So I cried. Just a little, but I cried. No one saw me do it, but I cried. And trust me, I will be doing it more later.
And when I was done with the crying, I started thinking. I called H, I posted here. I started casting about for anyone I knew who was good at the HR Speak of the Manager Speak. (I didn't find anyone who'd fluent in that language).
Finally, I went to Boss of Job I Want (not Job I Have) and offered points that she could negotiate with. Another member of my division has a "part-time" deal where he works half here, half somewhere else. So he's available if they need him here. Maybe we can do that, I said. B of JIW said she'd ask.
I actually even mentioned that JIW works better for me as a caregiver. (It's true -- I'd be home to put Mama on the bus and home in time for dinner). I am not above emotional blackmail. (Okay, but seriously -- am I hopelessly tacky to do it?)
And not to be a complete b*tch, I ended the encounter on a funny note -- telling anecdotes of how Mama negotiated with my wedding vendors to get a lower price.
Please, God, please. The part-time thing would work for everyone. Please, please, please.
(I haven't been this down since my last failed cycle).
On to the crying
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Update...
And now it seems that division A says that because I "just went permanent" that i am not going to be allowed to transfer to division B.
Maybe.
My potential new boss just saw me in the hall.
She says she's going to my current boss, going to see what he says. His office it 8 feet away. I'm torn between going in and trying to talk to him and just breaking down into tears.
Anyone know what I should say?
Maybe.
My potential new boss just saw me in the hall.
She says she's going to my current boss, going to see what he says. His office it 8 feet away. I'm torn between going in and trying to talk to him and just breaking down into tears.
Anyone know what I should say?
First and Foremost
Okay, here's the story:
I've been working at Job A for three and a half years. As a temp. They FINALLY say, "we'd love to hire you," and I say GREAT! and accept. The hiring process, they say, takes about two months. Along the way, I hear about Job B, and I apply, and I'm told that I got it. And Job B is for the same company, same division, but the next department over.
So I ran the assumption that Job B would talk to Job A and do whatever to transfer me over.
So yesterday, I had orientation and it's my official first day and all that, only it's for Job A, my "old" job.
Huh?
Has anyone ever transferred departments? Anyone? It's been a week and a half since I was told I had the "new" job; when can I e-mail my "new" boss and ask, nicely, WHEN ARE YOU GETTING ME OUT OF HERE?
Anyone?
In the meantime, I haven't told anyone in my current department that I am looking to get out. Not even my boss. (Should I?)
I've never done this before, and am completely confused.
And what does it MEAN, I wonder, that Job A's "official" Day 1 was CD 1?
I've been working at Job A for three and a half years. As a temp. They FINALLY say, "we'd love to hire you," and I say GREAT! and accept. The hiring process, they say, takes about two months. Along the way, I hear about Job B, and I apply, and I'm told that I got it. And Job B is for the same company, same division, but the next department over.
So I ran the assumption that Job B would talk to Job A and do whatever to transfer me over.
So yesterday, I had orientation and it's my official first day and all that, only it's for Job A, my "old" job.
Huh?
Has anyone ever transferred departments? Anyone? It's been a week and a half since I was told I had the "new" job; when can I e-mail my "new" boss and ask, nicely, WHEN ARE YOU GETTING ME OUT OF HERE?
Anyone?
In the meantime, I haven't told anyone in my current department that I am looking to get out. Not even my boss. (Should I?)
I've never done this before, and am completely confused.
And what does it MEAN, I wonder, that Job A's "official" Day 1 was CD 1?
Friday, May 25, 2007
And how do we like the new graphics?
Being Junior Designer now, I thought it was time to spruce up...
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Union Square
Anyone know where Union Square is, in New York City?
Obviously, it's "a square," which is to say a spot of open space in the middle of buildings and streets. I went the other day, because (3 days a week) they house an incredible farmer's market.
And while I got off at the right subway stop (that part is easy) I exited out an incorrect door. H always knows, with some incredible instinct, which is the exit that is inches from his destination. Me? Nope. I exit two blocks away from where I need to be.
But no matter, I say to myself. It's a beautiful day and the sun is shining and I haven't been to Union Square in a dog's age. Look! That restaurant has changed names and cuisines. That theatre is now a church! And I'm going to pass by the toy shop, so I can go in and look for that thing for H.
Except that the toy store is now a baby shop.
I don't know why I was so stunned. But I was seriously stunned. To the point that I cannot, do not, cannot tell you what THAT THING was that caused me to head for what I thought was a toyshop. Clueless.
So there I was, dead in my tracks in front of a Baby Store.
And I went in.
There was a short, chubby employee who greeted me when I walked in. Or at least I think she may have greeted me; I saw her lips moving but my heart was pounding SO LOUD I couldn't hear a thing. I smiled warmly (wanly?) and moved on.
I wandered rudderless a while. WHAT AM I DOING HERE I kept asking myself. AM I INSANE was next on the FAQ. IS THIS EVEN HEALTHY followed. My heart was thudding. My breathing was shallow. No joke, there was a moment when I thought I was going to pass out.
So I focused on a bottle display and forced myself to breathe. BREATHE. Told myself, I will not be afraid of this place. BREATHE. I will be back here, one day, to select things for my registry. For my baby. For my family. BREATHE.
And once the panic fled, I left. Head high.
STILL don't know if I was brave or crazy.
Obviously, it's "a square," which is to say a spot of open space in the middle of buildings and streets. I went the other day, because (3 days a week) they house an incredible farmer's market.
And while I got off at the right subway stop (that part is easy) I exited out an incorrect door. H always knows, with some incredible instinct, which is the exit that is inches from his destination. Me? Nope. I exit two blocks away from where I need to be.
But no matter, I say to myself. It's a beautiful day and the sun is shining and I haven't been to Union Square in a dog's age. Look! That restaurant has changed names and cuisines. That theatre is now a church! And I'm going to pass by the toy shop, so I can go in and look for that thing for H.
Except that the toy store is now a baby shop.
I don't know why I was so stunned. But I was seriously stunned. To the point that I cannot, do not, cannot tell you what THAT THING was that caused me to head for what I thought was a toyshop. Clueless.
So there I was, dead in my tracks in front of a Baby Store.
And I went in.
There was a short, chubby employee who greeted me when I walked in. Or at least I think she may have greeted me; I saw her lips moving but my heart was pounding SO LOUD I couldn't hear a thing. I smiled warmly (wanly?) and moved on.
I wandered rudderless a while. WHAT AM I DOING HERE I kept asking myself. AM I INSANE was next on the FAQ. IS THIS EVEN HEALTHY followed. My heart was thudding. My breathing was shallow. No joke, there was a moment when I thought I was going to pass out.
So I focused on a bottle display and forced myself to breathe. BREATHE. Told myself, I will not be afraid of this place. BREATHE. I will be back here, one day, to select things for my registry. For my baby. For my family. BREATHE.
And once the panic fled, I left. Head high.
STILL don't know if I was brave or crazy.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Decline
I do not like the word "decline." It's a wimp of a word. "I decline your offer." What's that mean? You don't want to, or you cant, or what the hell?
The folks at Mama's daycare tell us she's declining. Which means WHAT.
Hate that word.
The folks at Mama's daycare tell us she's declining. Which means WHAT.
Hate that word.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Changing My Life
So a billion years ago, I made some New Years Resolutions. And I've actually made good on most of them.
7. Start a Medical Binder for me, and one for my MIL
Yeah. I'd forgotten about this one until I dug out my old posting. So no, but now that I remember it, it's next on my list.
6. I will do something positive (per Bea) as often as I can. (I hope I can get to 50).
Knowing all of you has changed my life. The only thing that's stopping me from listing you all by name and mentioning how much y'all have given to me, and how you have changed my life, how much I have learned from you is the huge freaking fear that I will not remember all of you (because it's more than the folks I list to the side) and that I might accidentally offend you in the process of praising you. But godDAMN, women, I owe you my life. From inspiring me to do something positive to be better to try for a new job to investigate a new treatment plan. I can do this because I saw you do it. And while I have not done a "good deed" every week, I made the decision (a la Bea) to, as I put it CRAM SUNSHINE into everything coming out of me. Until it got to be something I can do fairly comfortably, and regularly.
5. I will blog at least once a week.
Yeah. Does composing blog entries in my head count? No?
4. I will ask myself Powerful Questions.
All right, I admit it. I still use affirmations. But I aggressively ask questions, and ask positive questions. And I love it. It's a bit NLP, but I recommend it.
3. I will laugh really hard at least once a day.
The D.ail.y S.ho.w. The C.olber.t R.epor.t. My N.ame is E.arl. U.gly B.etty. H.ow I M.et Y.our M.other. Stand-Up podcasts. W.ait, W.ait, D.on't T.ell M.e podcasts. Not to mention, life's everyday antics. Laughing is FUN. (any suggestions?)
2. Continue with the somewhat goofy but "good for me" things I do.
I've been reading The I.nfertilit.y C.ure: The A.ncient C.hinese W.ellness P.rogram for G.etting P.regnant and H.aving H.ealthy B.abies. I bought it a year plus ago, but it took Square Peg saying she was reading it (and liking it) for me to have the patience to crack the spine. And while the book is lacking in some areas, I'm digging it. I mentioned the recommended diet to H, who responded "That's m.acrobiotic.s!" So we switched from struggling vegans to fairly successful macro-psychotics. (It helps that H used to work at the O.mega I.nstitute and has friends who are m.acrobiotic-friendly. Because, man, no one wants to have dinner with the vegans). I've kept most of the list up (except for s.ynthroi.d -- don't seem to need it anymore.) And an accupuncture clinic opened up blocks from my house, so I don't need to haul into Manhattan (and pay Manhattan prices) for my accupunture. I've even taking accupunturist-provided herbs (the most foul-smelling and evil-tasting thing I have ever put into my body).
1. Update my resume. And when the resume is updated, I will look for a job that will offer me health insurance.
Done. Okay, it took me four months (no exageration) to update my resume, but I DID IT. And I sent it out. And I applied for jobs, including one in the Marketing Department of the company that I work for.
And I got the job. (which comes with a raise, better hours, more fulfilling taks and oh yeah HEALTH INSURANCE).
EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
7. Start a Medical Binder for me, and one for my MIL
Yeah. I'd forgotten about this one until I dug out my old posting. So no, but now that I remember it, it's next on my list.
6. I will do something positive (per Bea) as often as I can. (I hope I can get to 50).
Knowing all of you has changed my life. The only thing that's stopping me from listing you all by name and mentioning how much y'all have given to me, and how you have changed my life, how much I have learned from you is the huge freaking fear that I will not remember all of you (because it's more than the folks I list to the side) and that I might accidentally offend you in the process of praising you. But godDAMN, women, I owe you my life. From inspiring me to do something positive to be better to try for a new job to investigate a new treatment plan. I can do this because I saw you do it. And while I have not done a "good deed" every week, I made the decision (a la Bea) to, as I put it CRAM SUNSHINE into everything coming out of me. Until it got to be something I can do fairly comfortably, and regularly.
5. I will blog at least once a week.
Yeah. Does composing blog entries in my head count? No?
4. I will ask myself Powerful Questions.
All right, I admit it. I still use affirmations. But I aggressively ask questions, and ask positive questions. And I love it. It's a bit NLP, but I recommend it.
3. I will laugh really hard at least once a day.
The D.ail.y S.ho.w. The C.olber.t R.epor.t. My N.ame is E.arl. U.gly B.etty. H.ow I M.et Y.our M.other. Stand-Up podcasts. W.ait, W.ait, D.on't T.ell M.e podcasts. Not to mention, life's everyday antics. Laughing is FUN. (any suggestions?)
2. Continue with the somewhat goofy but "good for me" things I do.
I've been reading The I.nfertilit.y C.ure: The A.ncient C.hinese W.ellness P.rogram for G.etting P.regnant and H.aving H.ealthy B.abies. I bought it a year plus ago, but it took Square Peg saying she was reading it (and liking it) for me to have the patience to crack the spine. And while the book is lacking in some areas, I'm digging it. I mentioned the recommended diet to H, who responded "That's m.acrobiotic.s!" So we switched from struggling vegans to fairly successful macro-psychotics. (It helps that H used to work at the O.mega I.nstitute and has friends who are m.acrobiotic-friendly. Because, man, no one wants to have dinner with the vegans). I've kept most of the list up (except for s.ynthroi.d -- don't seem to need it anymore.) And an accupuncture clinic opened up blocks from my house, so I don't need to haul into Manhattan (and pay Manhattan prices) for my accupunture. I've even taking accupunturist-provided herbs (the most foul-smelling and evil-tasting thing I have ever put into my body).
1. Update my resume. And when the resume is updated, I will look for a job that will offer me health insurance.
Done. Okay, it took me four months (no exageration) to update my resume, but I DID IT. And I sent it out. And I applied for jobs, including one in the Marketing Department of the company that I work for.
And I got the job. (which comes with a raise, better hours, more fulfilling taks and oh yeah HEALTH INSURANCE).
EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
Oops
These were supposed to come out at different times. (I thought, at least)
Apologies for the blog-spam
Apologies for the blog-spam
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Cycles
It's a cycle, and not a good one. I'm away for a few days, months, years, and then I come back, and i feel OBLIGATED to read up on all of you, on what you've been doing, on where you are.
And when I'm done reading, the small amount of time that I've managed to secret away has been expended, and I have to go. And then I'm away for a few decades, centuries, eons. And, like the brooms with buckets in F.antasi.a or dirty laundry, y'all have blogged more posts, conquered more mountains, lived through more hells, and I feel obligated to be witness...
But today, I broke the cycle. I promised myself if I got the actual dirty laundry done, as well as a few other uxorial chores, I would pay the $9.99 at S.tarbuck.s and sit and blog and read and whatever for a few hours.
TA-DAA!!
I even managed to schedule it in such a way that H gets some time to vanquish our incoming bills and (please, Jesus) put us on a schedule and figure us a way out our black hole of debt.
Double TA-DA!!
And as to why I haven't been posting... Here's the story.
I've got a Supervisor and a Manager. And the Manager gave the Supervisor some projects, but even though the Supervisor has two scheduled hours of downtime a day, Supervisor was going nowhere on the projects. So Supervisor comes over to me the day after I get back from LA and INFORMS me (not asks, not even wrapping it in a nice "would you mind") that I am going to do her job for -- wait for it -- SIX MONTHS and she is going to do mine because MINE is EASIER.
Riiiiight.
And I, of course, smiled and said ANYTHING I CAN DO TO HELP because I am a "contractor," a "temp" and three million years ago they said I was on the short list to get hired which means health insurance which I do not currently have.
And so we switched and I did her job a helluva lot better than she did mine because my job is hard, is demanding, is incredibly draining, and you have to make the decision to get through it smiling. (Or, at least, *I* have made the decision to get through it smiling).
You ever notice when you decide to make the best of it, and you actually find the best of it, without sarcasm or snark or teeniest of bitchiness... it actually becomes pretty good?
For the record -- I'm a word processor who is SO GOOD that I've learned three thousand software packages, and was elevated to a position that I am the coordinator/troubleshooter for all the other word processors in my center, and all the ones off in India. Twenty to thirty people I give constant technical and design assistance every single day.
Easy, my EYE. I just make it look like that. (Anyone who has ever managed anyone -- you KNOW what I mean).
So I used to have downtime. Not a lot, but a bit. And I would start a blog on Monday and finish it up a few days later. I had a small amount of privacy, a nice little desk in the back that I shared with other folks in my position (my job is open 24/7). And I blogged.
But since I've been 'supervising'... I'm up at the front, with my Manager by my side. Clients constantly coming in the door to be attended to. (I great every freaking one of them with a smile, unlike my Supervisor, who is a drama queen.) I ask questions, I seek solutions, I say "no" when we can't accomplish something but I follow every "no" with possible alternatives. I'm rocking it, to the point that my Manager said to me, "Nica, I have to be more like you." Score!
But no space to blog. The manager would NOT take kindly to taking my downtime to blog. I think I mentioned, a few months ago, the Company I work for even blocked the blog sites. I figures a way around it, but that's all the more reason for me not to flaunt it.
So, sorry I've been gone so long, but I'm sucking down decaf coffees with soy milk so let's see what I can get done today...
And when I'm done reading, the small amount of time that I've managed to secret away has been expended, and I have to go. And then I'm away for a few decades, centuries, eons. And, like the brooms with buckets in F.antasi.a or dirty laundry, y'all have blogged more posts, conquered more mountains, lived through more hells, and I feel obligated to be witness...
But today, I broke the cycle. I promised myself if I got the actual dirty laundry done, as well as a few other uxorial chores, I would pay the $9.99 at S.tarbuck.s and sit and blog and read and whatever for a few hours.
TA-DAA!!
I even managed to schedule it in such a way that H gets some time to vanquish our incoming bills and (please, Jesus) put us on a schedule and figure us a way out our black hole of debt.
Double TA-DA!!
And as to why I haven't been posting... Here's the story.
I've got a Supervisor and a Manager. And the Manager gave the Supervisor some projects, but even though the Supervisor has two scheduled hours of downtime a day, Supervisor was going nowhere on the projects. So Supervisor comes over to me the day after I get back from LA and INFORMS me (not asks, not even wrapping it in a nice "would you mind") that I am going to do her job for -- wait for it -- SIX MONTHS and she is going to do mine because MINE is EASIER.
Riiiiight.
And I, of course, smiled and said ANYTHING I CAN DO TO HELP because I am a "contractor," a "temp" and three million years ago they said I was on the short list to get hired which means health insurance which I do not currently have.
And so we switched and I did her job a helluva lot better than she did mine because my job is hard, is demanding, is incredibly draining, and you have to make the decision to get through it smiling. (Or, at least, *I* have made the decision to get through it smiling).
You ever notice when you decide to make the best of it, and you actually find the best of it, without sarcasm or snark or teeniest of bitchiness... it actually becomes pretty good?
For the record -- I'm a word processor who is SO GOOD that I've learned three thousand software packages, and was elevated to a position that I am the coordinator/troubleshooter for all the other word processors in my center, and all the ones off in India. Twenty to thirty people I give constant technical and design assistance every single day.
Easy, my EYE. I just make it look like that. (Anyone who has ever managed anyone -- you KNOW what I mean).
So I used to have downtime. Not a lot, but a bit. And I would start a blog on Monday and finish it up a few days later. I had a small amount of privacy, a nice little desk in the back that I shared with other folks in my position (my job is open 24/7). And I blogged.
But since I've been 'supervising'... I'm up at the front, with my Manager by my side. Clients constantly coming in the door to be attended to. (I great every freaking one of them with a smile, unlike my Supervisor, who is a drama queen.) I ask questions, I seek solutions, I say "no" when we can't accomplish something but I follow every "no" with possible alternatives. I'm rocking it, to the point that my Manager said to me, "Nica, I have to be more like you." Score!
But no space to blog. The manager would NOT take kindly to taking my downtime to blog. I think I mentioned, a few months ago, the Company I work for even blocked the blog sites. I figures a way around it, but that's all the more reason for me not to flaunt it.
So, sorry I've been gone so long, but I'm sucking down decaf coffees with soy milk so let's see what I can get done today...
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Couples fighting infertility might have more control than they think
US News and World Report
http://www.usnews.com/usnews/health/articles/070429/7infertility.htm
Allright, this is a cop out. More later...
http://www.usnews.com/usnews/health/articles/070429/7infertility.htm
Allright, this is a cop out. More later...
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