I have a job for this fall! I will be a second grade teacher at Virginia Court Elementary in Aurora, CO. It’s a diverse school with lots of challenges but I’m very excited. Mostly because my room is on the outside of the library! How cool is that? Step, step, step….ALL THE SCHOOLS BOOKS! Yeah!

Now I have to give praise where praise is due. Everyone who encouraged me along the way, you made this all possible. My excellent, popular and memerable mother-in-law pulled strings, her good friends (also mentor teachers) have all made this possible in a year where not much in the way of teacher jobs is happening. I heard a rumour that only 20 new elementary teachers were hired in the whole district, as opposed to over 100 each year.

First and foremost my thanks goes to God. Who, I believe, sent me on this mission, and by listening and following him –doors were opening, degrees were had, mentors were granted and jobs were assigned. I encourage anyone who is frustrated with finding their calling or place in life, job-wise (or otherwise), to pray. I’m living proof that God does care about where you work and he does have a place meant for only you. It was challenging but never, ever more than I could handle.

God is still the best life coach out there.

Now on to inspiring some young minds and being a favorite teacher, because those are the ones that you remember!!

Today I recieved a mini bunt cake from a student and a very important note I will cherish always. This note is important to me because 1.) I never loved the way anyone taught math. 2.) I struggled with math as an elementary student 3.) This student is a high math student (she actually loves, loves, loves Math.) So, this means, my math anixety is gone, as a teacher. Praise the lord. I’ve been cured?!

Although I finish this week, I am very much on the job hunt right now as we speak. Unfortunately, I’ve heard rumors that some jobs at certain locations have 400 applicants. Yikes. I’m trying to stay aggressive, yet calm, confident and not-freaking-the-heck out just yet. The tough economy has finally hit the teaching market. The good news is that many teachers of the Baby Boomer generation will be retiring in the next five years. But until then, many prayers are going up for me to find a job. Until then:Keep calm, carry on.

I’ve had a cold this week. Is there anything worse than a wintertime cold when the weather is 90 degrees? I think not.

I’ve been pumping myself full of cold medicine which gives the illusion of wellness; the symptoms are the same but suddenly you have all this energy. Although, I still have no focus, I’m moody and congested. At night I pump myself full of nighttime medication and sleep the sleep of one in a deep coma. Of course, my dreams are the best thing that could happen to me and my body refuses to wake up.

If we were in a nice, healthy, socialist country in Europe, we all could take the day or two our bodies need to rest and recoup without the artificial wellness intervention. As it is, being in this capitalistic country, our employers would rather have a doped up warm body than no body at all.

I for one, am waiting for the day when my position is replaced by a computer. You can’t say “replaced by a chimp” anymore because of PETA. That would be animal cruelty.

The Boss walked into the office one morning not knowing his zipper was down and his fly area wide open. His assistant walked up to him and
said, ”This morning when you left your house, did you close your garage
door?”
The boss told her he knew he’d closed the garage door, and walked into his office puzzled by the question.
As he finished his paperwork, he suddenly noticed his fly was open, and zipped it up. He then understood his assistant’s question about his “garage door.”
He headed out for a cup of coffee and paused by her desk to ask, “When my garage door was open, did you see my Hummer parked in there?” She smiled and said, “No, I didn’t. All I saw was an old mini van with two flat tires.”

Yesterday one of our roofing companies held a seminar about these really amazing new solar panels.

They are about as thick as a restaurant menu and as flexible. They coat the top of the roof and are applied with adhesives right to the surface. The panels are hail resistant and warranted for twenty-years…and um…ah.

Excuse me.

The slide show is on the screen, gentleman. You can’t see through the presenter’s lap top, it’s facing her… and her GIANT BOOBS!

Oh, I now I get it.

So, yesterday our entire crew of estimators (even a few women) were transfixed by a living, breathing, blond Barbie talking about solar panels. She had the long blond hair, itty bitty waist, and large (though well-covered), unnaturally huge breasts. Imagine Jessica Simpson, professionally dressed (all-be-it a tight, form-fitting suit), with a better vocabulary, talking about solar energy.

So, basically most of the guys didn’t even realize there was a slide show.

They are, however, really, really on board about these new solar miracles. They way they are crafted with silicone to remain so flexible, hold their shape and still generate power…wait, are we still talking about solar panels?

Hiring the hotty was in fact brilliant strategy for the market. How better to reach a bunch of number plugging estimators? Pure genius.

Lesson learned: The successful application of fake boobs in the work place exceeds mere strip clubs and Hooters restaurants.

So, my review came and went, and as I predicted, I was A-Bombed. They nuked my communist town. Damn, damn capitalist pigs.

They were even critical of my three-hole punching and stapling ability.

Damn.

I have to admit that, for an A-bomb, year review it was very professional. They offered lots of suggestions on how I could be the biggest, most-annoying, anal-retentive turd. Whoopee!

Of course, because I am an adult, I will follow the said suggestions, and by the next review my three hole punches and staples will be a shining example to all those who attempt to do these tasks.

My new motto is, play the game and then retire. Even if the game leaves you a towel boy in the game of life…squirt that water bottle straight, beee-atch!

On another note, I recently read an article that stated, in China over 4 million college graduates compete for 1.2 million white collar, middle-class jobs. To get into college they spend five hours a night on homework for twelve plus years to pass the equivalent of the SAT with steroids. They call it the Tall Test. In some schools they require children to know Pi to 100 by three years-old to be admitted to certain kindergartens. And to top all those crap odds, you are your parents’ only child and since their futures were crushed by Communism, they have no qualms about pushing their dreams on you. Happy.

I guess the “Enjoy what you have because they have it worse it China” stories your mother told you are still true.

I got my self into anxiety rabbit hole this week worrying about my first yearly review with my company.

I had some cause for concern because I have been abused by the review process in the past.

My boss of three years was referred to as General Patton by a friend of mine because of my work stories. A former military man, with a military father, believed in two things: paper work and negative reinforcement.

He was that way with everyone in my team; we were constantly ripped to shreds every year with barely a positive comment to spare. It would go like this, “Basically, you suck at everything but on the positive side, you are still breathing and because of that I don’t have to train some other dumb ass to replace you.”

Once of our best techs was worried sick about his job until I ran into his wife at a baby store. I told her how much he rocked at his job for being relatively new. She went home and told him. He called me up to thank me because he hadn’t heard anything positive since his start. This was his best employee.

My reviews always left me in tears. He even ripped on how I slouched when sitting, how often I glanced at the Internet or received personal email. He’d have written me up for taking too many bathroom breaks if possible.

Toward the end of my position, while I was pregnant, he told me I should stop lifting things because if went into early labor, he’d look bad. Not because my child would be premature or anything.

I landed a job after my maternity leave with a bigger wacko. He was a man who wanted perfection but had no idea how to train, explain and hated being questioned on how to do something. God forbid someone would do it wrong.

The day I heard him use the F word to his wife for not being at home for a showing should have been a red flag. He had me call her up after the conversation to ask another question. Without even saying “Hello” she answered “What? Are you calling me back to berate me some more?” Embarrassed, I explained, that this time it wasn’t my boss, it was his admin. That wasn’t the only time this happened to several of his contacts. I got use to hearing, “What do you want to bitch about now?” as a greeting.

So here I am, over a year later at a job I really enjoy. Do I love it all the time? No. But the complaints are small. I’m hoping they feel the same way. Actually, I am praying. No one has said anything really negative all year. Please god, please don’t let them drop the A bomb.

It’s getting close to my yearly review. This makes me need more medication because of a few things.

The first is that I’ve had several scarring experiences with reviews, most of them caused by my old boss for three years. Each year he’d pretty much write up a three page letter telling me how much I sucked ass, then proceed to say “You’re still better than anyone else who’s had this position. I don’t want to hire anyone else. Here is your three percent raise.” I’d leave the office shaking and near tears.

Another time I had no review until my one-year mark and they scored me so low and brought up every single mistake I had ever made and then told me if I made another I would be fired. This was the only review or counseling session the entire duration of my position. Why would they wait a whole year if I was so horrible? Of course, being the angry white female I am, I promptly put in my two weeks notice.

The last time I was poorly reviewed, I kept my cool. I was fired after only six months. The reality was there wasn’t enough to do, he never replaced me after I was fired, and he had control issues about letting me do the things I actually could do. Therefore I ended up being a personal slave for him and his wife. The job blew goats but I thought I’d give it time.

Soon, my time ran out. In the end I was thankful and when he said, “This isn’t a good fit.” I said, “I agree,” thinking, “this job suuuuuucks.”

I have had positive reviews but the poor ones only overshadow them. It’s like the idea that if you are insulted you need 10 compliments to make up for it.

Or maybe, I just suck at jobs. I guess I’ll soon find out.

For two days I have been without vital pieces of information to give to subcontractors. The printers were just sitting on this information, thumb up butt, and promising things like it will be there yesterday at noon and not giving them to me until today at noon.