[my name here]

Whenever someone leaves, the person's boss sends out an e-mail with just the person's name in the subject line. With just a name, we all know what the e-mail will contain before we open it. I never thought about my name being the subject line of an e-mail. But, this morning, it, of course, was.

From: myboss@mywork.com
Date: Tue, 29 Mar 2005 17:38:17 -0600
To: allmyco-workers@mywork.com
Subject: [theCallowQueen]

Hi everyone,

I’m sorry to say that [theCallowQueen] is leaving us to pursue a terrific opportunity as the Associate Editor at [my new magazine], a [company a few main streets way's] book. Of course, we’ll miss her unbounded spirit and creative editorial mind.

Her last day will be April 8. Please join us in wishing her well.

[theCallowQueen's boss]

These e-mails always start out "I'm sorry to say that..." But, let's face it, if the boss really was sorry to see someone go, he or she wouldn't let that person go. The boss would beg his or her boss to figure out a way to keep the employee.

But my boss really isn't sorry to see me go. (My fellow co-workers are sorry to see me go. And the majority, who don't know the details of my leaving, are very surprised.) But my boss is sorry that she's failed, not in keeping me, but in not getting rid of me sooner. If I had know or understood that no matter how great I was and no matter how many ideas I brought to the table to improve this magazine that it would all be for nothing, I would have left ages ago.

So I'm sorry I stayed. I'm sorry I allowed myself to stagnate here. I'm sorry I put myself through the unnecessary stress. I'm sorry to be leaving all of these good friends. I'm sorry to be leaving work I've enjoyed. I'm not sorry for being me. I'm not sorry that I possess an "unbounded spirit" and a "creative editorial mind." (She says this as if they're positives, but really they're the reason she's glad I'm leaving.)

She's sorry. And I'm proud of myself.

me wasting energy, again

My cell phone just rang. It was from Unknown Caller, which is usually Freaksme using a phonecard.

Me: Hey (thinking it's my Singaporean friend)
Unknown Caller: Is this [theCallowQueen]?
Me: Um, yes, sorry.
Caller: Hi, I'm...with... We've looke over your resumé, and it looks like your an ideal candidate for this position. Would you be able to schedule an interview this week?
Me: I'm sorry. I've already accepted another position. But thanks, your position seemed like it would have been a great opportunity.

So my freakout that there were no jobs to be had, that my boss would fire me and my editing career would end, and that no company would ever call was a little extreme. I must remember: I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And goshdarnit, people like me!

wired

Jack wired sml5701
Originally uploaded by oblivia24.

I'd prepared myself to be a week without a handful of my dear friends as they soaked up Japanese culture. But then this morning I was greeted with this picture. My thanks to Big-Bold-D's mom for posting this picture on Flickr.

I think about the idea of being wired. I'm about to start a new job at a techie magazine that has much to do with wires and gadgetry. And I'm a bit wired up.

So I'm excited, I'm nervous, and I'm trying to keep myself from thinking about all of the what ifs.

I worry (perhaps worry isn't the right word) that I get wired up too easily. I sometimes feel that I allow my emotions to be flung from one extreme to the other by action happening to or around me.

I love the feeling of being fully dedicated to something. I love the way my brain rushes to think, to plan, to improve. When my mind starts whirling like that I feel truly of use. I'm on the brink of thinking up the perfect solution where all of the troublesome pieces bend to my will and settle into harmonious positions.

The problem is that everything else fades to the background—or even further from my vision or memory. And the people involved become like pieces of the puzzle, too, for me to find their places and move them to fit. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on myself here.

I keep hearing that I shouldn't listen to all the criticism my boss has flung at me. Most don't agree with her; I understand. But I can't ignore her points. I may consider her delivery of my deficits of character distasteful. I may consider her final conclusion of those shortfallings more extreme than necessary. But she didn't pull these out of thin air. I gave her the kernels of the problems that she built these deficits around.

It's the kernel that I want to address. I don't want what's happened here to happen at my next job or with a friend or family member. I want them to know that I think about them. I value them. I want the best for them. And I want to understand them.

i quit my job

Wednesday
My boss: You were right last week when you said our meetings were getting off course. But this still isn't working. So I've written up a new performance evaluation. We have three weeks to resolve this.
Me: So, if I can't do this in three weeks, you will fire me.
My boss: Yes. We’ve been meeting for six months. I can’t let this continue any longer.
Me: (long pause of shocked silence)

The Performance Improvement Plan:
• Present well-though-through ideas and solutions articulately.
• Save your battles for editorial issues that truly influence the overall quality of the publication.
• Demonstrate the ability to identify and solve problems quickly.

The translation:
• Clearly articulate solutions to problems that have just been presented to you without time to prepare. Only offer ideas that the boss wants to hear and in a manner that she wants to hear them. Ideas will not be accepted if presented with enthusiasm or eagerness.
• Don't have an opinion. And most important, don't have an opinion that conflicts with the boss'.
• The boss needed a third item and this sounded good to her.
• The fourth, hidden requirement: Be someone other than yourself. Don't be so good at your job. Don't have a personality. Wait, it doesn't matter. At the end of three weeks the boss will fire you because it's easier to do than for the boss to deal with her own limitations at communication.

A lesson: If your boss schedules a meeting for 4:30, it's not good. Bosses schedule meetings for late in the day if they have bad news. That way you won't disrupt your co-workers when you leave after being told you're going to be fired.

Thursday
Me: Is this really a list you created for me to accomplish these things, or is the truth that this just isn't going to work out?
My boss: I don't know. But I've very concerned about our ability to communicate with each other. Your great. And I'd probably love you if you worked with [another department in the office], but this just isn't working.

So I'm pissed and frustrated—and worried. I need to find a job, any job. Three weeks isn't enough time to find a good job. What am I going to do? How could she do this? She can't say I'm not good at my work. I'm excellent at it. I'm loved here. I have great relationships with everyone but her. But my relationship with her is the one that matters. So I'm headed for the chopping block. And I have a trip planned in May. My friend's coming from Singapore to visit and I won't have any money to do any of the things we planned. And I won't have any money period. I have rent. I can't move back home. ARGH!

My cell phone rings.
Me: Hello?
The voice: Hi, this is [the HR woman] at [the one place you've applied for a job at].
Me: (shocked pause) Hi! It's good to hear from you. (I scuttle into an empty office so my cubicle mates don't hear my conversation.)
HR woman: Is now an OK time for us to talk?
Me: Sure. (Crap, her voice dropped. I didn't get the job.)
HR woman: Well I have good news. (Pause) We'd like to offer you the position.
Me: Wow, I'm honored.

A lesson: Go where you'll be appreciated. Don't waste your talents.

I've gotten more complements from my soon-to-be employer than I've gotten from my current boss in the past three years. My work and skill is evident to those who are open to looking. My old boss wasn't open. She wouldn't keep me as a poorly paid assistant editor. My new employer is ecstatic to have me as an decently paid associate editor.

I'm sad because I know what I'm leaving. I work for a wonderful publication--a publication that’s better for me having worked on it. I'm excited because I know that I'm bringing these talents to a new publication, who's managing editor seems genuinely excited by what I have to offer. Oh, yeah, and I'm excited by that big paycheck I'll be getting, too.

I got a new job.
I got a new job!

bubble, bubble, foil to trouble

Dancin' With the Bubble
Originally uploaded by kables.

This week is National Bubble Week!

Apparently the first Bubble Week was started by the Oddzon, the makers of Koosh Bubbles. I say it's a marketing ploy, Oddzon claims it's a way to herald the beginning of spring (the unspoken first day of the bubble-blowing season).

I, of course, am all for bubbles. I believe bubbles are the answer to world peace, but I've never gotten far enough in a beauty pageant to offer this keen insight to the masses. I challenge you to try to be grump and tense and blow bubbles. It's impossible. The effort required to blow at a measured pace through that little hole takes the wind out of the nervous sails.

an evening in Bath

An evening in Bath
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

Location: Bath, England in a circular park that slopes up to the right of this picture. Up at the top are the most recognizable homes in Bath. They are built together and make a grand C-shape and overlook the city. I don't have a picture of that here, though. Sorry, Charlie.

Time: Anne Marie and I watched the sunset here and ate chocolate digestives. I'm surprised this picture came out at all with the sun setting right behind those houses.

Temperature: Pleasant. I was able to sit on my jacket without feeling chilled.

Temperament: I'm very content with a happy combination of park grass, children playing, digestives, sunset, hot air balloon, good weather, and lovely surroundings.

where my peeps at?

The average American consumes 2.3 Peeps every spring, according to FORTUNE magazine. That's horrifically low. We must act now to turn the tide!

A third of all Peeps are bought not for eating but to be used in science experiments, arts and crafts, dioramas, and rituals. In the mid-1990s, web pages and local papers began recording Peep-eating contests, including an annual Peep Off in Sacramento. In the late 1990s, the Associated Press and CNN picked up the story of two Emory University science professors who experimented on the (fairly indestructible) creatures and reported their results. On April Fool's Day 2000, NASA launched five Peeps in a balloon from the Marshall Space Flight Center; they went missing when the balloon ruptured. The Internet teems with sites devoted to Peeps discussion groups, recipes, jewelry, games, and even faux Peep pornography. Perhaps the definitive piece on Peepmania was a 2000 Salon.com article that noted, "Never underestimate the power of personality—or squishiness—to capture the American imagination."

Some important peeps sites:
The official website of MARSHMALLOW PEEPS
Peep Research: A study of small fluffly creatures and library usage
The Lord of the Peeps: The Fellowship of the Peep—a must see!
Biker Peeps! Episode 1: Safety Gear
Biker Peeps! Episode 2: Street Riding
Biker Peeps! Episode 3: Intro to Roadracing
Biker Peeps! Episode 4: A Strange Encounter

my first interview

I have a job interview today. I had to take off a half day of work. I'll interview with two people and take an editing test—all while wearing a very unfamiliar suit.

I say it's my first interview, because in many respects it is. My previous conversations with perspective bosses have been casual to the extreme. For example, when I interviewed to be an intern here, I wore a niceish shirt and my jean skirt—the same skirt I'm actually wearing today. I'd worked here before for a short time, so they knew me and I knew the lax dress code. And the interview was just a formality to make sure I hadn't grown any extra limbs or given up bathing since they'd last seen me. My current boss saw no reason for an interview, meaning no editing test either.

I've never taken an editing test like this. I'm nervous. I'm actually more worried about that test than the interviews. I know my strengths. I know my talents. I know I could do the job they want me to do. I don't know if I can do well on that editing test. That's not to say I'm a bad editor. I'm just an editor who's become very familiar with the style and format of one particular publication.

I'll let you all know how it goes.

note to all who know anne marie

She'll be passing through town for a short time in May. From May 19-25. Her brother's graduation is on May 22.

what the frell?

What the frell is this? I did a search. I found this. I scratched my head. What is this, and why does it exist?

nothing much

Do you guys know that old 70s song, "Nothing From Nothing" by Billy Preston?

Well I was watching a classic SNL (so old the show was called NBC's Saturday Night) with some friends, and Billy Preston came on and sang "Nothing From Nothing." I vaguely know the song. So this was early Sunday morning.

I slept. I woke. I slept again. I woke on Monday and went to work. And as I drove home from work I flipped on the radio to Oldies 95, a long-time favorite of mine. The song? Yep. "Nothing From Nothing," which I can't remember Oldies 95 ever playing.

I slept. I woke. I went to work. I went out to Pizza Shoppe with a co-worker. Music played at the restaurant. The song? "Nothing From Nothing." Too weird.

I did the sleeping, waking, working thing three more times. I thought the song had been laid to rest. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Just now I opened up a new magazine, BARK, the modern dog culture magazine. The first line of the first item I read? Yep. "Nothing from nothing leaves nothing..."

So, I thought I'd continue on this nothingness by posting the song's lyrics.

The gist of the song: I ain't got no money, honey. But if you've got the money, I've got the time. (That would be The Big Bopper and Willie Nelson, respectively)

Nothing From Nothing
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me

I'm not tryin' to be your hero
'Cause that zero is too cold for me, Brrr
I'm not tryin' to be your highness
'Cause that minus is too low to see, yeah

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
And I'm not stuffin', believe you me
Don't you remember I told ya
I'm a soldier in the war on poverty, yeah
Yes, I am

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me

You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me
You gotta bring me somethin' girl, if you wanna be with me