I was not the best receptionist, but I worked it!

I was not the best receptionist yesterday. I did my best, but the morning was a bit of trial and error. There was much multitasking to do, and I always think its funny when a receptionist leaves, and gives you 5 minutes of instruction on how to do her job. She is a full-time professional, and I am sure her job would take more than 5 minutes to explain.

I arrived at 12:30 p.m., and I could see her fingers were fluttering with the anticipation that she will be leaving for her half day off in minutes. In fact, she's leaving exactly after she makes sure I am situated. Irma goes through her “here’s what you do when” presentation, and sweetly asks if I have any questions, while she is looking around the desk for an object that would need a last minute explanation. She has already mentioned the call sheet, the cell phone list, the step by step instructions on how to answer the phone (don’t laugh-these come in handy later).

My anal-retentive mind is running through scenarios, and asking to be allowed to pick up the phone while she is still here, to practice and be corrected immediately. It is ringing, but starts taking the calls.

I ask questions on what I can anticipate, but there are no real questions now. The questions come later when you are doing the tasks solo, and realize your brain thinks the procedure would be one way, and her well-prepared instruction sheet details, another way. And her way is always gonna be right, and she is the full-time professional. She has the whole thing set up as she, and her boss, likes it.

I am left to sink or swim, and the only big flub of the day was for the first hour I was not hitting “transfer”, after I answered the call. The “hold” button made more sense to me, and in the rush, with three calls or so coming in at once, you have got to go with your gut. I see now how hitting transfer can eliminate steps, and am glad I reread Irma’s instructions. I mean that telephone system she has is very clever. Sorry Beverly for hanging up on your twice, and for calling back each time.

Normally – when I can’t do something perfect, I become very frustrated, and a pre-Entrees By You Julie would have been traumatized by not doing things exactly right from the start. But the last few years of running Entrees By You, have softened that hard and sharp edge I had, making my black and white mind a collage in shades of gray. I let go of the expectation that I needed to fully understanding someone’s job in 5 minutes, it’s unrealistic.

Your true intelligence is measured by your ability to adapt to a situation quickly once you understand it, not trying to read everything in an attempt to guess a hundred and twelve ways for the situation to go so you can be prepared. I do this all the time, and I call it "strategic thinking" on my resume!

God, that is how I spent the decade of my life I now call my 30s! Thinking strategically - about EVERYTHING. It is paralyzing, and just typing this is therapeutic, so thanks for hanging in there with me, but Jesus – it is a whole metaphor for my current life and how Entrees By You and working with Amy have changed my perspective. But that is pretty deep, and we can dive into that later.

So everything did make sense when Irma left. And then she gave me her cell phone number, but I poo-poo that. I can’t imagine what would possess me to call someone I am temping for on their cell phone DURING their afternoon off. It would take a Jack Bauer situation, where the whole building will explode if I don’t get the passcode from Irma’s desk top, in order to undetonated (sorry, if this isn’t a word) the bomb. Saving us all!

Irma’s work is ebb and flow. There is some quiet time, and she showed me how to surf the internet (again, everyone operates like you have 2 brain cells, of course I know how to use the internet from a desk top computer, as so 1st graders, but I thought it was nice of her to take time to mention it when she was fighting a full borne sprint to the front door). After she left, in the calm, I picked up my copy of At Work, the aptly titled Annie Leibowitz memoir I had checked out at the library. And more frequently then not the calls, visitors, questions and deliveries converged on Irma’s desk like a perfect storm, and I navigated through them.

I enjoyed how busy her desk is, and how I got to greet people and provide a friendly face. The prospective students, and their parents were nervous for these would be initial college interviews. It is rewarding to see them smile back, like they are relieved someone thinks they belong there at the school of the Art Institute of Austin. Being helpful is a definite on my list of characteristics of my perfect job.

How did the snow find me here!!

Brrr! Austin freaked out today with 1-3 inches falling here. Good thing it was 70 degrees here on Sunday.

A haunt all my own or just stay on home...

As I sit in Thunderbird Coffee on Koenig Lane in Austin, I remember why I changed my work strategy to staying at home, and writing. This coffee shop is full of people – singles at tables for four, most with their laptops, lattes, and PDAs displayed in front of them like an order of privacy. All the coffeehouse patrons are staying busy enough to avoid acknowledging each other. I am not European enough to ask to share a table, so I peruse for a single seat.

My search reveals an upholstered, maroon wing chair next to a low, wooden, veneer end-table that has a black coat draped over it. There is a bald guy sitting in the accompanying maroon chair drinking tea, and blocking himself off with an erect Apple computer. I move in. I ask both of the occupants on either side of "my" chair, if the it was being used, or if they knew who the coat belonged to. They didn’t, and I hated to interrupt their busy-ness, as I move the coat over to a random chair at one of the 3 vacant table seats to my left.

As I settle in, I listen to the 80s new wave hits from my youth that are always playing here. Right now its “Shellshock” by New Order. Actually – Austin is a good place to hear an 80s sound track at any time. I get nostalgic at my gym, in the supermarket, and all the coffee shops when I hear this stuff. I wonder if they have a special Sirius station for just songs I remember from high school and college. It seems like they do, makes me feel warm and fuzzy about Austin.
While New Order continues on about it “never enough until your heart stops (or starts) beating".

I look around to take in all the people who are have crowded into one of my new favorite places. There are at least 20 people hanging out in this coffee shop at 4 p.m. on a Monday. One couple is at the table near the door. They are animated and seem to be having fun. My experience when you see a couple of people talking at a coffee shop, and I am based this on only the conversations I have eavesdropped upon (sorry that is half the fun of going here), is that it's some sort of informational interview, an official one or they are college students working on something. Otherwise you are again, relegated to brandishing your "weapons against conversation with strangers", the laptop, PDA, Ipod etc. So when two people decide to speak to each other out load in such a solemn environment , it would be a shame to not listen. Right? They are too far away for me to hear though.

One man to my right is reading “Simply Christianity, Why Christianity Makes Sense”. He must be a student, because who would read that without it being required reading from a syllabus. He is a middle- aged guy in jeans and a T shirt, with a wedding ring. Maybe he is looking for answers. Oh wait, he also has a huge book with white letters that says Systematic Theology. Yuck. What does that mean? I put in the link in case you want to know.

I wonder if people are wondering about me too. I DID shower before I went out, which I cannot confirm for everyone here. That greasy, hipster look is popular here. I didn’t have time to dry my hair before I came. And my hair looks crazy when it isn’t blown dry. When I say crazy, I mean – not at all pretty or acceptable for public consumption, so now I am stuck wearing my soft, ivory skull cap for the rest of my stay here. I do love that hat. I was hoping for my hair to form cute ringlets lining the bottom of the cap, or at least waves. I am choosing to believe that look is what is rocking under the cap, since I am too lazy and not vain enough to get up and see for myself.

Thunderbird is one of the places I go to write, and job search, mainly because it is four blocks away, and I can walk. Sometimes during this job search I need a change of venue from writing in my bedroom. The people factor can be distracting (in I guess a good way), and professionally made coffee is always better than mine, and I love the music so I will continue to pay a $5 latte admission fee to come here. Oh – here comes, Depeche Mode’s “Never Let Me Down Again”, and at 5 p.m. – it will turn to Happy Hour with beer specials.

Entry level now, or hold out?

The job market in Austin is better for entry level careers. Unfortunately, I am more middle level, so it provides me with a career dilemma as I job search. There seem to be many office manager and admin jobs for a person willing to organize other people for another $30,000 a year. And then there is Sales. There is always a market for Sales jobs. I have ample experience in both these fields. Would all my sacrifices be in vain if I excepted a job in a field I am not interested in – at a lower income range then I have been at previously?

My mind wrestles with this question daily. Which is the best course of action? I have already spent a lifetime getting experience in fields I don’t want to work in, so why prolong that? My only answer is because it’s scary out here on my own. Making decisions that will take me to a goal I am not sure I can complete, in a town where I have few friends (cue the melodramatic organ music).

I woke up yesterday nervous I wasn’t making the most of my Austin experience. My mind goes back and forth like a pinball hitting all the bumpers as I try to figure out if I should be searching for a job in Sales, where I have the most experience but not the most love.

Now that the newness has worn off of my move, I miss Chicago, my family, my friends. That stupid Daughtry song, “Home” followed another song about missing people and family on the easy listening station here. I thought it was a sign that it would be okay to cry, so I let the sadness wrap around me like a warm pashmina scarf. It was comforting and well-fitted, but not too tight. I was sad about all the work that went awry with Entrees By You, the fun and security I left behind in Chicago. I am working on creating a better situation for myself in Austin. It’s not better here in Austin yet. I am working on developing a network of friends and finding a job. So I let myself cry for the 3 minute song, felt the sadness and then headed inside Pure Austin Fitness for my workout. I let it go, and focused on my “run”. Navigating this uncharted territory is more mentally exhausting then I thought, but I am hanging in there, with the thought of a promised land – created by me in the distance.

I made myself go out and see a band last night. Akina Adderly and the Vintage Playboys. I give them a C+. She has a powerful voice, but the songs were terribly trite and boring to listen to. I met a guy named Steve. He likes go hiking and running and such, so he might be fun. He wanted me to run with him today, but clearly he doesn’t understand when I use the term – “run” it is always in quotes. I’ll keep you posted.

Plans for this weekend. As I stretch and try to do things that are uncomfortable to me, I am planning on participating in a free Cardio Strip class (just being associated with something strippers do makes me a little queasy), the Ballroom Dancing group on Saturday. It is Rumba night!

To recap from my previous post, going to Gruene Hall on Saturday was fun. It is in New Braunfel, a town about 40 minutes outside of Austin. A real German community; my Uncle Mike would be proud. For all the hooting and hollering about how great Gruene Hall is, and I HAD to go (strangers would write it down on pieces of paper for me to remember for later when they found out I was from out of town). It wasn't the most AWESOME place to see a show.

It was rustic in a way that screamed of the need for remodeling, to me. No central heat for its barn shaped structure, so certain places on the wooden picnic tables it has for seating are undesirable, unless you like the steady stream of hot, forced air on your face. And a floor for a dance hall that had a few holes, and was unsteady and uneven. I also thought, for a dance hall - the floor seemed small. But this in a small town, and I am sure when they built it in 1878, they didn't imagine it would draw such a following from other cities. It's claim to fame really is that it is still functioning.

Watching the couples twirl around it was inspiring and great fun. I got to dance with Scott, the man in the cowboy hat, and we twirled too, at my request. I loved it. Scott was a real Southern gentleman, and asked each of the ladies in our group to dance. I do like these well-mannered cowboys.

I definitely see more dancing in my future, but need to invest in some cowboy boots. My brown, Kenneth Cole, knee highs with the stilletto heel was a real problem while dancing, and walking on the cobblestone the town used in parts for a sidewalk.

The red head in the picture is my housemate Jenny. I am glad she invited me, as it was my first dance hall experience, and I loved the musician we saw. Bruce Robison.

He is one of Jenny's favorites and now mine. He is a tall-drink-of- country water, whose lyrics just won't let me leave. I have thought about his songs every day since the show. They are poignant,touching and he sang with such heart-felt emotion, you would think he was personally going through the emotions on each song. Right there on stage. His show was better than listening to the CD. And I haven't thought that about ANYONE, since I saw Van Halen with David Lee Roth a year ago. My favs are "Angry All The Time" (Tim McGraw did a cover of this) and "My Brother and Me"

Write more later. Love you...

My 23 year old "boss"

Yesterday my job was moved to the Admissions office with hopes that they were better organized then the Financial Aid office. They were, and I was in no position to turn down work. My contact turned out to be the 23 year old administrative asst for the group. But I didn’t know that yet, because she didn’t really introduce herself when she picked me up from the reception desk. Yes – is does start out like I am in First Grade and someone has to come and fetch me. I am a good sport about that by now.

The feathers were ruffled when she gave me an assignment that was too easy. The challenging part about temping to me is that everyone treats you like you are stupid. Maybe I am taking it too personally – but here are my two examples – you decide.

One was my “easy” assignment of filling a large pile of papers into the “elusive” set of corresponding manila folders that were in a series of cabinets. Just the dream job I wanted from my last post - seriously. I was excited. Finally, a gig where I could make some progress.

I was the little fairy in the hall – filing my heart out, opening and closing drawers and trying to stay out of the way. No one would acknowledge or make eye contact with me, so it was easy to plough through my work. I was the little filing fairy on the bottom rung of the Admissions office caste system. People wanted their files organized with the proper paperwork, but they didn’t want to know HOW it happened.

And Ashley was busy. Truly – she did seem to have her shit together for a 23 year old, and I don't think she wanted to be in charge of my activities in the first place. So when I told her there were no corresponding files for my paperwork, she exhaled loudly, and in the loudest voice I had heard her use yet, said, “Nevermind- I’ll do it. It would be easier for me, I know where they go.” SLAM! Wow - I didn’t even see that coming.

I was proud of myself when I responded in a calm and reflecting voice, “it’s not that its hard, but there are no corresponding folders”.
Okay – I wanted to say. I know where you TOLD me they go, but apparently that isn’t good enough now. (I have come a long way since getting kicked out of Girl Scouts, but more on that later)

My good manners and astute filing paid off, and we finally worked out a groove where she was farming off projects to me as I finished my work. She probably wasn’t prepared for my drive and determination. 

I set up scenario two next post. I have to get ready to go to Greune Hall. Its a real live Country and Western Dance Hall! The bar is more a dance hall, Texas’s most famous dance hall called Greune Hall.

It was just featured a few months ago in the lifestyle magazine Texas Monthly, and a guy at the library just told me about it. Texans are very proud of it – but sooooo many people have talked about it. I would how can it not be a tourist trap? In Chicago, this type of venue would definitely be a tourist trap. I mean look what they did with Navy Pier. That used to be a functioning pier right? And now – just a tourist trap with McDonalds and flat iron kiosks. So off to the dance hall to meet real cowboys….

Time for Temping

Wow did that suck! And when I say suck – I mean it sucked the life and part of my soul right out of me. It was temping – and it was just filing. For 8 hours today, filing. I didn't think it would be that bad.

I have always been a good temp. I temped between jobs and during all my Summers in college for spending money. I always get asked to stay permanently. But today was hard – and I learned my lesson.

The filing was not rewarding, because the files of the place were SOOO messed up. It wasn’t like I had a huge pile of papers, I mean - I did have that, but – when I got to the filing cabinets – the files were not always alphabetical, or there wasn’t always a safe, manila home for my Financial Aid forms and transcripts.

I had to take my pile to three different cabinets like a Clerical Goldilocks. No – Mary Salazar’s paperwork doesn’t fit in with the “current” students, so I roll my office chair two feet to the left to try the “dropped” file cabinet, and onto the home of students who never even started, the “cancelled” cabinet, if the first two are misses. It was a paperwork maelstrom with me in the middle trying to settle things down.

Today – before I started I wondered what it would be like to get offered a job here. Some security and stability in a place as mundane as the Financial aid office of the Art Institute in Austin. I haven't worked since September, and it is gnawaing at me.

At first, working was entertaining. I loved seeing all the different names and snuck glances at the GPAs and majors of these kids just starting out with their lives. But then it got monotonous, and I envied these kids. Then I think I envied the staff with their knowledge of day to day tasks, how to find the breakroom, and a steady paychecks.

The pile of papers with no file to hold them grew higher and higher, a bunch of misfits. I can relate, and it was making my chest tighten. But I won’t feel sorry for myself. I mean – I did – and I can see how people who take jobs where there is NO satisfaction need booze or television each night to make them forget the heartache of their day. If I didn’t want to write this I would be watching American Idol RIGHT NOW.

I have no idea how my attempts to create a life as a writer and photographer are going to take some work – so having some kind of 9-5 is probably in the cards. I just cant' sell myself short and think I would be happy with a job I was qualified to do in college now that it is 20 years later. It would be like trying to relive my glory days at Taco Johns. God I loved that job.

I need to shoot for a job that challenges me, and quit trying to pay it safe with this easy and mundane shit. And for those of you thinking - ah DUH!! I always have to learn the hard way. Until I find an alternative source of income, I will be saying YES to all the temp work I can. It is either that or food service again.

The benefit of the temp job is, how much the dread of it motivates me to find the dream I am looking for in Austin. My creative soul and a job that feeds it. It has become more motivating then my dwindling bank account.