Monday, March 31, 2008
Ingesting Some More with Tunsie
Due to popular demand, our culinary expert is back to ruminate upon all things ingestible. This week, he focuses on items not found on most menus; you can find his musings in the comments section for this post. I'm certain these will dishes made with ingredients not found in my pantry. My pantry contains dry pasta, creamed corn, and fifty different condiments. Make a recipe out of that, Rachael Ray.
Dream of My Mother Shopping
I haven't been using this blog as a personal journal, but that's what this entry will be, because the main thing on my mind this weekend (besides the assembly of porch furniture) has been a dream I had Friday night.
I'm in a the central business district of a small town. The town is surrounded by pristine mountains and fields, and all the buildings are either new or perfectly restored. In fact, I don't see any power or phone lines, and the seeming newness of the buildings combined with the lack of modern clutter makes me think that perhaps I've somehow entered the early 20th century. There is no vehicular traffic; the streets are closed off for some sort of parade or celebration, and in fact are teeming with people wandering about.
I follow the flow of people through the streets and run into my mother; she's walking arm in arm with a much younger friend I've never seen before. The friend appears to be about my age, and for a moment I'm jealous and feel somewhat replaced. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I didn't expect to see you." My mother replies that she's doing well, and tells me that I really should get myself some pants that fit me. This is how I know it really is my mother. Literally on her deathbed she complained that I never buy pants that fit me correctly.
I tell her I've been worried about her and want to know how she's doing. Even as I'm dreaming I'm not clear whether or not the me in the dream knows that my mother is dead, and so part of the dream is watching the me in the dream interact with my mother, wondering whether or not I know she's dead. "I'm fine where I am," she tells me. "Don't worry about me." I ask her where she's been living, and she points vaguely down the street and says, "Really, we're both fine here. Don't worry about me, Elinor." We become separated from one another and I search the same few blocks for her over and over again, but she's gone and the dream ends.
She died almost a year ago, and this is the first time I've dreamed of her. I'm pretty certain I don't believe in an afterlife, so I'm pretty certain I was simply telling myself that what is, is, and that I'm the one who is doing fine. But if there is anything to the notion that loved one can reach out from beyond, I'm glad that she's in the world of her childhood, shopping.
I'm in a the central business district of a small town. The town is surrounded by pristine mountains and fields, and all the buildings are either new or perfectly restored. In fact, I don't see any power or phone lines, and the seeming newness of the buildings combined with the lack of modern clutter makes me think that perhaps I've somehow entered the early 20th century. There is no vehicular traffic; the streets are closed off for some sort of parade or celebration, and in fact are teeming with people wandering about.
I follow the flow of people through the streets and run into my mother; she's walking arm in arm with a much younger friend I've never seen before. The friend appears to be about my age, and for a moment I'm jealous and feel somewhat replaced. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I didn't expect to see you." My mother replies that she's doing well, and tells me that I really should get myself some pants that fit me. This is how I know it really is my mother. Literally on her deathbed she complained that I never buy pants that fit me correctly.
I tell her I've been worried about her and want to know how she's doing. Even as I'm dreaming I'm not clear whether or not the me in the dream knows that my mother is dead, and so part of the dream is watching the me in the dream interact with my mother, wondering whether or not I know she's dead. "I'm fine where I am," she tells me. "Don't worry about me." I ask her where she's been living, and she points vaguely down the street and says, "Really, we're both fine here. Don't worry about me, Elinor." We become separated from one another and I search the same few blocks for her over and over again, but she's gone and the dream ends.
She died almost a year ago, and this is the first time I've dreamed of her. I'm pretty certain I don't believe in an afterlife, so I'm pretty certain I was simply telling myself that what is, is, and that I'm the one who is doing fine. But if there is anything to the notion that loved one can reach out from beyond, I'm glad that she's in the world of her childhood, shopping.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Employment Journal, Part III
Joan Crawford needs a job. Her name is Mildred Pierce; she's left her husband, and she can't bake enough pies to keep her bratty daughter Veda in piano lessons and expensive frocks. So Joan goes out to pound the pavements of Los Angeles, ending the day with only sore ankles to show for it. Four-inch pumps will do that to you. Joan does the only sensible thing, which is to go to a restaurant for a cup of tea. Spending money is the only remedy for feeling broke, after all. In the restaurant, waitresses are bickering. The place is so understaffed not even Eve Arden can control the chaos. "Can I have a job," Joan Crawford asks. No, she doesn't have any experience, but yes, she'll learn. And learn she does. After a short montage and voice-over she's made enough money to open Mildred's and hire Eve Arden to be her manager.
There are too many ways this could never happen today to enumerate, but most laughable is the thought of being hired to waitress in middle-age without any previous experience.
Although I knew I would get nowhere because I've never tended bar or waitstaffed, I decided to see what restaurant jobs might be available. For me, none. I decided not to lie, and was told everywhere I went that only the experienced need apply. This was as much the case at a diner as it was at a finer restaurant. After my fourth stop I decided to stop the ruse and began just going into places and telling managers that I'm a freelance journalist writing about the local economy and wondering how the downturn has effected staffing. Has turnover decreased? Have applications increased?
The good news is that, for those who are unemployed but who have restaurant experience, there are jobs to be had. About half of the ten places I visited yesterday are either hiring or taking applications. The bad news is that none of those positions would have paid particularly well, since all were in mid to low-priced places, all were for lunch shifts, and none were for more than a couple of shifts a week. Maybe a job like that would bring out the Mildred Pierce in some of us. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend 20 hours a week on my feet dealing with people and end up unable to pay my mortgage.
Turnover has decreased at finer establishments, according to my unscientific study. Those who have dinner shifts, frequent shifts, and who work at places where the tips are high are not switching jobs with the frequency that was seen until about a year ago. I was told applications are up at the higher-end restaurants, and that they were about the same everywhere else, except that those looking for work in the mid and lower priced places were coming in with more experience than is the norm. Make of all that what you will. I take it to mean that I'd lose my house before I'd find anything other than dishwasher or busperson.
By the way, I ended up staying for something to eat or drink at the last four places I visited. There's no better way to feel well-off than to spend money, after all.
There are too many ways this could never happen today to enumerate, but most laughable is the thought of being hired to waitress in middle-age without any previous experience.
Although I knew I would get nowhere because I've never tended bar or waitstaffed, I decided to see what restaurant jobs might be available. For me, none. I decided not to lie, and was told everywhere I went that only the experienced need apply. This was as much the case at a diner as it was at a finer restaurant. After my fourth stop I decided to stop the ruse and began just going into places and telling managers that I'm a freelance journalist writing about the local economy and wondering how the downturn has effected staffing. Has turnover decreased? Have applications increased?
The good news is that, for those who are unemployed but who have restaurant experience, there are jobs to be had. About half of the ten places I visited yesterday are either hiring or taking applications. The bad news is that none of those positions would have paid particularly well, since all were in mid to low-priced places, all were for lunch shifts, and none were for more than a couple of shifts a week. Maybe a job like that would bring out the Mildred Pierce in some of us. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend 20 hours a week on my feet dealing with people and end up unable to pay my mortgage.
Turnover has decreased at finer establishments, according to my unscientific study. Those who have dinner shifts, frequent shifts, and who work at places where the tips are high are not switching jobs with the frequency that was seen until about a year ago. I was told applications are up at the higher-end restaurants, and that they were about the same everywhere else, except that those looking for work in the mid and lower priced places were coming in with more experience than is the norm. Make of all that what you will. I take it to mean that I'd lose my house before I'd find anything other than dishwasher or busperson.
By the way, I ended up staying for something to eat or drink at the last four places I visited. There's no better way to feel well-off than to spend money, after all.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Attack of the PBS Documentary
To mark the fifth anniversary of the Iraq war, Frontline presented a four-hour documentary Monday and Tuesday nights, "Bush's War." If you missed it, you can catch a repeat this weekend, or it's already available from Netflix. So far I've only seen the first two hours, and already it's an incredibly powerful indictment.
So far no new ground gets covered. Instead, the show is the most detailed and comprehensive compendium I've seen of what we know about the inner workings of the administration and the decisions, beginning the afternoon of September 11, that led to our invasion of Iraq. I spent two hours becoming reacquainted with facts and events that had faded with time: Rumsfeld's battle with the CIA for control of the "war on terror" and his slow emasculation of George Tenant; the Pentagon's quick abandonment of the war in Afghanistan; the constant repetition of phrases such as "aluminum tubes" and "uranium from Africa" and of course "weapons of mass destruction."
We already know that every reason given for invasion was found to be contrived from intelligence that was discredited from the start. We already know Saddam had nothing to do with bin Laden, that we've only strengthened al Qaeda, that the Pentagon was right and Rumsfeld wrong about forces needed after the regime was toppled. We already know all of it, and even so to have everything laid out all together was both angering and depressing. I wasn't angered only because I was reminded about the rush to war and the way the public was mislead, but also because of the disregard of the Geneva conventions, the creation of the Patriot Act, all of the little ways the "war on terror" was used as an excuse to strengthen executive privilege and powers.
The documentary was depressing because as the years have passed and the war has dragged on I'd forgotten the immediacy of its beginnings, and because I realized that at this point I take the war for granted. It's become something that's just there, always happening, without end, middle, or beginning. Now that the economy's free fall has led us to focus on domestic problems it's not even a focus anymore, abandoned by our collective psyches just like Afghanistan has been abandoned.
I'm left hoping that the result of this year's Presidential election leaves us with some regime change of our own.
So far no new ground gets covered. Instead, the show is the most detailed and comprehensive compendium I've seen of what we know about the inner workings of the administration and the decisions, beginning the afternoon of September 11, that led to our invasion of Iraq. I spent two hours becoming reacquainted with facts and events that had faded with time: Rumsfeld's battle with the CIA for control of the "war on terror" and his slow emasculation of George Tenant; the Pentagon's quick abandonment of the war in Afghanistan; the constant repetition of phrases such as "aluminum tubes" and "uranium from Africa" and of course "weapons of mass destruction."
We already know that every reason given for invasion was found to be contrived from intelligence that was discredited from the start. We already know Saddam had nothing to do with bin Laden, that we've only strengthened al Qaeda, that the Pentagon was right and Rumsfeld wrong about forces needed after the regime was toppled. We already know all of it, and even so to have everything laid out all together was both angering and depressing. I wasn't angered only because I was reminded about the rush to war and the way the public was mislead, but also because of the disregard of the Geneva conventions, the creation of the Patriot Act, all of the little ways the "war on terror" was used as an excuse to strengthen executive privilege and powers.
The documentary was depressing because as the years have passed and the war has dragged on I'd forgotten the immediacy of its beginnings, and because I realized that at this point I take the war for granted. It's become something that's just there, always happening, without end, middle, or beginning. Now that the economy's free fall has led us to focus on domestic problems it's not even a focus anymore, abandoned by our collective psyches just like Afghanistan has been abandoned.
I'm left hoping that the result of this year's Presidential election leaves us with some regime change of our own.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Employment Journal, Part II
I only had a couple of hours to spend looking for work yesterday, so I limited my search to department stores on the theory that the larger stores might be more likely to need help. No such luck. I went to three different stores in two different malls and came home feeling slightly humiliated.
Things started badly at Store 1. After a fruitless search for either the manager's office or someone who could tell me where to find said office, I finally encountered an employee in the sock section. "Can you tell me where the manager's office might be?" I asked hopefully. She looked me over and quickly replied, "You won't be hired." Although I wasn't wearing a business suit I was fully clothed and my fly was not open, so I have no idea where that hostility came from. "I'd like to try anyway," I said, and she begrudgingly sent me on my way.
In the manager's office I waited 15 minutes for a 22 year-old to get off the phone and was handed an application. I filled it out while she made several more phone calls. The application asked for the address and phone number of my high school. I had no idea this was information that would be pertinent in life. When she got off the phone 20 minutes later, I handed her my application and asked if they were hiring. "I don't think so," she replied. "The manager will call you, maybe, but you should come back later in the summer when we hire for the holidays." OK, off to Store 2.
There, I easily found the office and was immediately handed an application. I again needed to know the address and phone number of my high school. This time I was also handed a true or false questionnaire: All merchandise on the premises is the property of Store 2 - true or false? I'm thinking I passed. I handed my materials to the man behind the counter and asked if they were hiring. He read over my application, looked at me, and said, "We don't handle headquarters. You have to apply to corporate." I told him I was looking for a job on the floor, to which he replied, "Oh?" Silence. He finally told me that they'd keep my application on file and someone might call me.
Store 3 was much the same, only this time I spoke with the actual store manager, who read my application and opined, "Well, you have lots of....experience. Are you sure you want to work here?" I explained that I just really needed a job. She in turn explained that Store 3 prefers to hire "career workers," and that it didn't look as if I'd want to make Store 3 my career. So I don't think I'll be hearing from her.
In short, I don't appear to be the kind of worker department stores are looking for, although I got the sense that they aren't looking for any kind of employee right now. I'll return to the malls and see if any of the smaller retailers are hiring at a later date. I won't have time to look for work today - my real jobs beckon - but later this week I think I'll give some restaurants a try.
Things started badly at Store 1. After a fruitless search for either the manager's office or someone who could tell me where to find said office, I finally encountered an employee in the sock section. "Can you tell me where the manager's office might be?" I asked hopefully. She looked me over and quickly replied, "You won't be hired." Although I wasn't wearing a business suit I was fully clothed and my fly was not open, so I have no idea where that hostility came from. "I'd like to try anyway," I said, and she begrudgingly sent me on my way.
In the manager's office I waited 15 minutes for a 22 year-old to get off the phone and was handed an application. I filled it out while she made several more phone calls. The application asked for the address and phone number of my high school. I had no idea this was information that would be pertinent in life. When she got off the phone 20 minutes later, I handed her my application and asked if they were hiring. "I don't think so," she replied. "The manager will call you, maybe, but you should come back later in the summer when we hire for the holidays." OK, off to Store 2.
There, I easily found the office and was immediately handed an application. I again needed to know the address and phone number of my high school. This time I was also handed a true or false questionnaire: All merchandise on the premises is the property of Store 2 - true or false? I'm thinking I passed. I handed my materials to the man behind the counter and asked if they were hiring. He read over my application, looked at me, and said, "We don't handle headquarters. You have to apply to corporate." I told him I was looking for a job on the floor, to which he replied, "Oh?" Silence. He finally told me that they'd keep my application on file and someone might call me.
Store 3 was much the same, only this time I spoke with the actual store manager, who read my application and opined, "Well, you have lots of....experience. Are you sure you want to work here?" I explained that I just really needed a job. She in turn explained that Store 3 prefers to hire "career workers," and that it didn't look as if I'd want to make Store 3 my career. So I don't think I'll be hearing from her.
In short, I don't appear to be the kind of worker department stores are looking for, although I got the sense that they aren't looking for any kind of employee right now. I'll return to the malls and see if any of the smaller retailers are hiring at a later date. I won't have time to look for work today - my real jobs beckon - but later this week I think I'll give some restaurants a try.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Employment Journal, Part I
I read in yesterday's New York Times that even though we might expect the current economic "slowdown" to last several years, we don't need to worry about a repeat of the Great Depression. According to the economists interviewed, unemployment levels will never again approach the 25% of the early 1930s. The worst we can expect, according to this article, is that people will have to start selling their possessions on eBay. How reassuring.
I realized that I have no idea what the employment situation in eastern Pennsylvania might be. I know that it's taking people a while to find professional positions; I know that if I were to put together a resume and look for a position in marketing or publishing it would probably take me a while to find something. But what if my situation were more dire? What if I needed a job, any job, as soon as possible? I've decided to find out.
I thought about doing a Nickeled and Dimed kind of thing and pretending that I have no education and am simply looking for a job in the service sector, but that's been done. I've decided to be who I am, with my education and with my actual job experience, and to pretend that I've been unable to find a while-collar position and that I'm in search of whatever work I can find.
I have a PhD in English. I taught at the college level for seven years, then left academia and worked in PR and marketing for eight years. Almost five years ago I started a local publication. For the past four years I've edited and published that magazine and been a freelancer and consultant in marketing communications. I've decided to leave out the freelance parts of my resume, and to tell potential employers that my business has gone under and I need work while I get on my feet again. I will say that I've been looking for a professional position but haven't been able to find one and just need a job.
I've never worked in a restaurant, or in retail. The first part of my quest is to see if there are in fact any jobs around here to be had, the second part is to see if anyone would hire me. What if my scenario were the truth? What if I had my mortgage and my bills to pay and my business and my savings were gone? Would I be able to find enough work to keep me out of foreclosure?
Today, I'm going to the malls. I figure I'll start my quest with retail. I'll let you know tomorrow what, if anything, happens.
I realized that I have no idea what the employment situation in eastern Pennsylvania might be. I know that it's taking people a while to find professional positions; I know that if I were to put together a resume and look for a position in marketing or publishing it would probably take me a while to find something. But what if my situation were more dire? What if I needed a job, any job, as soon as possible? I've decided to find out.
I thought about doing a Nickeled and Dimed kind of thing and pretending that I have no education and am simply looking for a job in the service sector, but that's been done. I've decided to be who I am, with my education and with my actual job experience, and to pretend that I've been unable to find a while-collar position and that I'm in search of whatever work I can find.
I have a PhD in English. I taught at the college level for seven years, then left academia and worked in PR and marketing for eight years. Almost five years ago I started a local publication. For the past four years I've edited and published that magazine and been a freelancer and consultant in marketing communications. I've decided to leave out the freelance parts of my resume, and to tell potential employers that my business has gone under and I need work while I get on my feet again. I will say that I've been looking for a professional position but haven't been able to find one and just need a job.
I've never worked in a restaurant, or in retail. The first part of my quest is to see if there are in fact any jobs around here to be had, the second part is to see if anyone would hire me. What if my scenario were the truth? What if I had my mortgage and my bills to pay and my business and my savings were gone? Would I be able to find enough work to keep me out of foreclosure?
Today, I'm going to the malls. I figure I'll start my quest with retail. I'll let you know tomorrow what, if anything, happens.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Self-Inflicted Exhaustion
I read somewhere that something like 75% of dog owners let their pooch sleep in their bed. Of that group, close to 90% claim that they don't ever get a good night's sleep. Count me in that group. My household includes a cat as well as a dog. I wasn't going to let the dog sleep in the bed, but because the cat was already there, and you can't train a cat to do anything let alone sleep anywhere in particular, it only seemed fair to allow the dog up too. Everyone sleeps like a rock except for me, probably because I'm lying there pinned between two rocks.
Back in the day hunters and trappers would categorize night's coldness by the number of dogs it would take to keep warm. That's how the band got the name Three Dog Night; a real cold one would take three dogs to stay warm in an unheated cabin. In a heated house, "one dog one cat" nights feel like I've got a furnace in my bed. I don't just attempt to sleep between rocks, but between heated boulders, radiant and immovable.
All of this is to say that I've had three cups of coffee and am still too tired to think coherently about anything. I'll try to post later, after a cat nap or two and after my lying dog lets me sleep.
Back in the day hunters and trappers would categorize night's coldness by the number of dogs it would take to keep warm. That's how the band got the name Three Dog Night; a real cold one would take three dogs to stay warm in an unheated cabin. In a heated house, "one dog one cat" nights feel like I've got a furnace in my bed. I don't just attempt to sleep between rocks, but between heated boulders, radiant and immovable.
All of this is to say that I've had three cups of coffee and am still too tired to think coherently about anything. I'll try to post later, after a cat nap or two and after my lying dog lets me sleep.
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