Random Thoughts, San Francisco And Otherwise
I.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
New Song, New Life
This is it. Eight hours, and we hit the road to San Francisco, driving west on I-90 to Portland, then down I-5 to the Bay Area. I have added a new song to my MySpace profile in tribute to this revolution, although before you ask, no, I don't foresee putting flowers in my hair, at least not until I have a little whiskey or port and get a chance to see the ocean again. Then I might get giddy enough to do so.
I am not only really excited to be going to San Francisco, but also happy to be leaving Montana. I had a reminder recently that while Missoula is the most liberal, tolerant part of Montana, that isn't saying much. It is easy to be tolerant when you never really have to have your tolerance tested.
Recently, a friend of mine who is excellent at his job in the educational field and who was in line for a big step up, with the support of many teachers, parents, and children, was basically run out of town on a rail, because people found out about his sexual orientation and said, "We have to protect the children."
It isn't the anxiety around someone different that ruins the people responsible; it is human nature to feel awkward around someone different. But to turn that anxiety into irrational fear, and then to take that irrational fear and act to harm the life of a good, decent human being, well, that's not admirable, to say the least.
One more nail in the coffin of my satisfaction with living in Montana.
II.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
And So It Begins . . .
Monday morning, I was in Missoula, Montana, running around like crazy, forgetting sports jackets in the old apartment, turning in change of address forms way too late in the game, and other hijinx like that.
Last night, I was riding the J-Line along Judah Street, rumbling through the Sunset District after sushi, sake, and Sapporo with Drew. It was a bit surreal to tell myself that I am in San Francisco to stay, not just for a vacation. Now all I need is a place to live and a job.
It was a stimulating trip, by far the most driving in one go I've ever done, both in duration and intensity. Two ten hour days through interstate traffic. From navigating I-5 from Portland to San Francisco, which is kind of like playing dodgeball with cars in some places, to wending through rush hour traffic in the Bay Area with the Giants getting clobbered on the radio, to finding out that AAA really does give awesome discounts on hotels, and that Salem, Oregon is a really dull town, it was always fun. My shoulders had the tension to prove it. That's where the sushi, sake, and Sapporo came in.
On to bigger and better things today. Like the beach. I'm in decompression mode, and I'll start looking for a job and an apartment tomorrow.
III.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
A Moment Of Madness Or Method, I'm Not Sure Which
Over the past week, I have flooded the craigslist realm with applications and inquiries that resulted in one, count it, one open house for a sublet last Saturday. I have not received a response to my Monday follow up email as of yet, which is frustrating, because the girl said they would arrange times for individual meetings with all interested parties, and she and I had an engaging conversation.
I have decided to interpret it as a case of her deciding that I am dangerously attractive. I can't fault her for that.
In any case, the process of frisbeeing my resumes into the void may have inspired a moment of madness yesterday. In responding to an ad for a media reporter/researcher yesterday, I wrote the following in my cover letter: "My college education, my blogs, and my love of the newspaper have given me strong editing and proofing skills. For instance, I noticed in your ad on craigslist that you misspelled the name of your website."
It will prove to be either a stroke of genius if the misspelling was intentional and a part of the interview process, or an arrogant tweak that will turn them off immediately. I'm actually okay with either result, as the position would be in Emeryville, which, as I understand it, is Oakland Lite.
Political note of the week: Dick Cheney is well-named, but we all knew that. He wants all the rights and privileges of both the executive and legislative branches, with the checks and balances and limitations of neither. Seriously, to say he is not part of the executive branch, and then to turn around and take advantage of an executive order, is not only illogical, it is the height of arrogance. The man is a Dick.
IV.
Tuesday, July 3rd
The End Of All Hope Of Dignity For American Dignity, Plus An Update On San Francisco
I will address the less belligerent news first, so you can all leave before my political rantings. I have a job interview Thursday morning on the 25th floor of a tower in downtown San Francisco, which is a little disconcerting, not just because of my mild case of vertigo, but also because I never expected to be looking at entering the corporate job in any way that would require my presence on the 25th floor of a tower in the Financial District. I wouldn't be working there, but I have to interview there, which is odd. Come to think of it, that is a little vertiginous in and of itself.
I don't know if I will want the job or not, but it is a nice bit of affirmation to hear back from a prospective employer in this crazy city. I have an apartment open house tomorrow, so things seem to be taking shape, which is good, because I also exchanged smiles with and got the eye from a beautiful blonde today. California is nifty.
Okay, run, ye politically faint of heart.
No, I mean it.
Final warning.
Okay, you asked for it.
Pardon me for absolutism here.
Unforgivable.
The administration is officially the most corrupt and awful. Ever. Bush and Cheney have no souls.
It almost makes me religious, just so I could believe that there is a hell for these scumbags. The absolute arrogance, the absolute belief in their own right to do whatever the hell they want, these are some of the reasons these people have made a mockery of the concept of American democracy.
The Fourth of July is meaningless.
V.
Hard Lessons
So I messed up recently. And I was also specifically deleted from MySpace by someone, which was the first time that had ever happened to me. I became the jerk, the freak, the punk of all the stories you hear. Which wasn't quite what happened, but it sucked. I lost a developing friendship that I was enjoying a lot.
But I learned something.
Ironically, for someone who has always been very shy, I've always been very trusting. When I meet someone with whom I seem to connect, I jump right in to sharing-time and whatnot. I'm not talking about relationships; just friendships.
I wouldn't change that willingness to trust someone and be open with them. But I've learned that I tend to project my level of trust on to someone else, who has no reason to trust me as much as I think they do, even though I can't say I've ever done anything from bad motivations.
You can't tip your hand too quickly. It weirds people out. This isn't to say that one should not be genuine. It's just that things tend to slip away if you go after them too quickly too suddenly.
Here's the thing: so many people who are more outgoing than I have been have been hurt, and aren't likely to trust right away, so things that may seem genuine and sincere and straightforward to me might be misinterpreted in spectacularly errant ways.
C'est la vie.
VI.
Upping The Ante
So, from Carla Marinucci's article in the Chronicle comes this quote:
"My guess is that commuting of Scooter Libby's sentence will have approximately the same political fallout as (President Bill Clinton's) pardoning Mark Rich,'' GOP strategist Dan Schnur said in a reference to the Democratic president's controversial last-minute pardon of a major Clinton contributor and fugitive who had been indicted on a variety of charges, including income tax evasion and mail fraud.
"Anybody who thinks that this is a horrible decision obviously thought Clinton's pardoning of Rich was bad or worse,'' Schnur said. "Otherwise, they might be guilty of political hypocrisy.''
Okay, Dan, I'll play. Do I think it was ill-advised of Bill to pardon Marc Rich? Yes. Do I think it was a horrible decision? I am willing to think so. In fact, let's go ahead and indict Bill on obstruction of justice charges. Making a mockery of the judicial process should fall under that heading.
And then, on the same grounds, we can indict W., Dick "Neither Executive Nor Legislative Be He" Cheney, Rove, the whole merry unethical gang.
Your move, Dan.
VII.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Of Fire Unions And Smouldering Eyes
Two big job interviews yesterday produced decidedly mixed results, but all on the mostly positive side of the ledger. Another personal and decidedly informal interview yesterday evening produced no real results but was exhilarating for an entirely different reason.
The first interview was a bit of a curveball 25 floors up in the Financial District. Corporations are decidedly weird, a realization reaffirmed by my receipt of some follow up paperwork from my old employer, the details of which I won't bother describing. But this interview was a group screening, which called for adaptability. There were things that made me realize that this might not be the environment for me. But the view was outstanding, looking out across the Financial District toward the band of fog that marked San Francisco Bay.
When someone said she was a single mother, the interviewers interjected, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you don't need to tell us that. We don't need or want to know that stuff." So much for the idea of introducing ourselves. Corporations=corporeal=random warm bodies plugged into the machinery.
That last is a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.
While I didn't get the position I was applying for, they do want to move me forward in a different path, which would have some benefits and less sales pressure. We shall see.
The second interview was simply fantastic, though. The San Francisco Fire Credit Union seems to be a perfect match for my desire for and skills at customer service; the focus is on doing the right thing for the "members." Goals are not measured in sales quota fulfillment, but rather in wowing the customer. The second interview would be a peer interview, somewhat informal, to see how I get along with co-workers. How awesome is that idea? And everyone I met yesterday seemed to love their work and to be good, happy, fun-loving people. I want this job.
I had applied for it through an ad on Craigslist that requested a short introduction that distinguished itself from those of people generically applying for everything on Craigslist. This is an excerpt of my response, of which I am admittedly a little proud:
To The Non-Generic Person To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing to inquire in a hopefully non-generic
manner about the part time customer service position
you advertised on Craigslist. You will find my resume
attached, but here's a little bit about myself.
. . .
I'm also a very nice, non-generic person who would
love a job that would be contributory to the welfare
of the community.
Five minutes later, the VP called and said, "GREAT response! When can you come in for an interview?"
That made me fall in love with the job right there.
Speaking of fire and sparks, I was at Yancy's last night with Vaughn and Drew in celebration of a busy day of interviewing when a strikingly-cute blonde (who was there with another guy, unfortunately) walked past our table. In the name of scientific experimentation, I gave her a quick smile and then looked away, apparently too soon, because she returned the smile, according to Drew. Sometime later, she returned, I offered another smile, and she gave me a smouldering smile in return that startled all of us.
Receiving smouldering looks is a highly underrated form of entertainment. I have not received too many smouldering looks in my time; I'm more used to intrigued looks at best, skeptical-yet-undismissive looks more frequently.
When I took our pint glasses up to the bar, she was locked in conversation with the other guy, unfortunately, and had her back toward me, so it was once again a case of "Alack and Alas for a lack of a lass."
If my current situation was not one of couch-surfing, though, I might have hung around for awhile and grabbed another beer. But it was a good rehearsal and fun end to a productive day.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
New Song, New Life
This is it. Eight hours, and we hit the road to San Francisco, driving west on I-90 to Portland, then down I-5 to the Bay Area. I have added a new song to my MySpace profile in tribute to this revolution, although before you ask, no, I don't foresee putting flowers in my hair, at least not until I have a little whiskey or port and get a chance to see the ocean again. Then I might get giddy enough to do so.
I am not only really excited to be going to San Francisco, but also happy to be leaving Montana. I had a reminder recently that while Missoula is the most liberal, tolerant part of Montana, that isn't saying much. It is easy to be tolerant when you never really have to have your tolerance tested.
Recently, a friend of mine who is excellent at his job in the educational field and who was in line for a big step up, with the support of many teachers, parents, and children, was basically run out of town on a rail, because people found out about his sexual orientation and said, "We have to protect the children."
It isn't the anxiety around someone different that ruins the people responsible; it is human nature to feel awkward around someone different. But to turn that anxiety into irrational fear, and then to take that irrational fear and act to harm the life of a good, decent human being, well, that's not admirable, to say the least.
One more nail in the coffin of my satisfaction with living in Montana.
II.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
And So It Begins . . .
Monday morning, I was in Missoula, Montana, running around like crazy, forgetting sports jackets in the old apartment, turning in change of address forms way too late in the game, and other hijinx like that.
Last night, I was riding the J-Line along Judah Street, rumbling through the Sunset District after sushi, sake, and Sapporo with Drew. It was a bit surreal to tell myself that I am in San Francisco to stay, not just for a vacation. Now all I need is a place to live and a job.
It was a stimulating trip, by far the most driving in one go I've ever done, both in duration and intensity. Two ten hour days through interstate traffic. From navigating I-5 from Portland to San Francisco, which is kind of like playing dodgeball with cars in some places, to wending through rush hour traffic in the Bay Area with the Giants getting clobbered on the radio, to finding out that AAA really does give awesome discounts on hotels, and that Salem, Oregon is a really dull town, it was always fun. My shoulders had the tension to prove it. That's where the sushi, sake, and Sapporo came in.
On to bigger and better things today. Like the beach. I'm in decompression mode, and I'll start looking for a job and an apartment tomorrow.
III.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
A Moment Of Madness Or Method, I'm Not Sure Which
Over the past week, I have flooded the craigslist realm with applications and inquiries that resulted in one, count it, one open house for a sublet last Saturday. I have not received a response to my Monday follow up email as of yet, which is frustrating, because the girl said they would arrange times for individual meetings with all interested parties, and she and I had an engaging conversation.
I have decided to interpret it as a case of her deciding that I am dangerously attractive. I can't fault her for that.
In any case, the process of frisbeeing my resumes into the void may have inspired a moment of madness yesterday. In responding to an ad for a media reporter/researcher yesterday, I wrote the following in my cover letter: "My college education, my blogs, and my love of the newspaper have given me strong editing and proofing skills. For instance, I noticed in your ad on craigslist that you misspelled the name of your website."
It will prove to be either a stroke of genius if the misspelling was intentional and a part of the interview process, or an arrogant tweak that will turn them off immediately. I'm actually okay with either result, as the position would be in Emeryville, which, as I understand it, is Oakland Lite.
Political note of the week: Dick Cheney is well-named, but we all knew that. He wants all the rights and privileges of both the executive and legislative branches, with the checks and balances and limitations of neither. Seriously, to say he is not part of the executive branch, and then to turn around and take advantage of an executive order, is not only illogical, it is the height of arrogance. The man is a Dick.
IV.
Tuesday, July 3rd
The End Of All Hope Of Dignity For American Dignity, Plus An Update On San Francisco
I will address the less belligerent news first, so you can all leave before my political rantings. I have a job interview Thursday morning on the 25th floor of a tower in downtown San Francisco, which is a little disconcerting, not just because of my mild case of vertigo, but also because I never expected to be looking at entering the corporate job in any way that would require my presence on the 25th floor of a tower in the Financial District. I wouldn't be working there, but I have to interview there, which is odd. Come to think of it, that is a little vertiginous in and of itself.
I don't know if I will want the job or not, but it is a nice bit of affirmation to hear back from a prospective employer in this crazy city. I have an apartment open house tomorrow, so things seem to be taking shape, which is good, because I also exchanged smiles with and got the eye from a beautiful blonde today. California is nifty.
Okay, run, ye politically faint of heart.
No, I mean it.
Final warning.
Okay, you asked for it.
Pardon me for absolutism here.
Unforgivable.
The administration is officially the most corrupt and awful. Ever. Bush and Cheney have no souls.
It almost makes me religious, just so I could believe that there is a hell for these scumbags. The absolute arrogance, the absolute belief in their own right to do whatever the hell they want, these are some of the reasons these people have made a mockery of the concept of American democracy.
The Fourth of July is meaningless.
V.
Hard Lessons
So I messed up recently. And I was also specifically deleted from MySpace by someone, which was the first time that had ever happened to me. I became the jerk, the freak, the punk of all the stories you hear. Which wasn't quite what happened, but it sucked. I lost a developing friendship that I was enjoying a lot.
But I learned something.
Ironically, for someone who has always been very shy, I've always been very trusting. When I meet someone with whom I seem to connect, I jump right in to sharing-time and whatnot. I'm not talking about relationships; just friendships.
I wouldn't change that willingness to trust someone and be open with them. But I've learned that I tend to project my level of trust on to someone else, who has no reason to trust me as much as I think they do, even though I can't say I've ever done anything from bad motivations.
You can't tip your hand too quickly. It weirds people out. This isn't to say that one should not be genuine. It's just that things tend to slip away if you go after them too quickly too suddenly.
Here's the thing: so many people who are more outgoing than I have been have been hurt, and aren't likely to trust right away, so things that may seem genuine and sincere and straightforward to me might be misinterpreted in spectacularly errant ways.
C'est la vie.
VI.
Upping The Ante
So, from Carla Marinucci's article in the Chronicle comes this quote:
"My guess is that commuting of Scooter Libby's sentence will have approximately the same political fallout as (President Bill Clinton's) pardoning Mark Rich,'' GOP strategist Dan Schnur said in a reference to the Democratic president's controversial last-minute pardon of a major Clinton contributor and fugitive who had been indicted on a variety of charges, including income tax evasion and mail fraud.
"Anybody who thinks that this is a horrible decision obviously thought Clinton's pardoning of Rich was bad or worse,'' Schnur said. "Otherwise, they might be guilty of political hypocrisy.''
Okay, Dan, I'll play. Do I think it was ill-advised of Bill to pardon Marc Rich? Yes. Do I think it was a horrible decision? I am willing to think so. In fact, let's go ahead and indict Bill on obstruction of justice charges. Making a mockery of the judicial process should fall under that heading.
And then, on the same grounds, we can indict W., Dick "Neither Executive Nor Legislative Be He" Cheney, Rove, the whole merry unethical gang.
Your move, Dan.
VII.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Of Fire Unions And Smouldering Eyes
Two big job interviews yesterday produced decidedly mixed results, but all on the mostly positive side of the ledger. Another personal and decidedly informal interview yesterday evening produced no real results but was exhilarating for an entirely different reason.
The first interview was a bit of a curveball 25 floors up in the Financial District. Corporations are decidedly weird, a realization reaffirmed by my receipt of some follow up paperwork from my old employer, the details of which I won't bother describing. But this interview was a group screening, which called for adaptability. There were things that made me realize that this might not be the environment for me. But the view was outstanding, looking out across the Financial District toward the band of fog that marked San Francisco Bay.
When someone said she was a single mother, the interviewers interjected, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you don't need to tell us that. We don't need or want to know that stuff." So much for the idea of introducing ourselves. Corporations=corporeal=random warm bodies plugged into the machinery.
That last is a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.
While I didn't get the position I was applying for, they do want to move me forward in a different path, which would have some benefits and less sales pressure. We shall see.
The second interview was simply fantastic, though. The San Francisco Fire Credit Union seems to be a perfect match for my desire for and skills at customer service; the focus is on doing the right thing for the "members." Goals are not measured in sales quota fulfillment, but rather in wowing the customer. The second interview would be a peer interview, somewhat informal, to see how I get along with co-workers. How awesome is that idea? And everyone I met yesterday seemed to love their work and to be good, happy, fun-loving people. I want this job.
I had applied for it through an ad on Craigslist that requested a short introduction that distinguished itself from those of people generically applying for everything on Craigslist. This is an excerpt of my response, of which I am admittedly a little proud:
To The Non-Generic Person To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing to inquire in a hopefully non-generic
manner about the part time customer service position
you advertised on Craigslist. You will find my resume
attached, but here's a little bit about myself.
. . .
I'm also a very nice, non-generic person who would
love a job that would be contributory to the welfare
of the community.
Five minutes later, the VP called and said, "GREAT response! When can you come in for an interview?"
That made me fall in love with the job right there.
Speaking of fire and sparks, I was at Yancy's last night with Vaughn and Drew in celebration of a busy day of interviewing when a strikingly-cute blonde (who was there with another guy, unfortunately) walked past our table. In the name of scientific experimentation, I gave her a quick smile and then looked away, apparently too soon, because she returned the smile, according to Drew. Sometime later, she returned, I offered another smile, and she gave me a smouldering smile in return that startled all of us.
Receiving smouldering looks is a highly underrated form of entertainment. I have not received too many smouldering looks in my time; I'm more used to intrigued looks at best, skeptical-yet-undismissive looks more frequently.
When I took our pint glasses up to the bar, she was locked in conversation with the other guy, unfortunately, and had her back toward me, so it was once again a case of "Alack and Alas for a lack of a lass."
If my current situation was not one of couch-surfing, though, I might have hung around for awhile and grabbed another beer. But it was a good rehearsal and fun end to a productive day.
posted by Devin at 6:56 PM
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