Wednesday, April 9, 2008
two more phone screen interviews today
Should I cut my hair yet? No, no sense in getting ahead of myself, but Ya der hey! a couple of actual interviews with companies that don't suck. Time to caffeinate myself and put on a clean bathrobe.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
day 3 -- first interview
Confidence was high. I scored an interview with the second place I sent a resume and cover letter off to. Okay, so it wasn't really someplace I would want to work, I think, but I just needed to get a boost of confidence that I wasn't going to languish in my home office, dressed in my smelly, ratchewed bathrobe for the rest of my life.
The address googlemapped to an anonymous ugly business park and to a boring, cack-gray office building. As Han Solo certainly would have said had he been sitting next to me in my little urban assault vehicle as we found a parking space in the sea of SUV's, "Billzo, I have a bad feeling about this."
I should have turned around and flaked on the interview when I found the lobby of the building in remodel model mode with raw, untaped sheet rock on the walls, masking paper taped to the floor and even the elevator's inside wiring torn out and hanging half out of walls.
Not a soul was seen as I walked down poorly marked hallways with temporary company nameplates on the doors. but alas, I'm a thorough dude and so I trudged onward, determined to to go through with the program.
I found the joint, of course. Now the job I'd gotten the call for was a web content writing gig, working for some generic site design company. As explained over the phone, it was to be mildly interesting work designing the messaging and prose for a wide variety of sites. While this wasn't exactly a gig Faulkner would have relished, at least the boredom might be a different type of boredom every day of the week. And it likely paid cash.
Woe was to me when I saw the VP of operations change jingling type who strode into the messy conference room (which didn't appear to have been used for anything more than a coffee room to my sherlock eyes.
My spider sense told me to run, claim I had an upset stomach and needed to use the bathroom I'd seen next to the elevator -- by the time they'd figured out that I'd dashed I'd be on the freeway home and have their recruiter's number blocked. but no,
before I could react he had me in a bone-crushing "hail fellow well met" grip and was making marketing guy small talk.
My previous life experience in a recording studio producing records, when I could tell by the way a sax player carried his case if he'd be able to cut the tracks, told me that this was doomed. I had to figure out a way to turn down this gig or to not let him get interested in me in the first place. What was in my arsenal? Coughing fit, profanity, fidget and don't meet his eyes while giving evasive answers? Nah, all too easy. I just waited him out and let him lead. It turns out that the gig was not writing copy, it was consolidating and editing the clients own copy; mostly insurance agencies and financial opportunity semi-fraudulent spam companies. The development team was all in India and I'd be expected liaison with them every night by phone from home. Yikes, I was in the garden of evil.
To foreshorten a longish boring story, I took the easiest way out I could come up with on short notice. I sold myself to the point where they were ready to make me an offer on the spot and then at the all important moment, when these crummy companies bring up money and aren't even honest enough to tell you what they are budgeted and willing to pay, but rather throw in in your corner by saying, what is your salary expectations? I named a number that I was sure was at least twice what the cheap asshats would be willing to pay. They sputtered banalities about how nice it was to meet me and that they'd be in touch very, very soon and shook my hand all firm and manly as they showed me the door.
The sunlight glinting and rebounding off my car in the leafy green shaded, clean parking lot never looked so good. I was on the freeway home in minutes and within the hour back in my ratty bathrobe. Still free for the moment and still with my soul firmly intact. Plus, i stole a pen from conference room so it was a win/win situation.
The address googlemapped to an anonymous ugly business park and to a boring, cack-gray office building. As Han Solo certainly would have said had he been sitting next to me in my little urban assault vehicle as we found a parking space in the sea of SUV's, "Billzo, I have a bad feeling about this."
I should have turned around and flaked on the interview when I found the lobby of the building in remodel model mode with raw, untaped sheet rock on the walls, masking paper taped to the floor and even the elevator's inside wiring torn out and hanging half out of walls.
Not a soul was seen as I walked down poorly marked hallways with temporary company nameplates on the doors. but alas, I'm a thorough dude and so I trudged onward, determined to to go through with the program.
I found the joint, of course. Now the job I'd gotten the call for was a web content writing gig, working for some generic site design company. As explained over the phone, it was to be mildly interesting work designing the messaging and prose for a wide variety of sites. While this wasn't exactly a gig Faulkner would have relished, at least the boredom might be a different type of boredom every day of the week. And it likely paid cash.
Woe was to me when I saw the VP of operations change jingling type who strode into the messy conference room (which didn't appear to have been used for anything more than a coffee room to my sherlock eyes.
My spider sense told me to run, claim I had an upset stomach and needed to use the bathroom I'd seen next to the elevator -- by the time they'd figured out that I'd dashed I'd be on the freeway home and have their recruiter's number blocked. but no,
before I could react he had me in a bone-crushing "hail fellow well met" grip and was making marketing guy small talk.
My previous life experience in a recording studio producing records, when I could tell by the way a sax player carried his case if he'd be able to cut the tracks, told me that this was doomed. I had to figure out a way to turn down this gig or to not let him get interested in me in the first place. What was in my arsenal? Coughing fit, profanity, fidget and don't meet his eyes while giving evasive answers? Nah, all too easy. I just waited him out and let him lead. It turns out that the gig was not writing copy, it was consolidating and editing the clients own copy; mostly insurance agencies and financial opportunity semi-fraudulent spam companies. The development team was all in India and I'd be expected liaison with them every night by phone from home. Yikes, I was in the garden of evil.
To foreshorten a longish boring story, I took the easiest way out I could come up with on short notice. I sold myself to the point where they were ready to make me an offer on the spot and then at the all important moment, when these crummy companies bring up money and aren't even honest enough to tell you what they are budgeted and willing to pay, but rather throw in in your corner by saying, what is your salary expectations? I named a number that I was sure was at least twice what the cheap asshats would be willing to pay. They sputtered banalities about how nice it was to meet me and that they'd be in touch very, very soon and shook my hand all firm and manly as they showed me the door.
The sunlight glinting and rebounding off my car in the leafy green shaded, clean parking lot never looked so good. I was on the freeway home in minutes and within the hour back in my ratty bathrobe. Still free for the moment and still with my soul firmly intact. Plus, i stole a pen from conference room so it was a win/win situation.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Out of work: day 1
March 14, 2008
Such a simple, declarative title for an inaugural posting on this blog. But I didn't want to name it with the thoughts actually running through my head. goddamn goddamn gawd-damn, here I am again, sitting on the front deck on a sunny, lovely morning, out of work again.
You'd think I'd be used to it by now, having been dicking around in the WWW for 10 years and being a veteran of more than one start-venture. Sure, but it never gets easier, especially when the whole freaking economy is sliding into a recession and I'm way to freaking close too the big 50 to feel like playing start over/rebuild oneself time again.
I mean gawdamn, this time was supposed to be the big one. The one start up out of my recent past where I had substantial equity and a potential payout that could have put me on this same deck in a decidedly different mood. Startups 1 and 2 both paid out big time to the combined total of $385 million buckaroos. Not to me of course. I got a remodeled bathroom out of the first and a bunch of bills paid off by the second. But this third shot, and the most interesting idea by far of all three would have got me out of the game.
Hubris. That's what it is I suppose. I got out of the game all right. buh.
Okay, so it's day one, time to evaluate with my creative, seasoned project manager skills:
upside
Of course I'll find another job right away. I'm good enough, smart enough and dammit people like me (why are so few people returning my emails and IM's all of a sudden, he wonders?)
Time at last to finish one of my unfinished novels that I've been whining about not having time to finish. No pressure.... huh. Let's see, Rat Beach could be re-written into a series of short stories -- same characters with less of a boat anchor of a story line. That's make me a ton of dough quickly, I bet. sure.
Time at last to work on the house remodel -- oh yeah, except for the money issue. might have to place this item in the downside list
More time to think, to ponder and get measurably smarter. Don't know if I really want all that much time to think. That always tends to point out more possibilities for the downside list and the whispering voices gently nudging my out to the barn to "clean my shotguns" never seem to go completely away. Again, not totally sure this is an upside list item.
okay, okay okay --> the downside:
no money for sushi or great dinners out. upside is diminishing layer of fatular content around my gut. nothing is a clear up or downside item it appears.
Having to apply for and interview for jobs I don't really want. oh man, that's going to be fun sitting in blank white conference rooms talking to dull normals who pepper their speech with web 2.0 buzzwords in place of a real understanding of what it is they are trying to build and accomplish.
time to travel. --see above, "no money"--
extreme ennui. See, I don't really want to work anymore, certainly not at any normal pursuit. I just get wretched looking at the job boards and thinking about tying myself to a dull normal job, a soul wrenching twist-o-flex of demeaning boredom.
But that is probably in my future. not a pretty sight.
i think I'll go make myself an English muffin and try not to look at or think about the barn and all the dark things that live out there.
Such a simple, declarative title for an inaugural posting on this blog. But I didn't want to name it with the thoughts actually running through my head. goddamn goddamn gawd-damn, here I am again, sitting on the front deck on a sunny, lovely morning, out of work again.
You'd think I'd be used to it by now, having been dicking around in the WWW for 10 years and being a veteran of more than one start-venture. Sure, but it never gets easier, especially when the whole freaking economy is sliding into a recession and I'm way to freaking close too the big 50 to feel like playing start over/rebuild oneself time again.
I mean gawdamn, this time was supposed to be the big one. The one start up out of my recent past where I had substantial equity and a potential payout that could have put me on this same deck in a decidedly different mood. Startups 1 and 2 both paid out big time to the combined total of $385 million buckaroos. Not to me of course. I got a remodeled bathroom out of the first and a bunch of bills paid off by the second. But this third shot, and the most interesting idea by far of all three would have got me out of the game.
Hubris. That's what it is I suppose. I got out of the game all right. buh.
Okay, so it's day one, time to evaluate with my creative, seasoned project manager skills:
upside
okay, okay okay --> the downside:
extreme ennui. See, I don't really want to work anymore, certainly not at any normal pursuit. I just get wretched looking at the job boards and thinking about tying myself to a dull normal job, a soul wrenching twist-o-flex of demeaning boredom.
But that is probably in my future. not a pretty sight.
i think I'll go make myself an English muffin and try not to look at or think about the barn and all the dark things that live out there.
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