Holes (not the tasty, doughnuty kind)

First, some clown next door is tapping on the wall. I’ve been listening to “shave and a haircut” for the last 20 minutes.

Second, on the “totally gossip” front, I think all the people in the apartment complex front office got fired this week. I have no idea if that’s true or not, but it sent a thrill of joy down my spine when I heard. And I wanted to share that with you.

Lest you think I am a heartless guttersnipe, I totally earned it. I would link back to all our escapades, but it’s too much work. Perhaps I’ll create a little sidebar with links to examples of their ridiculous management skills. Later.

Like next week, when I’m officially unemployed and supposed to be packing. Check back.

(photo by Skrewtape)

Anyways, today I got an email back from a potential employer in our soon-to-be-new-town. I must say, I am shocked. Replies (especially to emails) are practically unheard of in this little bubble. And timely replies are magical unicorns.

Then she asked for a resume.


My professional career ended around the same time this blog started. For the last two years I’ve been flitting about, totally mono-lingual, and not all that interested in working for bosses I can’t communicate with. Thus, my employment opportunities have been few and far between.

And, I’ll say it, half-assed.

I like to be a cherished employee. I know I’m abrasive, and difficult, and arrogant. These things make me a challenging employee. But I’m a freaking good worker. I’m amazing, actually, when my bosses trust me. This makes me a valuable employee. And if I work long enough (read: three months) and my bosses let me, I own everything I touch and I make it fabulous.

Or as fabulous as possible. Which, corporately, generally translates to “pretty good.”

But like I said (and you’ve read), I’ve been phoning it in. I’ve dabbled. (Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m my father’s child. My definition of “phoning it in” is not working 60+ hours a week.) But my spotty Mexas employment makes for a fizzle of a resume.

On the bright side (one exists) I’ve been calling up my creative writing skills.

Q: How does one explain several gaping employment holes over a two year period?
A: Blog a lot in the two years, then use resulting story-telling props to write a killer cover letter.

What’s to become of me? I’ll tell you what. Fame, fortune, and glory. Thanks entirely to blog land and my husband, who supports my entire life AND proofreads my blog entries for me. You’re the man, GI Joe!


2 thoughts on “Holes (not the tasty, doughnuty kind)”

  1. Ah Rae, loved this post… what's to become of me.

    You're a strong, independent woman who is capable of doing anything she sets her mind to…

    And as far as the apartment is concerned, can you deal? I have the same situation — sometimes I just wanna scream and take a bazooka to the wall.

    Just kidding (I think) lol

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