I’m fussy and I freakin’ know it.
There are so many thing to bitch about today, I just don’t know where to start. Let’s get the jealousy bullshit out of the way first, OK? It seems like a good place to start.
I am both jealous and enraged at the blogging world today. I am definitely not a part of the Kool Kid Klub. I get it. I am constantly the last to know about every little damn thing happening in BlogLand on a regular damn basis. I miss all sorts of conversations on Twitter, mostly because the folks I know/follow are all West coast based and while they are taking their afternoon Twitter breaks, I’m swilling Two Buck Chuck and trying to figure out yet another way to disguise ground turkey into something palatable. I don’t post enough on Facebook. I totally don’t understand StumbleUpon or Google+. There are blogging events, seminars and webinars that I’m sure would help me, but I never hear about them until someone shows up in my Google Reader (which, by the way, is so clogged and backlogged, I don’t even know what to do with myself), blogging about how fun-freaking-tastic this event or that event was. And the reality? I can’t afford to go to any of these events anyway since most are held not in Charlotte, NC.
And I swear, if I hear about one more blogger who got some stupid freaking book deal because they write about the same bullshit fluff I do? Like, OMG. I might off myself.
And let’s talk about book deals for a second. That crazy bitch Teresa from the Housewives of New Jersey? SHE got a book deal for a an Italian cookbook where she stole (allegedly) recipes from her mother-in-law and called them her own. In one episode she referred to “ingredients” as “ingrediences.” Yeah, that bitch got a book deal. Clearly, getting paid to “write” is all a big pile of doo. And as a society, why are we constantly rewarding the stupid?
I got an email today with a link to the “Top 15 Way to Build Your Social Media Traffic.” Um, yeah. The advice was not to talk about yourself in your Tweets and blog and whatnot. I should Offer Solutions, Offer Ideas and Show Pretty Pictures. Yeah, OK. I have blog PROOF that isn’t always the case. I’ve even written about this before: this blog LOSES traffic the more I write about JUST wedding crap.
And then I read a post about Pinterest Etiquette. Are you fucking kidding me? How far does all of this social media crap really need to go? I’m starting to think that no one really knows much about anything, most of all me.
And my desktop computer (yes, I have one) has contracted so many effing viruses (which I seem to catch when searching for info on sewing – how random is that?) that I just know I’m going to have to go back to the original factory settings which I know is a process that will make my head explode. I’ve been putting it off for weeks and using my laptop (which was free and totally appreciated) for everything. That would be OK for the most part except that it’s freaking VISTA which isn’t compatible with some of the other programs on my desktop which creates yet another annoyance and time sucker. My knee-jerk is to break down and call the Geek Squad to come to my house and fix everything. Um, no. Have y’all ever checked out their website? For the cost to have someone come to your house and fix your shit costs as much as buying a new damn desktop. AND PEOPLE PAY FOR THAT CRAP.
So I’ve had some experiences out and about in local Charlotte as of late. So. Not. Fun. I have a couple of projects I’m involved in and they make me want to scratch my eyes out. Why? Stupid People and Mean People and the occasional combination of the two, that’s why.
I’m helping out on a particular thing that in theory and model and historical successes is spot on. I believe in it. I think it’s a good thing. However, I’m working on this project because the person before me fucked it all up and is no longer a part of this theoretically awesome thing. That person was a Mean Person hiding out as a Nice Person. It is also starting to look like the Mean Person was also a Stealing Person and I’m playing damage control. In this role of janitor, I’ve had to hear some not-so-happy people complain about the project.
I get that. If I heard that someone was potentially/allegedly stealing from me, I’d be pissed too. I AM NOT THE PERSON WHO MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE STOLEN FROM YOU. In fact, I’m the person who is trying to help you. Oh, and you? Yes, you. Peripheral Person who isn’t supportive of the project , isn’t involved in the project but knows lots of Stupid People who are gossiping about the project? Take your high school antics elsewhere. Take your husband’s Bank of America/Wachovia/Insert Bank of Choice stolen-from-the-people bonus money and bitch elsewhere. We’re all full up here.
There’s this weird sort of attitude amongst folks in this town that there’s a pecking order, starting at the “top” with the Old Money of Charlotte. This is followed closely and fervently by the New Money of Charlotte. Third in line, clawing their way by veneered tooth and French manicured nail is the New Money of South Charlotte. And I thought L.A. was bad! The West coast ain’t got nuttin' on these vicious Southern women. Do not be fooled. It’s total gangsta mentality behind all the “bless her heart” bullshit.
Me? Pecking order schmecking order. I can’t believe people actually play into it. I went to an event recently where the owner of a big, cool company was in town. A friend of mine has worked for this big, cool company in their headquarter location for the last 16 years and she told me to go say hi and introduce myself and mention the mutual connection. I did. I ended up in a conversation regarding the domestic versus import business with the guy when the band started playing. He asked me to dance. “Shake Your Body Down” by The Jacksons was playing, no one was dancing and that is a really good song. So we busted a move, me and the BMOC. This event was hosted by a local children’s hospital and there were a shit-ton of fancy pants contributors there. When the song ended I walked off the dance floor, breathless and laughing with this guy and for the rest of the night, all people did was STARE AT ME. I smiled, drank the free booze and left feeling a lot like Julia Roberts in Mystic Pizza when she went to the fancy country club with her fancy boyfriend who ended up being a total tool. Yes, the nobody who is new to Charlotte busted into your little playground and made friends with the BMOC. Don’t worry, I didn’t stay long or pee in your sandbox. Sheesh.
The Job Hunt
When the poo hit the fan at my last job, I applied for a position here in Charlotte that was very specific in nature. It’s one of those jobs that I could pretty much do with my eyes closed. I’ve mentioned this before, it’s one of those positions that I wouldn’t have lowered myself to a few years ago. So I applied and got ignored. I’ve subsequently applied more times than I can count for various positions within the same company, to be ignored on a regular, ongoing basis. I apply now, almost as a joke – just too see how long I might be ignored. So far, we’re looking at 15 months. Anyway, the specific position I applied for is now open. Again. So I applied, again. I was dying to include the following as my cover letter:
Dear Folks Who Like to Ignore Me:
I am applying for the position of Job I Can Do Blindfolded that you are advertising for again in the span of 15 months, recently located on HelpingDumbAssesFindAJob.com. You might recall the last time I applied. You might also recall the other 800 billion times I’ve sent in various versions of my resume in the vain effort to grab your attention with alternate fonts and formats.
In regards to my qualifications for the position of Job I Can Do Blindfolded, you’ll note that I’m over-qualified. You’ll note this if you actually read my resume. You might consider hiring someone who is qualified to do the job this time around. Because I do my homework (or am just a sneaky SOB), I noted that the last person you hired for this position was fresh out of FIT with the requested “X” years experience in what you say is required for success in Job I Can Do Blindfolded . Get eaten up by the Big Boys, did she? As a regular window shopper in your store, it looks like she over assorted with too many similar colors/styles/materials. It looks like she bought too many of the same designer labels that everyone else has and gave them higher price points, which probably affected your margins, inventory turns and ended in a loss of revenue and profit. Your private label branded goods? *YAWN* Mark-down city, eh? Sorry to hear it. Retail is a bitch. Perhaps you should consider hiring one to get the job done?
Just a suggestion.
I look forward to hearing from you to discuss the career highlights noted in my resume. Oh wait, you probably haven’t actually read it, nor this cover letter. I guess we’ll just go back to you ignoring me.
I’ve read a lot about what you should and should not put on your resume. There are about a jillion rules out there. As a part of my exit package from my last job, I was a part of this placement program that helps you with all sorts of things from interviewing skills to resume writing and all that. It’s a great program, good people. We are not referred to “fired” or “let go” or “downsized.” No, no. We’re “displaced.” Like refugees. It makes everyone feel a little less sucky about themselves.
But I digress, back to the resume stuff. I just wanted to clarify that I consider myself educated in resume writing at this point. I have read that you should not put your blog on your resume if it talks about personal stuff. I get that. Makes sense. In theory. Me? I have my blog on my resume listed under “Relevant Experience.” Meaning, the folks that I’ve applied to AGAIN might be reading this blog RIGHT NOW (Hi! How are you? Just totally disregard all the swear words and bitching [oops, there I go again!] and stuff and call me for an interview. I swear, I am totally professional and will kick ASS [totally not a swear word] if you hire me!). You might think me a fool, but hear me out. This blog exists. All you gotta do is Google my name and there I am all over the freakin’ place: Twitter, LinkedIn, Etsy. There is no hiding at this point. Any HR manager worth their salt will Google someone before they hire them. The reality is I don’t lie, other than telling telemarketers that they have the wrong number. I hate lying. I SUCK at lying and particularly lying by omission. I talk too much about random stuff to try to keep secrets. Trying to hide the existence of this blog is just not something I have the time or mental capacity to do. And while I might be reckless regarding my own privacy, the fervor in which I maintain my company’s code of conduct is unparalleled. You don’t want me to blog? I won’t. But until then, I won’t hide the fact that it exists.
Besides, I’ve learned a lot here. I know some wicked html and CSS code. As much as I don’t have time to do it, I know all about Social Media Marketing, automated Social Media Marketing, editing (when the mood strikes) and CPV, Google ad words and all that crap that goes along with running your own bliggity blog. That’s marketable stuff, man. You betcha I’m putting it on my resume.
OK, I think I’ve bitched myself into exhaustion. I think I’ve gotten it all out. For now. For today. It’s best to vent here versus when The Candyman gets home. He’s got court today and will be tired when he gets home. Besides, this post took me for freakin’ ever to write and now I have to go research 1001 ways to prepare ground turkey.