Job Hunting

As the Sex and the City movie will be arriving in theatres soon I thought I'd begin this post with a comment Carrie made...everyone is always looking for a place to live, a job or a love interest. I've got the greatest guy, my living situation seems to be figured out and while I like my job, some organizational changes have made it unstable lately. And human resources has ignored my boss's request for my promotion and raise and let's face it, no one wants to be undervalued. Or working for a corporation that is making money hand-over-fist and doesn't appropriately compensate their employees. But I digress... so one of my New Year's Resolutions was to do something about my job situation and...frankly, to find a new one. I've had two interviews and two rejections so far this year and have an informational interview Thursday and an actual interview Friday. I should be preparing, but naturally, I'm trying to handle the emotional lead-up instead.



The informational interview is with a man that works in my industry and heads up an office for a company I would love to work for in that they have operations in my home town and to be able to visit my home and my family for work would be amazing. Additionally, this man would be an excellent boss and the two other people I know in the office are also great. However, without Hill experience my shot at employment is a long one at best.



The interview Friday is for a management consulting job that is looking to fill multiple positions and although I am told me experience thus far is "unusual", I think I'd probably be a good fit for them. And the salary is great. However, my best friend and boyfriend have recognized my passion for the industry I work in and have cautioned me about pursuing management consulting. They feel it would be difficult to make the leap back to what I am doing (possibly) and that I might not like it (who knows).



I love the fact that I am trying to make a decision before I have a choice! My recent reading of "Eat, Pray, Love" and follow-up Buddhist readings are telling me to let go, take things as they are and meditate. Well, in my intial stages of reading, this is what they seem to be telling me. After a late-night conversation with my coworker about this, she advised I go with my gut. But the only thing my gut is telling me to do right now is to work out after the peanut-butter cookie and cheese ravioli I had for lunch.

Metro Avengers and Spray Tans

I had another fabulous metro ride yesterday. Our Internet has been down at work, which rendered me functionally useless for 8 hours and then on a side note, nausea set in on the metro. I switch to the orange line at L'Enfant Plaza so I usually get a seat, which is nice for the ride to Ballston. A man got on my car and leaned against the side of the car (I usually perch on the low ledge on the side when I want to sit down when no seats are available.) His foot was in a metal cast and as fixated on fashion, I noticed he was wearing one brown shoe and his gimpy foot was encased in a black sock. I wondered if he didn't feel the need to wear socks that coordinated with his shoes since he had a cast on, and he'd have a point, if I was in pain, I don't think I'd worry too much about matching my sock and shoe (oh how I kid myself.) A man across from me offered his seat to the young man who refused and swore it didn't hurt anymore and he was fine. Instantly I felt like an idiot for not offering my chair, especially since I was closer. But...I was focused on his mismatched sock. Not a good excuse mind you, but that's the way it was.

Anyway...at the next stop a woman in a navy skirt suit, high heels and a big hat got on the metro, stood next to my seat and sighed (loudly). Thirty-second later she sighed loudly again. She began, "You poor thing, I know what that feels like and naturally no one would offer you a seat." I rolled my eyes to myself. He said he was fine and it didn't hurt anymore, he was getting the cast off the following day. She continued, "Are you sure you're not just trying to be macho? I can't believe all the rude people not offering you a seat." I don't know where these metro-avengers get off assuming that everyone else is better off than someone who has a physical impairment. I'm still anemic from my recurring infection and have very little energy and for all I know the girl next to be could have been starving (she was a size 0, but she was eating a bag of chips as soon as we got out of the metro so I assume genetics caused her slight weight.) True, the young man could have told her that someone already offered their seat and he was indeed enjoying all the creature comforts afforded to him by leaning against the metro wall, but he kept answering her quickly and looked away so I will again assume that he was embarrassed by her outrageous antics. This continued in the same fashion for several stops. I even put away my blackberry to appear as though I wasn't simply ignoring her, but defying her! Obviously I prefer sit-ins to litigation...

At Rosslyn someone behind me got up and oddly enough she didn't offer the seat to her uni-legged friend, but asked a crowded group, "No one wants this seat?" If you put it that way sweetheart, only a no-legged person would pipe up and even then...she did have a big hat. So the person on the outside tried to let her in and she says, "I'm getting off at Ballston." No vocal response, but I imagined a dirty look and a shrug. She moves in, sits down and loudly exclaims, "Thank goodness, my feet were kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiling me." "THEN DON'T WEAR HEELS ON THE METRO!"I scream, quietly to myself. If only I had more guts I would have given her an earful. Ugh.

After the eventful ride, my roomie and I ran a couple errands (who knew Baby's-R-US is such a hot place??) and then did the unspeakable. Since she is getting married in 2 months we decided to check the candidacy of spray tanning. Not a big fan. Not only was I instantly covered in what looked like sewer-water, but my epidermis wasn't exactly accepting. It took 20 minutes to get it rubbed in and as soon as I stepped out I noticed my face looked like one of those children on the "coal is dirty" ads that the natural gas companies have plastered all over the D.C.-area. I could focus a whole posting on that issue alone. I woke up this morning with what appeared to be jaundice on my feet and face and I'm only glad that I can blame my cheeks on the lunchtime wine now.

The moral of this story is, don't make oral assumptions on the metro (clearly written ones are OK) and don't spray tan. Give yourself cancer the old-fashioned way.

Metro ramblings

If there isn't a metro in your subway, you really should get one. What other invention acts as a meeting place, designated driver, literary peddler and weight-control service all at the same time? Precisely. I attended a class today on how to deal effectively with congressional staff. I struck up a rapport with a young lady in the class and ran into her while waiting for the metro. I still had my headphones on so I had to decide whether to fold up my headphones, go over and chat or wave and smile from a safe distance of ten feet. Too close, I had to go chat. The whole "putting away of the headphones" ritual can be painstaking as I wind the cord around the ipod so as to prevent tangles. When I first got my ipod last year I was waiting to meet a friend at Union Station, we were going to grab coffee and then walk over to a Senate hearing together. Naturally I missed my cell phone ringing, but I ran into him at the bookstore. Cut short for time he thrust a coffee cup in my face and we started walking towards the Senate Office building. We chatted about how long the hearing would last and if his shoes would set off security again at the front door. "J.C., take off those G.D. headphones!" (naughty words are abbreviated both to expand our jargon familiarity and for sensitive readers--hi, Grandma.) Anyhow, I digress.

We were chatting again while the metro heaved and ho'ed. The few female friends I've made since I've been in D.C. have mostly moved away so I'm always looking for new pals if for no other reason than to match-make with my boyfriend's crazy friends. "Where do you live?" Please be Northern Virginia, please be Northern Virginia. "Dupont. We should go out for happy hour sometime." Ooooh... metro transfer. "I'll email you." I am so caught up in convenience right now, which may be a byproduct of work, school and looking for another job, but I don't have a car and it is just not easy to hang out with people that don't live in my neighborhood. No wonder I don't have any friends...

I said "goodbye" as I got off the metro to transfer and I sat next to Anxiety Guy. The guy kept moving like he's going to get up, but doesn't. First I figured it was a twitch, but he kept leaning forward, looking around, gathering his bags and then relaxing. This continued at every stop between Metro Center and Ballston. I eyed him to see if he looked like a terrorist, but then I realized that I don't know what a terrorist looks like--hell, half the time they're Americans converted to some cult or religion that values Holy Warfare.

I guessed he'd get off right before me, making me get up and then explaining to a tired passenger why I had to sit on the end b/c my stop was next or I could move towards the door, but it was so crowded, I'd just be in the way or I wouldn't have a good grip so I'd end up subway surfing until I fell into a stranger's lap. I worried for nothing b/c he got up first. I made the short trek home and tried to avoid the "save our forests" people. It's funny, the guys always bother me about conservation matters, but the girls take one look at me and size me up as a "no." As this is accurate I chalk it up to females being more observant than males and therefore more often being right. (That was fun to write even if I don't fully believe it.)

I was hoping I'd get a magazine in the mail, but hoping I didn't get a package slip. My apartment leaves these package slips in the mailbox when you get a package, but I wasn't expecting anything, but my roommate was expecting her "ketubah." The other day I wasn't expecting anything either (I actually was, but with all my Internet shopping I just forgot what I had ordered) and when I asked if she ordered anything she said it could be her "ketubah," which I thought was the glass that Jewish people stomp when they get married, but apparently the "ketubah" is a "marriage contract" instead. I kind of wanted a Jewish wedding so that I could stomp on a glass, but then I figured I'd probably split my foot open and the father-daughter dance, would be more of a father-daughter hop which I could see being a huge disaster, although wildly funny for the guests. But I'm not getting married anytime soon, nor have I been on more than one date with a Jewish guy since college, I don't really have to think about that just now.

I sent out wedding shower invites for my roommate (I won the award of Maid of Honor by serving in a hot-dog eating contest--ESPN does not hold the rights to that although they might try to paint it that way) and there were recipe cards inside. I told those who weren't able to come to mail it to me and I already got one back. They went out Monday so I thought that was impressive timing.

I didn't write my Morning Pages today so I figure this entry will suffice. I'm really just curious as to what ads Google will put up now that I used the words "terrorist," "Holy Warfare," "Jewish" and the phrase "hot-dog eating contest".

The seamy underworld of lobbying

Last night I took my software engineer boyfriend to an industry dinner in a conference room of lobbyists. I thought he'd enjoy the free food and booze and since I had to go anyway I figured it would be a win-win situation for both of us. He protested a little about wearing a suit and tie (and threatened to wear white socks--the horror!), but he was of course a good sport. After some idle chit-chat with colleagues I began to worry that he hadn't called and checked my blackberry nervously. As soon as I realized I had no service I rushed to the lobby to find him descending the escalator. "How long have you been here?!?" "About 45 minutes." "No! I am SO sorry." I couldn't believe I left him alone with these sharks! "Just kidding, I'm just gettin here now." Always the jokester.

Soon we were corralled into the dining room (with a waiter ringing a xylophone no less. sadly this wasn't the first time I had seen this.) Some familiar faces sat down at our table and shook my man's hand. "Who are you with?" they asked after uttering their affiliation with overblown grandeur. "I'm with her!" he smiled every time. I couldn't help, but chuckle when they looked befuddled. He explained to me that he had no intention of identifying his employer for their satisfaction.

After the long, boring program we made our way into the dessert bar. "I've never met so many self-important people in my life." Jay Leno was quite correct in identifying DC as Hollywood for ugly people. People who aren't important in DC believe with utmost determination that they in fact are the most important person in the room at any given time. An acquaintance mine is an assistant at a lobby shop in town. I once witnessed his boss ask him to make copies for a presentation while we chatted. He put his finger up and said, "When I'm finished talking I will." I was floored. Consequently his boss told my coworker that sometime this young man forgets he is working for his boss and not the other way around. Another acquaintance said "hello" to me and told us "Everyone is going to the Capital Grille. You have to come." I admitted it was a little late and told him I'd take a rain check. "It's only 10, you are getting so old" and punched me in the shoulder. My bf said, "I can't believe he just punched you." I explained it was a throwback to the good old boys. Naturally he had some lessons. Another young man explained about how his sister's boyfriend was scared of his 5'9" bearded father who resembled a professor with glasses and a little potbelly. Not 5 minutes later he said that his father was a few inches taller than my BF (who is 6'1") and much larger. Let's just say I know his parents are still married to each other and unless some novel medical experiment went awry, he only has one dad. As a good friend of mine would say, "Oh vey!"

Pleased to make your acquaintance

I chose to start this blog in honor of my friends that encounter the same changes, fears and dreams that all of us new "grown-ups" do. With undergraduate degrees under our belt (some with graduate degrees) we're five years out of college, give or take a few, with unanswered questions, common problems and dreams that weave in and out of traffic like a newspaper carrier on his ten-speed.

The past couple weeks I faced a problem many of us face: I miss my parents. Yes, I admit, I was sick with nausea, vomiting, a hospital visit and a few other unpleasantries, but I realized the fear of facing the future alone was scary. After a questionable visit to an internist, the physician's assistant admitted that she didn't know what was wrong with me. That's a problem I've been dealing with most of my adult life although with more freakish side effects than usual. They needed to take my blood and as the vampire nurse approached me I started crying like a suffocating seal pup. I've been prepared to do a lot of things on my own, but getting sick wasn't one of them. I have what is known as Vasal-Vagel syndrome, where I freak out when a needle punctures the skin so this wasn't totally out of the normal, but a needle also hasn't reduced me to a heap of tears since I was a child. After talking to my mom the next day she urged me to go to the ER b/c of my pain (and she said she'd help me with the bill which was kind of the clincher) .

As an only child I remain self-reliant and I don't like to ask for help. Or put people out of their way. When I called my boyfriend, "Could you maybe get out of work a little early to take me to the hospital?" And like a good boyfriend he replied, "I'll be there in 20 minutes." I did feel a guilty for having him take off early, but it was after 2pm so how much more could he really get done at work, honestly?

The hospital was scary, but he made me giggle like a schoolgirl, which I would typically find annoying (but once in a while is OK. I hear guys kind of like the plaid skirts and braids anyway). He told me I'd be fine and after they diagnosed a kidney infection (painful, but easily curable with antibiotics) he called my parents and gave them the news. I realized then that I might not have my parents close, but I wasn't alone. They are only a plane ride and I've been blessed with a great boyfriend who lives 45 minutes away in traffic, but for DC that isn't so bad after all.

I had to go back to my doctor twice--they found e.coli in my urine which could have caused the infection or could have been a coincidence--and I'm on my second round of antibiotics after I tested positive for a bladder infection (after discussing numerous bodily functions with doctors, I soon started with family, friends and even a few strangers for good measure.) If I get another infection I could have to go in for more tests, but I'm not scared. I might not be able to handle all of this on my own, but with a little help, I can do it.