Today was a good day.
Having stewed about my claim denial from unemployment for two days, I was feeling ready to deal with it without ripping anyone's head off. I pulled out the forms to dispute the decision and started to look them over before deciding I should make clean copies of them first. I figured I'd scan them into my computer since I didn't really need them unless I screwed something up.
I scanned the first two pages with no problem but on the third page I received an error message stating that the driver software could not be found and the program was shutting down. Then my scanner stopped working. I took a deep breath and decided to make regular copies instead.
After copying the pages I started looking for a paperclip, which means I had to look in my desk. You cannot begin to imagine how many distracting things are in my desk. I pulled out old receipts, looked them over, threw most of them away, pulled out business cards, tried to decide if they were important, found my screaming flying monkey slingshot...played with it...attempted to video tape the flight of said screaming flying monkey...the monkey of course refused to scream on camera.
Okay, I finally put away the monkey and the camera, stapled my papers together (I never did find any paperclips), and got back to business. I started to fill out the papers again when I remembered that I had never updated my address with either of the companies I worked for in Florida last year and I needed to do that to get my W-2 forms. I googled Michael's, found their number, called it, found out I had to email or fax a request to get them to make the change. I don't have a fax machine so it was going to be email. Slight problem. They require a signature. Which means I needed sign my request and then scan it. Scan it.
The scanner still wasn't working.
Back on trusty FaceBook (where I had been wasting a fair amount of time in between activities) to ask if anyone knew how to fix my scanner. I got the tried and true advice to restart the computer, which, of course, worked.
Once again ready to get things done, I wrote a request for my address change, signed it, scanned it and emailed it. Whew. One thing done.
Next, I had to call Wachovia. I talked to one of the girls I used to work with down there and, after chit-chatting a bit, she gave me a number to call, which, after going through a whole lot of automated nonsense, turned out to be the wrong number. I was given a different number where I went through some different automated annoyance and finally reached a human who transferred me to a human who changed my address. Deeep breath.
Back to the unemployment paperwork.
I looked the paperwork over again and then decided I should call and talk to someone before doing anything. Twelve long minutes later, I spoke to a representative who said, regarding my denial, "Oh don't worry about that. That's the first notice. That one always says that." She then told me to fill out one of the forms and fax it in with my last paystub and told me they would review it from there. I managed to thank her and get off the phone without screaming.
Thankfully, I had cleared yesterday's snow off my car first thing this morning so I jumped in the car and went to the "Career Center" to fax in the paperwork and, finally, at nearly 3:30 this afternoon finished the task I had set out to do at around ten this morning.
In my world, I count that as a productive day.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
I Hate Being Right
I knew that I wouldn't just get approved for unemployment. I knew there would be a problem. I knew this, because that is just the way it goes for me.
Still, I stared stupidly at the form I received from unemployment in this afternoon's mail. My claim has been denied.
Beyond being flabbergasted by their determination, beyond being irritated that they are not showing that I had any income for the last quarter - the one I just finished working- and even knowing that I can try to fight this, I am just so angry that I can't think straight.
I'm angry that, despite the fact that I have worked since I was sixteen years old I'm not "eligible" for unemployment benefits. I'm angry that so many other people sit on their asses and do nothing while collecting public assistance of one kind or another year after year and on the one occasion when I am the one in need of assistance I am turned down.
I collected unemployment one other time in my life. It was over ten years ago. I had been laid off from my job at Native Textiles. I was thinking about making a career change, trying to decide what direction I wanted to go in, when I received a call from a staffing agency whose help I had not requested. Apparently, Native Textiles must have informed them that I was no longer working. I told them that I was exploring other options and that I didn't want their help at the moment.
A few days later, I received a call from that same staffing agency. They said they had an opportunity they thought would be just perfect for me. It turned out that the "perfect opportunity" was a temporary position paying $8.00 per hour...about a dollar fifty an hour less than I had been making before the layoff. I told them once again that I wasn't interested in using their staffing agency and asked them to stop calling me.
Shortly thereafter, I received a notice that my unemployment benefits had been cancelled due to the fact that I had turned down a job opportunity.
At that point, I had no choice. I went to another staffing agency, Park Personnel, and through them got a job at Glens Falls National Bank, where I worked for the next eight years. I liked working at the bank, don't get me wrong. My issue is that I didn't have a choice. I never seem to have a choice.
And here I am again. I can try to fight this thing with unemployment. Maybe I'll even be successful. Right this moment, it just seems so futile to even bother. And maybe that's what they want. Maybe they turn people down and hope they'll just go away. But it's not right.
And here I am, faced once again with no choice but to take the first job that comes my way and to hope that it won't be too long in coming. My meager savings won't last long.
Still, I stared stupidly at the form I received from unemployment in this afternoon's mail. My claim has been denied.
Beyond being flabbergasted by their determination, beyond being irritated that they are not showing that I had any income for the last quarter - the one I just finished working- and even knowing that I can try to fight this, I am just so angry that I can't think straight.
I'm angry that, despite the fact that I have worked since I was sixteen years old I'm not "eligible" for unemployment benefits. I'm angry that so many other people sit on their asses and do nothing while collecting public assistance of one kind or another year after year and on the one occasion when I am the one in need of assistance I am turned down.
I collected unemployment one other time in my life. It was over ten years ago. I had been laid off from my job at Native Textiles. I was thinking about making a career change, trying to decide what direction I wanted to go in, when I received a call from a staffing agency whose help I had not requested. Apparently, Native Textiles must have informed them that I was no longer working. I told them that I was exploring other options and that I didn't want their help at the moment.
A few days later, I received a call from that same staffing agency. They said they had an opportunity they thought would be just perfect for me. It turned out that the "perfect opportunity" was a temporary position paying $8.00 per hour...about a dollar fifty an hour less than I had been making before the layoff. I told them once again that I wasn't interested in using their staffing agency and asked them to stop calling me.
Shortly thereafter, I received a notice that my unemployment benefits had been cancelled due to the fact that I had turned down a job opportunity.
At that point, I had no choice. I went to another staffing agency, Park Personnel, and through them got a job at Glens Falls National Bank, where I worked for the next eight years. I liked working at the bank, don't get me wrong. My issue is that I didn't have a choice. I never seem to have a choice.
And here I am again. I can try to fight this thing with unemployment. Maybe I'll even be successful. Right this moment, it just seems so futile to even bother. And maybe that's what they want. Maybe they turn people down and hope they'll just go away. But it's not right.
And here I am, faced once again with no choice but to take the first job that comes my way and to hope that it won't be too long in coming. My meager savings won't last long.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Things I Don't Want to Do
I received a call today from the temp agency wanting to schedule an interview, so now is probably a good time to think about what I don't want to do.
Not that the temp agency is likely to try to force me to scrub toilets, but I definitely don't want to clean anything for a living. I don't even like to clean my own house, so there's not much chance of me taking that on as a 9-5 gig. I would also put this at the top of the "Jobs I Would Likely Be Fired From" list. I don't think when I die anyone is going to get up and say, "That Jodi kept a clean house". I'm not dirty, don't get me wrong. I just have a high tolerance for clutter and since I'm always working on a half dozen projects, clutter seems to follow me wherever I go.
I don't want to wait tables. I could probably get a job doing just that at my dad's diner if I wanted to, and I would most likely get into slightly better shape by virtue of running my ass off all day to bring people their daily specials, but I don't want to. I've done it before and waiting on people is not for me. People are a pain. They don't know what they want, order things they don't like, complain about things you have no control over, spill things, don't tip, forget they need something until you arrive with the last thing they asked for, allow their children to run amok and generally make life miserable. Plus, my feet get tired from running around all day.
I don't want to work retail. In addition to the "people are a pain" problem, the pay is generally lousy. And, just like in the restaurant business, you work nights and weekends. You work holidays. When I was in retail, I was sick every single Christmas. I worked 60 hour weeks starting after Thanksgiving, got hacked on by every sick person in the mall, handled money, which is truly one of the dirtiest things you can possibly touch...not to mention the recirculated mall air just swirling all those germs around. Blech.
I don't want to be in the medical field, unless it's behind a desk and behind the scenes. I don't want to deal with sick people. I would rather go into forensics and deal with them once they're no longer capable of whining. I know, I'm rotten, but it's true.
All that being said, I would do whatever I had to to get by. I've never had the luxury of picking and choosing. The truth is that I have taken every job I have ever had because I needed a job and that was what I was offered. Yes, I have had some choice in that I wouldn't have applied if I wasn't willing to do the job, but you would be surprised by some of the jobs I have had and some that I have applied for. I have been a radio dj, and a pizza delivery girl, a banker and a secretary. I've been a buyer for a retail store and I've been a clerk. I was a cocktail waitress for a summer and a Budweiser girl for a day. I nearly took a job as a toll booth operator and even applied for a job euthanizing animals at a shelter during a particularly low time in Florida. I was really glad I didn't get a call back on that one. Yeah, I think I can safely add that one to the list of jobs I don't want to do.
Not that the temp agency is likely to try to force me to scrub toilets, but I definitely don't want to clean anything for a living. I don't even like to clean my own house, so there's not much chance of me taking that on as a 9-5 gig. I would also put this at the top of the "Jobs I Would Likely Be Fired From" list. I don't think when I die anyone is going to get up and say, "That Jodi kept a clean house". I'm not dirty, don't get me wrong. I just have a high tolerance for clutter and since I'm always working on a half dozen projects, clutter seems to follow me wherever I go.
I don't want to wait tables. I could probably get a job doing just that at my dad's diner if I wanted to, and I would most likely get into slightly better shape by virtue of running my ass off all day to bring people their daily specials, but I don't want to. I've done it before and waiting on people is not for me. People are a pain. They don't know what they want, order things they don't like, complain about things you have no control over, spill things, don't tip, forget they need something until you arrive with the last thing they asked for, allow their children to run amok and generally make life miserable. Plus, my feet get tired from running around all day.
I don't want to work retail. In addition to the "people are a pain" problem, the pay is generally lousy. And, just like in the restaurant business, you work nights and weekends. You work holidays. When I was in retail, I was sick every single Christmas. I worked 60 hour weeks starting after Thanksgiving, got hacked on by every sick person in the mall, handled money, which is truly one of the dirtiest things you can possibly touch...not to mention the recirculated mall air just swirling all those germs around. Blech.
I don't want to be in the medical field, unless it's behind a desk and behind the scenes. I don't want to deal with sick people. I would rather go into forensics and deal with them once they're no longer capable of whining. I know, I'm rotten, but it's true.
All that being said, I would do whatever I had to to get by. I've never had the luxury of picking and choosing. The truth is that I have taken every job I have ever had because I needed a job and that was what I was offered. Yes, I have had some choice in that I wouldn't have applied if I wasn't willing to do the job, but you would be surprised by some of the jobs I have had and some that I have applied for. I have been a radio dj, and a pizza delivery girl, a banker and a secretary. I've been a buyer for a retail store and I've been a clerk. I was a cocktail waitress for a summer and a Budweiser girl for a day. I nearly took a job as a toll booth operator and even applied for a job euthanizing animals at a shelter during a particularly low time in Florida. I was really glad I didn't get a call back on that one. Yeah, I think I can safely add that one to the list of jobs I don't want to do.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
My Imaginary Options
People ask me the deceptively simple question, "What do you want to do?" and I am left without an answer. What do I want to do? What DO I want to do?
I want to write a novel. A good one. A better novel than many that I have read. I saw an interview with Chuck Palahniuk and he said (I'm paraphrasing, of course) that you will write when you become aggravated enough with the crappy things other people write. He said it's that feeling of "I can do better than that!" that will motivate you and drive you to do it yourself. I agree. I just think I need to start reading crappier books. Whenever I read a badly written book, I get that feeling. Sometimes it even spurs me to write a few pages. If you know of any truly terrible books, please recommend them to me. It could be just the incentive I need. In the meantime, you get to read my blog for free...lucky you.
I want to be a successful (ie. PAID- with MONEY) photographer. Ideally, rich people will pay me to go on vacation with them. You heard me. I will be your personal vacation photographer. You pay all of my expenses plus a thousand dollars a week and I will be your own personal paparazzo. I will follow you around and subtly stalk you and your family, taking candid shots of you eating ice cream on the beach, exploring the streets of Italy, learning to play bagpipes in Scotland...whatever rich people do. I will be thin as a result of this job since I will constantly be running around trying to get a better angle while you pretend you don't notice me snapping photos and I will never have time to eat because I'll be too busy snapping pictures of you enjoying the local cuisine....You ate a hissing cockroach in Madagascar?? Why yes I did, here's the picture of me doing it!
I want to make crazy stuff and sell it. Even better, I'd like to INVENT stuff and let someone else make it...as long as I get to make money from it. Then I can sit back and collect my checks and say: Yes, I invented that thing. Everyone realized that they couldn't live without those things and so every single person on the planet bought a dozen and now I am filthy stinking rich and spend all my time trying to decide which of my houses to visit next. By the way, do you know anyone who might be interested in taking pictures of me enjoying my newfound riches?
I want to open a miniature petting zoo. You can come to my zoo and visit my miniature stable where I will be keeping my miniature panda cow, miniature horses, miniature goats, miniature donkeys, and teacup pigs. Everything is better in miniature. Just picture it. My friend Lesley suggested a miniature train ride as an added attraction and I'm all for it. I also think we will have miniature golf. And probably a miniature zoo exhibit with tiny animals from around the world like pygmy marmosets and those itty bitty little teeny tiny frogs we used to fish out of the pool in florida all the time. My father has a farm. I could conceivably do this.
I would like to own the old Gaslight Village Theme Park, now defunct, here in Lake George, NY. I would charge a small admission to the park where you could then pay for each ride or attraction separately. I would book national acts for outdoor rock concerts and have famous comedians perform in the theater. There would be free puppet shows outside on summer afternoons. And there would, of course, be a miniature animal petting zoo.
Mainly, I just want to have money. Enough money that I can goof around and dabble in whatever little project crosses my mind. I like to crochet, but I don't want to spend my days forced to crochet doilies or something...you know what I mean? Maybe I could find a rich sponsor...someone who would pay me to be me. They could check in with me once in awhile and see what I've been up to. I would tell him (I'm picturing Daddy Warbucks now) how I decided to paint glow in the dark eyes on random trees around town to freak people out and he would pat me on the shoulder and tell me to keep up the good work.
Oh well, maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about some of the things I definitely don't want to do...
I want to write a novel. A good one. A better novel than many that I have read. I saw an interview with Chuck Palahniuk and he said (I'm paraphrasing, of course) that you will write when you become aggravated enough with the crappy things other people write. He said it's that feeling of "I can do better than that!" that will motivate you and drive you to do it yourself. I agree. I just think I need to start reading crappier books. Whenever I read a badly written book, I get that feeling. Sometimes it even spurs me to write a few pages. If you know of any truly terrible books, please recommend them to me. It could be just the incentive I need. In the meantime, you get to read my blog for free...lucky you.
I want to be a successful (ie. PAID- with MONEY) photographer. Ideally, rich people will pay me to go on vacation with them. You heard me. I will be your personal vacation photographer. You pay all of my expenses plus a thousand dollars a week and I will be your own personal paparazzo. I will follow you around and subtly stalk you and your family, taking candid shots of you eating ice cream on the beach, exploring the streets of Italy, learning to play bagpipes in Scotland...whatever rich people do. I will be thin as a result of this job since I will constantly be running around trying to get a better angle while you pretend you don't notice me snapping photos and I will never have time to eat because I'll be too busy snapping pictures of you enjoying the local cuisine....You ate a hissing cockroach in Madagascar?? Why yes I did, here's the picture of me doing it!
I want to make crazy stuff and sell it. Even better, I'd like to INVENT stuff and let someone else make it...as long as I get to make money from it. Then I can sit back and collect my checks and say: Yes, I invented that thing. Everyone realized that they couldn't live without those things and so every single person on the planet bought a dozen and now I am filthy stinking rich and spend all my time trying to decide which of my houses to visit next. By the way, do you know anyone who might be interested in taking pictures of me enjoying my newfound riches?
I want to open a miniature petting zoo. You can come to my zoo and visit my miniature stable where I will be keeping my miniature panda cow, miniature horses, miniature goats, miniature donkeys, and teacup pigs. Everything is better in miniature. Just picture it. My friend Lesley suggested a miniature train ride as an added attraction and I'm all for it. I also think we will have miniature golf. And probably a miniature zoo exhibit with tiny animals from around the world like pygmy marmosets and those itty bitty little teeny tiny frogs we used to fish out of the pool in florida all the time. My father has a farm. I could conceivably do this.
I would like to own the old Gaslight Village Theme Park, now defunct, here in Lake George, NY. I would charge a small admission to the park where you could then pay for each ride or attraction separately. I would book national acts for outdoor rock concerts and have famous comedians perform in the theater. There would be free puppet shows outside on summer afternoons. And there would, of course, be a miniature animal petting zoo.
Mainly, I just want to have money. Enough money that I can goof around and dabble in whatever little project crosses my mind. I like to crochet, but I don't want to spend my days forced to crochet doilies or something...you know what I mean? Maybe I could find a rich sponsor...someone who would pay me to be me. They could check in with me once in awhile and see what I've been up to. I would tell him (I'm picturing Daddy Warbucks now) how I decided to paint glow in the dark eyes on random trees around town to freak people out and he would pat me on the shoulder and tell me to keep up the good work.
Oh well, maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about some of the things I definitely don't want to do...
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Well Ain't That Just a Kick in the Teeth
I turned forty a few weeks ago. I wasn't worried about it. Wasn't agonizing over it. I was actually in a pretty good place. I liked my job. Liked my coworkers. Liked my boss. I was finally getting caught up a little bit financially...well, getting into a position where I could conceivably start to try to get caught up, at least. My husband and I were getting along pretty well...no mean feat after ten years. I had even managed to dodge the obligatory family birthday dinner.
I went to work that morning feeling good. My office buddy, Lesley, had decorated my cubicle with balloons and streamers. She had given me a ride the night before so I knew she had to have turned back and gone to the office after hours to decorate. I smiled at how lucky I was to work with someone like her.
My boss came in around noon to buy us lunch to celebrate my big day. She came in and closed the office door behind her, quickly wished me a happy birthday, and then said the words no one wants to hear, "I've got to talk to you guys about something".
It seems the company had decided to restructure. Just a couple of months after spending thousands of dollars to build us a new office, they had pulled the plug. It came as a shock to all of us, but there it was. Our final day was set for December 31st. Our jobs were going to be handled by someone out in California.
I tried to keep my anger in check. I tried not to be sad. I tried to go on with my day and do my job as best I could. I was too distracted to be successful. Not all that much work got done.
That night when I got home, I ignored the phone calls from friends and family. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I certainly didn't want to discuss the turn my day had taken.
As the days went by, I continued to try to keep a good attitude. At least I had found out before spending a lot of money on Christmas. I ended up making gifts for most everyone. I enjoyed doing it, even though it was a lot of work, and I think everyone liked the things I made for them.
My attitude at work was harder to keep afloat. I always acted professionally, but sometimes the griping behind the scenes got a little out of control. Lesley and I continued along, our attitudes manic depressive, but we worked...we did our jobs right down to the last moment, trying to finish everything that could be finished and tying up any loose ends even as the bitterness grew within us.
The hardest pill to swallow for both of us was that the people taking over our jobs had no idea what our jobs even were. They had never even seen the computer programs we used before. We could tell they were going to screw it all up...and there was nothing we could do but wash our hands of it and walk away.
So, today was the first day of my actual unemployment as, had I not lost my job, yesterday would have been the New Years Holiday at my company.
I have managed to update my resume and sign up for unemployment. I bought a newspaper and verified that there are no jobs listed in there worth having. Now it's time to start examining my options.
I went to work that morning feeling good. My office buddy, Lesley, had decorated my cubicle with balloons and streamers. She had given me a ride the night before so I knew she had to have turned back and gone to the office after hours to decorate. I smiled at how lucky I was to work with someone like her.
My boss came in around noon to buy us lunch to celebrate my big day. She came in and closed the office door behind her, quickly wished me a happy birthday, and then said the words no one wants to hear, "I've got to talk to you guys about something".
It seems the company had decided to restructure. Just a couple of months after spending thousands of dollars to build us a new office, they had pulled the plug. It came as a shock to all of us, but there it was. Our final day was set for December 31st. Our jobs were going to be handled by someone out in California.
I tried to keep my anger in check. I tried not to be sad. I tried to go on with my day and do my job as best I could. I was too distracted to be successful. Not all that much work got done.
That night when I got home, I ignored the phone calls from friends and family. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I certainly didn't want to discuss the turn my day had taken.
As the days went by, I continued to try to keep a good attitude. At least I had found out before spending a lot of money on Christmas. I ended up making gifts for most everyone. I enjoyed doing it, even though it was a lot of work, and I think everyone liked the things I made for them.
My attitude at work was harder to keep afloat. I always acted professionally, but sometimes the griping behind the scenes got a little out of control. Lesley and I continued along, our attitudes manic depressive, but we worked...we did our jobs right down to the last moment, trying to finish everything that could be finished and tying up any loose ends even as the bitterness grew within us.
The hardest pill to swallow for both of us was that the people taking over our jobs had no idea what our jobs even were. They had never even seen the computer programs we used before. We could tell they were going to screw it all up...and there was nothing we could do but wash our hands of it and walk away.
So, today was the first day of my actual unemployment as, had I not lost my job, yesterday would have been the New Years Holiday at my company.
I have managed to update my resume and sign up for unemployment. I bought a newspaper and verified that there are no jobs listed in there worth having. Now it's time to start examining my options.
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