Frogs and Ravens

Picky Picky

I'm beginning to experience mild feelings of dread every time my temp agent contacts me about a new lead for a permanent job. So far the positions she's come up with are not at all appealing, though they certainly seem within my range of abilities -- such as fact-checker for a medical insurance company.

Why the dread? Well, none of these positions have been anything I'd want to do except on a temporary basis. It's one thing to do something boring or in a field that doesn't interest one if it's only for a few weeks. It's another to make it been your permanent Job. (Yes, I know -- there's nothing keeping me from continuing the search while so employed -- I feel uncomfortable doing this if I don't have to, though.) So I am quite reluctant to say yes, and then I feel both guilty and ungrateful; my agent is working for me to find something she thinks I'd like, and I keep saying no. Guilt would be a lousy reason to take a job, of course, but the promise of financial stability such jobs offer makes me wonder sometimes if I'm cutting off my nose to spite my face. I DON'T want to be a clerical drone in an uninteresting company -- but how long can I afford to be choosy about this?

I don't even know if I am being unduly picky, or not. I have no standards by which to judge such things -- is this PhD-induced arrogance, or simple awareness of my interests and skills? Not having a cohort of friends in a similar situation (beyond you, dear readers) adds to my confusion and hesitation.

It's hard to let go of one's dreams -- even when they are second choice dreams.

Telemarketers

If you haven't done so already, you might want to sign up for the no-call anti-telemarketing service by calling 1-888-382-1222 from your home phone, or by going to http://www.donotcall.gov. (Note: the site did not seem to work properly with Netscape 6, although Netscape 4.7 worked just fine. Go figure.) The block will take place 3 months after you register.

Like Reality, But Not

I think I've finally figured out the essence of Chronicle first person articles. To the casual observer, they look like representations of real life. For the person actually experiencing the sort of events narrated, they bear as much resemblance to true life as Disneyland's Main Street does to small town America.

This article today offers a case in point. In it, the author shares her thoughts and (initially) mixed feelings about leaving a tenure-track job for an uncertain career path outside the ivory tower. As someone who was tossed out, and not from even a tenure-track job (well, at least I didn't have far to fall), reading this felt like encountering a sick parody of my own life.

She worries about what to say to her colleagues, fearing that they will find her frivolous. I, meanwhile, feared their pity.

She frets briefly about finding work, then decides to take the advice of her husband and just enjoy being "free" from the demands of academia. I am still fretting about work, and would love to be free from worries about where my next paycheck will come from, whether I can afford rent and health insurance and food, etc.

And this just made me laugh: I spent time with friends and neighbors, and talked freely about my job situation and desires. Then, somewhere along the line, I made a thrilling discovery: I was networking.

I thought I had made useful connections as an academic, but the speed with which contacts are made beyond the ivory tower simply blew me away. Forget six degrees of separation: It seemed that everyone I knew either knew someone who did what I was contemplating, or knew someone who knew someone who did.

Mention to a neighbor that you're interested in a certain kind of freelance work, and suddenly there's an e-mail message in your in box with contact information for three other people in town who do just that and can help hook you up. Express interest in writing careers to one of the parents in your child's play group and a week later find yourself invited to dinner with their friend, the technical writer. Joke casually at a neighborhood potluck about the fantasy careers that sustained you in grad school and discover not only someone who has done the first (mail carrier), but also someone who secretly harbors the second (opening a coffee house) and happens to know the owner of an up-and-coming fair-trade coffee roasting venture that just moved into town.

This has very much NOT been my experience. None of my friends, old and young, have any connections or suggestions to offer beyond periodically emailing me yet another URL for an online job search engine. The only thing resembling spontaneous networking has been repeatedly encountering someone doing customer service or similar who says, "Yeah, I was a temp once too. Isn't the flexibility great?" (Not really.)

She's living in Chronicle-land, yessiree...

Filing Zen

I had work today! Combined with another day of work tomorrow, I'll be able to pay for my groceries for this month -- a good thing.

It was soothing work, too. Mostly filing, plus some faxing and sorting and stapling and mailing. I spent the day in a quiet back room with one other person and nothing was difficult or frustrating. Yet I was not bored, just calm. I don't know that I'd want to do this for the rest of my life -- or even for more than a week if there's nothing new to learn -- but for today it was rather nice.

Rough Seas around the Ivory Tower

The image I've always had of the ivory tower has been a lighthouse -- a tall pinnacle made of ivory, fluted like a narwhal's horn, with ivy twining around its base. A poetic image, yes?

One aspect of the ivory tower as lighthouse is that it serves as a mediator between the learning (light) of those within and the needs of those trying to sail past the rough shoals and high waves of an often stormy sea. The importance of this role means that those who man the tower can often find it easy to assume that they are the only source of light in the world, and that the rest of humanity would crash into briny darkness without them.

In some limited ways, this is true. The lighthouse is necessary, and offers insight along an often rough passage. Yet what the denizens of the ivory lighthouse sometimes forget is that not all travel in the world is done within sight of its beacon, and that the lighthouse itself is not immune from the storms that assail the ships it guides.

In this context, you might want to take a look at this thread on the Chronicle's jobs forum; here's a pretty clear example of how the folks housed in the lower stories of the ivory lighthouse are good -- but often ignored -- sentinels when the waves from the outside world begin tearing at the base of the structure.

Lighter than a Feather, Weightier than Gold

Today this site told me, "Your soul is worth �54814. For your peace of mind, 11% of people have a purer soul than you."*

Not bad. At least I can now count myself among the virtuous poor.

I wonder, though, if splurging money on a haircut today will reduce my asking price?


* That's US$87,024.80, according to this currency converter.

Personal Libraries

Here's an interesting approach to sorting one's books -- my topic/author/size/aesthetics approach seems woefully prosaic by comparison.

Job Search Absurdity

Starring Rana Unemployed, Job Seeker and Accidental Thespian.

Opening montage of Rana eating breakfast, cruising job sites on the web, writing and revising and editing again a cover letter, struggling to convince the computer to print, to send a fax, to check email.

Rana carefully dresses as if she is going to work. She puts on pantyhose, nice skirt, blouse and jacket. Discovers rip in skirt, repairs, and finishes getting dressed. She pulls on her low flat pumps, picks up a neatly labeled envelope containing a cover letter and resume, swings her purse over her shoulder, and leaves the house. She unlocks her car, places envelope and purse on the seat, and removes jacket. She then gets in the car and drives away.

Scene of urban traffic, viewed as if through a car windshield, at double or triple time.

Rana parks her car outside the company that advertised for the position she wants. She gets out and carefully puts on her jacket and checks her appearance in the car mirror. She walks over to the parking meter and inserts two dimes. She pauses, then inserts two more. She then strides up to the front door, takes off her sunglasses and walks up to the receptionist's desk.

Receptionist: Can I help you?

Rana (holding out envelope): Yes. I have this packet for Human Resources. Will you see that they get it?

Receptionist (taking envelope): Yes. I'll see that it gets to them. Thank you.

Rana: Thank you. Good-bye.

Receptionist: Good-bye.

Rana leaves the building, puts on her sunglasses and walks back to her car. She puts the purse on the seat and takes off her jacket again. She sees a woman pulling into a parking space across the street.

Rana (loudly): There's still time on this meter!

Woman in Car: Thanks!

Rana gets into her car and pulls away while the woman in the car pulls in behind her.

Reprise of high-speed trip through city, in reverse.

Rana arrives back at her apartment, picks up the purse, puts on the jacket again, and returns to her apartment. She then takes off her professional clothes and puts on a tank top and comfy shorts.

Fade out as she logs on again...

Fin.

Modes of Transportation

Delivery trucks
Cars and vans
A big yellow schoolbus
Planes flying overhead
City buses
A bright red trolley
Bicycles flying by
People walking

All of them seen
Without turning my head
In three city blocks.

Lazy Sunday

Morning newspaper
Farmer's market and fresh milk
A walk in the park.