Flavor du Jour

I am employed.

I signed the offer letter today. It's not my dream job, (an Executive Assistant) and I'm not even sure if I'll be completely happy with it, but at this point it's better than nothing. I've spent the last two months looking for a job. Normally, I wouldn't have this much trouble. But this market has been horrible. I've sent out at least 300 resumes, with maybe 15-20 call backs, and about 4 or 5 interviews. And while this isn't a job I really wanted, I know if I don't take it, it could be months before I get another offer.

On the plus side I'll be making $38,000 a year to start. And as long as I stick with them and do a good job I should be able to get a raise at my annual review. Plus, I get bonuses. And the kicker? I get to go to New York on the companies tab. They're going to fly me out next month for the company picnic. I've always wanted to go to New York. I probably wont have much time to do much site seeing. But, just being there for a weekend will be awesome. I can always go there again to check out all there is to see. But, if I do nothing else, I do want to go visit ground zero. It will have been almost a year by that time. And a part of me would like to take the opportunity to pay my respects in person, since I'll be there anyway.

It's so funny though. I wrote a few weeks ago how whenever I want something, or I tell a lot of people about something I'm excited about, I don't get it. It's certainly happened numerous times before, most recently with the case manager position for that mediation firm. (Which, by the way, I noticed on Monster.com was reposted a little more than a week after I was told all of the positions had been filled.) For this job, I didn't particularly care if I got it. I wasn't that concerned about it. I didn't tell a lot of people about it. I didn't stress over the interview, or the skills testing. I just went in there with the attitude that if they didn't want me, it was no skin off of my back, and that I could always find something else. But, of course, when I didn't care, they practically threw it at me.

Perhaps this will be a good opportunity for me. I have no experience in the field (commercial real estate investment)--not even any relevant college courses. And I even told that to my now boss during the interview. But, it seemed that he really wanted me anyway. I just hope he doesn't think I'm going to be one of those kinds of secretaries. HaHa. He'd never get away with it. Plus, I don't get that feeling from him. I will more or less be helping him to complete his work. He said that most people in his company (of about 50 people, no middle management) don't have assistants. But, he's so swamped that he absolutely needed one. So, I'll be learning to do his work. That could be some awesome experience that may pay off later. Plus, I'm sure I'll make some good connections. And that can never hurt.

I don't start until the 29th though, so until then I get to enjoy two more weeks of freedom, and two more weeks of unemployment checks. But, now I can finally get moving towards moving out on my own.

So in real life you can't seem to get the chicks, you say? Well, now you can hone your skills at Virtual Flirt!

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Each time I log on to AOL I'm greeted by the enthusiastic chant of "You've Got Mail." It rarely fails. Each time I log on there are at least a few new messages in my inbox. And if I'm away for more than an hour, suddenly I come back feeling as if I'm the most popular girl in the world.

Until I look at who they're from.

Did Jonathan actually send me email? No, that never happens. Is it a note from Joni catching me up on the latest? Occasionally, but probably not this time. Did Eric finally email me? No, I never got a response to the last email I sent him. But maybe that's because the last email I sent him was on the night of September 10, 2001. I doubt replying to my lengthy email was high on his to do list the next day. Perhaps a long lost friend, or an old high school pal has decided to reconnect. I could only hope. I'm usually the one to reach out and connect with old friends. Maybe even it's another joke email from Alicia, always forwarded to her from her dad. But, it's not even that.

Instead, of the thirty or so emails waiting for me in my inbox (one time as many as nearly 150 after a short vacation), maybe one (if I'm having a lucky day) is anything good. The rest are all spam. Look, I'm not a guy, so I'm NOT interested in enlarging my penis. I don't need debt consolidation. My debt isn't that bad. And unless your form of help means giving me a good paying job, nothing you do will make it go away. I'm not interested in seeing Britney Spears naked, with five young hot college lesbians. Nor do I want to view wild farmyard sex! I'm not fat, so I don't need any number of weight loss plans you can slew at me that I know won't do anything but probably kill me. Oh, and how could I have left the chat room last night when I wasn't even in any chat rooms?

Spam. Spam. Spam. Spam. SPAM!

I don't even like the food product. Why would I want it smeared all over my inbox?

I like email, but the spam just ruins it. If nobody is ever going to bother to email me, for at least a semi-good reason, then I don't want to be lured into having false hopes by that mocking of "You've Got Mail." I hate seeing that little yellow envelope in my mailbox which makes me think that maybe someone actually cares about me, only to find out that in fact people care so little about me that they fill my mailbox full of trash. I know those little email goblins that lurch around the internet when you're not looking, stuffing junk into inboxes like 10-year-olds stuffing cherry bombs in toilet stalls, are laughing hysterically at me every time I open my inbox. They know they've got me again. They know that once again I've been tricked into thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'm someone special. Ha Ha Ha. Laugh it up. I'm wise to you guys anyway. I've gotten good at spotting little nuggets of gold in large heaps of steaming poo. (Figuratively speaking, of course.)

And of course, we all know that attempting to UNSUBSCRIBE is a miserable failure. The more I do it, the more they send the spam. And even if I think I was successful, I get the little line that says "It may take a few days to actually remove you from the list." Since when does "a few days" mean "never"?

I guess perhaps it gives me something to do when I log on. Perhaps if my mailbox were always empty I'd feel like I were so worthless that even the spammers didn't want to have anything to do with me....Nah. I really would like the spam to stop. But, I'd also like my mailbox to be full. Full of emails from friends and acquaintances. Full of the things that really make you feel important and special. So, write! Give me something to not delete.