Nada

Bleh. Nothing worth applying to in the last couple of days.

I noted with some interest that Safeway - we love our Safeway - had all kinds of positions being advertised in its nearby Pleasanton corporate office. Hmm, I thought. Hmm. I dimly recalled hearing that some company bought Safeway, remembering that it filled me with trepidation and fear for Susan (we regularly give each other shit), Ellis (who's always laughing at our disconnects, but especially hard when Maureen has to show me, again, that I need to put only one bottle on the belt or I get frustrated with Maureen's crises in produce), and Joy (who, despite the cheerful name only recently switched meds and quit snapping at customers). Not to mention all of the wonderfully friendly and helpful baggers. Once roundly criticized for failing to comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act, Safeway is now an advocate of, as we say in the Bay Area lest we be ridiculed and dismissed as Neanderthal, "other-abled" individuals.

Curious, I went to our hero, Google. Sure enough, some megacorp, unfortunately named after the three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hades, bought Safeway and intends to attempt to dig trenches around the earth mover big box stores. You know, The One We all Like to Hate.

So that was an easy and quite informative distraction from the task at hand. So it was on to other sources of job searching inspirational activities. I looked into a few suggestions my always supportive friends offered up, like living my life in a purposeful way. God, I hate the, "Carol, what do you want?" question. I did what I wanted, being a bureaucrat. I loved it, worked very hard at it and, I think, made a difference in the little part of the world that I served. Yeah. Look what that got me. Not that I'm bitter....

I texted with Niece Nat with whom I share the job searching blues. I advised her that my friends wanted me to make this blog funnier. She replied, "Anything authored by a Northrup has at bare minimum traces of inherent humor. Ill be the judge of this!"

Fortified by that, I took my camera out to the deck to see what birds might want to have their pitchur took (audiologically visualize deep Southern accent, dripping with all the sugar and fat). I've only recently started seeing Oak Titmouses at the feeder in front. I got my first photo of one before Merlin chased it away, and went back to trying to catch hummingbirds and eating bees.

Yard work called to me after that. We're having the last part of our back fence replaced soon. The neighbors have been kind of a pain in the ass about that but that's a story for another day. I went up to the hill to start taking out the dead parts of the hated thorn tree (a stab wound hurts for days) and ivy. As usual, my trusty yard work assistant was on hand for the entire operation.

Distractions

Now including this blog. Consider this a true confessions post. 

I usually wake up (sometimes for the fourth or fifth time) between 6 and 7 a.m. Or, as I'm told it is said in SoCal, "Before Jesus and the Mexicans." So inappropriate in so many ways but makes me laugh. Merlin and I stumble out to do our morning stretches and eye rubbing before I get coffee and settle in at my desk to check in on what my Facebook pals have been up to.

I like Facebook. Maureen, my dad and niece, and many non-virtual buddies want nothing to do with it. I not only like it, I consider using it to be professional development; you see, I have a certain persona or reputation on FB, as any good public relations practitioner should. I like to (in no particular order):

• Crack myself up telling tales about myself
• Crack myself up observing the inane and absurd in the world around me
• Crack myself up asking questions about obscure subject matter
• Let photos do my talking, and amuse or inform my friends
• Support my FB friends with likes, words of encouragement and private messages 
• Avoid creating political firestorms on my wall, except with one Republican/Libertarian friend 

I also read some of the stories people link to. A not-so-secret science and technology geek, I will look at almost anything having to do with space and technological advances. And dog stuff, like a recent post from someone about the structure of the German Shepherd Dog.
 
Here's the darker part of my FB habit. I spend the next hour or so playing my four games. Bubble Safari, and Bubble Witch, Candy Crush, and Pet Rescue Sagas. Terrible and shameful addictions. At least I don't spend actual money buying level zaps, charms, extra lives, or any of the other boosters and such. Then I check back in on my how my FB friends' mornings are going. More likes and comments and sharing ensue.

Next, I'm off to email. First, look for and respond to mail from friends. Second, breeze through Indeed and any other employment feeds I have. As previously discussed, my personal filters make that go pretty fast. I get an email about retired annuitant jobs (aka double-dipper jobs) but there's never been a position anywhere near here. Hurlong, yes. Hurlong, Calif., 70 miles north of Reno, population 298, home to the Bible Baptist, Assembly of God and Southern Baptist churches, prisoner population 1,658 with some in a minimum security satellite camp. Oh, yeah. I'm moving there. 

Third should be Craigslist, since that's where I can find part-time work. But it isn't. Then I look through my email for more interesting things. The Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) usually has two or three items about my profession worth reading. I sometimes share those, as I did just this morning with the Forbes list of top 50 global green companies. Similarly, AARP almost always has tidbits I want to look at. "Avoid These 10 Money Wasters," "13 Shows Not To Miss This Season," etc. I like those lists and AARP seems to do the best, presenting them in slideshows with minimum explanatory text. I tried the, "55 Must-Read Cleaning Tips," but 55 is too many and I had to go through three long-loading clicks to get to any one of them.

Seems everybody does, "Check out this X facts/things/ideas to know/avoid/pursue." What's up with that, anyway? I am a sucker for lists and, since I'll distract myself by researching anything, I found a great post on the "lisicle" practice, It's All in Your Head:  9 Reasons You Can't Resist a List, by Dan Lyons on Hubspot. My personal favorite:  Because PowerPoint has turned us all into mindless corporate zombies. Oh, and Hubspot is an inbound marketing company. Whatever the hell that is. 

By now, my butt is numb and my mouse wrist tingles. I sail back to shower, on the way announcing my intent to Maureen (who is reading everything she can about thoroughbred horse racing or playing her own games - Spider Solitaire, Hearts, all stuff on her computer, not online). Unless I have an appointment somewhere, as I do today with a lunch date, the back yard and my mournful looking puppy await me.

Filters or Self-Limiting?

I spent much of yesterday preparing for two friends to come over for supper, aka, late afternoon light dinner. Most of the time went to prep, of course, as happens with cooking. Cleaning, stripping and chopping herbs, putting chicken in brine, chopping more (this time vegetables), making marinades, etc. They are wine afficiandas so came equipped with five different wines - Chardonnays, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio. Our consumption thereof likely helped how much everyone enjoyed the meal.

A bit about our friends, whom we don't seem to get together with as often as we like. First, I've known J since shortly after I moved to the Bay Area. She was the treasurer of a non-profit, Bay Area Career Women, "professional" lesbians (as in not making a job of it, rather being in higher-paying jobs). The gay boys referred to us as Dykes on Spikes, for the high heels, or Lipstick Lesbians.

Side story about J and me. We went out together to party a lot, when I wasn't engaged in my serial monogamy sport of the time. She convinced me to be a non-singing member of the board of the Lesbian/Gay Chorus of San Francisco to help with the group's public relations. I had so much fun with them. J and I invariably went to the Thursday practice of the whole chorus. It was so wild to see the director call the 60 or more screaming queens and butch dykes together to make the most beautiful music ever. They did a show highlighting the music of the 50's. I, as an usher, had to look the era so I opted for the Lucille Ball look. J called me to ask if I was on my way and I told her, "I can't talk now, I'm wearing lipstick."

J found R, I found Maureen and off to nesting we all went. For us, to the point of being reclusive. J is now the senior vice president for a successful gay/lesbian-staffed accounting firm. R, an artistic type, has made herself into the must-use calligrapher for, among others, the Nob Hill gang, and the San Francisco Symphony and Opera. I have a piece I commissioned from R to accompany my print of the New Yorker Magazine 9/11 cover. She is gifted.

And what, pray tell, does this have to do with my job hunt? R mentioned that the symphony is looking for a receptionist. She told the story of how that vacancy came to be and J chimed in about how one had to deal with all kinds of people, including the wealthy donors. They agreed that I'd be perfect and get promoted out of the position in no time. I found myself having to stave off an anxiety attack and mustered up enough faux enthusiasm to say I'd look into it. Tapping into deeper reserves, I found a segue out of that line of conversation.

What's up with that?! Besides the no bridge principle? I've had dreams for a year or so that, after consulting with friends, especially our friend Google, indicated that I struggle with a sense of not fitting in. Long before I retired, R got comped in, with J and another couple, to a black tie fundraising event for a major environmental non-profit. She'd done its invitations and place cards. Maureen and I bought gowns, got ourselves all gussied up, enjoyed dinner with J and R at the first five-star vegetarian restaurant in San Francisco, and went into the event. Everyone was fit, beautiful, dressed in obviously beyond expensive outfits, and donning more gems than all of the Smithsonian's exhibits. I was miserable. I felt intimidated and inadequate in horrifyingly equal measure.

Will I pursue being the receptionist for the San Francisco Symphony? I think not. I know not. But I thank R for the job lead.

No Weekend Break

Nope, not for me. Another Saturday, another job application dispatched. 

Sometimes, I see a position on Craigslist and mail it to myself for future consideration. Usually, that means either:  a) I have something I'd rather or have to do at the moment; or, b) I'm not sure I want to put in the effort at all. Better to sit on it for a bit than:  a) Throw out something that doesn't meet my standards; or b) act out of desperation trying to join an endeavor that would not be a good fit.

Today's case involved a, "fund development assistant," position nor a non-profit. I reject both the term and acronym for, "non-governmental organization." Why? Simply this - why add letters and syllables to a term everyone understands and is self-defining. I'm sure it all started out with some idiot who thought he (and I use the gender intentionally) made himself look more important by doing it. There's a lot of that in the non-profit world, in my experience led by people who couldn't succeed in business or government but who are adept at reading the latest how-to-succeed-without-really-trying articles. Books, you see, take too much effort for them.

Oh, my goodness. I just reread that paragraph and realize that I continue to harbor some bitterness about working for the American Red Cross. I had fun there, learned some, chalked up some notable successes (like working with the health staff to fill the void in cardiopulmonary resuscitation training booklet when the national Red Cross couldn't get its act together to catch up with the latest recommendations of the standard-bearer Journal of the American Medical Association). What turned me off was when, in the beginning years of the AIDS epidemic, our chapter director wanted me to do a needs assessment on the subject. Not, mind you, the needs of AIDS victims. Nope. On whether or not it would somehow alienate our existing donor base to work on, "The Gay Issue."

I've also referred to being able to read the sometimes not-so-subtle cues from job announcements about primarily racial preferences. None of those being Caucasian. Or wanting someone really young. I have no problem with the latter, what with sharing my job seeking experience at the moment with my twenty-something niece, Nat. But still. Why tilt at windmills. 

The organization advertising this fund development assistant had all the ear markings of being selective in a way that wouldn't involve me. On looking at the website, though, I saw white faces and gray hair. There's hope! It is a "cause" I can get behind, too - building low-income housing in the East Bay.

And, just to liven things up visually, here's my cactus/succulent/bonsai garden. I can putter there without end (see the first "a)" above).

Keywords and Qualifications

My search criteria on Indeed.com, and the corresponding reasons I use them, are:

• Communications - I am a professional communicator. That's what I do, what I've done, what I'm good at and what I enjoy doing. Whether to just inform, persuade, or empower (hate that word but there's none better), that's what I do. I communicate.
• Presentations - Long before the prevalence and popularity of the infographic, I found that I have an, if not innate, then acute ability to present complex information in persuasive visual form. That got me into some trouble as a young Air Force officer; having charted sonic boom complaints to see if we could do something proactive to warn and appease Montana ranchers, I got an unexpected and chastising call from a Pentagon secret-sauce agency ordering me to cease because I guess I'd inadvertently betrayed state secrets. Oops.Not that long ago, I worked with the team attempting to convince our toxics agency to take seriously the amount of waste automotive oil going who knows where by creating one very convincing PowerPoint slide showing how many Exxon Valdez worth of oil went unaccounted for in California every year (two-and-a-half, as I recall).
• Environmental - Face it, I have some expertise in environmental protection after 23 years of interpreting for environmental engineers (who can only define their field by getting misty-eyed about "design"), scientists (not that project management has a thing to do with the scientific method), geologists (the oddest of the lot) and toxicologists (the most politically insensitive).

I've already mentioned that my personal filters include no jobs in San Francisco (the no bridges principle). Plus there's the avoid I-880 at almost any cost one, because it has too many big rigs out of the Port of Oakland, and stupid and crazy drivers. I don't even look at those announcements. Others I breeze past because I know from experience that they (University of California) only really hire from within or you have to have a Ph.D. Then I get to where the practice and art of writing job announcements gets really interesting. Some examples from this morning's job search:

• Communications:  "Ability to respond to varied requests in a professional manner and deal effectively with differing attitudes, position of others and a variety of personalities and situations requiring tact, judgment, and poise. ASSHOLE ALERT! This one wanted an administrative assistant for a bunch of change-the-world attorneys. Enough said. If you haven't read The No Asshole Rule, it is quite entertaining. Or, "Ability to respond constructively to feedback and to make requested changes," SCREAMER BOSS ALERT! No thanks, I was there a couple of times and have no wish to go back.
• Presentations:  So many have to do with restocking shelves and sales that I can get trough that list of new job listings in no time.
• Environmental:  Here's an example from a big box store looking for a receiver/stocker, "Ability to work in both inside and outside environmental conditions." I used to be strong enough to do that kind of thing. Not so much any more.

You might think that someone who others thought to be an apologist for nuclear weapons or a "company girl" defending god-awful environmental regulatory policies would have no shame, no limitations. Turns out, I do. 

"About our organization: XXX is an employer-led initiative to change the way we pay for health care in the U.S., with the goal of improving quality and overall value of care." Frankly, I find dubious anything having to do with, "employer-led," anything, let alone it having to do with health care.

No job applications going out today. 

A Day Off from the Job of Looking for a Job

I did a cursory scroll through jobs yesterday before I took off to meet up with my lunch date. My buddy was a work colleague, now a friend, who lives across the bay in a little town in Marin County for which she is a councilwoman. 

We meet up once a month or so. She used to come over to my side of the bay but her chiropractor is no longer available. Or something. Can't remember the details. So I most often to her place, from which we launch off to a late breakfast or lunch.

She decided that we'd motor a half hour westward to Point Reyes Station,not to be confused with the so-named lighthouse.

Once land of the Coast Miwok Indians, Point Reyes Station gets its name from the nearby Point Reyes Peninsula (a major peninsula sticking out into the Pacific Ocean) and its status as a terminus stop on the North Pacific Coast Railroad connecting Cazadero to the Sausalito ferry. (Wikipedia)

Point Reyes is a cute little town having somewhere around 800 residents. It is a tourist place, mostly, as evidenced to us by how many of the little organic, artisan, locally-grown and made product shops were closed on Wenesday, and only open for three- or four-day weekend business. Including, unfortunately, the Station House Cafe, at which we intended to dine. Back to mainstream Marin County, where my friend says no one really works. Except her, until recently. She left the department we worked for before I did, as or more disgusted and fed up with the toxic environment as I was when I left, and just retired from the San Francisco Bay air pollution control district.

As we drove around, we caught up on each others' lives, checked in on what juicy tidbits about our former workplace either of us had heard, and talked about finding work. She's one of the smartest, most capable people I know. 

She set herself us as a limited liability corporation to act as a technical and policy consultant for environmental issues, both toxic site cleanup property redevelopment and air quality. Key people in the latter regulatory world want her to take on a major northern California project but, as we concluded, lawyers suck. The insurance and indemnification requirements for sole proprietor consultants are unattainable. 

I learned about all of the impossible insurance requirements after another former co-worker of mine set up a "meet and greet" with her planning agency's communications and hiring officers. The former had just put out a Request for Proposal for $75,000 of work that was right up my alley. I would need to indemnify and hold harmless the agency, defend against any claims or suits for injury or death, hold $1 million both per employee and per accident for worker's compensation, hold $1 million in general liability insurance and in umbrella insurance, and so on. Not going to happen.In fact, my lunch buddy tried to get some of said insurance for her LLC only to find that no one writes policies for her kind of business. 

As it happens, we'd both met up with other contacts in the consulting world and both have some hope of acting as subcontractors for fully insured consulting agencies. Time will tell, I suppose.

I awoke this morning from a dream in which I'd been hired to be a part-time receptionist for an adult community. I was fine with that dream.

My Job Filters

I just sent off an application to be a part-time receptionist for a foundation that governs what it refers to as "America's premier active adult community." I've been at this job hunt and application gig for three months. Actively, at least. It has been an interesting journey.

First, I haven't applied for a job in more than 20 years. I had a sense that we wouldn't need to subscribe to any newspapers to look at the classified ads. That's good because our newspapers are pretty awful. What to do? AARP to the rescue. You see, ever since I've retired, I've followed select organizations. AARP is one. Others have to do with my own professional development, such as the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA), from which I am accredited in Public Relations (proud of that - the pass rate when I took the exam in the 80's was 30 percent) and the Pew Research Center, because there will always be an anthropologist in me.

It was reading one of the AARP aggregated news emails that I found Indeed. I love that you can set up filters to look for work near you. Every morning, after satisfying my Facebook craving, I peruse through the emails from all the various feeds. Sometimes - it varies day by day and week by week - I send off a cover letter and resume. I have two resumes now. Maureen told me that my "real" resume made me appear to be so overqualified as to be intimidating. So I wrote one, in fits and starts, that focuses on writing.

Which brings me back to the title of this entry... job filters. Early on, I made the conscious decision that I wasn't going to cross the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Bridge to go to work. Too expensive, parking's a nightmare, and there are those small matters of earthquakes and firestorms. That one decision allows me to breeze through job postings pretty quickly.

Over time, a month or so, I realized that my Indeed filters (communications, presentations and, most recently, environmental) pulled up a ton of jobs I was either not interested in or qualified for. By interested in, I mean my own screening for what organizations might hire me. I smoke, get over it. That means applying for work in or near a California health care system is out of the question. By qualified for, I mean that hiring officers seem to throw in references about being good at communications. You can be sure that I am not an engineer (nor have I ever met one who could communicate worth a damn, so good luck with that, hiring officer). 

Then, frustrated that all of the jobs were full-time I realized how little I wanted that. So off to Craigslist, on the advice of a previous coworker and current friend. I've found that to be quite useful. In fact, Craigslist is where I found today's job possibility.

Monday Morning

Monday morning. The beginning of the work week. I don't have a job. Except, that is, for looking for a job. 

Actually, I do have several jobs. I do the cooking, the yard work, everything about taking care of the dogs except feeding them. Maureen feeds the dogs: Annie, the 14-year-old Pembroke Welsh Corgi, who we inherited eight years ago after Maureen's sister Kathleen died too young; and Merlin, aka Yatta vom Nadelhaus, my 3-year-old crazy German-bred German Shepherd Dog. Maureen also does laundry, endless laundry, to which I contribute the grungiest clothes from working in the back yard. I also do odd jobs and fix-it projects at home.

Immensely satisfying as all of that is, as you know, it brings no income (for vacations and home maintenance, to name two expenditures). I also find that I crave contributing something to society. I've always been funny that way. First, the U.S. Air Force after having gone through four years of Reserve Officer Training Corps in college at Colorado State University, graduating with a bachelor's in Cultural Anthropology. A brief stint with the American Red Cross in the Berkeley/West Contra Costa County (Calif.) Chapter. Then 23 years working at the Cal/EPA Department of Toxic Substances Control. Most of those years were exciting and challenging and fun. The last few not so much as I floundered in the toxic cultural soup that I had tried so hard to stave off.

Okay. That's all out of my system. Normally, I have enough time in the morning to job hunt - reading the email feeds I get from indeed.com, among others, scanning Craigslist and, occasionally, sending out a resume. Not this morning, though. We're off to take Annie to her vet ophthalmologist (!) who will, hopefully, tell us that her cornea ulcer is all clear and there's no more need for me to put two different ointments in her eye three times a day, performing in my Dr. Northrup persona.