The other day I was looking for some paperwork. I looked all over the house for the particular papers, to no avail. I also looked at a book my mother had kept for me, full of birthday cards and some of my elementary school report cards. From Grade 1 to Grade 5, two comments recurred:
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Monday, January 7, 2008
Plays Well with Others
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Resistance is Futile
Within the next 24 hours or so, I will find out whether or not academic (albeit staff academic, not faculty) employment is in my future or not. On one hand, of course I'd like the job and its associated paycheque, and I'd like to be among the land of the living (read: thinking) again, and I'd like to take a research centre that desperately needs a facelift, and give it one. On the other hand, I like being at home and doing whatever I want to do, almost all of the time. There are other hands that are in between these two extremes, i.e. employment and non, but I'm only one person and two hands are all I have.
If I don't get the job, I need to evaluate my skills and see where they'd be best applied. So let's see...what am I good at?
1) I am excellent at assessing a situation, considering all opinions brought forth by other people, and coming to conclusions that are well thought-out, articulate and intriguing. Sadly, I am able to do these things after removing myself from the situation: replaying all of the conversations and nuances of body language, and synthesizing all the verbal and non-verbal information into a cohesive conclusion. It usually takes a good four or five hours for me to do this, and sometimes it takes a lot longer.
In other words, while I'm very good at observing and analyzing, I am terrible at thinking on my feet. I'm pretty good at thinking on my ass, which is handy if I only communicate with people via the written word.
This is a major contributor to the fact that I interview like a brick.
2) I am really excellent at telling people what to do, especially when I've got legislation or some other kind of regulation behind me. I have all the confidence in the world as long as I know that I'm right, and as long as I can back up my directives with rules made by other people, or even rules made by me. Unfortunately, learning the legislation and/or rules is mind-bogglingly boring. All the same, I can usually pick it up in one read-through; for example, I read the collective agreement at my former employer in one evening, and was able to pull some of the more obscure articles from it without hesitation during negotiation discussions.
3) I don't waste any time with small talk, so if I need something from you, I knock on your door and ask for it. I do this even if you've been away for three weeks on the vacation of a lifetime, and you want to tell me all about it but won't until I ask, which I won't, because I need to do what I need to do, and I need to do it now, but you have the only Philips screwdriver in the department, and after you give it to me and I finish my task, then I might ask you about your vacation if I don't have something else to do. In other words, smalltalk is on my terms and I'm usually too busy to bother with it. While this is a good trait for assembly-line work, it gets less useful as one climbs up the ladder, since managers tend to have far less to do than assembly-line workers. In the business world I'd be seen as a bit squirrelly, but in science I'm normal. I'm even outgoing.
4) I am fair, and I can't be bought. Or, well, I can, but I'm very expensive and not really worth it, so mostly I can't be bought. Need that analysis done yesterday? Very interesting. Maybe you should have brought me your sample yesterday.
5) I will tell you what I think, especially if you ask.
6) I am not ambitious, I will not steal your job out from under you or make myself look better than you so that I can get ahead. I work hard because I like to work hard, not to show anyone else up.
7) I'm pretty smart, and I learn new tasks fast. And then I make them better. I can improvise if I don't have the tools I need.
There are other things, but these are what came to me this morning as I was putting wood filler into the cracks of the bathroom door this morning, in preparation for painting the thing. I am ridiculously direct, forthright, and pushy, while at the same time appearing (in the physical sense) to be sweet and easily manipulated. I find that people are always looking for my "soft side" as though I'm faking all the rest, and really I'm just a sweet darling. Truly people, I'm not a sweet darling, and I really am pushy and direct and I'll do what I can to get what I want, short of lying or deceiving, because those are not available options in my repertoire of Things I'm Good At.
For three years I worked for a chemical company, and after the first three months it was the most stultifying job I have ever held. My brain was totally on hold as I tried to work past the sales people and the marketing nutjobs, and past my own boss who had an unhealthy obsession with me. Product development was an oxymoron, and research amounted to putting old products in new packages with an updated MSDS. I felt insecure and stupid all the time, because I couldn't get a handle on what was really going on at the company, and yet I was slated for a promotion out of technical development and into management before I left to go back to school. Insanity!
Soon though, as I said probably within the next 24hours, I'll learn my fate. Am I to return to the hallowed halls of doing whatever the hell I want for a paycheque, or will I remain a sahm and will we eat a whole lot of rice and beans while subsisting on one paycheque brought home by hub? Stay tuned.....
Update (14:07): The pfo letter was in my mailbox. C'est dommage.
If I don't get the job, I need to evaluate my skills and see where they'd be best applied. So let's see...what am I good at?
1) I am excellent at assessing a situation, considering all opinions brought forth by other people, and coming to conclusions that are well thought-out, articulate and intriguing. Sadly, I am able to do these things after removing myself from the situation: replaying all of the conversations and nuances of body language, and synthesizing all the verbal and non-verbal information into a cohesive conclusion. It usually takes a good four or five hours for me to do this, and sometimes it takes a lot longer.
In other words, while I'm very good at observing and analyzing, I am terrible at thinking on my feet. I'm pretty good at thinking on my ass, which is handy if I only communicate with people via the written word.
This is a major contributor to the fact that I interview like a brick.
2) I am really excellent at telling people what to do, especially when I've got legislation or some other kind of regulation behind me. I have all the confidence in the world as long as I know that I'm right, and as long as I can back up my directives with rules made by other people, or even rules made by me. Unfortunately, learning the legislation and/or rules is mind-bogglingly boring. All the same, I can usually pick it up in one read-through; for example, I read the collective agreement at my former employer in one evening, and was able to pull some of the more obscure articles from it without hesitation during negotiation discussions.
3) I don't waste any time with small talk, so if I need something from you, I knock on your door and ask for it. I do this even if you've been away for three weeks on the vacation of a lifetime, and you want to tell me all about it but won't until I ask, which I won't, because I need to do what I need to do, and I need to do it now, but you have the only Philips screwdriver in the department, and after you give it to me and I finish my task, then I might ask you about your vacation if I don't have something else to do. In other words, smalltalk is on my terms and I'm usually too busy to bother with it. While this is a good trait for assembly-line work, it gets less useful as one climbs up the ladder, since managers tend to have far less to do than assembly-line workers. In the business world I'd be seen as a bit squirrelly, but in science I'm normal. I'm even outgoing.
4) I am fair, and I can't be bought. Or, well, I can, but I'm very expensive and not really worth it, so mostly I can't be bought. Need that analysis done yesterday? Very interesting. Maybe you should have brought me your sample yesterday.
5) I will tell you what I think, especially if you ask.
6) I am not ambitious, I will not steal your job out from under you or make myself look better than you so that I can get ahead. I work hard because I like to work hard, not to show anyone else up.
7) I'm pretty smart, and I learn new tasks fast. And then I make them better. I can improvise if I don't have the tools I need.
There are other things, but these are what came to me this morning as I was putting wood filler into the cracks of the bathroom door this morning, in preparation for painting the thing. I am ridiculously direct, forthright, and pushy, while at the same time appearing (in the physical sense) to be sweet and easily manipulated. I find that people are always looking for my "soft side" as though I'm faking all the rest, and really I'm just a sweet darling. Truly people, I'm not a sweet darling, and I really am pushy and direct and I'll do what I can to get what I want, short of lying or deceiving, because those are not available options in my repertoire of Things I'm Good At.
For three years I worked for a chemical company, and after the first three months it was the most stultifying job I have ever held. My brain was totally on hold as I tried to work past the sales people and the marketing nutjobs, and past my own boss who had an unhealthy obsession with me. Product development was an oxymoron, and research amounted to putting old products in new packages with an updated MSDS. I felt insecure and stupid all the time, because I couldn't get a handle on what was really going on at the company, and yet I was slated for a promotion out of technical development and into management before I left to go back to school. Insanity!
Soon though, as I said probably within the next 24hours, I'll learn my fate. Am I to return to the hallowed halls of doing whatever the hell I want for a paycheque, or will I remain a sahm and will we eat a whole lot of rice and beans while subsisting on one paycheque brought home by hub? Stay tuned.....
Update (14:07): The pfo letter was in my mailbox. C'est dommage.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Slight Panic
Interview tomorrow, which means that I am in full-on procrastination mode. It's akin to labour, except less painful and you can drink, and rather than think about when, dear God when, the parasite in your uterus will finally be expelled so that you can worry about your belly fat again and whether your ass is fat because now you can turn around and actually see your ass, and it's a lot bigger than the last time you saw it...no, rather than that, it's WOW red wine and chocolate pretzels are really really good at 4:30 in the morning, I can't sleep anyway might as well surf the web because what I don't want to do is look up whether or not you can just switch out your moly source for copper but really? really, I want to watch The Shopping Network. Yes, procrastination is a lot like that. One minute you're reminiscing about having a baby and the next you're scarfing down forbidden food in the wee dark hours of the morning accompanied by The New Lukastyle Fashions, because there is no way in hell that you're actually going to prepare for an interview. Which reminds me, I have to hem those pants I bought...or really, why bother? Why not just fold them up underneath and tape them up with packing tape?Better yet, the Handyman's Helper: Duct Tape.
In my wanderings through the web-o-sphere of delaying the inevitable, I looked at Dooce's site, to find a reference to a family with 17 children. Perhaps you have heard of them, seen an article about them in the news. It reminded me that every once in a while Hub and I say that we could have had more children, and indeed that is true. Even though I am not a big person, pregnancy was a cakewalk, and labour and delivery were much easier than, say, my PhD comprehensive exam, where I had to talk for two full hours about a research proposal that I'd made up all by myself to five men who thought my scientific merit ranked near to that of the common ground squirrel, despite the fact that I proved them wrong. So sure, there could have been a few more kids in this family, and it would have been fine, because all of the children would have been perfect like the two we have now, and they all would have been beautiful and intelligent like the two we have now, and they all would have changed the world every day by their very existence, yes, like the two we have now. Naturally it would be perfect. Sadly, we will never find this out because I refused to have children after a certain age, and that age has passed. Let the drinking begin in earnest!
Back to the Duggars and their 17 babies. Not all babies, since the first was born in 1988, but really people, maybe it's time to stop bringing forth new faces into the world. Or at least, if you're still motivated to procreate, and clearly you are because when a woman is totally made up and beaming after giving birth to her 17th child, she isn't quite ready to call it quits, is she? then for the love of all that is holy, could you possibly try switching up the names? Each and every one of those 17 children has a name that starts with the letter "J", you can double-check that on their site because I am not listing them. Imagine breakfast in your 4700 square foot house (for this is what Jim Bob built for his family, without ending up owing a cent at the end, because he and Michelle are Real Estate Agents ..... wait a minute, where does she find the time? Pregnancy might be easy enough but what? does she go to work 10 minutes after giving birth?) where you want one of the 17 Darlings to pass the butter. It probably doesn't matter which J name you call out, because one of them is going to leap up and place the butter in front of you. I think that personally, I'd just call out "Jedidiah! Butter!" at every meal because I like a multisyllabic name with lots of the same letters. It's no wonder they're all caught up with God...oh, sorry, Jesus (because you only think of the earthly embodiment of God, and you don't address the Big Guy, you petition Jesus to be your messenger instead. That way, if God decides that the request is a particularly stupid one, he'll smite Jesus and not you.) and not drinking, they'd never remember who any of their kids are. Besides, once they start drinking they probably won't stop.
What killed me about their site is the birth control story and the "fine print" that a Christian medical doctor pointed out to them, that if one becomes pregnant while on the pill, that the probability of miscarriage is high. I think that it's imperative that I point out that if your physician doesn't point out that if you get pregnant while on the pill, that you will likely miscarry. Why is it that women take the pill without a full understanding of what it does? If you want to maintain your ignorance then fine, don't take the thing. On the other hand, if you take a pill and you don't know what it's doing to your body, then you are stupid and deserve a good smiting. So here are Jim Bob and Michelle, and they've lost a baby due to ignorance of their own making, and they're begging God's forgiveness, and I'm thinking, "How did they know that he forgave them? Did he tell them? He sent a sign?" and then I'm thinking, "Really. You should not concern yourself with these stupid people. You have to be somewhere in 24h and what will not be on the question list is, "What do you think of the Duggar family?"
And we're back to eating crunchy chip things that Hub bought, bags of them in fact so even if I finish this bag there are four more in the cupboard, and we're ranting in our heads but still reading the job description again (they want me to what??) and what I wrote when I applied for this job three months ago (I said that?!) and what everyone does as their research and where I'd fit in, or whether I would and can't I just have one more bag of those crunchy chip things (barbecue flavour, not plain)?
It is hot as fuck here today, and tomorrow it's not going to be quite as warm (23C) so we are now leaning away from the turtleneck because even though it's September 26 tomorrow it is definitely not Fall and we may wear a totally different outfit that has nothing to do with hemming anything.........but I digress, yet again.
In my wanderings through the web-o-sphere of delaying the inevitable, I looked at Dooce's site, to find a reference to a family with 17 children. Perhaps you have heard of them, seen an article about them in the news. It reminded me that every once in a while Hub and I say that we could have had more children, and indeed that is true. Even though I am not a big person, pregnancy was a cakewalk, and labour and delivery were much easier than, say, my PhD comprehensive exam, where I had to talk for two full hours about a research proposal that I'd made up all by myself to five men who thought my scientific merit ranked near to that of the common ground squirrel, despite the fact that I proved them wrong. So sure, there could have been a few more kids in this family, and it would have been fine, because all of the children would have been perfect like the two we have now, and they all would have been beautiful and intelligent like the two we have now, and they all would have changed the world every day by their very existence, yes, like the two we have now. Naturally it would be perfect. Sadly, we will never find this out because I refused to have children after a certain age, and that age has passed. Let the drinking begin in earnest!
Back to the Duggars and their 17 babies. Not all babies, since the first was born in 1988, but really people, maybe it's time to stop bringing forth new faces into the world. Or at least, if you're still motivated to procreate, and clearly you are because when a woman is totally made up and beaming after giving birth to her 17th child, she isn't quite ready to call it quits, is she? then for the love of all that is holy, could you possibly try switching up the names? Each and every one of those 17 children has a name that starts with the letter "J", you can double-check that on their site because I am not listing them. Imagine breakfast in your 4700 square foot house (for this is what Jim Bob built for his family, without ending up owing a cent at the end, because he and Michelle are Real Estate Agents ..... wait a minute, where does she find the time? Pregnancy might be easy enough but what? does she go to work 10 minutes after giving birth?) where you want one of the 17 Darlings to pass the butter. It probably doesn't matter which J name you call out, because one of them is going to leap up and place the butter in front of you. I think that personally, I'd just call out "Jedidiah! Butter!" at every meal because I like a multisyllabic name with lots of the same letters. It's no wonder they're all caught up with God...oh, sorry, Jesus (because you only think of the earthly embodiment of God, and you don't address the Big Guy, you petition Jesus to be your messenger instead. That way, if God decides that the request is a particularly stupid one, he'll smite Jesus and not you.) and not drinking, they'd never remember who any of their kids are. Besides, once they start drinking they probably won't stop.
What killed me about their site is the birth control story and the "fine print" that a Christian medical doctor pointed out to them, that if one becomes pregnant while on the pill, that the probability of miscarriage is high. I think that it's imperative that I point out that if your physician doesn't point out that if you get pregnant while on the pill, that you will likely miscarry. Why is it that women take the pill without a full understanding of what it does? If you want to maintain your ignorance then fine, don't take the thing. On the other hand, if you take a pill and you don't know what it's doing to your body, then you are stupid and deserve a good smiting. So here are Jim Bob and Michelle, and they've lost a baby due to ignorance of their own making, and they're begging God's forgiveness, and I'm thinking, "How did they know that he forgave them? Did he tell them? He sent a sign?" and then I'm thinking, "Really. You should not concern yourself with these stupid people. You have to be somewhere in 24h and what will not be on the question list is, "What do you think of the Duggar family?"
And we're back to eating crunchy chip things that Hub bought, bags of them in fact so even if I finish this bag there are four more in the cupboard, and we're ranting in our heads but still reading the job description again (they want me to what??) and what I wrote when I applied for this job three months ago (I said that?!) and what everyone does as their research and where I'd fit in, or whether I would and can't I just have one more bag of those crunchy chip things (barbecue flavour, not plain)?
It is hot as fuck here today, and tomorrow it's not going to be quite as warm (23C) so we are now leaning away from the turtleneck because even though it's September 26 tomorrow it is definitely not Fall and we may wear a totally different outfit that has nothing to do with hemming anything.........but I digress, yet again.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
It Ends with Little Fanfare
Or at least, thus far it is ending with little fanfare. Stay tuned, because tomorrow it really ends. "It" being the last of classes. I am trying to make a lecture for tomorrow, and I have thus far been slogging for three hours, with nothing to show for it. It's supposed to be an overview, and these are the easiest lectures to make, because I'm just summarizing everything we've done. Hmph. Not so easy for me when it's organic chemistry and when I'm changing the format to lump everything under slightly different headings. I should really be working on it, but I am distracted and anxious. It's Tuesday of the week after Things Should Be Decided at the academic institution at which I applied. It's been just over a month, could we please make a decision people? My life is hanging in the balance here and I need to know if I should apply for the job at the bakery up the road.
Quite frankly, there are days that I think that kneading dough all day would be the most fantastic thing ever. No big decisions, no grant proposals, no panic. Just yummy dough.
Last week I found out that my NSERC grant was renewed, so I'm safe there. I let the people at the possible new job place know that I'd secured my funding. This may or may not make a difference. Who the hell knows. It actually should, because then I can focus on the other huge proposal that has to go in this fall for the instrumentation necessary for me to do my work (and to help out with the work of others in the department).
Really. Should I worry? I should be far more confident than I am. I already have grant money (not a lot, but enough to get started), I know how to teach well, I have been on oodles of committees, I've graduated lots of students. On paper, and when I say all this, it looks like I should be a shoe-in, right? So how come I don't feel that way?
Maybe because I interviewed like a brick. Granted, a lighter brick than usual, but still, brick. Sinking to the bottom of the river, fast.
So, in order to focus on the lecture for tomorrow (which I am clearly doing as I write the blog entry) I have decided that beer is the best aid. In the last 10 minutes, I have gulped one of these darlings, (Tankhouse Ale) and I am soon to open another. I think that will be enough, as one has to be careful to maintain the fine line between focussed and loaded. I don't have to cook supper because I went to the poultry market and picked up one of their chicken pies, which are better than any chicken pie I could make (and I make fantastic pies. That bakery idea? It's not half-baked.) and besides, cooking tonight would be a waste of an hour. Not that it matters because I can't think to save my life tonight.
In other news, I am attempting a more local diet. This means buying food as close to home as possible, within 100km if it can be done. Obviously vanilla won't be within the radius, and if you think I'm giving up vanilla you are on crack...it is the most necessary baking flavour ever extracted. Spices all around are a bit of a problem, except for those we can grow, which right now we can't especially because it's supposed to snow all weekend. Hello! Easter here! Easter Bunny would rather not hop through the snow to deliver the baskets! but whatever. I won't care, I'll be done classes and note-making. Dear Sweet Christ Upon The Cross I am so glad I will not have to do this any more.
At least, until the next time I have to do it.
I shouldn't even be thinking about hearing about the job this week anyway. Once the dept makes the decision, it has to be okay'd by the dean, and that won't happen immediately...especially if it's me and the dean says, "Why are you picking the person I didn't meet? I liked the other one better." .... and in the interest of my sanity, we will not go there.
OH! it's also the week of course evaluations, my most very favourite time. Actually, it's not so painful as first term, and we just got those evaluations a week ago. What a farce. This term we're making the students do paper evaluations rather than the online fiasco they did first term, and so the secretary types up the comments and I get them same day. So let's see, from the grab bag: "She's totally unapproachable for questions, doesn't welcome them at all." "She's so helpful and always answers every question." "Excellent prof." "I can't stand her."
The class is bonkers? No, this is typical, especially of first year. In upper-year classes I get excellent reviews because by then they realize how lucky they are to have me as their prof. That's not ego talking (see fourth paragraph. I don't suffer from egocentricity.) because it's true. Mostly, I will answer all of the questions put to me, even the stupid ones that show me you slept through the entire term. "Mostly" because there are some questions that are so insane that I get offended. Apparently when I am offended, you don't need to be told how I feel, it comes off of me in waves. Even if you are useless at reading people, even if you can't understand body language to save your life, you will understand me. Instantaneously.
So this is where I am: anxiously waiting to hear whether I am still a prof or not. Anxious about tomorrow being the last day of class, and at 5:08p.m. I still have nothing to talk about tomorrow. Thus, we shall pour another beer and see if all this shite can be brought together to a coherent whole. If not, well, what the hell. They've already evaluated me.
Quite frankly, there are days that I think that kneading dough all day would be the most fantastic thing ever. No big decisions, no grant proposals, no panic. Just yummy dough.
Last week I found out that my NSERC grant was renewed, so I'm safe there. I let the people at the possible new job place know that I'd secured my funding. This may or may not make a difference. Who the hell knows. It actually should, because then I can focus on the other huge proposal that has to go in this fall for the instrumentation necessary for me to do my work (and to help out with the work of others in the department).
Really. Should I worry? I should be far more confident than I am. I already have grant money (not a lot, but enough to get started), I know how to teach well, I have been on oodles of committees, I've graduated lots of students. On paper, and when I say all this, it looks like I should be a shoe-in, right? So how come I don't feel that way?
Maybe because I interviewed like a brick. Granted, a lighter brick than usual, but still, brick. Sinking to the bottom of the river, fast.
So, in order to focus on the lecture for tomorrow (which I am clearly doing as I write the blog entry) I have decided that beer is the best aid. In the last 10 minutes, I have gulped one of these darlings, (Tankhouse Ale) and I am soon to open another. I think that will be enough, as one has to be careful to maintain the fine line between focussed and loaded. I don't have to cook supper because I went to the poultry market and picked up one of their chicken pies, which are better than any chicken pie I could make (and I make fantastic pies. That bakery idea? It's not half-baked.) and besides, cooking tonight would be a waste of an hour. Not that it matters because I can't think to save my life tonight.
In other news, I am attempting a more local diet. This means buying food as close to home as possible, within 100km if it can be done. Obviously vanilla won't be within the radius, and if you think I'm giving up vanilla you are on crack...it is the most necessary baking flavour ever extracted. Spices all around are a bit of a problem, except for those we can grow, which right now we can't especially because it's supposed to snow all weekend. Hello! Easter here! Easter Bunny would rather not hop through the snow to deliver the baskets! but whatever. I won't care, I'll be done classes and note-making. Dear Sweet Christ Upon The Cross I am so glad I will not have to do this any more.
At least, until the next time I have to do it.
I shouldn't even be thinking about hearing about the job this week anyway. Once the dept makes the decision, it has to be okay'd by the dean, and that won't happen immediately...especially if it's me and the dean says, "Why are you picking the person I didn't meet? I liked the other one better." .... and in the interest of my sanity, we will not go there.
OH! it's also the week of course evaluations, my most very favourite time. Actually, it's not so painful as first term, and we just got those evaluations a week ago. What a farce. This term we're making the students do paper evaluations rather than the online fiasco they did first term, and so the secretary types up the comments and I get them same day. So let's see, from the grab bag: "She's totally unapproachable for questions, doesn't welcome them at all." "She's so helpful and always answers every question." "Excellent prof." "I can't stand her."
The class is bonkers? No, this is typical, especially of first year. In upper-year classes I get excellent reviews because by then they realize how lucky they are to have me as their prof. That's not ego talking (see fourth paragraph. I don't suffer from egocentricity.) because it's true. Mostly, I will answer all of the questions put to me, even the stupid ones that show me you slept through the entire term. "Mostly" because there are some questions that are so insane that I get offended. Apparently when I am offended, you don't need to be told how I feel, it comes off of me in waves. Even if you are useless at reading people, even if you can't understand body language to save your life, you will understand me. Instantaneously.
So this is where I am: anxiously waiting to hear whether I am still a prof or not. Anxious about tomorrow being the last day of class, and at 5:08p.m. I still have nothing to talk about tomorrow. Thus, we shall pour another beer and see if all this shite can be brought together to a coherent whole. If not, well, what the hell. They've already evaluated me.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wherein I Discuss What One Wears to an Academic Interview
Because as you know, it's not the product, it's the packaging.
I have been considering my attire for next Thursday's interview extravaganza, a little 12-hour affair that will take me from meeting the Department Chair at 09:00 to finally saying good evening after dinner, somewhere around 21:00. I don't yet know where dinner will be, but I know that lunch is at the Faculty Club, not a pretentious sort of place (this is a school founded on veterinary and agricultural faculties after all) but posh enough to expect that I won't show up in "my best jeans". At least two of the last few interviews that I participated in at my former employer had the candidates show up in jeans and their good shirts, but there is no way in hell that I will be making a foray into that arena.
Scientists are not a dressy lot. Let's face it, many of us have to spend parts of the day crawling around behind instruments, actually hands-on doing experiments, or teaching. Teaching is a dirty job in an of itself depending on the room temperature (anywhere from 10 to 30C depending on the heat or airconditioning facilities), whether you're on a whiteboard (marker dust) or a chalkboard (chalk dust, so black is a bad choice) or powerpoint (clean mostly, but then you have to move around a lot and be entertaining while your students frantically copy down your slides). It's potentially messy. We do also sit behind a desk a lot of the time and think, which would be mostly clean if we weren't distracted eaters. Anyway, I digress. Scientists don't really dress up, but we are expected to look presentable, and I'm pretty sure this has just been a rant on not wearing jeans to an interview. By the way, both those candidates got the jobs too.
It's not as though I don't have clothes to wear, I have lots of clothes and I suspect that it'll come down to black pants and a turtleneck sweater, because that's what I look good in and that's comfortable for a 12-hour day where I don't want to show anybody up and yet where I don't want to fade into the background. I have several choices for the sweater, that's not a worry either. I don't have a suit and wouldn't consider one, it's too much.
No, the problem isn't the clothes, and the problem isn't the jewellery and the problem isn't the hair; all of those things are fine. They're the things that when I leave the house, I'll be perfectly satisfied with how they look, and so I won't give a thought to them all day.
The problem, of course, is the shoes.
I am not tall and I don't have long feet, so while the 3.5in wedge-heeled sandals are fantastic for a dinner out, they suck for walking around all day, standing to give a 1.5h lecture, or any other part of this interview. Plus, it'll be March 1, in Canada. Can you say snow/freezing rain/-20C or any combo of the above? I knew you could. So sandals are stupid.
Next up, two pairs of possible Fluevogs: mod black boots (2in heels, no pic available, they're old), burgundy blunt-heeled shoes (2in)........both of these are good choices, and both have been worn for extended days with little subsequent damage to me. Even a 2in heel is hard on the knees after a full day (I suffer from mild arthritis symptoms. A surgeon has assured me that I am riddled with arthritis, but I am mostly, right now, asymptomatic) so I'd rather something even smaller. The next possible choices in that category are fine for mountainside traversing, not so good for an interview, so they're off the list.
Lastly, a pair of black and burgundy brogues or a pair of red loafers with about a 1in heel. Both of these are borderline suitable.
All of my shoes are Fluevogs. I know that The Manolo wouldn't approve, but they fit me and they're in my price range, and every single pair was comfortable from the moment I put them on. And actually, it's not true, I have other shoes but none in the suitable category.
So this is my agony: shoes for Thursday. Perhaps you are thinking I should just go and buy a good, suitable pair of shoes? Nothing would thrill me more than racing out to find some fancy footwear, however, I'm off the shopping until Easter. It's my lenten penance: no shopping, with the exception of food and liquor.
Really. We have to live after all.
I can't buy the shoes then, and have to make do with what is available in the closet. It's a matter of colour-matching the shoes and the rest of the outfit, unless I stick to all-black above, which leaves the colour of the footwear to my whim on Thursday morning. I won't have a lot of time for whimming of course, and I'm sure it'll all be a matter of what I grab as I'm heading out the door.
Which brings me to my other problem: last-minute-itis.
I'm supposed to be in the chair's office at 09:00. This means that I have to drop off Big One at her friend's house at 08:20 so that I have time to get to the school, park, and stroll to the building without worry of being late. Translated: the child will be dropped off at 08:30, I will have to rush to the school, figure out where the devil I'm supposed to park, find out it's way the hell across campus, run to the building, and get to the chair's office at 09:03. This isn't late, this is how I work. You see again how choice of footwear could impact upon me before the interview begins. Keep in mind I normally wear jeans, sweater, jacket, hiking shoes/boots to work, (Let me remind you: Winter. Canada. Dirty work, teaching. Chemist.) so running isn't normally a problem. I could leave on time, but I know me, and I won't. I do not like to be early.
All this, plus getting the research seminar ready. It is mostly ready, but not good and ready, and I have to add four or five slides at the end to tell them "where the research is going", code for "most of this shit is really dull, tell us the super science fantasy part where we find out how you're going to invoke world peace by a single reaction". These four or five slides have to rock their world...in a chemist-y sort of way of course. Never underestimate nerd power.
Well there we have it. Five days left to plan and perfect, along with doing my regular first year teaching gig over at the other, larger school. There's call for snow and freezing rain Sunday night into Monday, but I doubt there'll be a snow day out of it, and I can't hope for that, so have to finish up the week's teaching stuff today and tomorrow. The plate is full, the heat is on, and all the other cliches you can come up with.
I leave you then with a quote from Hedy Lamarr, who said, "Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid."
I have been considering my attire for next Thursday's interview extravaganza, a little 12-hour affair that will take me from meeting the Department Chair at 09:00 to finally saying good evening after dinner, somewhere around 21:00. I don't yet know where dinner will be, but I know that lunch is at the Faculty Club, not a pretentious sort of place (this is a school founded on veterinary and agricultural faculties after all) but posh enough to expect that I won't show up in "my best jeans". At least two of the last few interviews that I participated in at my former employer had the candidates show up in jeans and their good shirts, but there is no way in hell that I will be making a foray into that arena.
Scientists are not a dressy lot. Let's face it, many of us have to spend parts of the day crawling around behind instruments, actually hands-on doing experiments, or teaching. Teaching is a dirty job in an of itself depending on the room temperature (anywhere from 10 to 30C depending on the heat or airconditioning facilities), whether you're on a whiteboard (marker dust) or a chalkboard (chalk dust, so black is a bad choice) or powerpoint (clean mostly, but then you have to move around a lot and be entertaining while your students frantically copy down your slides). It's potentially messy. We do also sit behind a desk a lot of the time and think, which would be mostly clean if we weren't distracted eaters. Anyway, I digress. Scientists don't really dress up, but we are expected to look presentable, and I'm pretty sure this has just been a rant on not wearing jeans to an interview. By the way, both those candidates got the jobs too.
It's not as though I don't have clothes to wear, I have lots of clothes and I suspect that it'll come down to black pants and a turtleneck sweater, because that's what I look good in and that's comfortable for a 12-hour day where I don't want to show anybody up and yet where I don't want to fade into the background. I have several choices for the sweater, that's not a worry either. I don't have a suit and wouldn't consider one, it's too much.
No, the problem isn't the clothes, and the problem isn't the jewellery and the problem isn't the hair; all of those things are fine. They're the things that when I leave the house, I'll be perfectly satisfied with how they look, and so I won't give a thought to them all day.
The problem, of course, is the shoes.
I am not tall and I don't have long feet, so while the 3.5in wedge-heeled sandals are fantastic for a dinner out, they suck for walking around all day, standing to give a 1.5h lecture, or any other part of this interview. Plus, it'll be March 1, in Canada. Can you say snow/freezing rain/-20C or any combo of the above? I knew you could. So sandals are stupid.
Next up, two pairs of possible Fluevogs: mod black boots (2in heels, no pic available, they're old), burgundy blunt-heeled shoes (2in)........both of these are good choices, and both have been worn for extended days with little subsequent damage to me. Even a 2in heel is hard on the knees after a full day (I suffer from mild arthritis symptoms. A surgeon has assured me that I am riddled with arthritis, but I am mostly, right now, asymptomatic) so I'd rather something even smaller. The next possible choices in that category are fine for mountainside traversing, not so good for an interview, so they're off the list.
Lastly, a pair of black and burgundy brogues or a pair of red loafers with about a 1in heel. Both of these are borderline suitable.
All of my shoes are Fluevogs. I know that The Manolo wouldn't approve, but they fit me and they're in my price range, and every single pair was comfortable from the moment I put them on. And actually, it's not true, I have other shoes but none in the suitable category.
So this is my agony: shoes for Thursday. Perhaps you are thinking I should just go and buy a good, suitable pair of shoes? Nothing would thrill me more than racing out to find some fancy footwear, however, I'm off the shopping until Easter. It's my lenten penance: no shopping, with the exception of food and liquor.
Really. We have to live after all.
I can't buy the shoes then, and have to make do with what is available in the closet. It's a matter of colour-matching the shoes and the rest of the outfit, unless I stick to all-black above, which leaves the colour of the footwear to my whim on Thursday morning. I won't have a lot of time for whimming of course, and I'm sure it'll all be a matter of what I grab as I'm heading out the door.
Which brings me to my other problem: last-minute-itis.
I'm supposed to be in the chair's office at 09:00. This means that I have to drop off Big One at her friend's house at 08:20 so that I have time to get to the school, park, and stroll to the building without worry of being late. Translated: the child will be dropped off at 08:30, I will have to rush to the school, figure out where the devil I'm supposed to park, find out it's way the hell across campus, run to the building, and get to the chair's office at 09:03. This isn't late, this is how I work. You see again how choice of footwear could impact upon me before the interview begins. Keep in mind I normally wear jeans, sweater, jacket, hiking shoes/boots to work, (Let me remind you: Winter. Canada. Dirty work, teaching. Chemist.) so running isn't normally a problem. I could leave on time, but I know me, and I won't. I do not like to be early.
All this, plus getting the research seminar ready. It is mostly ready, but not good and ready, and I have to add four or five slides at the end to tell them "where the research is going", code for "most of this shit is really dull, tell us the super science fantasy part where we find out how you're going to invoke world peace by a single reaction". These four or five slides have to rock their world...in a chemist-y sort of way of course. Never underestimate nerd power.
Well there we have it. Five days left to plan and perfect, along with doing my regular first year teaching gig over at the other, larger school. There's call for snow and freezing rain Sunday night into Monday, but I doubt there'll be a snow day out of it, and I can't hope for that, so have to finish up the week's teaching stuff today and tomorrow. The plate is full, the heat is on, and all the other cliches you can come up with.
I leave you then with a quote from Hedy Lamarr, who said, "Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid."
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
The Panic Sets In
On Friday I found out that I will indeed be interviewed for the academic posting for which I applied, here in the small city where we live. I know what the department wants in a candidate, and I know that I'm not the only person on the planet that can do the job. I also know that there are certain aspects to hiring me that would make things easy for them: I've been doing this academic thing for a while, I know the ropes, I know how to do the specialty stuff that they need me to do. Do I know how to find $250K to buy a new diffractometer? I've been looking into the CFI website, and it looks as though they've changed some programs so I will be eligible to apply. This is good news, because I thought for sure that there wouldn't be anything that would work out for me in that area. There is a lot for me to do in the next week...and the interview is on March 1. Not a lot of time. I'm the first of four candidates to be interviewed, so does this mean they love me already and want to compare everyone else to me? or does this mean that by the end of March they'll have forgotten about me and all the things I promised them? And if I don't find out about the job until April, what will happen to the NSERC grant that I applied for this fall? All these questions, no answers. The problem with the NSERC grant is that it would be awarded to me via my previous institution, but I had to resign from that job in January, and I did that. I didn't have to resign, but I had to tell them whether I was returning, and since I can't lie, I told them I wasn't. So if my grant sits with them for more than a microsecond, they're going to have to tell NSERC that I resigned, and if that's the case then the money will disappear before I have a chance to say, "But I have another job!!".....if indeed, I do have another job.
It's a bit of a pickle, but it might only mean that I have to reapply in the fall, which I would do of course and which would be fine, it would just mean that I'd be without grant money for eight months. I assume that I'd get some startup funds from the U, so the grant wouldn't be a huge deal, but applying for money is always a pain in the ass. Of course, being at a larger school I'd be applying for money a whole lot more often than I ever did at the previous place.
There are moments, fleeting, when I don't want the job. I don't want the work, the expectations, the feeling that the research is just a waste of time and isn't going to change the world, the comraderie, any of it. Sometimes it would be just as nice to stay home and knit.
Like, I could finish this sucker:
which is my brother's Christmas sweater....well, it's the back of it. I could finish it anyway, because it's the perfect procrastination project. The pattern is easy (it's out of the Vogue Winter 06/07 issue, and I hate the neckline by the way but I'll alter that when I get to it) so I can watch tv (and crap tv it is, except for Battlestar Galactica, which I actually cannot knit to, because I have to read the subtitles and yes I'm pretty deaf but I'll talk about that a different day) while I work on it. I do have to look down at the thing once in a while, which is why the subtitles are a problem...but mostly it's mindless knitting. I'm using the Elann Peruvian Pure Alpaca for those who care about that kind of thing, and I'm using it double and this sweater? Is going to be the hottest thing going once it's done. When it's -40C with the wind, or even without it, Bro will only need a nylon shell over this garment. And for those who have astutely noticed that it is now February 21, well past the Christmas season, you need to know that this project is currently on its third and final iteration, that it took forever for me to settle on a pattern...I considered designing but that would take an extra year...so it wasn't actually started until January. And I knit really, really slowly, sort of. I'd knit faster if I didn't have so much other crap to do.
Like make a talk for a research seminar I have to give at this interview next week. Never mind the worry over grant money, I have no control over that anyway except to put in a couple of well-timed emails and keep my fingers crossed, let's instead worry about this whole research presentation thing. Let's worry that since we've been doing nothing except teaching first year chemistry for the last six months, that we sort of don't really have a good grip on what it is we do. Sure, I have a vague idea, but you know how you only have so much room in your head for information? Well, given that and given the fact that I really am full up with the information right now, and since research isn't exactly a priority seeing as how I can't actually do any of it while I'm teaching part time (not having a lab or anything) and looking after kids and having my day totally interrupted by my own inability to concentrate on anything.....the research has gone down to the back of the filing cabinet in a drawer marked "Beware of the Badger". (for those of you who don't know that reference, shame on you and go look it up). You can see how this is a problem. I have looked through previous power point presentations of my research talks, and apparently I'm pretty good at what I do; while reading I found that I was interested in what I'd had to say, after all. Somehow, a week from today, I have to renew my motivation for this work and make my potential colleagues believe that my particular brand of snake oil is better than anyone else's.
And the panic sets in, and it will probably stay with me until sometime late Thursday night and I am so, so sad that I can't come home after dinner on Thursday and have a great big drink, but I have to teach on Friday morning....but it's cocktails at 4:00p.m. Friday kids! Martinis all around! (Thursday night they are taking me out for dinner, and guaranteed there will be drinking, these are chemists after all, and we drink, but it won't be the kind of drinking where we all start slobbering and saying, "OH man, I loooooove you guys," and then the crying starts. That's what I'd like to do, and then not get up on Friday until about noon, when the hangover subsides and they call me and say, "We told the other candidates to go home, we're hiring you," because that kind of thing happens in academics all the time......if you believe that by the way, then you are too cynical for words. It never happens.)
It's a bit of a pickle, but it might only mean that I have to reapply in the fall, which I would do of course and which would be fine, it would just mean that I'd be without grant money for eight months. I assume that I'd get some startup funds from the U, so the grant wouldn't be a huge deal, but applying for money is always a pain in the ass. Of course, being at a larger school I'd be applying for money a whole lot more often than I ever did at the previous place.
There are moments, fleeting, when I don't want the job. I don't want the work, the expectations, the feeling that the research is just a waste of time and isn't going to change the world, the comraderie, any of it. Sometimes it would be just as nice to stay home and knit.
Like, I could finish this sucker:
which is my brother's Christmas sweater....well, it's the back of it. I could finish it anyway, because it's the perfect procrastination project. The pattern is easy (it's out of the Vogue Winter 06/07 issue, and I hate the neckline by the way but I'll alter that when I get to it) so I can watch tv (and crap tv it is, except for Battlestar Galactica, which I actually cannot knit to, because I have to read the subtitles and yes I'm pretty deaf but I'll talk about that a different day) while I work on it. I do have to look down at the thing once in a while, which is why the subtitles are a problem...but mostly it's mindless knitting. I'm using the Elann Peruvian Pure Alpaca for those who care about that kind of thing, and I'm using it double and this sweater? Is going to be the hottest thing going once it's done. When it's -40C with the wind, or even without it, Bro will only need a nylon shell over this garment. And for those who have astutely noticed that it is now February 21, well past the Christmas season, you need to know that this project is currently on its third and final iteration, that it took forever for me to settle on a pattern...I considered designing but that would take an extra year...so it wasn't actually started until January. And I knit really, really slowly, sort of. I'd knit faster if I didn't have so much other crap to do.
Like make a talk for a research seminar I have to give at this interview next week. Never mind the worry over grant money, I have no control over that anyway except to put in a couple of well-timed emails and keep my fingers crossed, let's instead worry about this whole research presentation thing. Let's worry that since we've been doing nothing except teaching first year chemistry for the last six months, that we sort of don't really have a good grip on what it is we do. Sure, I have a vague idea, but you know how you only have so much room in your head for information? Well, given that and given the fact that I really am full up with the information right now, and since research isn't exactly a priority seeing as how I can't actually do any of it while I'm teaching part time (not having a lab or anything) and looking after kids and having my day totally interrupted by my own inability to concentrate on anything.....the research has gone down to the back of the filing cabinet in a drawer marked "Beware of the Badger". (for those of you who don't know that reference, shame on you and go look it up). You can see how this is a problem. I have looked through previous power point presentations of my research talks, and apparently I'm pretty good at what I do; while reading I found that I was interested in what I'd had to say, after all. Somehow, a week from today, I have to renew my motivation for this work and make my potential colleagues believe that my particular brand of snake oil is better than anyone else's.
And the panic sets in, and it will probably stay with me until sometime late Thursday night and I am so, so sad that I can't come home after dinner on Thursday and have a great big drink, but I have to teach on Friday morning....but it's cocktails at 4:00p.m. Friday kids! Martinis all around! (Thursday night they are taking me out for dinner, and guaranteed there will be drinking, these are chemists after all, and we drink, but it won't be the kind of drinking where we all start slobbering and saying, "OH man, I loooooove you guys," and then the crying starts. That's what I'd like to do, and then not get up on Friday until about noon, when the hangover subsides and they call me and say, "We told the other candidates to go home, we're hiring you," because that kind of thing happens in academics all the time......if you believe that by the way, then you are too cynical for words. It never happens.)
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
New Year
Oooh boy, a new year to look at. It started yesterday and began with my resignation from my job. Until last night, I was an associate professor of chemistry at a small undergraduate university ("college" to Americans, but college is something different here) and this morning, I'm a part-time teacher at a larger university but that's about it. Granted, I'm applying for another job, but having a title and then not having it anymore is a bit ..... well, disconcerting I guess. I suppose that many people would say, "It doesn't matter what your title is, you're still the same person," or, "Titles are overrated. They're just given out to provide people with a sense of self-importance." And sure, that might be true, but I am absolutely positive that I don't care what other people think about what the title meant to me. It didn't define me, it was just a nice thing to have. It's always a bit sad to lose things that you like, even if you give them up voluntarily.
Perhaps you are saying, "Wait a minute! Associate professor?? You had tenure? You gave that up?" and uh, yeah. Small schools are a lot of hard work. I hated the city we lived in for eight years, even though we had the perfect house with the exact giant kitchen I always wanted and some good friends and yes, I had tenure which means that in order to get fired, ever, I have to fuck up so badly that there's no way to save me. I had that, yes, but when you get off the plane to come home to a place you don't like, even though you have the cutest, sweetest kids ever and I'm not kidding, my kids are quite amazing even to a cynic like me, and you have a great home life and you love your work and all of that, when you get to the doors of the airport it's all you can do to actually go through those doors rather than turn around and get back on another plane...well, then you know you don't like where you live. And after eight years? I'd say I "gave it a chance", so it's not like I didn't try. It wasn't the first place I'd ever moved to, I've moved quite a bit within the country, but this place just didn't work for me.
There were things I liked. The South American guy who buys and roasts his own coffee has some fantastic stuff and it spoiled me (but I've found somewhere here that does a comparable job); the city was small enough that getting from place to place wasn't usually a hassle; it was beautiful to look at, and in fact the entire province is quite lovely, there's tons of history and lots of outdoors stuff to do. On the other hand, while the people are friendly enough, making friends and "getting in" was near to impossible. We're not unfriendly people, but it took forever to meet anyone, and if we invited people over, they'd come but we'd not get a return invite, even out of politeness. I know we're not unpleasant or boring or smelly. Once we did make some friends it was easier, but it took years. What drove me nuts the most was the politics, the gladhanding, the "who you know not what you know" that is so prevalent; while many people would say Oh that happens everywhere (and they'd be right) it's not an actual lifestyle everywhere. It is completely accepted that you're not going to get a job unless you can name-drop, unless you know or are related to someone of importance, or unless you have made some kind of a name for yourself in another way.
There were other things, but the main thing was that hub got a new job here in this province, and since we wanted to move here anyway, both having lived here before, we did that. Of course, we waited because I wasn't just ging to run off and leave my ridiculously high-paying job (oh I jest) and its security without knowing that this would work out.
It's worked out. I couldn't go back if I tried, so last night I resigned. I had to tell the university my plans as of January 1, and so I waited until 11:30p.m. on January 1 and then I told them.
Today is my stepfather's birthday. He passed away one year ago as of the end of this month, close to BestFriend2's birthday. BF2's father passed away on my birthday 1.5years ago.
Last year alone with the kids and the ridiculously demanding job was quite difficult. I generally don't think about it, there's not much point in doing so. I don't recommend it unless you like a lot of relentless stress.
I tend not to look too far into the future. I don't make five year plans, I barely plan for tomorrow never mind my retirement. There are some things that require some planning, but otherwise the rest is "you get what you get". In fact, most of life is this way.
Perhaps you are saying, "Wait a minute! Associate professor?? You had tenure? You gave that up?" and uh, yeah. Small schools are a lot of hard work. I hated the city we lived in for eight years, even though we had the perfect house with the exact giant kitchen I always wanted and some good friends and yes, I had tenure which means that in order to get fired, ever, I have to fuck up so badly that there's no way to save me. I had that, yes, but when you get off the plane to come home to a place you don't like, even though you have the cutest, sweetest kids ever and I'm not kidding, my kids are quite amazing even to a cynic like me, and you have a great home life and you love your work and all of that, when you get to the doors of the airport it's all you can do to actually go through those doors rather than turn around and get back on another plane...well, then you know you don't like where you live. And after eight years? I'd say I "gave it a chance", so it's not like I didn't try. It wasn't the first place I'd ever moved to, I've moved quite a bit within the country, but this place just didn't work for me.
There were things I liked. The South American guy who buys and roasts his own coffee has some fantastic stuff and it spoiled me (but I've found somewhere here that does a comparable job); the city was small enough that getting from place to place wasn't usually a hassle; it was beautiful to look at, and in fact the entire province is quite lovely, there's tons of history and lots of outdoors stuff to do. On the other hand, while the people are friendly enough, making friends and "getting in" was near to impossible. We're not unfriendly people, but it took forever to meet anyone, and if we invited people over, they'd come but we'd not get a return invite, even out of politeness. I know we're not unpleasant or boring or smelly. Once we did make some friends it was easier, but it took years. What drove me nuts the most was the politics, the gladhanding, the "who you know not what you know" that is so prevalent; while many people would say Oh that happens everywhere (and they'd be right) it's not an actual lifestyle everywhere. It is completely accepted that you're not going to get a job unless you can name-drop, unless you know or are related to someone of importance, or unless you have made some kind of a name for yourself in another way.
There were other things, but the main thing was that hub got a new job here in this province, and since we wanted to move here anyway, both having lived here before, we did that. Of course, we waited because I wasn't just ging to run off and leave my ridiculously high-paying job (oh I jest) and its security without knowing that this would work out.
It's worked out. I couldn't go back if I tried, so last night I resigned. I had to tell the university my plans as of January 1, and so I waited until 11:30p.m. on January 1 and then I told them.
Today is my stepfather's birthday. He passed away one year ago as of the end of this month, close to BestFriend2's birthday. BF2's father passed away on my birthday 1.5years ago.
Last year alone with the kids and the ridiculously demanding job was quite difficult. I generally don't think about it, there's not much point in doing so. I don't recommend it unless you like a lot of relentless stress.
I tend not to look too far into the future. I don't make five year plans, I barely plan for tomorrow never mind my retirement. There are some things that require some planning, but otherwise the rest is "you get what you get". In fact, most of life is this way.
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