he’d rent me a car to go do it — and said he’d sign a 2-year employment contract if I did, so even though I knew the bottom line had dictated a cut in hours I really was surprised when I got to work this morning and was summoned immediately to a meeting.
Usually you know weeks in advance if you’re gonna get laid off. The contract thing threw off my radar, I guess, but I have to admit I did feel a bit of relief. I’ve been basically counting the hours until Amma’s tour schedule comes out and I could book my vacation dates in May because I’ve needed a vacation so bad and was getting kinda sick of going in there five days a week and not really doing the job I wanted to be doing. I mean, the last time I quit working there it was because I was bored and there was no room for growth which is kinda where I was at this time too.
If you read my Twitter feed you know that I’ve been doing first tier calls for far too damn long. I was not being utilized or engaged at work. I’ve had more than one person encourage me to go find something better to do, but it’s hard to beat an easy job ten blocks from your house when it comes to certain kinds of comfort. I wasn’t even idly job hunting. But now that the universe has seen fit to kick me out, I guess I’ll look for something else.
I was told I’ll get my vacation pay and a week’s severance, but my main concern right now is that I wasn’t employed long enough to be eligible for unemployment benefits. My base year probably started in January of 2011 but I didn’t go back to work until September. As usual, I’m concerned about the tech job market in this town (because there basically isn’t one) and am trying to figure out what else I might do… right now though I’m looking forward to sleeping in for the rest of the week, and maybe doing some utterly irresponsible unemployed day drinking if I can find people who are similarly free.
I’ll file on Friday and hope to God I’m eligible; if I’m not I guess I’ll go and get a food handler’s card next week and start applying at restaurants and grocery store delis. In between, I’m going to go all SPRING CLEANING with my free time and haul a bunch of shit to the Goodwill on the back of my bike.
This is the only time I’ve ever lost a job that didn’t really sting in that sort of hurt-and-embarrassed sort of way. I didn’t know it was coming until I was in the room and felt the vibe, and when they said it I was sort of like, “Eh, cool, I can sleep in tomorrow,” rather than struggling with that flush of heat and shame you’re usually operating through.
I spent an hour wiping my data off my machine (God I hope I got it all — some of it is really not shit you want other people accessing) and collecting all the stupid personal crap one accumulates in one’s office drawers, turned in my keys, and took off by eleven. I hadn’t even finished my coffee.
I’m going to do absolutely nothing of use for the rest of this week. Absolutely nothing at all! Please contact me if you want to give me a job, thanks.
In which there’s a post because I haven’t been posting for shit for MONTHS.
Okay, so, the new prescription. I now have new glasses and new contacts. Full-on examination routine at the optometrists’ because I’m old: glaucoma tests, retinal images, the works. The new prescription is awesome for distance-viewing (holy SHIT things are clear), but I can’t read — or even see whatever food I’m eating — because I can’t focus on anything less than an arm’s distance away from my face. I’m practicing near vision by looking at things progressively closer to myself and waiting for my eyes to adjust but this sucks and is tedious. Not being able to read a book with one’s contacts in is really lame.
My cycle is getting weirder all the time. My luteal phase is still a textbook perfect 14 days, but my follicular phase is erratic as hell and was only 12 days in February. Two months ago I had a 24-day cycle, which needless to say I was unprepared for. I mean, my average used to be 33 days; now it’s about 29, but seriously: nobody expects a 24-day cycle. That’s just plain insanity. Also the return of the acne: Jesus Christ don’t even get me started on the subject of zits. Good job, hormones.
I think I’ve had some mild hot flashes, too. On the other hand, thaaaaat could just be the unholy amount of wine I drink sometimes messing with my subjective experience of internal temperature. Hard to tell. My hair is probably quite gray but I keep getting it colored. Sometimes my knees hurt. I now feel officially nasty looking lasciviously at dudes under 30.
All of this shit leads me to conclude that I’m old. I’d had no idea youth would be so short, really. I’ve still probably got half my life left, but if my knees are gonna hurt I just don’t know about this because nothing used to bother me more than listening to older people endlessly catalog their maladies like I’ve just done.
Today I am home with a chest cold and laryngitis. Colds make me hungry. Nah, colds make me starving. Excuse me while I go hork down a bowl of curry and then take a two-hour nap with weird dreams.
In which I haven’t posted in over a month so I’m just gonna spew some utterly boring crap into a CMS interface and publish it.
Oh, not much.
Well the usual. Some gigs and stuff. Work, a lot of time fucking off in IRC with kids, some time visiting with friends – mostly the Wendover-Briggs Machine on their comfy patio. A couple loads of laundry, some cooking, some cleaning. I bought some ebooks, took some naps, got my hair did.
The band’s been working up the material from the new album. The guitar festival is next month! Come see it!
I got new glasses and new contacts: expensive but so needed, and I also had my teeth cleaned. I’d much rather spend that money on the vacation I so desperately need, but of course I don’t have insurance and I need the services so the money has to be spent.
(In related news I’m really pretty pissed off that I am going to be required to carry a health insurance policy I can’t afford in the very near future. I mean, if I could afford it I WOULD ALREADY FUCKING HAVE IT. (One of the many reasons I choose not to own a car is the expense of insurance. In all my years of paying car insurance, I never once got anything back out of it. Even if you pay for years and your claim is valid, they find a way to deny you.) Like the lottery, insurance appears to be nothing more than an idiot tax, but unlike the lottery it’s fucking mandatory. Insurance is merely a way to make the greedy richer, just to make a hideously weak blanket statement.)
I got my hours cut 25% and have been taken off salary and demoted to hourly. My employer says this change is intended to make me happier in my job, but I’m not sure how a pay cut is supposed to increase my contentment. In compensation for the cut, I’m supposed to be free of first-tier calls, but for now they’re still happening. Hopefully when the kinks are ironed out I won’t have to set up dial-up with some old guy on Windows 95 ever, ever again.
I’m now working 10 – 5, so the waking up at 5:30 bullshit is curtailed for the nonce, but I don’t really feel like I have more time off. Maybe I’ll decide to work 8 – 3 and get a PT evening job, except that would never work with my gig schedule so fuck it. While I do get pissy sometimes about having to do gigs, at the base I’m grateful I gig frequently enough to even be grumpy about it.
I have seen no Oscar nominated films. I consume very little news. I watch BBC shows on streaming video sometimes. I have about 30 books on my Kindle I haven’t finished reading. I took a three-hour nap last Sunday afternoon after sleeping in late and before going to bed early.
Apropos of nothing, I spend a lot of time wondering about the people who find it necessary to admit they’re posting/IRCing/tweeting/etc while pooping. Is this a sign of poor potty training, or a wonderful lack of shame? I just cant TELL.
In which there’s a sterotypical Monday goddamned morning.
My alarm goes off when it’s still full dark outside so I push snooze at least three times because fuck getting out of bed before the sun’s up if you’re not about to get on a plane and go somewhere.
Roll out at the last possible minute, go to the dark kitchen and start a pot of coffee. Walk through the dark house. Take a shower. Walk back through the house opening drapes: day is breaking, but it’s dismal and overcast and still raining.
Dry hair, dress–at least I did laundry yesterday so all my clothes are clean–cook, pour coffee. Eye the rain through the kitchen window. Put on another layer of clothes: immediately begin to overheat. Push my glasses up and the left hinge breaks. Strip off my layers and go see if it can be fixed: no, it can’t be fixed. Go to the front bathroom and put in my contacts. Now I’m late to work.
Suit back up. Ride to work in the goddamned rain. The sky is grey and it’s so wet my brakes barely work.
My first caller of the day required me to spell vzam.net several times and he still had it wrong at the end of the call. I don’t know how to be more clear than spelling it phonetically for you SEVEN FUCKING TIMES: “Listen, listen, it’s v like victor, z like zulu, a like alpha, m like mike, dot november echo tango.” I cannot try any fucking harder, people.
My second, fifth, and eighth calls were some old dude who has basically never used a computer before and who requires me to dictate support steps so he can write them down and who also insists on talking instead of listening. Why do so many people not observe the social covenant that indicates the questioner should SHUT THE FUCK UP AFTER ASKING A QUESTION so that the answerer may answer?
Taking first tier dial-up calls in the morning makes me really mad sometimes; I know I should be beyond it but there’s a part of me that really is a snob: if you cannot follow basic, simple, direct, clear instructions, your stupidity makes me mad. IT JUST DOES.
Welcome to (the first) Monday (of the year).
In which there’s a small party.
My soft plan for Monday night’s festivities was to get off work, go home, take a disco nap, bathe, dress, and then wander down to Marcy’s for the midnight champagne. Instead I left work and rode straight to Mark & Embo’s house and never left.
We had Thai carry-out, a fire, music, and many beverages. Three awesome girls showed up around eleven. At midnight we drank champagne and said cheers and kissed. By two I was asleep on the futon next to Kimi.
Next morning there was lounging about, eggs, a couple of bloody marys, and a Harry Potter movie. I went home and went to bed around two o’clock.
Wishes that everyone has a wonderful 2013.
In which there are observations.
Apparently the method for both sleeping all night and — bonus — waking up a couple of minutes before your alarm goes off is to stop at Embo’s house on the way home from work and get drunk and then go home and put yourself to bed by nine-thirty without any dinner.
This morning I rode to work in 27° freezing fog. It was foggy. And freezing.