may not bring wisdom, but it does bring experience--like the experience required to get through an 11-hour day on less than four hours of sleep. I should feel WAY worse than I do; go figure. (Especially since, along with the beer, I inhaled about a half a pack of cigarettes worth of second-hand smoke; blegh.) And lots of intense conversations, last night and today.
But I'd rather bitch about NP. Yesterday I'm cutting up my dough into 12-pound pieces (usually with about 3 extra ounces per piece), and I came up 6 or 7 pounds short. NP had made that batch of dough on Monday (because I don't work on Mondays), so I asked her how much dead dough she'd used ("dead dough" being the scraps from a given day's production; about 3 or 4 pounds gets thrown into each night's 96-pound batch). Four pounds, she said, like Bossman had instructed. So I said, to her and Bossman simultaneously, I'm about 6 or 7 pounds short. Bossman asks if I'd tasted it; did it have sugar in it? I handed him a little taste and he said, yup, that's what's missing. NP had left out the 7 pounds of sugar. Bossman had me make a 24-pound batch, with the extra 7 pounds of sugar in it, and then mix in the batch that NP had made. It worked, more or less; it was ragged, but useable, and I wasn't completely screwed for the week's production.
However.
NP didn't ever apologize for fucking it up. She was completely uninterested in finding the solution or in doing anything about it. And she never once offered to lend me a hand, even though her fuckup added an extra hour to my day. I noted to Bossman, after NP had left, that it would have been the thing to do. He replied that he's running out of patience with her, that she's just not getting any better. I think he keeps hoping she'll quit, but I think he's going to have to cut her hours (such as they are) or fire her outright. It's his bakery, and he's got more experience with this shit than I do, but she's getting on my last goddamned nerve.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Shiny Happy Teeth and Gums
Well, that could have gone worse. Although I spent $24 on a taxi (which I would not normally do, but the bus got caught in traffic and I was afraid I was going to be late--though the hygienist was late, so I could have stayed on the damned bus), and although the visit itself wasn't exactly cheap, there weren't any holes that needed repair. The hygienist also noted that there wasn't a lot of buildup, which surprised me, since I hadn't been there in about 18 months; I credit my semi-regular flossing and Tom's of Maine, even if Colgate bought them up last year. (I've been using Tom's products for nearly 30 years.) I bought a bunch of books for my older nephew (whose 10th birthday is Friday), plus Shulamith Firestone's The Dialectic of Sex, in preparation for the festival over at Twisty's place. I already have a bone to pick with her (Firestone, I mean), but that's the point of this exercise. I had lunch with Jane, which was great, of course, as well.
Now I wish I had another day off, but I pretty much always wish that.
The latest episode with Chuck has him asking me to consider filing a joint tax return this year: he's going to owe $2k, and of course he doesn't have it. I doubt very much that it's of any benefit to me to do that, but I told him to send me all his stuff and I'd take a look at it and run the numbers. He was appreciative, and also had the good grace to say that he doesn't want it to cost me anything more than it already would have done. The one way it may benefit me is that it would allow me to take the student loan interest deduction, but I doubt that will be enough of a benefit for me. We'll see. If nothing else, maybe I can help him figure out how to owe less, which I'm willing to do. It also occurs to me that, if it's a wash for me but benefits him, I can tell him I'll do it on the conditions that he (a) file the divorce papers and (b) sign the loan papers before April 15.
Now I wish I had another day off, but I pretty much always wish that.
The latest episode with Chuck has him asking me to consider filing a joint tax return this year: he's going to owe $2k, and of course he doesn't have it. I doubt very much that it's of any benefit to me to do that, but I told him to send me all his stuff and I'd take a look at it and run the numbers. He was appreciative, and also had the good grace to say that he doesn't want it to cost me anything more than it already would have done. The one way it may benefit me is that it would allow me to take the student loan interest deduction, but I doubt that will be enough of a benefit for me. We'll see. If nothing else, maybe I can help him figure out how to owe less, which I'm willing to do. It also occurs to me that, if it's a wash for me but benefits him, I can tell him I'll do it on the conditions that he (a) file the divorce papers and (b) sign the loan papers before April 15.
The Cure
You gotta love a condition (the duct issue) wherein the cure is apparently lots of hot sex. I'll still mention it when I see the doc in two weeks, but it's much improved. Go figure.
So we're standing around the work table on Saturday, and Bossman announces that he'd vote for Obama. I about fell over. He thinks Obama is pretty sharp--though he doesn't think much of Hill. (She's not my favorite either, as a politician--as a person, I think she's extremely smart, and I would very much enjoy the opportunity to have dinner with her.) (That's one of the ways I think about public figures: is s/he someone with whom it might be entertaining to have dinner?) Anyway, Bossman noted that he hadn't really paid attention to politics until the last election. So maybe he's more educable than I thought, or farther to the left than he thought. It also leads me to believe that I have a greater effect on him than I thought, i.e., that his opinions aren't necessarily fixed.
It also leads me to believe that the Democrats could continue to make serious gains in the political world, if they could only learn to shape their message better. As the last election showed, a lot of people are really tired of this war; they regard it as misguided, at best, and I suspect they'd be even more enraged if the media were doing their job properly. Does anyone even remember WMDs? Which, you may recall, is why we invaded. And torture and the like? Do most Americans really want to line up on behalf of torture? I don't think so (though, I suppose, I could be wrong).
I think someone like Jimmy Carter could be very powerful right now (powerful in the sense of moving or inspirational)--if only s/he could get a hearing. Thanks in part to the cynicism that drives the right wing and the military industrial complex behind the right wing, and thanks in part to the jaded cynicism that the media bring to the table (along with a desparate desire to be thought Cool and a concomitant reluctance to point out the emperor's nakedness), and thanks to the fact that the media companies are, at this point, a part of the capitalist overlords rather than a separate force, we tend to regard genuine passion as an act or a performance. We end up hearing about what Hillary is wearing, or where Obama went to school, or what lawsuits Edwards has brought, rather than what they believe, what they want to do, or the principles by which they live and the principles by which they would govern. And don't even get me started on that faith shit. If you believe in a deity or deities, hey, great, I hope that works out for you. But don't you dare insist that the only way a person can be moral is by fear of retribution from a punishing deity in an afterlife.
Okay, I could rant some more, but I need to take a shower, go to the dentist, etc.
So we're standing around the work table on Saturday, and Bossman announces that he'd vote for Obama. I about fell over. He thinks Obama is pretty sharp--though he doesn't think much of Hill. (She's not my favorite either, as a politician--as a person, I think she's extremely smart, and I would very much enjoy the opportunity to have dinner with her.) (That's one of the ways I think about public figures: is s/he someone with whom it might be entertaining to have dinner?) Anyway, Bossman noted that he hadn't really paid attention to politics until the last election. So maybe he's more educable than I thought, or farther to the left than he thought. It also leads me to believe that I have a greater effect on him than I thought, i.e., that his opinions aren't necessarily fixed.
It also leads me to believe that the Democrats could continue to make serious gains in the political world, if they could only learn to shape their message better. As the last election showed, a lot of people are really tired of this war; they regard it as misguided, at best, and I suspect they'd be even more enraged if the media were doing their job properly. Does anyone even remember WMDs? Which, you may recall, is why we invaded. And torture and the like? Do most Americans really want to line up on behalf of torture? I don't think so (though, I suppose, I could be wrong).
I think someone like Jimmy Carter could be very powerful right now (powerful in the sense of moving or inspirational)--if only s/he could get a hearing. Thanks in part to the cynicism that drives the right wing and the military industrial complex behind the right wing, and thanks in part to the jaded cynicism that the media bring to the table (along with a desparate desire to be thought Cool and a concomitant reluctance to point out the emperor's nakedness), and thanks to the fact that the media companies are, at this point, a part of the capitalist overlords rather than a separate force, we tend to regard genuine passion as an act or a performance. We end up hearing about what Hillary is wearing, or where Obama went to school, or what lawsuits Edwards has brought, rather than what they believe, what they want to do, or the principles by which they live and the principles by which they would govern. And don't even get me started on that faith shit. If you believe in a deity or deities, hey, great, I hope that works out for you. But don't you dare insist that the only way a person can be moral is by fear of retribution from a punishing deity in an afterlife.
Okay, I could rant some more, but I need to take a shower, go to the dentist, etc.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I'm losing.
The war against despair, I mean, though I manage to win the occasional battle or two.
I know that the Friday/Saturday nexus is particularly difficult, because I'm usually so exhausted. I know the physical ills (latest: what i suspect is a blocked Skene's gland or a cyst; yes, it's every bit as annoying and uncomfortable as you might imagine) can be addressed, and my insurance might even cover some of the cost (though I'm still worried about a couple of things, and I'll continue to worry until I've actually seen a doctor and found out what's going on, which won't be for two more weeks). I suspect that, given my age, my hormones are a little volatile right now, which may be affecting my moods in subtle ways (I've never been particularly prone to PMS or anything like that, but who can tell). I know that winter is always difficult, especially when, as with this year, I'm not getting much sunlight. I know that I can't help but think about Last Year At This Time, which was when my life was exploding in a million shards. I know that, objectively, the past two years would be difficult for anyone. I know that I don't have to make any long-term decisions just now. I know all of these things.
But I also know that I can't do this work forever; it's too taxing and pays too little money. I know that the longer I work outside an office, the more difficult it will be to find a job, any job, in an office--I'm already going to have problems. Though I occasionally apply to something that seems particularly well-suited to me, I have never received a single response from anyone at any place, which serves to confirm my worst fears. I know that the plans I had two years ago, the ones that included a partner, the ones that predicated this major life change on having some (financial, emotional, day-to-day) assistance, are worthless. Given that I've been through this before--spent a lot of money, effort, time, and love on something that explodes into nothingness, leaving me years older, with no career and no money, plus some debt--it's hard to have any confidence at all that I can figure out anything that will work and will provide a platform for happiness for me. (I regard happiness as something that's relatively self-generated, but I think there are some basic requirements that need to be met before that's possible. Constant anxiety and tiredness are not conducive, for example.)
I'm sure this all sounds self-pitying, and that annoys the shit out of me too (I don't like my own whining any more than I like anyone else's). And believe me when I say that I'm not looking for validation, or encouragement, or anything like that. But the fact is, I'm working a dead-end job, for very little money and for long hours, and, even though I generally like the work quite a bit, I don't get days off and I don't see a path out of it to anything that's even remotely fulfilling, interesting, or moderately financially beneficial. My retirement plan is "win the lottery," and even I know that's not a very good plan.
----
Between now (nearly 11 pm) and when I wrote the above (around 7 am), I talked to Jane and to my old boss, both of whom confirmed that I'm not imagining the crappiness of the situation. Which, oddly enough, is comforting. It doesn't change anything, of course, and it doesn't solve any of the problems, but it does help to have people I know and love (and who, presumably, know and love me) say, Yeah, your situation IS a difficult one. It's not uniquely difficult, of course--Jane and Peter both have their own difficulties, as does everyone else--but it's still helpful to have someone acknowledge the crap rather than try to jolly me out of it.
Plus, I got some writing done for Peter, and had a lovely early dinner with a friend, followed by a viewing of "Animal House." My laundry is done, too, so tomorrow I can go to the dentist and then to the library and maybe hang out somewhere for awhile and do a little nothing with a pile of books in front of me.
I know that the Friday/Saturday nexus is particularly difficult, because I'm usually so exhausted. I know the physical ills (latest: what i suspect is a blocked Skene's gland or a cyst; yes, it's every bit as annoying and uncomfortable as you might imagine) can be addressed, and my insurance might even cover some of the cost (though I'm still worried about a couple of things, and I'll continue to worry until I've actually seen a doctor and found out what's going on, which won't be for two more weeks). I suspect that, given my age, my hormones are a little volatile right now, which may be affecting my moods in subtle ways (I've never been particularly prone to PMS or anything like that, but who can tell). I know that winter is always difficult, especially when, as with this year, I'm not getting much sunlight. I know that I can't help but think about Last Year At This Time, which was when my life was exploding in a million shards. I know that, objectively, the past two years would be difficult for anyone. I know that I don't have to make any long-term decisions just now. I know all of these things.
But I also know that I can't do this work forever; it's too taxing and pays too little money. I know that the longer I work outside an office, the more difficult it will be to find a job, any job, in an office--I'm already going to have problems. Though I occasionally apply to something that seems particularly well-suited to me, I have never received a single response from anyone at any place, which serves to confirm my worst fears. I know that the plans I had two years ago, the ones that included a partner, the ones that predicated this major life change on having some (financial, emotional, day-to-day) assistance, are worthless. Given that I've been through this before--spent a lot of money, effort, time, and love on something that explodes into nothingness, leaving me years older, with no career and no money, plus some debt--it's hard to have any confidence at all that I can figure out anything that will work and will provide a platform for happiness for me. (I regard happiness as something that's relatively self-generated, but I think there are some basic requirements that need to be met before that's possible. Constant anxiety and tiredness are not conducive, for example.)
I'm sure this all sounds self-pitying, and that annoys the shit out of me too (I don't like my own whining any more than I like anyone else's). And believe me when I say that I'm not looking for validation, or encouragement, or anything like that. But the fact is, I'm working a dead-end job, for very little money and for long hours, and, even though I generally like the work quite a bit, I don't get days off and I don't see a path out of it to anything that's even remotely fulfilling, interesting, or moderately financially beneficial. My retirement plan is "win the lottery," and even I know that's not a very good plan.
----
Between now (nearly 11 pm) and when I wrote the above (around 7 am), I talked to Jane and to my old boss, both of whom confirmed that I'm not imagining the crappiness of the situation. Which, oddly enough, is comforting. It doesn't change anything, of course, and it doesn't solve any of the problems, but it does help to have people I know and love (and who, presumably, know and love me) say, Yeah, your situation IS a difficult one. It's not uniquely difficult, of course--Jane and Peter both have their own difficulties, as does everyone else--but it's still helpful to have someone acknowledge the crap rather than try to jolly me out of it.
Plus, I got some writing done for Peter, and had a lovely early dinner with a friend, followed by a viewing of "Animal House." My laundry is done, too, so tomorrow I can go to the dentist and then to the library and maybe hang out somewhere for awhile and do a little nothing with a pile of books in front of me.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Yes, I'm Complaining
but at least it's a post.
I haven't been writing in part because I've been too busy, but also because I don't have anything new to say. I go to work; I come home and maybe work a little more; I vegetate a little; I go to bed; I get up and do it again. It's true I've been rather social over the past week--dinner last Thursday, breakfast AND dinner on Sunday, breakfast on Monday, and beer and food on Tuesday after work, and only the first and last occasion included the same person--but it's really that I'm just kind of boring right now.
We have been insanely busy at the bakery. Tuesday was Packzi day, given that it was Fat Tuesday, and we sold a gazillion of them, plus a gazillion king cakes. You'd think that the rest of the week would be slower, it being Lent and all, but you would be wrong if you thought that. We've been selling out of croissants lately, apparently partly because people come in and buy a dozen so they can share them with coworkers to whom they've been raving. Which is nice, though I've been having an overfermentation problem that i can't seem to solve, which means they're not as nice as they should be. It's getting on my last damned nerve.
Today was particularly insane. After I punched in, Bossman asked me whether I wanted the bad news or the other bad news first; I told him to start with the worst news and work his way up. Basically, we had an order for today for a bunch of mini pastries, including a bunch of mini fruit tarts and a bunch of chocolate truffles (diamonds of brownie, dipped in chocolate), and an order for tomorrow for a bunch more mini pastries (crescents of brownie, dipped in chocolate) and about 200 3-inch fruit tarts. No problem. Except the place that ordered the stuff for tomorrow called and wanted it today, and we didn't have enough 3-inch shells, and so on. Bossman got NP working on the shells (which she would have had to do anyway), I cut the crescents (I had cut the diamonds yesterday) and dipped everything, the fruit showed up (and we supplemented it with some canned and frozen things), and we got it done.
Two things: I was completely screwed, in that I didn't get to laminate until, oh, 2:00? I usually do that around 10:00. I made almost none of the croissants scheduled for production today; I just left the laminated pieces in the freezer, and I'll do them tomorrow. That's complicated in part by the fact that I didn't get to slice the ham and cheese today, though I'd planned to do that before I left; it just got too late. Thus, I have to do that chore, which is easily an hour and a half of standing there slicing away, plus I have to make some funeral cakes, because we have an order for one. On top of tomorrow's croissants and today's croissants. Whatever; it'll get done, tomorrow or Saturday. I suppose I could even go in on Sunday and do some shaping; I could just take the dough out of the freezer and then go work on Quickbooks while it thaws. I'd rather not, so we'll see how it goes.
The second thing is that around noon or so? Maybe a little before? Johnnie and Artie and I are all assembling the 3-inch tarts; Bossman had been doing it, too, but he had to go take care of something else, and I jumped in after I finished the minis. Artie is slicing strawberries, Johnnie and i are assembling. NP doesn't help, however; she gets her cup of coffee and takes off for her break without even asking if she can help. (She's also going to have a cigarette, which I think she thinks we don't know, but I can smell the smoke sometimes, and the Febreeze.) When she got back, Bossman put her to work attaching the tarts to little round circles--but not because she volunteered to help or anything. She annoys the shit out of me; everyone else gets more done in a day than she accomplishes in a week, and it's not just because she's new-ish and still learning and whatever. I find it interesting, as well, that when Phil needs a hand, he'll ask me if I've got a minute (and I always find a way to help him). NP is around, but doesn't seem to get asked.
Eh; whatever. Bossman will get rid of her eventually, I suspect; she just doesn't get enough done to justify keeping her, and she requires too much watching. (He had to go over the making of pastry cream AGAIN with her, because her last two batches were both lumpy and watery, which are not qualities you want in your pastry cream.) I suspect he's keeping her around now because it means he doesn't have to look for someone else, plus we've got two other new people--one an intern, the other a current student at my pastry school--who're working with us on Saturdays. At least one and possibly both of them may end up with us for more hours/days.
I haven't been writing in part because I've been too busy, but also because I don't have anything new to say. I go to work; I come home and maybe work a little more; I vegetate a little; I go to bed; I get up and do it again. It's true I've been rather social over the past week--dinner last Thursday, breakfast AND dinner on Sunday, breakfast on Monday, and beer and food on Tuesday after work, and only the first and last occasion included the same person--but it's really that I'm just kind of boring right now.
We have been insanely busy at the bakery. Tuesday was Packzi day, given that it was Fat Tuesday, and we sold a gazillion of them, plus a gazillion king cakes. You'd think that the rest of the week would be slower, it being Lent and all, but you would be wrong if you thought that. We've been selling out of croissants lately, apparently partly because people come in and buy a dozen so they can share them with coworkers to whom they've been raving. Which is nice, though I've been having an overfermentation problem that i can't seem to solve, which means they're not as nice as they should be. It's getting on my last damned nerve.
Today was particularly insane. After I punched in, Bossman asked me whether I wanted the bad news or the other bad news first; I told him to start with the worst news and work his way up. Basically, we had an order for today for a bunch of mini pastries, including a bunch of mini fruit tarts and a bunch of chocolate truffles (diamonds of brownie, dipped in chocolate), and an order for tomorrow for a bunch more mini pastries (crescents of brownie, dipped in chocolate) and about 200 3-inch fruit tarts. No problem. Except the place that ordered the stuff for tomorrow called and wanted it today, and we didn't have enough 3-inch shells, and so on. Bossman got NP working on the shells (which she would have had to do anyway), I cut the crescents (I had cut the diamonds yesterday) and dipped everything, the fruit showed up (and we supplemented it with some canned and frozen things), and we got it done.
Two things: I was completely screwed, in that I didn't get to laminate until, oh, 2:00? I usually do that around 10:00. I made almost none of the croissants scheduled for production today; I just left the laminated pieces in the freezer, and I'll do them tomorrow. That's complicated in part by the fact that I didn't get to slice the ham and cheese today, though I'd planned to do that before I left; it just got too late. Thus, I have to do that chore, which is easily an hour and a half of standing there slicing away, plus I have to make some funeral cakes, because we have an order for one. On top of tomorrow's croissants and today's croissants. Whatever; it'll get done, tomorrow or Saturday. I suppose I could even go in on Sunday and do some shaping; I could just take the dough out of the freezer and then go work on Quickbooks while it thaws. I'd rather not, so we'll see how it goes.
The second thing is that around noon or so? Maybe a little before? Johnnie and Artie and I are all assembling the 3-inch tarts; Bossman had been doing it, too, but he had to go take care of something else, and I jumped in after I finished the minis. Artie is slicing strawberries, Johnnie and i are assembling. NP doesn't help, however; she gets her cup of coffee and takes off for her break without even asking if she can help. (She's also going to have a cigarette, which I think she thinks we don't know, but I can smell the smoke sometimes, and the Febreeze.) When she got back, Bossman put her to work attaching the tarts to little round circles--but not because she volunteered to help or anything. She annoys the shit out of me; everyone else gets more done in a day than she accomplishes in a week, and it's not just because she's new-ish and still learning and whatever. I find it interesting, as well, that when Phil needs a hand, he'll ask me if I've got a minute (and I always find a way to help him). NP is around, but doesn't seem to get asked.
Eh; whatever. Bossman will get rid of her eventually, I suspect; she just doesn't get enough done to justify keeping her, and she requires too much watching. (He had to go over the making of pastry cream AGAIN with her, because her last two batches were both lumpy and watery, which are not qualities you want in your pastry cream.) I suspect he's keeping her around now because it means he doesn't have to look for someone else, plus we've got two other new people--one an intern, the other a current student at my pastry school--who're working with us on Saturdays. At least one and possibly both of them may end up with us for more hours/days.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Earning the Comma
Whew. I ended up working more than 36 hours in the past three days--hey, maybe another comma next week!
Yesterday was nuts, and it wasn't as crazed for me as it was for Bossman. I got there a little before 6:30. I pounded my butter; made two signs for the store regarding our Valentine's Day cakes; wrote up two invoices for orders; assembled and boxed 220 mini fruit tarts (a quarter of a strawberry (sliced), a mandarin orange slice, and a half a blackberry, on top of a squirt of pastry cream); cut up my dough and found eight slots in the reach-in freezer for it (the latter being an exercise in rearrangement and space management); smeared chocolate on 220 mini rum balls so they could be coated in sprinkles; laminated my dough (beginning a little after noon; usually I start around 9:30); shaped two small pieces of dough into mini chocolate and mini plain, for BT's place; put tomorrow's croissants on sheet pans for baking (to clear out space in the freezers for the new croissants I had to shape); and then shaped the rest of the laminated dough, which included three pieces of chocolate (54 croissants per piece), three pieces of plain (74 croissants per piece), another piece of mini chocolate, and two pieces of curved croissants, which are laminated with this margarine shit rather than butter (64 croissants per piece--and we don't sell these in these in the store; they're for a wholesale customer who wants something soft enough to use for sandwiches).
I also made Bossman take pictures of the mini wedding cakes that Andi decorated (I've really been harassing him to take more pics of stuff). Bossman was just happy that Andie came in today (as was I): she was working with us in the fall, and now she just comes in on Saturday to do cakes with Johnnie, but Bossman thought she was working a chocolate event today and not coming in. The cakes took her several hours to do--and she's pretty fast as well as quite good--and Bossman couldn't have done it a lot quicker. Meanwhile, he had to do a wedding cake and all kinds of other shit. He got in well before I did and he was getting ready to leave about when I was--and he ended up missing the picture-taking for his youngest daughter's formal dance tonight, not least because someone's kid's birthday cake got screwed up--twice! The first time he had to fix it because the wrong picture was on top. Ten minutes later, the cake is back--it had slid in the box and smushed against the side. He redid the whole thing, the most time-consuming part of which was printing out the picture for the top on the photo-cake fondant.
Tomorrow he has to make a three-hour round trip to deliver the mini wedding cakes and the red velvet cakes he was doing near the end of the day. So he doesn't have to do all the driving and so he doesn't have to worry as much about falling asleep in the van, he's taking this guy with him, let's call him Larry. Larry used to come into the bakery once in awhile--I think he painted some signs for Bossman at some point. In any case, at this point Larry is apparently homeless, so, given the weather, has been staying in shelters. He also makes the occasional delivery for Bossman, and he fixes things sometimes, too.
However.
Larry creeps me out on some gut level (and may I say that I've worked with ex-convicts and such, so the facts about him wouldn't necessarily be a problem for me). He mentions a "caseworker" and Bossman says that Larry is trying to get some kind of disability because of a bad back and maybe some psychological something, too (no one really has details). Even that, not necessarily a problem. Except, Bossman apparently told Larry he could use the computers downstairs, which he did on an occasional basis. The past week or so, it's more than occasional--he's down there every morning when I come in, for example--and, apparently, Larry's trying to find a date on yahoo or wherever. First off, if you're unemployed and homeless and always have your hand out, then perhaps you have more pressing issues than finding a date, and your situation might improve more rapidly were you to focus on those more pressing issues. Second, today I ended up having to throw Larry off of two different computers, because I needed to use them (in succession, because of where the color printer is). When I sat down at the first one, right after Larry got up, on a whim I looked at the browser history, and it turns out that Larry had been visiting a site called [ethnic group][age group][sexual practice] dot com. After I went upstairs I asked Bossman how secure his computer is, with regard to viruses and the like, and, of course, he takes others' word for it. So I told him about this website in the history, noting that I did NOT click on it, but there it was.
Later this afternoon, Bossman's wife was downstairs, and when she comes up, she's telling Bossman to throw the guy off the computers, that it's "inappropriate." I have no idea whether she was objecting to him being there at all or objecting to something she saw him viewing, but it doesn't really matter. She also pointed out, correctly, that their whole lives are down there on the various computers, meaning he could steal their identities, say. (She's not technologically sophisticated enough to use that phrase, but she's correct that all of their personal and business stuff is around down there, and accessible to someone who wanted to go through it.) Bossman got rid of Larry without any explanation at the time, but then later asked me what he should tell Larry.
I said, well, you could just say that you thought it was an occasional thing, that you feel like he's taken advantage of you ("And I do feel that way," Bossman noted), and you don't want to have to monitor what he's doing, so he needs to just go to the library. Which is probably more or less what he'll say.
/rant zone
At one point yesterday, Andi is standing to my left at the work table and Bossman is to her left (I forget what we were all doing), and Andi asks if I've seen "An Inconvenient Truth," saying how much it disturbed her. I say no, but I know what it's about; I note that it was made about Al Gore, and she says, wasn't he, like, a politician? I say, "Yeah, he ran for President a few years ago . . . and won." Bossman kind of chuckled at that, but didn't comment; he's claimed to like Republican Faux News commentators and the like, so we studiously avoid talking about politics per se (though he has mentioned he thinks the war is a disaster), but I sometimes wonder if I don't have some subtle effects on him in that regard. I'm as lefty as they come--more than most, perhaps--but i doubt I fit the Faux News stereotype of bleeding-heart liberal (especially with my remarks yesterday about Larry). Plus, he'll ask me oddball questions (yesterday, "American Pie" was on the radio, so we chatted a bit about how old we were when it came out, then he turns around and says, "What's that song about?" And I say, "Buddy Holly; when he died.") and be entertained by the fact that I know something about whatever he asked. Earlier yesterday: he mentioned something about a man's reach should exceed his grasp, and noted that Bruce Willis said that in some movie he was in with Paul Newman. I said, that's from "Nobody's Fool," which is based on one of my favorite books of all time, and it's actually a quote from a poet (though i guessed wrong about the poet--I found the right cite for it and reported back later).
The point is, one of the things I love about working there, and working with him in particular, is that I have once again gotten lucky in terms of a boss: I work for someone who likes it that I'm smart, who uses it, and who isn't threatened by it or afraid of it. Which, really, rather rocks.
Today, however, I have already made my tea for the week, plus a mug of it to sip (actually I'm on my second mug), and taken a shower. I'm about to repair to the couch, where I'm going to work on needlepoint for a few hours and then get a massage. I figure, since I'm not spending the money on anything else, and there's room in the budget for it, I'm going to do it when I can.
Yesterday was nuts, and it wasn't as crazed for me as it was for Bossman. I got there a little before 6:30. I pounded my butter; made two signs for the store regarding our Valentine's Day cakes; wrote up two invoices for orders; assembled and boxed 220 mini fruit tarts (a quarter of a strawberry (sliced), a mandarin orange slice, and a half a blackberry, on top of a squirt of pastry cream); cut up my dough and found eight slots in the reach-in freezer for it (the latter being an exercise in rearrangement and space management); smeared chocolate on 220 mini rum balls so they could be coated in sprinkles; laminated my dough (beginning a little after noon; usually I start around 9:30); shaped two small pieces of dough into mini chocolate and mini plain, for BT's place; put tomorrow's croissants on sheet pans for baking (to clear out space in the freezers for the new croissants I had to shape); and then shaped the rest of the laminated dough, which included three pieces of chocolate (54 croissants per piece), three pieces of plain (74 croissants per piece), another piece of mini chocolate, and two pieces of curved croissants, which are laminated with this margarine shit rather than butter (64 croissants per piece--and we don't sell these in these in the store; they're for a wholesale customer who wants something soft enough to use for sandwiches).
I also made Bossman take pictures of the mini wedding cakes that Andi decorated (I've really been harassing him to take more pics of stuff). Bossman was just happy that Andie came in today (as was I): she was working with us in the fall, and now she just comes in on Saturday to do cakes with Johnnie, but Bossman thought she was working a chocolate event today and not coming in. The cakes took her several hours to do--and she's pretty fast as well as quite good--and Bossman couldn't have done it a lot quicker. Meanwhile, he had to do a wedding cake and all kinds of other shit. He got in well before I did and he was getting ready to leave about when I was--and he ended up missing the picture-taking for his youngest daughter's formal dance tonight, not least because someone's kid's birthday cake got screwed up--twice! The first time he had to fix it because the wrong picture was on top. Ten minutes later, the cake is back--it had slid in the box and smushed against the side. He redid the whole thing, the most time-consuming part of which was printing out the picture for the top on the photo-cake fondant.
Tomorrow he has to make a three-hour round trip to deliver the mini wedding cakes and the red velvet cakes he was doing near the end of the day. So he doesn't have to do all the driving and so he doesn't have to worry as much about falling asleep in the van, he's taking this guy with him, let's call him Larry. Larry used to come into the bakery once in awhile--I think he painted some signs for Bossman at some point. In any case, at this point Larry is apparently homeless, so, given the weather, has been staying in shelters. He also makes the occasional delivery for Bossman, and he fixes things sometimes, too.
However.
Larry creeps me out on some gut level (and may I say that I've worked with ex-convicts and such, so the facts about him wouldn't necessarily be a problem for me). He mentions a "caseworker" and Bossman says that Larry is trying to get some kind of disability because of a bad back and maybe some psychological something, too (no one really has details). Even that, not necessarily a problem. Except, Bossman apparently told Larry he could use the computers downstairs, which he did on an occasional basis. The past week or so, it's more than occasional--he's down there every morning when I come in, for example--and, apparently, Larry's trying to find a date on yahoo or wherever. First off, if you're unemployed and homeless and always have your hand out, then perhaps you have more pressing issues than finding a date, and your situation might improve more rapidly were you to focus on those more pressing issues. Second, today I ended up having to throw Larry off of two different computers, because I needed to use them (in succession, because of where the color printer is). When I sat down at the first one, right after Larry got up, on a whim I looked at the browser history, and it turns out that Larry had been visiting a site called [ethnic group][age group][sexual practice] dot com. After I went upstairs I asked Bossman how secure his computer is, with regard to viruses and the like, and, of course, he takes others' word for it. So I told him about this website in the history, noting that I did NOT click on it, but there it was.
Later this afternoon, Bossman's wife was downstairs, and when she comes up, she's telling Bossman to throw the guy off the computers, that it's "inappropriate." I have no idea whether she was objecting to him being there at all or objecting to something she saw him viewing, but it doesn't really matter. She also pointed out, correctly, that their whole lives are down there on the various computers, meaning he could steal their identities, say. (She's not technologically sophisticated enough to use that phrase, but she's correct that all of their personal and business stuff is around down there, and accessible to someone who wanted to go through it.) Bossman got rid of Larry without any explanation at the time, but then later asked me what he should tell Larry.
I said, well, you could just say that you thought it was an occasional thing, that you feel like he's taken advantage of you ("And I do feel that way," Bossman noted), and you don't want to have to monitor what he's doing, so he needs to just go to the library. Which is probably more or less what he'll say.
/rant zone
At one point yesterday, Andi is standing to my left at the work table and Bossman is to her left (I forget what we were all doing), and Andi asks if I've seen "An Inconvenient Truth," saying how much it disturbed her. I say no, but I know what it's about; I note that it was made about Al Gore, and she says, wasn't he, like, a politician? I say, "Yeah, he ran for President a few years ago . . . and won." Bossman kind of chuckled at that, but didn't comment; he's claimed to like Republican Faux News commentators and the like, so we studiously avoid talking about politics per se (though he has mentioned he thinks the war is a disaster), but I sometimes wonder if I don't have some subtle effects on him in that regard. I'm as lefty as they come--more than most, perhaps--but i doubt I fit the Faux News stereotype of bleeding-heart liberal (especially with my remarks yesterday about Larry). Plus, he'll ask me oddball questions (yesterday, "American Pie" was on the radio, so we chatted a bit about how old we were when it came out, then he turns around and says, "What's that song about?" And I say, "Buddy Holly; when he died.") and be entertained by the fact that I know something about whatever he asked. Earlier yesterday: he mentioned something about a man's reach should exceed his grasp, and noted that Bruce Willis said that in some movie he was in with Paul Newman. I said, that's from "Nobody's Fool," which is based on one of my favorite books of all time, and it's actually a quote from a poet (though i guessed wrong about the poet--I found the right cite for it and reported back later).
The point is, one of the things I love about working there, and working with him in particular, is that I have once again gotten lucky in terms of a boss: I work for someone who likes it that I'm smart, who uses it, and who isn't threatened by it or afraid of it. Which, really, rather rocks.
Today, however, I have already made my tea for the week, plus a mug of it to sip (actually I'm on my second mug), and taken a shower. I'm about to repair to the couch, where I'm going to work on needlepoint for a few hours and then get a massage. I figure, since I'm not spending the money on anything else, and there's room in the budget for it, I'm going to do it when I can.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
In: 6:27. Out: 6:47.
AM and PM, respectively.
I made somewhere around 800 croissants today. The night guys had already punched in and begun work by the time I left. I told Bossman, hey, I don't want to whine, but I can't do this by myself. I need help, especially with the markets only 96 days away.
He, being a smart person, knew I was right. He even asked what I thought we should do about it. After thinking about it for a few minutes, and deferring to his ultimate judgment (he having been in the business a lot longer than I have), I suggested we get someone who can help Phil in the mornings--that's when a lot of the bread mixing and shaping goes on--and help me in the afternoon. I can handle the lamination, but having someone doing the shaping with me, and who can mix the occasional batch of almond filling or slice the ham and cheese, would really go a long way. it also would ease things a little, so I can actually help in the office.
Plus this doesn't take into account the things that aren't on the regular production schedule but that show up on a regular basis. For example: on Saturday we have to make a bunch of mini wedding cakes (they've been being baked over the past couple of days; Artie will enrobe them, probably tomorrow; Bossman will decorate them on Saturday), 200 mini rum balls (which Johnnie will do), and 200 mini fruit tarts. Yours truly gets to do the fruit tarts. Which is fine--although that's probably a two-hour job, and I have 10 pieces to laminate and shape on Saturday. I'm not complaining; that's the job. But we have to have enough hands on deck to complete these jobs, and we're currently running at close to maximum volume. And did I mention that the farmers' markets start in 96 days?
Anyway, I had some crackers and a glass of wine for dinner. Plus, my toilet didn't overflow this morning.
-------------------------
One of the teasers for the local news (which I never watch, because, if I watch anything, it's The Daily Show) promised "Rocket science making high heels more comfortable!" Um, how about if you just throw out the high heels? Wouldn't that be most comfortable of all?
I made somewhere around 800 croissants today. The night guys had already punched in and begun work by the time I left. I told Bossman, hey, I don't want to whine, but I can't do this by myself. I need help, especially with the markets only 96 days away.
He, being a smart person, knew I was right. He even asked what I thought we should do about it. After thinking about it for a few minutes, and deferring to his ultimate judgment (he having been in the business a lot longer than I have), I suggested we get someone who can help Phil in the mornings--that's when a lot of the bread mixing and shaping goes on--and help me in the afternoon. I can handle the lamination, but having someone doing the shaping with me, and who can mix the occasional batch of almond filling or slice the ham and cheese, would really go a long way. it also would ease things a little, so I can actually help in the office.
Plus this doesn't take into account the things that aren't on the regular production schedule but that show up on a regular basis. For example: on Saturday we have to make a bunch of mini wedding cakes (they've been being baked over the past couple of days; Artie will enrobe them, probably tomorrow; Bossman will decorate them on Saturday), 200 mini rum balls (which Johnnie will do), and 200 mini fruit tarts. Yours truly gets to do the fruit tarts. Which is fine--although that's probably a two-hour job, and I have 10 pieces to laminate and shape on Saturday. I'm not complaining; that's the job. But we have to have enough hands on deck to complete these jobs, and we're currently running at close to maximum volume. And did I mention that the farmers' markets start in 96 days?
Anyway, I had some crackers and a glass of wine for dinner. Plus, my toilet didn't overflow this morning.
-------------------------
One of the teasers for the local news (which I never watch, because, if I watch anything, it's The Daily Show) promised "Rocket science making high heels more comfortable!" Um, how about if you just throw out the high heels? Wouldn't that be most comfortable of all?
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Skip That Step
While I don't particularly mind cleaning the bathroom floor, and while I suppose it would be better if I did that task a little more often, I would prefer that the next time I clean the bathroom floor not be occasioned by a toilet overflowing all over it. We can skip that "toilet overflows" step, if you don't mind.
I ended up washing my hands a lot more than usual today--though not necessarily because of the events described in the above paragraph--which, in combination with the cold air, has sucked the life out of them. I will grease them up again before bed, though I am lacking white cotton gloves to put on over the grease. Perhaps I should use honey instead . . . in which case the gloves would be a necessity. I mention honey because a friend called me Monday night with the information (gleaned from the History Channel program he was watching) that the ancient Egyptians used honey as an antibiotic ointment. I wandered over to PubMed and searched honey plus antibiotic, and, sure enough, there seems to be some recent research showing that honey is helpful in that way, even (or perhaps especially) with regard to wounds that aren't healing and antibiotic-resistant bacteria. Honey is one of my favorite substances, and one of the major reasons I couldn't be a vegan. Other reasons: cheese, butter, milk for my cereal, eggs. And meat, too, while we're at it, though I don't eat a lot of it, and I go to some lengths to get meat that wasn't completely mass produced.
I worked my ass off again today. Bossman had to go to a meeting, so I did the orders (for once . . .), which would have been fine, except (a) the crappy computer on which the order system is still lodged, until we get Quickbooks working, decided to flake out, requiring fussing, rebooting, and a bunch more of my time than it should have required and (b) I had a ton of croissants to shape today. I ended up leaving more for tomorrow than I had originally planned, which means tomorrow is going to be a big wad of adventure as well. I don't know what I'm going to do when the markets start (in 97 days, according to Bossman). I get kind of depressed sometimes, not least because I'd really like an actual day off in addition to my weekend days--hell, I don't even get the weekend days completely off, given that I'm usually doing editing and/or going in to the bakery to work on the website. Then I remind myself that this is a no-whining zone, and I have a few sips of STFU and move on. And even though I still want a day off, I'll settle for another paycheck with a comma and another massage.
Bossman ordered a new little case--for macaroons. He got it into his head a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to start making them, and he's been fussing with them off and on since then (when he's not grinding linzes). I'm completely excited about it, too. I told him he needs to make a hazelnut macaroon with a chocolate filling (so he promptly found a hazelnut macaroon formula), and I suggested some fruit ones, and I'm trying to figure felicitous combos of honey, lemon, ginger, and peach (and I suspect BT snorted knowingly at that).
I ended up washing my hands a lot more than usual today--though not necessarily because of the events described in the above paragraph--which, in combination with the cold air, has sucked the life out of them. I will grease them up again before bed, though I am lacking white cotton gloves to put on over the grease. Perhaps I should use honey instead . . . in which case the gloves would be a necessity. I mention honey because a friend called me Monday night with the information (gleaned from the History Channel program he was watching) that the ancient Egyptians used honey as an antibiotic ointment. I wandered over to PubMed and searched honey plus antibiotic, and, sure enough, there seems to be some recent research showing that honey is helpful in that way, even (or perhaps especially) with regard to wounds that aren't healing and antibiotic-resistant bacteria. Honey is one of my favorite substances, and one of the major reasons I couldn't be a vegan. Other reasons: cheese, butter, milk for my cereal, eggs. And meat, too, while we're at it, though I don't eat a lot of it, and I go to some lengths to get meat that wasn't completely mass produced.
I worked my ass off again today. Bossman had to go to a meeting, so I did the orders (for once . . .), which would have been fine, except (a) the crappy computer on which the order system is still lodged, until we get Quickbooks working, decided to flake out, requiring fussing, rebooting, and a bunch more of my time than it should have required and (b) I had a ton of croissants to shape today. I ended up leaving more for tomorrow than I had originally planned, which means tomorrow is going to be a big wad of adventure as well. I don't know what I'm going to do when the markets start (in 97 days, according to Bossman). I get kind of depressed sometimes, not least because I'd really like an actual day off in addition to my weekend days--hell, I don't even get the weekend days completely off, given that I'm usually doing editing and/or going in to the bakery to work on the website. Then I remind myself that this is a no-whining zone, and I have a few sips of STFU and move on. And even though I still want a day off, I'll settle for another paycheck with a comma and another massage.
Bossman ordered a new little case--for macaroons. He got it into his head a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to start making them, and he's been fussing with them off and on since then (when he's not grinding linzes). I'm completely excited about it, too. I told him he needs to make a hazelnut macaroon with a chocolate filling (so he promptly found a hazelnut macaroon formula), and I suggested some fruit ones, and I'm trying to figure felicitous combos of honey, lemon, ginger, and peach (and I suspect BT snorted knowingly at that).
Monday, February 5, 2007
Brrrr
Yeah, I know, trite title, but indeed it WAS cold here yesterday and today. I delayed going out in it as long as I could, but my laundry was at home, unwashed, and I was not, so I eventually had to motivate. A friend came and fetched me yesterday, and, when we got back to his place, he eventually realized that the hot water pipes in both the kitchen sink and the upstairs bathroom sink had frozen. He fussed around with them off and on for awhile--taking time out to light a fire for me, watch the football game, and order a pizza--and, when things weren't really improving, finally going out around 11 pm to get a hairdryer. I went to sleep around 11:30, I think. When I awoke this morning, he had managed to get the kitchen pipe thawed out before stumbling to bed around 2, but the bathroom remained frozen. Between filling the hot tub (the same hot water pipe feeds the sink, he thinks), aiming a hairdryer at the pipe, and heating the hall closet behind the sink with a space heater--all starting around 8:00 this morning--he eventually had running water by about 3:00 this afternoon. It does not appear that any pipes actually broke, which is a very good thing. It does appear that when the previous owners put in the big hot tub/jacuzzi thing in the upstairs bathroom they did not bother to insulate that room very much or very well. The willingness of people to be penny wise and pound foolish constantly amazes me.
In other news, apparently I'm going to get to see Chuck's son again, which pleases me, even though it means continuing to deal with Chuck. How did I find this out? Because Chuck sent me a snotty email earlier this week questioning my desire to see his son--I hadn't asked to do so, even though the Christmas visit went just fine, so, really, he was sitting there wondering whether I really wanted to see his son, blah, blah, blah. I pointed out that I had no way of knowing that the ban had been lifted and that I thought the Christmas visit was a one-time exception, but that I would be quite pleased to see his son. I also noted that his son was welcome to call or email me any time, if he wondered how I was.
Of course, Chuck also had to note that seeing me was not really his top priority. Yes, Chuck, you've made that abundantly clear; I'm also not excited about seeing you, but I manage to restrain myself and not continue to tell you that. Similarly, he manages to mention his current girlfriend quite frequently. I don't provide any details about my own life, however, not least because even a casual mention of my friend has provoked outrageous outbursts, but also because I know that, on some level, NOT knowing drives him even crazier (yes, I know that's bad of me, and I feel properly guilty about it, insofar as I feel guilt about anything). He apparently couldn't get his car started yesterday, which meant he couldn't watch the game with his son. Why couldn't his ex-wife bring his son into the city, you ask? That would be my question, too, but don't expect an answer; because, as I've documented elsewhere, the mother isn't someone who's likely to make gestures like that. According to today's email, Chuck was hoping the girlfriend gets back into town so she can take him to get a new battery, and didn't he just get one three years ago? I refrained from asking whether she'd pay for it, the way I likely did.
I really wish I could snap my fingers and be divorced. What I'd like even better is to be divorced and to have the money he owes me, in one lump sum.
In other news, apparently I'm going to get to see Chuck's son again, which pleases me, even though it means continuing to deal with Chuck. How did I find this out? Because Chuck sent me a snotty email earlier this week questioning my desire to see his son--I hadn't asked to do so, even though the Christmas visit went just fine, so, really, he was sitting there wondering whether I really wanted to see his son, blah, blah, blah. I pointed out that I had no way of knowing that the ban had been lifted and that I thought the Christmas visit was a one-time exception, but that I would be quite pleased to see his son. I also noted that his son was welcome to call or email me any time, if he wondered how I was.
Of course, Chuck also had to note that seeing me was not really his top priority. Yes, Chuck, you've made that abundantly clear; I'm also not excited about seeing you, but I manage to restrain myself and not continue to tell you that. Similarly, he manages to mention his current girlfriend quite frequently. I don't provide any details about my own life, however, not least because even a casual mention of my friend has provoked outrageous outbursts, but also because I know that, on some level, NOT knowing drives him even crazier (yes, I know that's bad of me, and I feel properly guilty about it, insofar as I feel guilt about anything). He apparently couldn't get his car started yesterday, which meant he couldn't watch the game with his son. Why couldn't his ex-wife bring his son into the city, you ask? That would be my question, too, but don't expect an answer; because, as I've documented elsewhere, the mother isn't someone who's likely to make gestures like that. According to today's email, Chuck was hoping the girlfriend gets back into town so she can take him to get a new battery, and didn't he just get one three years ago? I refrained from asking whether she'd pay for it, the way I likely did.
I really wish I could snap my fingers and be divorced. What I'd like even better is to be divorced and to have the money he owes me, in one lump sum.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
The Comma, Revisited
Except this comma was--get ready for it; drumroll please--in my paycheck! You read that correctly: for the first time in nearly 18 months, i received a paycheck with a comma. Yes, I know I had to work nearly 120 hours over the past two weeks to get that, but nevertheless: a comma!
Second, I got a wonderful phone call last night, from one of my best friends from grad school. He was thinking of me, he said, because of Molly Ivins' death--because I'd turned him on to Molly. I didn't remember that I did that, but I was touched. And, of course, he turned others on to Molly, so the karmic circle--spiral, really--continues.
Third, our anniversary special for the month of February is Linzer torte. One of the store kids--the one who is unbelievably flaky, and who is capable of driving me batshit--came into the back at around 3:30 wanting to know what it was. Bossman pointed out that, if he didn't know what it was, he should have asked at 7:00 am when he came in, rather than, oh, at the end of the day. "So what is it?" Remy wanted to know.
"Linzer torte," says Bossman.
"What's in it?"
"Ground linzes."
"Oh. Okay." And back out to the store he goes, carrying said torte. By that time, I was practically rolling on the floor with laughter, and, really, I'm sitting here giggling now just thinking about it.
Update: This made my day.
Second, I got a wonderful phone call last night, from one of my best friends from grad school. He was thinking of me, he said, because of Molly Ivins' death--because I'd turned him on to Molly. I didn't remember that I did that, but I was touched. And, of course, he turned others on to Molly, so the karmic circle--spiral, really--continues.
Third, our anniversary special for the month of February is Linzer torte. One of the store kids--the one who is unbelievably flaky, and who is capable of driving me batshit--came into the back at around 3:30 wanting to know what it was. Bossman pointed out that, if he didn't know what it was, he should have asked at 7:00 am when he came in, rather than, oh, at the end of the day. "So what is it?" Remy wanted to know.
"Linzer torte," says Bossman.
"What's in it?"
"Ground linzes."
"Oh. Okay." And back out to the store he goes, carrying said torte. By that time, I was practically rolling on the floor with laughter, and, really, I'm sitting here giggling now just thinking about it.
Update: This made my day.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Plus and Minus
Punched in at 6:30, punched out at 5:30, or thereabouts. I'm running faster just to keep up, and it's taking a toll. I'm guessing at least 55 hours this week. I've also realized--and pointed out to Bossman--that I'm making a little more than twice the number of croissants I was making last year at this time, plus we've added five new products (mini plain, mini chocolate, mini raisin, large cinnamon raisin, and pecan rolls).
I went through yet another damned mental crisis this week, ostensibly caused by surfing over to an old place of employment (the substance abuse treatment agency) and discovering they have a contract management position open. Since I wrote the database they're still using to manage contracts, and since I did a fair amount of contract management for them before, and since I left on good terms, I'm guessing I'd have some shot at actually getting that job, were I to attempt to do so. The pluses would be at least as much as I'm making now--probably half again as much, maybe twice as much--paid health insurance, paid vacation, fewer hours, and i could still do the proofreading and such on the side. I know the organization, I like their work. In short, I could make more money and work fewer hours, and, though there are always issues in any organizational structure, I wouldn't have to sell my soul.
The negatives? I wouldn't be baking. I wouldn't be tasting something and saying, "Hmm, that could use some orange zest, and more raspberry (linzer torte is the anniversary special for the month of February), and, if I had time, I could candy some orange peel, which would make a beautiful garnish," and have Bossman agree all the way. Or have Bossman bring over a sample of the third round of macaroons, and tell him an orange filling would go nice with them and have him say a little while later he's going to fill them with an orange ganache tomorrow. Or seeing beautifully laminated croissants, gleaming on the sheet pans when I come in in the morning. Hell, I even like the office work I'll be doing. (I'm not really doing orders these days; Bossman is doing them until we get Quickbooks up and running. On the other hand, I am putting together the website, so I don't feel too bad, plus I'm helping him think about ways he can use Quickbooks to get a different/better handle on the business.) I like the place I work, in short. What I don't like is the very low pay. I wouldn't even mind the really long hours quite as much if I were making more money.
So I had a crisis about it for awhile, and then I reminded myself (for, oh, the 4,732nd time) that I don't have to solve any of this now. If I decide in a year that I really can't or don't want to do this any more, then I can stop. Meanwhile, it doesn't hurt to learn how to use Quickbooks or to put together a website--and have someone pay me to do those things. If I did decide i wanted to start some business of my own, all of this would be extremely valuable experience. And if I don't want to start my own business, the experience will still help, no matter what I want to do next. My worry, of course, is that the longer I'm out of an office environment, the more difficult it would be to reenter that world, should I want to do that. And, let's face it, there are days when paid vacation, and paid health insurance, and sick days, and not shlepping 50-pound bags of flour, and having time to play handball and practice yoga, and being able to afford to do those things . . . well, it all sounds pretty attractive.
I suspect the other three things that are going on--all of which are contributing to my state of mind earlier this week--are hormonal fluctuations (more from age-related changes than from cyclic fluctuations), plus lack of exercise, plus the impending end of my ill-fated marriage, plus not looking forward to dealing with the crap that will be necessary to make that happen, plus just general tiredness, plus not getting nearly enough sunlight, plus worry about my parents. I think that's more than three. No one of them is all that dire, but all piled up on top of each other gets to me sometimes, and I have to remind myself that it would be peculiar if that stuff didn't get to me sometimes.
And, you know, this reinventing myself takes a lot of energy. I've done this four or five times already, depending on how you count, and it's really fucking difficult--and this time around, my plans blew up on me, seeing as how my marriage imploded, and that partnership was one of the cornerstones of this reinvention. Kind of a double whammy there, eh?
Anyway, I'm better today. Tired, and wishing it weren't 8:20 already, because I have to go to bed soon and I feel like I just got home, but better. I really wish I'd found the energy for some yoga--my back is a fucking board tonight--but it just wasn't happening. But I think I have time for a little needlepoint, so maybe I'll take the first stitches on the new canvas and call it a success.
I went through yet another damned mental crisis this week, ostensibly caused by surfing over to an old place of employment (the substance abuse treatment agency) and discovering they have a contract management position open. Since I wrote the database they're still using to manage contracts, and since I did a fair amount of contract management for them before, and since I left on good terms, I'm guessing I'd have some shot at actually getting that job, were I to attempt to do so. The pluses would be at least as much as I'm making now--probably half again as much, maybe twice as much--paid health insurance, paid vacation, fewer hours, and i could still do the proofreading and such on the side. I know the organization, I like their work. In short, I could make more money and work fewer hours, and, though there are always issues in any organizational structure, I wouldn't have to sell my soul.
The negatives? I wouldn't be baking. I wouldn't be tasting something and saying, "Hmm, that could use some orange zest, and more raspberry (linzer torte is the anniversary special for the month of February), and, if I had time, I could candy some orange peel, which would make a beautiful garnish," and have Bossman agree all the way. Or have Bossman bring over a sample of the third round of macaroons, and tell him an orange filling would go nice with them and have him say a little while later he's going to fill them with an orange ganache tomorrow. Or seeing beautifully laminated croissants, gleaming on the sheet pans when I come in in the morning. Hell, I even like the office work I'll be doing. (I'm not really doing orders these days; Bossman is doing them until we get Quickbooks up and running. On the other hand, I am putting together the website, so I don't feel too bad, plus I'm helping him think about ways he can use Quickbooks to get a different/better handle on the business.) I like the place I work, in short. What I don't like is the very low pay. I wouldn't even mind the really long hours quite as much if I were making more money.
So I had a crisis about it for awhile, and then I reminded myself (for, oh, the 4,732nd time) that I don't have to solve any of this now. If I decide in a year that I really can't or don't want to do this any more, then I can stop. Meanwhile, it doesn't hurt to learn how to use Quickbooks or to put together a website--and have someone pay me to do those things. If I did decide i wanted to start some business of my own, all of this would be extremely valuable experience. And if I don't want to start my own business, the experience will still help, no matter what I want to do next. My worry, of course, is that the longer I'm out of an office environment, the more difficult it would be to reenter that world, should I want to do that. And, let's face it, there are days when paid vacation, and paid health insurance, and sick days, and not shlepping 50-pound bags of flour, and having time to play handball and practice yoga, and being able to afford to do those things . . . well, it all sounds pretty attractive.
I suspect the other three things that are going on--all of which are contributing to my state of mind earlier this week--are hormonal fluctuations (more from age-related changes than from cyclic fluctuations), plus lack of exercise, plus the impending end of my ill-fated marriage, plus not looking forward to dealing with the crap that will be necessary to make that happen, plus just general tiredness, plus not getting nearly enough sunlight, plus worry about my parents. I think that's more than three. No one of them is all that dire, but all piled up on top of each other gets to me sometimes, and I have to remind myself that it would be peculiar if that stuff didn't get to me sometimes.
And, you know, this reinventing myself takes a lot of energy. I've done this four or five times already, depending on how you count, and it's really fucking difficult--and this time around, my plans blew up on me, seeing as how my marriage imploded, and that partnership was one of the cornerstones of this reinvention. Kind of a double whammy there, eh?
Anyway, I'm better today. Tired, and wishing it weren't 8:20 already, because I have to go to bed soon and I feel like I just got home, but better. I really wish I'd found the energy for some yoga--my back is a fucking board tonight--but it just wasn't happening. But I think I have time for a little needlepoint, so maybe I'll take the first stitches on the new canvas and call it a success.
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