keep yer chin up, chickadee!

The old Brit professor sent this one to me and it's a hoot! I sure hope my job search will be a much easier situation!

My job search:

1. My first job was working in an Orange Juice factory,
but I got canned. Couldn't concentrate.

2. Then I worked in the woods as a Lumberjack,
but just couldn't hack it, so they gave me the axe.

3. After that, I tried being a Tailor,
but wasn't suited for it -- mainly because it was a sew-sew job.

4. Next, I tried working in a Muffler Factory,
but that was too exhausting.

5. Then, tried being a Chef - figured it would add a little spice to my life,
but just didn't have the thyme.

6. Next, I attempted being a Deli Worker,
but any way I sliced it, I couldn't cut the mustard.

7. My best job was as a Musician,
but eventually I found I wasn't noteworthy.

8. I studied a long time to become a Doctor,
but didn't have any patience.

9. Next, was a job in a Shoe Factory.
Tried hard but just didn't fit in.

10. I became a Professional Fisherman,
but discovered I couldn't live on my net income.

11. Managed to get a good job working for a Pool Maintenance Company,
but the work was just too draining.

12. So then I got a position in a Workout Center,
but they said I wasn't fit for the job..

13. After many years of trying to find steady work,
I finally got a job as a Historian - until I realized there was no future in it.

14. My last job was working in Starbucks,
but I had to quit because it was the same old grind.

15. SO, I TRIED RETIREMENT
AND I FOUND I'M PERFECT FOR THE JOB!

tomorrow's gonna be a brighter day

She told me she believes me to be one of the best teachers at the university, not just in the department.
She told me she had heard about me before she was even hired at the university.
She told me she knows how hard it can be to get recognition from the department, and how frustrating that can be.
She told me she knows how much of myself I give to the university, the department, the students.

She had felt the need to explain to me why I was not contacted about my job application. She wanted to assure me that the reason had nothing to do with my abilities, perceived or actual.
The problem was with the timing, not with me.
By the time the committee had received my application, they had already waded through those in receipt and found three possible candidates. Those candidates had been notified and interviews had been scheduled.
When more applications came in, the committee determined to wait to read them until after the initial candidates had interviewed and presented their sample lectures. If none of them were deemed worthy, the committee would resume the search.
I told her I understood. I told her I appreciated her letting me know and her reassuring me about my place as a teacher, if not in the department.
And I do understand.
But I want to stay.
Her words brought that back to me in full force: I want to stay.
I have spent much energy in bettering myself as a teacher these past three years and I continue to do so.
But that is not the reason I want to stay.
I have spent much energy in making the course of study into a strong program, a program in which the students derive the most benefit from both the lectures and the labs, using each to reinforce the other.
But that is not the reason I want to stay.

THIS is the reason.

blackberry promises

Today, my bff and I travelled to now-wild lands where once two plantations stood. We drove past the rice paddies, now untamed and growing in fractured row. The little white-billed, black-backed ducks floated on the cold waters, dipping their bills from time to time. A dark lavendar crane stalked through the greenery on the side of the road, fluttering away as I approached for a closer picture. I hurried back to the warmth of the car on this chilly, blustery, overcast day.
We drove and talked, talked and drove, watching the drifting ducks and rippling waters and streaming moss raining down from the limbs of the trees and bushes and vines.
It was as if we had stepped into a long-ago once upon a time.
We had reached a place to pull to the side of the narrow lane, so we exited the vehicle to take a quick walk around the ancient cistern... and the sky became bluer and the sun shone and breeze slowed. We walked the path, admiring the flora and fauna. The giant dandelions, standing waist-high and already boasting new yellow flowers and older wish-puffs of seeds. The lovely five-lobed periwinkles, blue-purple amid dark greenery. The tiny gray sparrows and more black ducks and even a white crane.
And the blooms of the blackberry brambles. Among the tiny sharp thorns of the woody vines, the small white flowers promised the arrival soon of succulent, sweet fruit.
I hope that is a harbinger of future success for me after the recent prickliness of my job search.

talking in my sleep

This has been a week of nightmares.
Trying to write the documents needed for my job application has been very difficult, though not impossible. However, writing those documents has required much more time than I had anticipated.
Then, finding out on Wednesday that the current applications had been reviewed and the potential hirees had been invited to arrive after spring break for interviews was very disturbing to me. Spring break would be the week of March 11th. And I did not yet have one document even written!
Panic began to consume my sanity.
What if I had taken too long and the job was no longer open to new applications? What if my delay in applying was misinterpreted as a lack of interest in the job? What if I would not be returning to this role in the fall???
Panic.
Then I did complete the one document not yet composed and was actually pleased with it. Writing the scholarly description, I gained a fresh respect for my subconscious path these last three years. I had been heading into a successful job application, even though I had not realized I had been trodding that path. My desire to become better for my students had, wondrously, made me more suitable for the job opening now available.
Then I hit a stumbling block.
I could not upload my transcripts. The job site would not accept the file.
I tried different scans.
No.
Different formats.
No.
Different computers, different times of day, different file lengths.
No. No. No.
I was losing my mind.
Seriously, the lack of a seventeen-year-old transcript was going to keep me from applying for this job???
In a panic last night, I went through the steps listed in the "help" section of the job site. Repeatedly. To no avail.
The only step I had not taken was to contact the Human Resources department.
But I had. To no avail.
I had contacted them the previous week in the hopes of receiving a file copy of my transcripts. After all, for my current post, I had to submit my transcripts, so I knew the university HR folks would have that information at hand.
But I had never received a response.
Time had marched on.
And now, now it was vital that I complete this application, vital to my peace of mind, vital to my sanity.
This morning, I contacted HR by email, again.
After about thirty minutes of no response, I contacted them again, this time by phone. The woman listened to my plea, had me send her the bulky file, then changed its size by changing it into an archival format. She had assured me that others had also had difficulties with their transcripts uploads and this technique had worked for their files. She returned the shrunken file to me, I attempted to upload it to my job application...and it failed. Oh, no! One more try! And that try was successful, allowing me to finally, finally, submit my application.
I was not prepared for the rush of relief.
I had finally completed my part of the job application process, with the help of friends and colleagues and strangers.
Now, the matter was out of my hands. Others would have the responsibility of reading my application and determining my worth for the described job.
Now, I wait.

locked out

Last night, I drove home in tears.
The day had begun fairly well, then proceeded to slide over to the dark side.
I have been in the process of applying for a job opening, but was having some difficulty getting a file completed and getting another uploaded. At the department meeting, it became very clear that if I were serious about the job, I needed to finish up my application quickly. After all, several folks there at the meeting knew two weeks earlier that I was applying; I'm sure they were all wondering if I had changed my mind, though none had approached me concerning my decision.
For the file not yet written, I am sure folks might have wondered if I were simply procrastinating. I wish that had been true. But, no. The file was not yet written because I hadn't yet determined how to even begin the document. A preliminary search the week earlier had yielded no such document had ever existed except as a listed requirement for this particular job opening at this particular institution.
A unique document. Wonderful.
Nonetheless, the time had certainly come for me to compose such a document, even though I did not know what exactly was to be discussed in such a piece. My mind had been tasked with the work for a week and, ready or not, the writing was now at hand.
Truly wonderful.
My schedule was already quite busy, with midterm approaching and the preparation and grading of tests for my classes and the grading of piles of lab documents. Why not one more item crying loudly for attention?
Fine.
That afternoon, one of my students from last term came to see me about a make-up test. She has been going through a very bad divorce since the third week of this term. When she arrived, I counseled her to opt for a hardship withdrawal and sent her to the necessary office to start that process.
I truly hated to see her leave the class, hated for her to be going through such a hard divorce, hated that her husband had shut her out of the funeral for her father-in-law. I know her to be smart and optimistic and helpful toward others. I know her to also be fabulous at organizing study groups to benefit other students. Now, she would be gone and her absence would be a tangible change to the class dynamics.
That evening, I returned the red-stained exams to my students. A few had done well, but many had not. I scolded the class, reminding them, as I have all term, that this next material rested firmly on all of the preceding material. If they were lacking a solid understanding of all that was covered for the first two exams, the third exam would assure them a failing grade in the class. I reminded them of the need to study more, alone or in groups or with me during office hours. I was pretty hard on them.
I then began the new material to a more somber, but hopefully for diligent, class.
Then we had our soap-making lab. By this time, I was tired. I knew the lab would be a long one, requiring me to be on my feet for yet a few hours more.
Then, afterward, I exited the main building and found: I could not get to my office.
Again.
Frustrated, I contacted security for the second Wednesday in a row. Yes, they would send someone by. Yes, if I wanted, I could send them an email in the morning and make a request to change the lock-down times for the two buildings.
And I waited. And waited some more, in the chill night air, wearing only the T-shirt for that night's lab. I distracted myself by texting my bfe, complaining to him about the situation. He was incredulous that I did not have a key.
Finally, after almost ten minutes had elapsed, I called security again.
I could almost hear the "Oops!" in the dispatcher's voice. She assured me that someone would be by shortly.
And so I waited a bit longer.
And when the officer arrived, he proceeded to chide me for not taking what he thought was an acceptable alternate route to reach my office. As if I were somehow to blame for finding myself locked out of the building. But when I reminded him of the actual working of the fire door, he conceded that I was correct.
Meanwhile, he had unlocked the outer door, for which I have no key, for which I have never even been offered a key. And as I entered the curved hall leading to my office, I found myself sobbing.
I so want to stay at this university.
I so want to continue doing what I do there.
But I don't even have a key to enter the building where my office is located.

I took myself home and wrote the scholarly description document. Actually, the document fairly well wrote itself. I even uploaded it that very evening and made plans to complete the job application the next day.

Today, I updated the software on my computer to allow me to scan in my transcript, the last piece remaining for my application to be submitted.
I also wrote the following to security and sent a copy to the department head.
Here's hoping I will not be locked out next Wednesday.

"For the second week in a row, I have emerged from an evening lab in the south wing of the Science Center to find myself locked out of the north wing, where my office is located.
I have taught at Armstrong for many years and this has not been an issue until this term. I do not understand why the Science Center bulidings are being locked earlier now than in the past.
Last night, I waited almost 15 minutes for Campus Police to come by and unlock the door. This was on a chilly night; my jacket, of course, was in my office, as I did not need it to traverse the short distance between the two buildings. The officer suggested that I could have entered the north wing by exiting the south wing on the second floor and then entering the first level of the north wing via the fire door between the stairwell and hall. I reminded him that the fire door is locked on the stairwell side, making that path to my office inaccessible. He agreed.
Now, in accordance with my first conversation with the dispatcher last night, I am requesting that the doors to the Science Center buildings remain unlocked until at least 10:20 PM.
Please."

It would have been nice if I had been offered a key.
Even if I only have two months left in this job.

up jumps a tree!

I'm job hunting, for the first time in about two decades.

For the past two years, I've been full-time in a temporary position with a three-year life. This is the bottom half of the third. Fortunately, a position has opened which seems to be written for me.

The scary part is this: I'm not a big fan of competing for large-stake prizes. No, wait, that's not right. I still occassionally play the lottery, and that certainly has games with large prizes. But with the lottery, I'm not competing with other players, I'm just hoping the numbers I select will fall out of a row of tumbling cages. It's not like The Hunger Games: my life is not on the line on lottery night.

So, what has me so anxious about this job search? Especially when I have had several of my peers attempt to reassure me that I am well-qualified for the position? Especially when I have had several of my peers encourage me to "go for it!"?
Especially when I have even had people in other disciplines give me a positive nudge?

I have a pretty good guess what my issue is.
I think my past actions should speak for my future expectations.
I think my proven abilities should vouch for my future skills.
But what if that is not the case?

What if?
What if a huge invisible tree pops onto the path?
What if a huge invisible tree pops onto the path and blocks my view of the goal?
What if a huge invisible tree pops onto the path and blocks the view of me from those at the goal?
What if I spend so much time obsessing over huge invisible trees that I miss the opportunity?

Invisible trees, with great gnarled roots and twisting, long-fingered limbs.
(shiver)

Sometimes, just because you cannot see it really DOES mean it isn't there.