Once more, I am sick, and once more, I’m not happy about it.

But let’s not talk about my being sick. Let’s instead talk about something more pleasant. The problem is, I’m not sure what I could possibly find pleasant at this moment, except food…

I’m making manicotti right now. Yum.

Tomorrow morning, I will make brownies with walnuts for Esso to take with him up to his new pad.

I dream of fluffy popcorn and creamy pudding. I crave ice cream and cookies. I want a plateful of my mother’s scalloped potatoes.

Ah, hell, right now, I’d just settle for being able to breathe out of my nose.

It’s been awhile since I did any RFB. My schedule has been crazy, my urge to do it has waxed and waned and is on the wax again.

I present this image, which brought to mind a little speech made by Gareth, the large, loud gay man in Four Weddings and A Funeral.

“…and in our dotage, be proud to say, I was adored once, too.”

I am extremely dissatisfied with my job these days. At first, it was a little awkward for me, having not been in retail (or any job) in about 2 years, and my first three weeks or so were fraught with little “talks” with my boss about my performance. I was expecting that. What I was not expecting in my 3-month “evaluation” was to have every single hiccup, every little mis-step spit back at me in black and white.

And that’s exactly what happened. There was not one single positive comment in the entire thing. I was called, “aggressive,” “interfering,” and worst: “unprofessional.” I was extremely upset. I am STILL upset.

The fact is, I have busted my buns to make my budgets, achieve those benchmark percentages the company wants, while still providing proper customer service–and by that, I mean serving my customers in the best possible way by being truthful, knowledgeable and considerate about their needs and desires.

This apparently didn’t hold water with the evaluator–the District Manager who I have worked with for a total of 20 minutes. Most of the criticisms were levelled at the way I have worked with quote, “the team.” I get along well with my boss (usually), and with my co-workers, but as with every new situation, there were adjustments to make. I did have to try a new, more casual non-merchandise approach to greeting my customers. I had to back off saying ‘hello’ to every customer, because that often led customers to approach me when they were ready to try something, which meant that I got more sales. My open nature made a couple of my co-workers a little uncomfortable (apparently–they never said anything to me).

As much as I like everyone I work with, somewhere along the line in reading the report, I was struck by the fact that I am not perceived as part of the team. In the past, this would have made me sad and wondering what I could do to fit in better. However, given the fact that I came into this job for one reason only (make money to pay for school), I’m having a completely different reaction. I am angry, and I really don’t care if I don’t fit in. I’m not going to change the person I am for a slightly-above-minimum wage job.

If the evaluation was all there was, that would be fine, however, our whole “team” is sucking big time in the shoe care product sales and customer address capture rate. My personal stats for these are pretty good, actually, but there has been renewed “coaching” and well, badgering, on the part of our DM and head office. I don’t have time for this crap. I have two classes and a soon-to-be-departing husband to worry about.

It’s just fucking retail, for Pete’s sake.

Well, we introduced Mo to Sir William. It was…interesting…to say the least. First, we opened the door and let Curious Mo in. She made a beeline for his food, which we promptly took away. As she was exploring his water dish, he made a friendly little miaow (not a hostile or unfriendly one). Mo spun around, and without looking at him, and hissed. Undeterred, he took a step closer. She again hissed and growled, then trotted away. We did it a few hours later, with the same results.

Today, we tried it again, and again, she was mean and unwelcoming. In fact, after she parked herself out in the hall, I attempted to hold her and pet her, and she was quite put out with me. Whenever we leave his room, it takes her a little time to decide we still love her. In time, I’m sure this will pass, but right now, well, it’s a strange situation.

The lady from Animalert called today, and made a suggestion to erect a barrier to his room so that he could see out, but not get out. This would also allow Mo to observe him, but not hurt him. Well, we found a barrier we thought would work, but Sir William is apparently a climber, because he is currently sitting under the bed in my office, watching me type this. As this has been traditionally Mo’s favourite place to spend time with me (that is, when I don’t have food), I cringe to think of her reaction when she realizes he has been sitting in Her spot under my chair, and lying in Her spot on the bed.

In the meantime, I am enjoying his company.

Esso received a phone call today, confirming that he has, indeed, passed the security test, and is now officially employed as a nuclear whatchamajigger as of February 1st. I am proud of him for stick this out, and I am happy that he will be out of quality and out of the automotive sector.

I am, however, going to miss him like crazy.

The integration of Sir William is going quite slowly–at least to me. Last night, I spent an hour or so trying to sleep on the floor in his room. As a punishment, Mowgli “blessed” a pile of clothes I had left in the bathroom. If there is anything worse than Laundry at Midnight, it can only be Vacuuming at Midnight.

William likes to spend most of his time hiding under a chair in his room. Oh, he’ll come out sometimes for Esso, but no matter how long I spend in there, the most I get is the odd yowl as he looks for someone he knows. I’m not entirely sure what Mo thinks of all this; she seems to be okay (that one incident aside), but that is no indicator of how she’ll react once faced with him.

This will be the last week of no real work in my classes. As of next week, I am going to be deluged with work. The blog will suffer, I will not be able to go to the TV station, and well…any remaining time will hopefully be spent with Esso. Sigh.

So, I went to my first class for this semester tonight. I was just on time, but unfortunately, lots of other people were there early, so I got stuck sitting at the back. In an auditorium that seats 300, there were at least 200 people there. Even in my first year classes, I was never in one that was more than 150 without smaller tutorial groups. This is going to be difficult for me to adjust to.

For starters, the prof did not look up from his computer notes once, except to gauge the vast quantities of bodies in the room.

For another, the microphone he was using for the lecture was attached to the wrong side of his shirt. It would have been better placed on the placket of the shirt (where the buttons are) or on the other side (where he seemed to talk the most from).

For a third, the volume was low, and his voice was kinda monotonous.

He read from the syllabus like it was a life preserver. This is not something that would make me interested in the material.

Add to this, a campus social hour in the back where I was sitting, and you have one very distracted j-girl, and a distracted j-girl is not a successful one.

Well, Esso and I have decided to get Mo a new friend or two. Tonight, we looked at a pair of 10-month old males, Jay and Carrot Top (who is also known as Molson, for some strange reason). The foster family named them and their siblings after comedians: Ellen (as in DeGeneres), Jay (as in Leno), Carrot Top (as in, well, Carrot Top), Jenna (as in Elfman), and Rita (as in Rudner). They were darn cute. Jay, in particular, seemed to be a real character…he would definitely keep Mo on her toes. Carrot was a little more mellow, a little less excitable.

Monday night, we will be meeting William, a sweet little guy who has been fostered for almost a year. He looks a lot like the Floydie Dude, but doesn’t not appear to have his temperment. Esso will likely call him “Bill the Cat,” after the character in Bloom County (a comic strip he loved as a teenager).

Personally, unless we fall in love with William, I’m angling for Jay and Carrot. I think having two who are already bonded will be easier for Mo to adjust to, as they will probably occupy each other more and not need to be in her space the same way Mo herself had to be in Floyd’s.

As it turns out (and we kind of already knew this), we lucked out BIG TIME with Mo and Floyd. We didn’t have to live through too many fights or too much territorial crap. Mo came in thinking she was the greatest thing ever, and Floyd didn’t disabuse her of the notion. He suffered her gladly, I guess. They grew very close, and in fact, it’s Mo’s lack of spark and “old self-”ness that has made us consider getting her a companion for Esso’s eventual move to the old atom mill town.

Either way, there will be a few months where I will keep the cats–until we can get the house sold and a new condo or whatever bought up there. And in fact, getting him/them this week would be ideal, because we still haven’t heard about Esso’s security check, and the longer he can be with the cats before we move them, the better.

So, pretty soon, I’ll be surrounded by more fur than I’ll know what to do with. I’ll post pics when I know for sure who we bring home.

Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let’s do the limbo rock

Limbo lower now
Limbo lower now
How low can you go

And so now we wait.

The nuclear power generating plant sent Esso’s paperwork off to CSIS and the RCMP for a security check two weeks ago, and so, based on the fact that the boy hasn’t even had a speeding ticket in 8 years, we’re pretty sure he’s got the job. Unfortunately, because of the Christmas/New Year’s abyss of worklessness for most bureaucratic papershufflers, we have yet to get the confirmation.

I feel like I’m in Limbo, a place that has never been kind to me. (Thank you, Dante Alighieri.)

There are things we need to do, like find him a place to live, which we can’t do until we know for sure that he does have the job. We are 95% sure he does, but grrr.

My therapist says I am suffereing from Anticipatory Loss, where you know the outcome will be a loss, but you’re not sure when that event will occur. Until you do know the timing, you suffer an emotional torment. I have already experienced this, myself, when my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. I hoped never to have to deal with again.

“Hi, Jen, are you still talking to me?”

“Probably…who is this?”

“It’s Leema (the volunteer co-ordinator).”

“Sure.”

“Oh, good, I wasn’t sure you would be after last night. You guys got soaked, huh?”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

“It cleared up, though, right? And it was a good show.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad after it cleared up. What made it so cold was the rain.”

“So, listen, I’m trying to line up some crews for the First Local program this week…”

(cue dropped jaws)

Yes, dear readers, I did sign up for two shifts. I’m a jellyfish.

I’m always worried about people who think that a new year will be a fresh slate. The truth is, it’s usually the small decisions leading up to a big decision that are the new beginning. In life, everything builds on the last thing in its place.

Last night, I worked a camera shooting the Jeff Healey Band at the Rockin’ New Year’s Eve festivities in Victoria Park. While Mr. Healey was up there, the skies were clear and the wind was slightly balmy. However, all of the crew was chilled to the bone, freezing cold, because our entire time doing the set up (raising the scaffolding, assembling the cameras, running the cables to everything) was done in stinging rain. About half-way through this miserable experience, I thought, “why did I sign up for this?” The answer is, of course, that I’m trying to be a good little volunteer. I want to learn how to work the camera, how to put together equipment and what cables go where. I want the experience of filming and editing. I need the experience. It’s the small decisions like returning an e-mail from the volunteer co-ordinator that lead up to these things.

And it’s the volunteer co-ordinator (or rather, her lack of communication skills and initiative) that has made me sign up for shit like this (bear with me). The current volunteer co-ordinator is actually filling in for the regular woman who has been on a year’s maternity leave. My own personal complaints about her number in the tens, however, as I learned last night, very few of the producers are pleased with her, either.

There is a core of volunteers at the TV station who have years of experience on crews, both in the studio and on mobile. These people know almost everything about it without having gone to school for broadcasting, and they are relied on very heavily. Because the co-ordinator has not put together any volunteer workshops on the equipment or other skill sets, those of us who are new are often passed over for more challenging work in favour of this core of trained and very experienced people–by the producers. They don’t know our skills, and they are reluctant to give us the task of running the audio boards or directing other crew. The result is, we usually stand around with our thumbs up our asses (not literally–sorry for the image, folks). I can’t blame them.

However, I can get angry when the co-ordinator does not keep the crews informed of last-minute changes to the schedule or to programming. Yesterday, for example, I arrived at the studio at 2 p.m., as I was informed in the mass e-mail she sent out to the volunteers. I had informed her of my intent to crew this event, and she had confirmed my interest, so I figured the information she gave me was accurate. However, when I got to the station, the producer and five other members of the crew were not there…another poor fella and I were informed that the crew had already gone to the park. Crew call at the station was 1:30 p.m. I was PISSED, and almost went home right then. I expressed my displeasure to the supervising producer (a super cool guy), and he said there were changes afoot and to just, please, bear with him/the producers while they were being effected. I decided not to go home.

This was not the first time, either. I was apparently late for the Remembrance Day ceremonies, too. And in one spectacular incident, I almost didn’t get to do a remote shoot at the Millionaire House (a house valued at a cool million dollars is the big prize in a hospital lottery) for the Daytime morning talk show. If the HOST of the show hadn’t realized that we weren’t in the studio that day and shown up there, I would have had to call Esso and have him pick me up and take me home, missing my only volunteer opportunity of the week.

Oh, and for eight weeks, I was a half hour late to the Daytime show because the co-ordinator told me in an e-mail that crew call was 10:30 a.m. After a couple weeks of dirty looks, I asked the producer when crew call actually was, and my jaw hit the floor when she told me it was 10 a.m. I felt like a schmuck! I asked one of the core people, “has anyone said anything about me being late all this time?” and they replied, “yes, somebody said something to the producer, that’s why you’re only doing guest liaison. She doesn’t trust that you’ll be here on time.”

(As an aside, Guest Liaison is a fun job; you get to talk to the guests ahead of time, give them water, coffee, whatever, make sure their information is correct for the graphics person and pass on any interesting information they tell you to the hosts and producer to make the show go more smoothly. You also get them ready for the show by putting a microphone on them and place them on set, attaching the mic to its cable. As important as it is, it’s not as essential as running the camera, doing the audio or inputting the graphics. In short, it’s a non-job.)

This is what it boils down to: I look unprofessional and amateurish because a) I’m often late or in the wrong place, b) I usually have to be taught what I am doing on the fly, c) I’m often in a crabby mood because I have found out that I’m already late, or I’m not in the right place. The problem then, is, I feel like I am not valued or not appreciated for the work that I’m doing. I don’t get the extra special treats that the core of experienced volunteers get from the producers who are appreciative of the volunteers, and I don’t get the challenging work.

To top it off, the co-ordinator then gives me subtle little signals that I am not flexible enough for the producers to use me. I didn’t want to get the job selling shoes. In fact, as much as I like my boss and my co-workers (which is a lot, considering), I would love nothing better than to quit and just do the volunteering and the school. But I need this job in order to pay for school. Because it is retail, it means I have no set schedule, and no set schedule means I cannot commit to any one show, which is what the volunteer co-ordinator is trying to get me to do. (breathe j-girl, breathe)

I’m going to stick it out a little longer, at least until I meet the returning volunteer co-ordinator. After that, who knows. I would HATE to give this up.

On the other hand, I kicked some serious ass last night on camera. The producer KS, who I have loathed working with before, was fantastic, and gave me very positive feedback as well as constructive advice. He’s growing on me.