Dear Hiring Manager… (another letter for NaBloPoMo)

On Tuesday, I came across a job posting which piqued my interest. Despite my brief tenure at Fabulous New Job, I thought I might take a risk and apply. Read the job description here (no seriously: read it first), and then let me know if you think the following cover letter does the job grabbing the attention of the hiring manager.

To Whom It May Concern,

I recently read with great interest your job listing seeking individuals wishing to literally launch their careers into a new orbit. While I don’t have engineering experience per se, I believe my unique qualifications as a seasoned administrative assistant make me an excellent candidate for your team.

Over the past ten years in the workforce, I have held a number of roles and responsibilities which have contributed to my development as a critical thinker, team player, and general force to be reckoned with. My current position has me interacting daily with a number of Managing Partners and members of our Board of Directors, leaving me poised and confident, comfortable interacting with all levels of management (my Secret deodorant is a big help too). Working in fast-paced, high-pressure environments has demanded adaptability, attention to detail, and the ability to learn quickly…all qualities which, I am proud to say, I have in spades. In addition, my familiarity with all things Starbucks presents the opportunity for me to act as the chief liaison with the vendor once construction of their first lunar store is complete.

Please see the attached resume, submitted in confidence for your review; professional references will be submitted upon your request. I am confident that your review of my qualifications will solidify me as the only administrative candidate capable of supporting Google as they aim to “leapfrog current terrestrial-based technologies and bring information access to new heights of utility”. Given my familiarity with popular Sci-Fi literature and television programming, you can consider me “briefed” in life at zero-gravity.Thank you for your time and consideration; please feel free to contact me with any questions.

Sincerely,
Essaytch 

UPDATED: If Google’s Copernicus Center is anything like their Zurich office, that would be extra sweet!
(read: hey Chev, thank’s for the link…I lifted it from your comment on Joe’s blog yesterday)

Ode To A Slacker…

TIME: 9:55am, Friday the 28th

CUPS OF COFFEE: 3

LEVEL OF BOREDOM (1-10): 8

PROJECTS I SHOULD BE WORKING ON: 4

PROJECTS I AM ACTUALLY WORKING ON: 0

# OF TIMES I HIT SNOOZE THIS AM: 50 (give or take)

$ SPENT ON PARKING THIS WEEK (due to ’snoozing’): $65

MINUTES LATE TO WORK TODAY: 2

CURRENT SHAMELESS OBSESSIVE TV SHOW ADDICTION: Stargate Atlantis

# OF BOOKS TO READ FOR BOOK CLUB(S): 2 (Timescapeby G. Benford & Stranger in a Strange Land by R. Heinlein)

# OF PAGES TO READ EACH DAY IN ORDER TO FINISH TIMESCAPE BEFORE DISCUSSION: 50

# OF STARGATE EPISODES I WATCHED LAST NIGHT IN LIEU OF READING: 4

# OF TIMES I LAUGHED OUT LOUD WHILE WATCHING STARGATE LAST NIGHT: about 100

# OF TIMES I CRIED WATCHING STARGATE LAST NIGHT: 1

CURRENTLY CRAVING: Papa Murphy’s D’Lite Gourmet Chicken Garlic Pizza

CURRENTLY JAMMING TO: Sigur Ros (thanks Michael!)

FUNNIEST BLOG I’VE COME ACROSS TO DATE (warning–this is laugh-out-loud hilarious, do NOT read at work): Spambait

WHY YOU SHOULD CLICK THE LINK AND GO THERE IMMEDIATELY (aka, you wish you were this creative–hell, I do!): Have you ever wondered what to do with those spam emails you get from scammers promising “Your $35M in British Lottery winnings will be directly deposited into your bank account–just send us the routing number and a $350 processing fee…”? Well, my new-found Canadian blog-friend has the answer:

“…you could ignore them (recommended). You could give them the benefit of the doubt and check our their claims (not recommended). Or, you could do what I do: Write them back, expressing a seeming interest in whatever they happen to be shilling, and see how long you can string them along.
Over time, my ongoing correspondences with these online scammers has produced some truly memorable missives, not to mention an ever-expanding roster of pseudonymous responders, among them arch supervillain Baron Destructo, pragmatic opportunist Aloysius P. Hazzencockle, and Sesame Street’s very own Cookie Monster.”

The Coffee Connoisseur…

Some people smoke. Some people chew gum. Others gnaw on toothpicks or suck on their teeth. I Starbucks.

Being from Seattle, coffee has become a way of life for me. Get up in the morning: Starbucks. Greeted at work by Lashes, who is in rare form w/ the attitude today: Starbucks. Falling asleep at your desk due to the tedium that is researching local corporate landscapes: you guessed it–proceed to the kitchenette and brew another cup (which just so happens to be Starbucks). The only way I would NOT Starbucks on any given day would be if someone was brewing Pete’s Coffee or Café Umbria, which is rare.

That being said, I’ll admit that I’ve become a bit of a snob when it comes to my daily jolt(s): I like it a certain way. If it’s a latte, I like it extra hot with vanilla—and no, sugar free vanilla does NOT count. If it is drip or French press, I like it with half and half and one packet of SweetN’Low (not Splenda)…you get the picture. This is where the beauty of Starbucks comes in. Sure, their coffee isn’t necessarily the greatest tasting on the planet—I’ve often heard it described as “bitter”, and I myself have even likened one of their concoctions to an ashtray. But where they sometimes fall short in taste, they more than make up for it in consistency. Case and point, about four years ago I made the trek across the pond to London on vacation. After a grueling day of travel (I hate flying), I arrived at Heathrow excited for my upcoming adventure but nonetheless desperate for the comforts of home. As I disembarked the plane into the terminal, what was the first thing I saw? Starbucks. And I’ll be damned if my Grande Vanilla Extra-Hot Latte didn’t taste exactly the same as back home. If I hadn’t been surrounded by Brits with funny accents, I would have sworn I’d never left Seattle.

But I digress.

I was pleased to learn recently that Starbucks is aiming to “get back to basics”, turning their attention back to what they do best: coffee. “Excellent!” I thought. “Get rid of all those ridiculous ‘breakfast sandwiches’, stock up on scones and let’s brew!” And then I found out, not only are they scaling back on their weird food selection, but on their workforce as well. This means less baristas steaming milk, which means customers are forced to linger in the store, thus increasing the odds of them making an impulse buy of some kind: a plush Starbucks Teddy Bear, a travel mug, a $1000 espresso machine, etc. Now I don’t know about you, but the last thing I need is another travel mug or, God forbid, a $1000 espresso machine that I won’t use and certainly can’t afford. What I DO need is my coffee, the way I’ve asked for it, in a quick and timely manner. So needless to say, when it took me 20 minutes to get my luke-warm coffee today, I was a little miffed. If there is one thing, ANYTHING, that Starbucks does right, it’s fast. So please, Starbucks, I beg you: if you’re “getting back to basics”, don’t forget to get me in and out in 5 minutes or less.

My freshman AP English teacher would roll over in her grave…

(Well, if she were dead, that is. And if she read this blog, which I very well hope she doesn’t, by the way.)

As always, a new position at work means a new set of challenges, frustrations, general hilarity, and more than a few mind-boggling occurrences that make me go “WTF?!” (today being one of them).

We’re in the middle of Account Planning season here at Fabulous New Job, which means my days are spent assisting the Account Services Associate (afore mentioned co-worker I’ve nick-named “Lashes”) in coordinating the resources needed for the meetings in which senior managers work to identify current and future business prospects w/ our clients, and put together the “pitch” for the ‘09 fiscal year. Way over your head? Yeah mine too… Basically, for the past few days, I have been reviewing and proof-reading (and occasionally editing) the PowerPoint presentations that will be used at said meetings. Today, I ran across this little gem in one of the slides, and I wanted to STAB OUT MY EYES :

“Comparable store sales increased in each of the four quarters of 2007, with an increase of 4.8% and 4.4% in the fourth quarter and full fiscal year of 2007, respectively. This increase included 8.6% and 8.9% increases in retail comparable store sales in the fourth quarter and full fiscal year, respectively and 9.7% and 8.4% increases in the fourth quarter and full fiscal year sales, respectively, in their direct channel, offset by 1.9% and 2.3% decreases in outlet comparable store sales in the fourth quarter and full fiscal year, respectively.”

Yeah. Someone talk me down from the ledge ’cause I’m jumping. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! What, in the name of all things good and holy (respectively), did that just say?! I beg you, author of the most heinous sentence on Earth, do not use the word ‘RESPECTIVELY’ any more, ever again, ever. In addition, I ask that you consult your MLA Handbook and brush up on the correct uses of punctuation, including (but by no means limited to) the comma.

After immediately sending this atrocity to Roomie (who I knew would appreciate the pure audacity of someone who would try to pass this off as a coherent sentence), who responded with a resounding “WTF?!”, we together set about the task of making sense of it all. I tried to re-write the sentence, cuting its length in half simply by taking out all those damn ‘respectively’s. But it was still an eyesore. After a few hours of tweaking, dear dear Roomie finally came up with what may prove to be the most eloquently stated graph in the history of graphs:

Ok, poorly recreated here, but trust me…it was a thing of beauty. And this is why I love her so: because she makes me look goooooood.

And now I have to read the effing book…

Despite my recent cinematic miss-adventures, I braved the theatre again and went to see The Other Boleyn Girl. While I managed to behave myself and avoid getting yelled at by others in the theatre, it was a disaster nonetheless. I’ll explain…

Despite getting poor reviews, I was excited to see this film because I’m constantly looking to be proved wrong that Scarlett Johannsen and Natalie Portman are two of the worst actresses alive. I should have known it wouldn’t end well when we arrived just in time to take our seats, but I had to pee so bad that I ducked out and missed the preview for the Sex and the City movie. Damn. Then we realized that the waiter from The Cheesecake Factory forgot to give us forks for our cheesecake that we smuggled into the theatre, and we were going to have to eat it with our fingers. Damn damn. And the kicker was when we discovered the straw in our tankard of Diet Coke had a hole in it, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t suck anything up unless you tipped it precariously a certain way. Damn damn DAMN! Then the lights dimmed, and the film started.

Almost immediately, I knew we were doomed: the names of the actors were slightly cut off at the bottom of the screen during the 30 second opening sequence. Immediately I recognized that the film aperture was out of line on the projector, and the framing was off. The average movie goer probably wouldn’t notice such a thing, considering no one was missing the top half of their heads, nor were we expecting any subtitles. But, being the experienced film projectionist that I am (yes, little known fact: I was a film projectionist in college) I knew things were amiss.

I battled w/ myself about whether or not to exit the theatre and say something to the management, ask them to adjust the framing. After all, it is a simple fix that a projectionist would have caught immediately had they been sitting up in the booth when the film started. But these days, big movie houses only employ one or two projectionists who simply load the film into the projector and get it started. Since technology now allows for the entire film to fit on one large platter loaded into a single projector, there is no need for a staff member to sit in the booth for the duration of the film to facilitate the seamless transition between dual projectors when one reel runs out. I knew the management had no idea what was going on in theatre number 3,189.

I debated, I wrestled, and I inevitably decided that, with no expected subtitles, I would say nothing to the theatre management. The film continued, and I enjoyed myself (sans annoying comments from the peanut gallery). That is, until the end. We made it through all the drama, climaxing w/ the beheading of Anne Boleyn (oh come on, everyone knows it’s “Off with her head!” in the end…). We were without incident, all the way to the point where the film makers decide to tell you what happens to Henry VIII and Mary Boleyn after Anne gets the axe. The end of the tale, the oh-so-important “And they all lived happily ever after…or did they?” information that rounds out the entire story was……wait for it……subtitled.

DAMMIT!!! You could read the first part of the subtitle, but the second part was cut off. So for all we knew, a sentence that started out: “After living in exile for the better part of his life…” could very well have ended: “…Henry’s only son decided to join the circus and become a lion tamer.” and we would be none the wiser. So now, I either have to turn to Wikepedia (the only source for trusted and accurate information in the universe) or I have to read the effing book…

Apparently, I’m a bad date…

Ok, not exactly a bad DATE, per se…but definitely a bad movie patron, which is news to me!

Last week, I went w/ a co-worker to see the new movie Vantage Point starring Dennis Quaid, Matthew Fox, and Forest Whittaker. In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past month, Vantage Point tells the story of the assassination of the US President from the “vantage point” (eh, get it?) of about 8 different witnesses at the scene of the shooting. The film replays the 20 minutes leading up to the shooting about 4 times, each time filling in another piece of the “who-dunnit” puzzle. Amusingly, it was very Groundhog Day meets In The Line of Fire, with a ridiculously tense car chase thrown in at the end.

Every time the clock would “rewind” to tell another side of the story, the entire audience (including us) reacted audibly with laughs and a number of “Are you kidding me?” and “What the hell…?” interjections thrown in. During the rediculously tense car chase, I’ll admit I was stifling the giggles…it was so far fetched and over the top, I couldn’t help myself! At the end of the movie, as the audience was gathering their belongings and filing out of the theatre, I glanced up at the couple that had been sitting next to us. The man, who’s wife was sitting next to me, looks down at me and says: “Hey, thanks a lot for ruining the movie for my wife. You should really learn to be quiet during a movie.” I was so astonished, all I could think of to do was laugh nervously and say (bitchily) “No problem.”

Now, I’m not heartless: if my reaction to the move truly was distracting to the folks sitting next to me, then I feel horrible! I wasn’t trying to be a pain in the ass, or “ruin the movie” for anyone…and considering the majority of the theatre was reacting to the flick the same way that my friend and I were, I had no idea that it was so disruptive. But here’s where the guy’s comment sticks in my craw: at no point during the two hours that we were rubbing elbows did the man or his wife express their displeasure to me or my friend. There were none of the tell-tale “Be Quiet” glares, no “Sssshhhhh!”-ing, not even the quasi-polite “Do you mind keeping it down?”. If there had been, I would have responded in kind, apologizing and feeling horrible, but there weren’t.

So, the moral of the story for YOU, dear readers, is thus: if you’re watching a movie, and the person next to you is being loud or disruptive–dare I say, ruining your night (whatever)–SAY SOMETHING!!! Grow a pair and try a couple of the examples I mentioned above…who knows, they may not realize they are bothering you. And the moral of the story for ME: don’t forget your mind-reading hat the next time you go to a flick…you never know when the person next to you won’t have the balls to tell you you’re hogging the arm rest.

You’ve got mail…psych!

Dear Microsoft Outlook (not responding),

I hate you. When I try to open my calendars, you freeze. When I receive new appointment emails, you freeze. Whatever this “Microsoft Exchange Server” thing is that you are always trying to connect to…it sucks, because it doesn’t work. How is it possible that your status can consistently be “Waiting to update this folder”? Can it be that you are perpetually in a state of limbo?

Perhaps this is a personal grudge you have against me, retaliation for some crime committed against you on a previous date. Whatever it was, I assure you it was without intent or malice, and I do apologize profusely. Please, oh PLEASE respond! I have work to do!

Sincerely Frustrated,
Essaytch

Ps…My laptop REALLY hates it when I start swearing at it, especially when it’s already working overtime to put up w/ Vista. Can’t we all just work together?

Walgreens: my new drug(store) of choice

As I mentioned in my last post, on Tuesday morning I left my gloves and cute hat w/ fuzzy pom-pom on the top in a cab. It wouldn’t have been too big a deal, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was only 13⁰ and snowing. Knowing I needed to procure another hat and gloves before my trek back to the hotel that evening, I asked my fellow co-workers for some advice on where I could find some. Their response, in stereo, was “Walgreens”.  

In Seattle, Bartell Drugs is the place to go for all your drug store shopping needs. Greeting cards, electronics, canned meats, stationary, pharmaceuticals, cleaning supplies, and about 10 rows of candy and junk food greet you upon entry at your local Bartell store. Well, here in Chicago they don’t have Bartell Drugs…but there is a Walgreens on every corner. And Walgreens, as I’ve come to find out, is a veritable shopping MECCA!

So on my way home from work that day, I stopped at one of the three Walgreens I passed in the 5 block walk back to my hotel. What I discovered was the epitome of one-stop shopping. My purchases included: vitamin C lozenges to stave off the sickness that is going around the office here, hand lotion, M&Ms for my chocolate fix, Gummy Life-Savers for my fruity fix, and a hat w/ matching gloves*.

Had I wanted (or needed) to, I could have also purchased a pink down vest, a variety of Fabio-adorned romance novels, a bra (oh yes!), any number of children’s toys, a gigantic heart-shaped box of chocolates, a dozen roses, or a mega-sized shiny purple MP3 player that was as big as my head. And at the checkout counter, I was solicited to add Ghirardelli chocolate bars to my basket because they were on sale (“And those good quality chocolate bars haven’t been on sale in 20 years.”). Considering the M&Ms and Gummy Life-Savers I was already purchasing, I passed on the quality chocolate bars…but I may go back for that bra.

*A note on the hat and gloves: the selection was dismal and I was frozen. Because of that, I ended up w/ a bright pink hat with white snowflakes and THREE fuzzy pink pom-poms on the top. The gloves? You guessed it…bright pink. My efforts to “blend in w/ the crowd” have been thwarted, and I am now a walking bubble-gum flavored blow pop. The up-side? I should be easy to locate if I become buried by a snow drift…just look for fuzzy pink pom-poms sticking up out of the snow.

Cold: (adjective) Feeling an uncomfortable lack of warmth; chilled

Thank you dictionary.com, for accurately describing my current state of being. Yes folks, I arrived in Chicago Sunday afternoon. Because I’m leaving work in 30 minutes and do not want to pay for the internet connection in my room (because it’s $10.99 for 24 hours!), what follows is merely a short update on my time here thus far:

-Weather upon arrival: -2⁰…and that’s without the windchill. You think I jest. I assure you, I don’t kid about temperatures like that. I would go out and explore the city, but I have no desire to be returned to Seattle as an Essaytch Popsicle (but oh! how tastey!). The weather today is better, being 11⁰. I would say that’s t-shirt weather, no?
-Times I’ve already been lost: 1. Yes, after checking in to the hotel Sunday night, I decided to go for a little walk (-2⁰ be damned) to make sure I would be able to find the office first thing in the morning. I crossed the river, then went left towards the lake. Uh, WRONG! And I knew it when I reached Michigan Avenue, face frozen, nose running, feet hurting, no idea where I was. All I could think, as the sun was starting to sink, was “Get back to the hotel as soon as possible before you die.”
-Number of Blisters: 1. Would you believe my heels are more comfortable than my boots?! And no, two pairs of socks does not help. Neither does a band-aid. Oh, my poor little piggie…
-What time I went to bed Sunday night: 9pm Chicago time, 7pm Seattle time. What can I say, flying takes it out of me.
-Closest Starbucks: right across the street from the office (thank you Jesus). Because by the time I get to work, I’m pretty dang cold.
-Number of freakouts since arrival: 3. The first when I got lost Sunday night. The second when they found out I had already been re-imaged to Vista and weren’t sure if the client network was compatible—thinking I’d have to get re-re-imaged back to XP for my time here, then re-re-RE-imaged to Vista when I go home. And the last when I found out my company credit card spending limit is so low that it will only cover a week and a half of expenses at a time…barely enough for my hotel and meals for a week. Um, supervisor? Can we get that raised? I promise I won’t go to Nordstrom and buy a fur coat or a million pairs of shoes.
-Number of freakouts prior to departure: innumerable…but specifically regarding the weight of my checked baggage. And thank you, Roomie, for not feeding my neurosis by giving in to my pleas to lift the bag and tell me if you thought it was over 70 lbs. (turned out to be only 43 lbs)
-Number of times I’ve left something in a cab: 1. But it was the hat and gloves that I searched the entire city of Seattle to find before I left. But I refuse to be that tourist that calls the cab company to see if they found it, because I can hear that conversation now:

CAB DISPATCHER: Generic Cab Company of Chicago…
ME: Yes, I accidentally left a hat and gloves in one of your cabs this morning. It was charcoal and had a cute pom-pom on the top.
CAB DISPATCHER: You lost a charcoal hat w/ a pom-pom on it? Let me look in our lost and found. *sifts around in a gigantic box FULL of hats and gloves, more than a few of which are charcoal w/ cute pom-poms on the top* Yeah, I’m not seeing anything…
ME: Nuts.

Anyway, so that’s just a small sampling of my time in Chicago thus far. I’m sure there are plenty more adventures to come, especially if I keep purchasing and losing hats and gloves in random cabs around the city. I’ll post more as the adventures continue, but for now my next mission is simply to make it downstairs to the Starbucks to drink my breakfast. 

“In your FACE, Sucka!”

Remember this? Yeah, so Pissy-Pants Admin just quit her job to follow her “love” to some other city. Guess who is SO IMPRESSED by yours truly that he wants me to come to Chicago and fill in once Pissy-Pants is gone? Mr. Important does, that’s who!!!

How’s that for karma, Mrs. Nasty Attitude? Considering you jumped all up my ass when he yelled at you for not doing your job, how does it feel that I was the first one Mr. Important turned to for help once you bailed?

Nothing is official yet, and logistics still need to be worked out—I may not even be available to go for the extended time they are requesting. But nonetheless, I feel vindicated…and you and your “NORMAL assistant etiquette” should feel stupid.