This morning Jordan and Hunter both had flights to Denver from Newark Airport. Jordan's flight was at 6:30 a.m. and Hunter's was at 7:15 a.m. During 2011 Jordan traveled by herself to Japan to study at Temple University Tokyo and Hunter spent seven months traveling through Europe working on organic farms. So the idea of sending them to Penn Station to catch the New Jersey Transit to Newark Airport by themselves is not beyond the scope of reason. Oh, and did I mention that they are 22 and 20 years of age?
Jordan was out with friends until 2:00 a.m. gallivanting around Greenwich Village and blew in the door saying that she could easily pack and be ready to catch the 3:52 a.m. #1 Train to Penn Station without a problem. Hunter was much more organized - he was packed and he had the instructions for the New Jersey Transit that Jeff had printed on top of his suitcase.
At 3:45 a.m. they headed out the door. They would have 35 minutes the buy tickets and get on the train for Newark Airport. Catching that #1 train was the key.
Ah, if only...
Jordan said the trouble began when they got to 34th Street/Penn Station. She told Hunter that they needed to get off of the subway. He said, "That subway sign says 'Pennsylvania' we want Penn Station!" She tried to argue that Penn and Pennsylvania were one and the same, but the doors had already closed and they were whisked away on the express train to 14th Street where he finally agreed that she had been correct and they had to wait for the uptown train to get them back to 34th Street.
Jordan called from Penn Station to say that they had arrived but that Hunter had taken off like a bat out of hell as soon as they arrived and said that he would meet her in a few minutes in front of Nathan's Hotdogs once he figured out where to buy the tickets. Jordan tired of waiting, walked over to the ticket booth and bought two tickets to Jamaica, Queens for the connection to JFK Airport, which would have been great except that she was going to Newark, "New Jersey". Needless to say I asked her what she could have been thinking and she said that she remembered the Long Island Railroad ticket booths from buying summer tickets to the beach and when the ticket agent asked her if she wanted a ticket to LaGuardia or JFK she could only remember that she was not going to LaGuardia.
Hunter ended up rejoining Jordan in front of the Nathan's Hotdog stand with the two tickets that he had purchased. He purchased tickets on Amtrak. I haven't even asked him what destination his tickets were for. Amtrak is a passenger train for long distance travel. What was he thinking? I'm dumbfounded.
Now it is 5:20 a.m. They have been at Penn Station for over an hour. They have missed the 4:30 a.m. and the 4:51 a.m. trains that would have gotten them to the airport in time for Jordan to catch her flight. They are calling us every 20 to 45 minutes to get further instructions (although, they have obviously not heard anything we have said) and to find out where the other is. Why are they not calling each other?
Mysteriously and miraculously the next time they call they are actually waiting aboard the 5:41 a.m. train bound for Newark Airport. Of course, I am now on the phone to United Airlines to see what Jordan can do since she will obviously not make her 6:30 a.m. flight.
During the chaos of the ticket buying Jeff keeps saying "You all need to find the ticket counter for the New Jersey Transit". Hunter swears that those are words that he has never hear before. In Jeff's defense, once the light of day flooded the apartment (well, daylight has never flooded this apartment, but I'm taking poetic license) we find the schedule that Jeff had printed out for Hunter left behind on the dining room table. I remember at one point during the evening Jeff was trying to give him instructions on getting to the airport while Hunter was playing video games (never a good time to talk to Hunter). After Jeff completed his detailed description he asked him if he had any questions. Hunter very flippantly asked, "Do they speak English at the train station? If so, then I will be fine." Famous last words.
So now they are at the airport. Hunter calls to find out what airline he is on. At 6:00 a.m. I climb out of the loft to retrieve his itinerary from the refrigerator door where it was taped. He calls back once he is at the correct airline kiosk. He wants the confirmation number. This is madness! How did this child make it across Europe without my help?
Jordan calls from the United Airlines line and said that she wants to know what her alternative is if she misses her flight in 20 minutes. IF she misses her flight? Again, how did she navigate Tokyo without me?
Hunter made his flight by the skin of his teeth. Jordan missed her flight, but she was able to catch a commuter flight to Boston at 8:30 a.m. and then catch a direct flight to Denver at 2:35 p.m. arriving in Denver at 5:20 p.m.. Her trip was almost 15 hours door to door. I think her flight to Tokyo was 13 hours.
This evening once the kids were both save and sound back in Denver Jeff and I were able to look at each other and laugh.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Dreaded Holiday Family Photo
I gave up on the Christmas photo a few years ago and we started sending out the New Year's holiday photo and card instead. Some might think that it's cop out, but honestly the pressure of getting the photo taken the moment Jordan walked in the door from college, so that the card could be delivered by December 25th was more than I could take in a season where there are never enough hours in the day.
One thing that I have always done is to make sure that we are all in the photo. I figure that if I keep old friends and family up to date on what I look like they will not be shocked some day if our paths should cross again and we end up face to face. So not only do I need to make sure that the kids are looking their best, but Jeff and I (more importantly) have to be presentable.
So the real issue of time began once Jordan went to college in Fort Lewis. I guess I should have made a point to get a family photo at Thanksgviving before she traveled the seven hours back to school, but I was never that organized.
Her freshman year was he worst. I guess I've blocked why everyone was so agitated, but it is the one card that I can't even look back on without feeling the anxiety of that morning. Part of the problem was that the sun was so bright that after each self-timed take Jeff would have to run back into the house for shade to see if the photo was Christmas card worthy. Inevitably someone had their eyes closed or Trooper (our beloved Golden Retriever) had his back turned on the camera. I can't remember if it was Jordan's tears or Hunter's refusal to take another photo that made us decide on the photo we ultimately used. It was probably a combination of Hunter's refusal to pose for the 10th time and Jordan's frustration at coming back from the paradise of college life into the chaios of family life that stirred the pot of discontent. All of this in the name of showing a "happy family" face to the rest of the world.
Another year we were all in high spiritis and glad that Jordan had made it back to Evergreen hours ahead of a blizzard. But the snow blowing in made for a time sensative shoot. Not to mention that for some reason Cameron decided that she wanted to wear as little as possible in sub zero degree temperatures. I think the freezing dog walker that we stopped and asked to act as our photographer was probably cussing us under his frozen breath, but our camera kept sliding off of the hood of our snow covered car foiling our self-timer efforts and we were desperate to get the picture taken so as to make the mail the next day.
Last year Hunter was in Rome for Christmas. The rest of us drove down to Durango to pick Jordan up from school. We were having lunch in the CUB, the sun was shining, and we decided to do a quick family photo on the terrace with the San Juan Mountains as our back drop. We asked a student that was walking by to take the photo. Snap! It was done. We all agreed that somehow without the fifth element (Hunter) we had never taken such a painless Christmas photo. Was it Hunter or just a lack of another person to incorporate into the photo. We will never know.
Hunter got to New York on the December 18th but it took until the night of the 26th for us all to be back in synch enough as a family to finally think that we could actually take a picture worthy of sending out as a New Year's card. Now you would think that in one of the most photographed cities in the world a backdrop would be easy to find. Tired of holiday lights and not wanting to chose the obvious tourist attractions (top of the Empire State Building, Lady Liberty, Time Square, etc...) we had to think of something that would say New York and would not require a subway or taxi ride. Of course, we just took the photo yesterday, so I can't reveal the picutre before the Grandparents get the 5x7 in the mail. But I added a picture of myself at the location as a teaser.
Of course, none of the stress of the holiday card photo compares to the pressure of Christmas night where we all learn the new game of season. This year Santa brought Cameron the Hunger Games Training Days Board Game. Instructions and wine (a lot of it) required.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Viva la Difference
Trying to compare New York City to Colorado at Christmas is like comparing apples to oranges. We are embracing Christmas in the city as a new experience. Think,... " busy sidewalk, city sidwalks, full of holiday cheer...."
One exciting aspect of the city is that New York has a very large Jewish community sharing it's tradition of Chanukah at the same time that Christians in the city are celebrating Christmas. Last night we came across a bus (think RV) sponsored by an Orthodox Jewish organization called the Mitzvah Tank. The bus loudly played Jewish holiday music from its speakers and young men from the synagogue walked along the street cheerfully asking, "Excuse me, are you Jewish?" I was with Hunter and Jordan and urged them to check-out the festivities. Technically, your mother has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish, so when the young man asked Jordan if she was Jewish and she answered, "Well, my father is half Jewish" I know he smiled to himself and invited her in more with the spirit of inclusion than anything else. Jordan and Hunter both emerged from the bus with jelly donuts and Jordan was given a new menorah to replace the one that we have in storage in Denver. Hunter said that when they were in the bus they were given literature on the history of Chanukah (choice of literature in English or Hebrew), offered a free menorah and donutes, and several of the volunteers were dancing. Just looking at the bus from afar and the happy volunteers made me smile.
Evergreen Lake is the diamond of Evergreen. All three of my children learned to ice skate on the lake and we already miss it.. Cameron's school spent their last day before Christmas break at Wolman Ice Rink in Central Park. Cameron challenged a friend to a race on the ice with a $4 hot chocolate as the prize. Jeremy is 6 feet tall to Cameron's 5'0" and she skated rings around him. If you learn to skate on natural ice with occassional giant cracks in the ice, slushy top ice, and deep gauges in the ice you suddenly become a super star skater when you get on man-made ice at a skating rink .Although we miss our beloved lake there is no denying the glory of skating in Central Park surrounded by towering skyscrapers.
Not even New York City can compare to the decorated splendor of Vail or Breckenridge over the holidays. Those cities build their identities on being magical Christmas villages. But I have certainly come across some dazzling displays on the sidewalks of the city. The other night I rode my bike over to townhouse where Cameron was spending the night to give her her contact lens solution and case and the family was outside putting on the final trimmings of a tree that they had created out of plastic lids (lids can't be recycled). I give it my vote as the most unique and inspired decoration of the season! The girls at the sleepover circled the tree and sang Christmas carols as the parents proudly watched the girls enjoying the fruits of their creativity.
And I know that New York is famous for it's holiday windows at famous retailers, but my favorite display is at a little Mom and Pop shop that does alterations. Barbie and her friends have never looked more glamourous!
We are embracing the spirit of "Viva la Difference"! Happy Holiday!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Christmas Should Not Need a Budget
I read an article today "Keeping Christ in Christmas". It touched on how some people are getting their nose out of joint when a cashier (for example) says "happy holidays" as opposed to "Merry Christmas". The writer suggested that instead of spending your time at a big box store worrying about how you are being greeted by store employees while you buy your big screen tv you should step outside of the consumerism and get back to living a more Christ like life. Easier said than done. Consumerism and the poster boy Santa have become the forefront of our American Christmas. Separating the celebration of the birth of Christ and '"Christmas" in our media driven culture is almost an effort in fatalism.
This year I have had an experience that I would not wish on anyone. When Jeff and I moved to New York we completely mis-calculated some major expenses and I have not been able to find a full time job or even a a part-time job to supplement my current telecommuting job. So we are having a hard time making ends meet and Christmas does not fit into the budget in any way. STOP. Re-read what I just wrote. I said that Christmas does not fit into the budget. How does celebrating the birth of Christ come with a price tag? I am a Christian and yet the celebration of Christ is a side note in what has become Christmas in our family. So now we are in a position where Christmas as we know it is not coming this year. I've mentioned in earlier blogs that I have had to leave stores as panic attacks rose in my chest as I watched others fill their baskets with holiday items that I used to take for granted and now I was there only able to buy essential toiletries. We have been forced to face the holiday re-evaluating how and what we are celebrating. Minimal gift warnings have been issued and now Jeff and I will see if the kids actually heard us or questioning faces will greet us in lieu of smiles on Christmas morning.
We have started attending a Methodist Church in the neighborhood. The services and the sense of community have really filled a hole in our lives that has been exasperated by our lack of a commercial Christmas this year. Two weeks ago Cameron was in their Christmas pageant and last week they had their Christmas choral program. I had a miserable cold, so I did not sing and I felt a foggy distance from everything, but Jeff was belting out the hymns. He even joined the adults and youth to carol at St. Joseph's Hospital later that afternoon. Jeff has willingly and even gladly gone to church over the years as a C&E Christian and for social events, but this is the first time that I have ever seen him actually urging the family to go to church and beyond. Could it be that in the absence of Christmas Jeff has found Christ?
To completely turn the page on my introspective attitude - I miss all of my stuff tucked away in a storage locker in Colorado. I miss having my house in the mountains where every room was filled with Christmas decorations. The porch would be decorated and the gutters sparkling with lighted icicle adorning the house. The tree would be dripping with 25 years of collected ornaments and by now the tree skirt would be covered with a growing collection of gifts. I miss not thinking about the cost of baking and buying all the goodies needed to whip up sweets for all the friends and neighbors on our list. I miss purchasing and giving gifts.Of course none of that has to do with the literal meaning of Christmas, but I won't say that having things is not nice.
We were forced to stop shopping this Christmas due to circumstance. We had no choice but to put Santa aside this year. And because of others reaching out to us we found a community where we could find the celebration of the birth of Jesus in Santa's place. Although I wish that I could say that I've seen the Light and that I would never be able to go back to a materialistic Christmas I can't. Of course, if I had the opportunity I would hope that I would balance things more. I can certainly see the hours and days that I have wasted at the mall in the past looking for junk to fill stockings with and I'd like to think that I wouldn't go back to that sort of over indulgence. I think the biggest changes I would try to make would be to live the mottos "less is more" and "giving is the greatest gift of all", but for now all that is academic. For this year I just need to get through the next five days with the lump in my throat and pray that next year we can be on the giving end again.
This year I have had an experience that I would not wish on anyone. When Jeff and I moved to New York we completely mis-calculated some major expenses and I have not been able to find a full time job or even a a part-time job to supplement my current telecommuting job. So we are having a hard time making ends meet and Christmas does not fit into the budget in any way. STOP. Re-read what I just wrote. I said that Christmas does not fit into the budget. How does celebrating the birth of Christ come with a price tag? I am a Christian and yet the celebration of Christ is a side note in what has become Christmas in our family. So now we are in a position where Christmas as we know it is not coming this year. I've mentioned in earlier blogs that I have had to leave stores as panic attacks rose in my chest as I watched others fill their baskets with holiday items that I used to take for granted and now I was there only able to buy essential toiletries. We have been forced to face the holiday re-evaluating how and what we are celebrating. Minimal gift warnings have been issued and now Jeff and I will see if the kids actually heard us or questioning faces will greet us in lieu of smiles on Christmas morning.
We have started attending a Methodist Church in the neighborhood. The services and the sense of community have really filled a hole in our lives that has been exasperated by our lack of a commercial Christmas this year. Two weeks ago Cameron was in their Christmas pageant and last week they had their Christmas choral program. I had a miserable cold, so I did not sing and I felt a foggy distance from everything, but Jeff was belting out the hymns. He even joined the adults and youth to carol at St. Joseph's Hospital later that afternoon. Jeff has willingly and even gladly gone to church over the years as a C&E Christian and for social events, but this is the first time that I have ever seen him actually urging the family to go to church and beyond. Could it be that in the absence of Christmas Jeff has found Christ?
To completely turn the page on my introspective attitude - I miss all of my stuff tucked away in a storage locker in Colorado. I miss having my house in the mountains where every room was filled with Christmas decorations. The porch would be decorated and the gutters sparkling with lighted icicle adorning the house. The tree would be dripping with 25 years of collected ornaments and by now the tree skirt would be covered with a growing collection of gifts. I miss not thinking about the cost of baking and buying all the goodies needed to whip up sweets for all the friends and neighbors on our list. I miss purchasing and giving gifts.Of course none of that has to do with the literal meaning of Christmas, but I won't say that having things is not nice.
We were forced to stop shopping this Christmas due to circumstance. We had no choice but to put Santa aside this year. And because of others reaching out to us we found a community where we could find the celebration of the birth of Jesus in Santa's place. Although I wish that I could say that I've seen the Light and that I would never be able to go back to a materialistic Christmas I can't. Of course, if I had the opportunity I would hope that I would balance things more. I can certainly see the hours and days that I have wasted at the mall in the past looking for junk to fill stockings with and I'd like to think that I wouldn't go back to that sort of over indulgence. I think the biggest changes I would try to make would be to live the mottos "less is more" and "giving is the greatest gift of all", but for now all that is academic. For this year I just need to get through the next five days with the lump in my throat and pray that next year we can be on the giving end again.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Serving h'orderves Among the Ruins
Last night I had a one night temp job catering. It was at The Cloisters which in itself was interesting (it is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art housing architectural and art pieces from Medieval Europe). I have been trying to get into a catering company since September, but I have been stonewalled by my lack of New York City catering experience and head shots ( I don't even have one to present). Supposedly, Thursday, December 15th was the busiest catering night in the city, hence the need for temporary "butlers" as the NYC catering industry calls them.
I observed a few things about the party, and I will not mention the specific name of the organization, but there were 300 curators of a particular museum there for the dinner. I was serving h'orderves and I was supposed to tell the guest what I was serving. I think of the 6 of us serving I was the only person actually approaching the guest and urging them to sample the variety of delicious treats on the platter. Hmm.. may-be I was supposed to walk around silently and they would take from the tray at will opposed to at the urging of the wait staff, but whatever. The guest were super friendly and they would ask me to come back to their tables/or corners of the dance floor with my next tray of food. In general I observed the "curators" to be lovely people who came hungry and like all of us needed a nibble or two or three or four to keep them going before the meal was served.
And like any American woman I observe fashion and wonder what it would be like to have access to the most expensive salons and the highest end boutiques. Here was my opportunity to see it up close. I was pleasantly surprised to see that all the woman seemed to wear what most reflected their personalities and were not driven by trends. There were the classic evening gowns with giant bows across their shoulders, sequined gowns that seemed heavier than the woman herself, short (I mean short) satin cocktail dresses, and the uninspired boxie holiday jacket with wide legged black pants. Hair was long or bobbed, and smooth. Make-up, being the northeast, was minimal, which is contrary to the rest of the country. Lots of smiles and holiday cheer.
Another intesting thing was that several tables had much older patrons with them, may-be the grandfather or grandmother who were well into their 80 or 90's. Their children or grandchildren made sure that they were partaking in all of the evenings events including being in the ballroom or enjoying the gourmet meal. Unlike nouveau riche who might want to give the impression of youth and opulance these old money families seemed to revere the matriarch and patriarchs of their families. WAIT - As I re-read that I guess the more skeptical might think that they are protecting their inheritance by catering to their elders. Whatever, I 'm not that skeptical, and I like to think that it was respect and not greed that I was witnessing.
At one point I walked through three intersecting giant imposing doors and I wondered if the The Cloisters were haunted. I walked by the same place and thought the same thing again later. And again I had the same thought as I was passing through that corridor. When the idea struck more for the fourth time in the same spot I stopped and laughed to myself.. I'm not sure if The Cloisters as a whole are haunted, but some energy was practically hitting me over the head to get me to notice that this intersection of ancient doors had something going on. The Christmas music streaming from the ballroom, the clinking of forks on plates, and the chattering of voices kept me from any further investigation.
After the party we had to break down the catering event to leave no trace and to restore the museum to its original somber existence. It wasn't until we had removed most of the set-up from the room that we were using as a kitchen that I noticed the glass case with a wooden statue of Mary and baby Jesus pushed in the corner, or the Last Supper tapestry hanging over the area we had used for dirty dishes. Looking at the museum in its original form it seemed like a strange place to set-up banquet tables among ancient pillar and to stage a band underneath a wooden figure of Jesus hanging from a cross. But on the other hand is there a better place to celebrate an ancient birth than among ancient ruins?
I observed a few things about the party, and I will not mention the specific name of the organization, but there were 300 curators of a particular museum there for the dinner. I was serving h'orderves and I was supposed to tell the guest what I was serving. I think of the 6 of us serving I was the only person actually approaching the guest and urging them to sample the variety of delicious treats on the platter. Hmm.. may-be I was supposed to walk around silently and they would take from the tray at will opposed to at the urging of the wait staff, but whatever. The guest were super friendly and they would ask me to come back to their tables/or corners of the dance floor with my next tray of food. In general I observed the "curators" to be lovely people who came hungry and like all of us needed a nibble or two or three or four to keep them going before the meal was served.
And like any American woman I observe fashion and wonder what it would be like to have access to the most expensive salons and the highest end boutiques. Here was my opportunity to see it up close. I was pleasantly surprised to see that all the woman seemed to wear what most reflected their personalities and were not driven by trends. There were the classic evening gowns with giant bows across their shoulders, sequined gowns that seemed heavier than the woman herself, short (I mean short) satin cocktail dresses, and the uninspired boxie holiday jacket with wide legged black pants. Hair was long or bobbed, and smooth. Make-up, being the northeast, was minimal, which is contrary to the rest of the country. Lots of smiles and holiday cheer.
Another intesting thing was that several tables had much older patrons with them, may-be the grandfather or grandmother who were well into their 80 or 90's. Their children or grandchildren made sure that they were partaking in all of the evenings events including being in the ballroom or enjoying the gourmet meal. Unlike nouveau riche who might want to give the impression of youth and opulance these old money families seemed to revere the matriarch and patriarchs of their families. WAIT - As I re-read that I guess the more skeptical might think that they are protecting their inheritance by catering to their elders. Whatever, I 'm not that skeptical, and I like to think that it was respect and not greed that I was witnessing.
At one point I walked through three intersecting giant imposing doors and I wondered if the The Cloisters were haunted. I walked by the same place and thought the same thing again later. And again I had the same thought as I was passing through that corridor. When the idea struck more for the fourth time in the same spot I stopped and laughed to myself.. I'm not sure if The Cloisters as a whole are haunted, but some energy was practically hitting me over the head to get me to notice that this intersection of ancient doors had something going on. The Christmas music streaming from the ballroom, the clinking of forks on plates, and the chattering of voices kept me from any further investigation.
After the party we had to break down the catering event to leave no trace and to restore the museum to its original somber existence. It wasn't until we had removed most of the set-up from the room that we were using as a kitchen that I noticed the glass case with a wooden statue of Mary and baby Jesus pushed in the corner, or the Last Supper tapestry hanging over the area we had used for dirty dishes. Looking at the museum in its original form it seemed like a strange place to set-up banquet tables among ancient pillar and to stage a band underneath a wooden figure of Jesus hanging from a cross. But on the other hand is there a better place to celebrate an ancient birth than among ancient ruins?
So I worked my one night of catering in New York City. It had taken me four months to get inside of the Manhattan employment ring and for now just for the one gig. I was so tired as I walked with the crew of catering workers through the park from The Cloisters to the A train at 190th Street. Earlier in the day I had had the dreaded first sneeze of an oncoming cold, but even in my early stages of a cold and my fatigue from my long day working two jobs I tried to absorb the evening's events. I was grateful for the work, grateful for the window into a world of the privileged, grateful to be going home to a warm bed of my own, and grateful to be able to see the ebb and the flow of time and space.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Puffy Elf Sticker, Sign of Things to Come
If there is a penny in the middle of the road I will dodge a taxi to pick it up. I am always looking for signs from above that good fortune is just around the corner. But I am equally superstitious about telling anyone about good things that are coming before I actually have them in my possession. But last night I had a sign that I have to acknowledge. We brought our Buddy Scooter to NYC. In Colorado you do not need a license to drive or a license plate for a 50cc scooter, but come to find out that in New York you need all those things. The cost of registering the bike, and the cost of Jeff and I obtaining motorcycle licenses would add up to about $800. We have added that expense to the list of things we will afford when I get that dream job. But for now, we obey the alternate side of street parking and wheel it across the street every night, but never actually ride it. The scooter is absolutely adorable in a sea foam green, but for now it is covered to shield it from the elements and probably to give shelter to a late night rat rendezvous. Last night it was my turn to do the evening wheeling of the bike across the street when I noticed that someone had put a puffy elf sticker on the cover of the bike. It was like a little Christmas kiss from Santa himself.
Since I have splashed my job search and lack of success all over my blog I should keep you abreast of my triumphs, no matter how small. I found yet another job that I was qualified for on Craig's List. This was an open call for catering staff. Jordan had the day off, so after searching the apartment from top to bottom for my social security card, we headed down to the interview a few blocks from Macy's. I was glad that Jordan was with me to see the surreal scene on the 4th floor. It was like a movie set with auditions for Newsies in one room, auditions for Aladdin in another, auditions for Amhal and the Night Visitors in another, and a job for catering work in the the furthest room at the end of the hallway. Shouts for auditioning leads and chorus were shouted down the hallway and melodic voices seeped under the audition doorways. I headed down the long hall to the room for the catering company. After filling out the forms and waiting for 30 minutes I was usher into a room for a group interview. The woman quickly weeded out 1/2of the room by requiring no facial hair, no visible tattoos, no men with long, hair, and candidates were required to show a valid picture ID and social security card. She gave the low down on what is expected out of candidate and we were sent on our way. I did stay behind and let the interviewer know that I was really interested in the job. After a quick stop at a White Castle Jordan and I headed home. When I got back to the apartment there was an email waiting for me asking me to work on Thursday night at an event at the Cloisters. I scrambled to sign in and accepted the date. Don't get too excited, the interviewer did accentuate that for now they are only looking for staff for this Thursday night. She hoped to have more dates on the books soon, but for now that was it.
So.... for now I have a job for one night. I hope to dazzle them and that they will put me on their permanent roster. I am hoping that the elf on the scooter was a sign of good things to come.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Six Peas in a Pod (truly Living Large in a Small Space)
Last night Cameron put the size of our apartment to the test. She had two friends sleep over. Remember our apartment is 600 sq. ft. and Jeff, Jordan, and I were home as well. Cameron actually had two friends sleep over on Wednesday night, but Jordan and I were out late at a comedy club and Jeff basically spent the evening at his desk in his office/our bedroom, so the girls had the run of the house. This was an exercise in sharing the space.
I made dinner, which in itself is a battle with the ventilation and heating in our apartment. There is no ventilation except for opening the kitchen window to let air in. Using the stove along with running water and the heat of the sputtering, hissing radiator make the apartment a steam bath. All of this in conjunction with six bodies in a confined space was a sweaty mess. Luckily the window air conditioner in the living room is still in place, so we cranked it up to try to cool and dehumidify. My baked ziti was a delicious success. I had Cam and her friends help themselves first and they took their plates to the living room to eat and resume watching Christmas specials on TV. Jeff, Jordan and I followed. I took my plate back to Cameron’s room and sat at the desk that I work at during the day, Jordan climbed on Cam’s twin bed with her plate, and Jeff followed suit. This in itself was a comical sight. Within 10 minutes the three girls were in the bedroom with us discussing what movie they were planning on going to see that evening. Please stop and visualize this. Jeff, Jordan and I are eating at Cam’s desk and on her bed and three 13 year old girls are chatting with us as if it was normal for us to be eating squeezed into a tiny bedroom. I can only chalk up the fact that they were unphased by the scene to the fact that these New York City kids have seen bigger and smaller apartments and they take it all in-stride. But after they left the room Jeff and I looked at each other and broke out laughing at the absurdity of the scene.
One thing that a New Yorker’s will argue is that you don’t’ need a large apartment because you are so rarely home. So when Cam asked if she could have her friends sleep over I told her that they could spend the night if they got out of the house for part of the evening. They did walk down to Lincoln Center and saw “Hugo” at the AMC and walked home via 16 Handles Frozen Yogurt. Seven months ago if someone would have told me that I would let Cameron out alone on a Saturday night gallivanting all over the Upper West with her friends I would never have never believed you.
Jordan and I baked cookies to add the homey feel to the apartment, but again, the humidity and heat were high when the girls got back to the apartment. Since my bedroom is a loft bed with Jeff’s office and a closet underneath, the living room is really the only place to relax. So Jordan and I easily took up the living room space watching television while Jeff was working on his music under the loft The girls bounded between Cam’s bedroom, the living room, and stealing cookie dough out of the kitchen. Let me preface this whole story by saying Carlota and Danielle are absolutely lovely. Carlotta’s family is from Spain and Danielle’s family is from China, so Cameron being from the far away land of Colorado makes for an obvious friendship, and both of them are very warm and charismatic (parents of 13 year olds will understand that that is not always the case). At one point they took pillows and blankets onto the fire escape until the winter chill sent them back inside, and although we baked chocolate chip cookies they took a midnight run around the corner to Insomniac Cookies for the oatmeal raisin variety.
The mornings are actually the tightest squeeze. We have a wonderful fold out couch, but once it is unfolded it "is" the living room. The girls took their sweet time crawling out of bed so I had to squeeze around the bed to make my way to the kitchen to make coffee. The girls turned on VH1 Top 20 and I nestled on the foot of the fold out couch to enjoy my coffee and watch TV, but poor Jeff was religated to the bedroom., while Jordan was in the kitchen making pancakes. When Jordan was serving up breakfast to the girls Jeff and I scrambled like elves to put the bed away as fast as we could so that when the girls returned to the room, it was restored to a space capable of walking through.
My twenty year old son, Hunter, gets here next weekend. I have a feeling one big 20 year old testosterone driven body is going to dwarf our two little visitors this weekend. But for now, Cam is encouraged to invite friends over as long as they have a good sense of New York City apartment space.
I made dinner, which in itself is a battle with the ventilation and heating in our apartment. There is no ventilation except for opening the kitchen window to let air in. Using the stove along with running water and the heat of the sputtering, hissing radiator make the apartment a steam bath. All of this in conjunction with six bodies in a confined space was a sweaty mess. Luckily the window air conditioner in the living room is still in place, so we cranked it up to try to cool and dehumidify. My baked ziti was a delicious success. I had Cam and her friends help themselves first and they took their plates to the living room to eat and resume watching Christmas specials on TV. Jeff, Jordan and I followed. I took my plate back to Cameron’s room and sat at the desk that I work at during the day, Jordan climbed on Cam’s twin bed with her plate, and Jeff followed suit. This in itself was a comical sight. Within 10 minutes the three girls were in the bedroom with us discussing what movie they were planning on going to see that evening. Please stop and visualize this. Jeff, Jordan and I are eating at Cam’s desk and on her bed and three 13 year old girls are chatting with us as if it was normal for us to be eating squeezed into a tiny bedroom. I can only chalk up the fact that they were unphased by the scene to the fact that these New York City kids have seen bigger and smaller apartments and they take it all in-stride. But after they left the room Jeff and I looked at each other and broke out laughing at the absurdity of the scene.
One thing that a New Yorker’s will argue is that you don’t’ need a large apartment because you are so rarely home. So when Cam asked if she could have her friends sleep over I told her that they could spend the night if they got out of the house for part of the evening. They did walk down to Lincoln Center and saw “Hugo” at the AMC and walked home via 16 Handles Frozen Yogurt. Seven months ago if someone would have told me that I would let Cameron out alone on a Saturday night gallivanting all over the Upper West with her friends I would never have never believed you.
Jordan and I baked cookies to add the homey feel to the apartment, but again, the humidity and heat were high when the girls got back to the apartment. Since my bedroom is a loft bed with Jeff’s office and a closet underneath, the living room is really the only place to relax. So Jordan and I easily took up the living room space watching television while Jeff was working on his music under the loft The girls bounded between Cam’s bedroom, the living room, and stealing cookie dough out of the kitchen. Let me preface this whole story by saying Carlota and Danielle are absolutely lovely. Carlotta’s family is from Spain and Danielle’s family is from China, so Cameron being from the far away land of Colorado makes for an obvious friendship, and both of them are very warm and charismatic (parents of 13 year olds will understand that that is not always the case). At one point they took pillows and blankets onto the fire escape until the winter chill sent them back inside, and although we baked chocolate chip cookies they took a midnight run around the corner to Insomniac Cookies for the oatmeal raisin variety.
The mornings are actually the tightest squeeze. We have a wonderful fold out couch, but once it is unfolded it "is" the living room. The girls took their sweet time crawling out of bed so I had to squeeze around the bed to make my way to the kitchen to make coffee. The girls turned on VH1 Top 20 and I nestled on the foot of the fold out couch to enjoy my coffee and watch TV, but poor Jeff was religated to the bedroom., while Jordan was in the kitchen making pancakes. When Jordan was serving up breakfast to the girls Jeff and I scrambled like elves to put the bed away as fast as we could so that when the girls returned to the room, it was restored to a space capable of walking through.
My twenty year old son, Hunter, gets here next weekend. I have a feeling one big 20 year old testosterone driven body is going to dwarf our two little visitors this weekend. But for now, Cam is encouraged to invite friends over as long as they have a good sense of New York City apartment space.
Cameron's bedroom/My office
The hallway between the kitchen, the bathroom, and Cam's bedrooom.
Late night blogging in the livingroom.
Cameron's niche.
Cooking together in a tight space. It's all about timing.
Cameron reading her Mom's blog in the livingroom. Imagine the couch unflolded. The floor space disappears.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Unforgetable Job Interviews (or better) Job Interviews Better Forgotten
I am determined to keep a positive attitude and in keeping I believe that several signs have come to me this weekend to make me believe that I will find a job soon. So, while the frustration and raw nerves are still very real I want to share some of my more interesting and insane job interviews.
The first interview I had back in September was with a company called "The Bra'tender". I replied for an adminstrative support job more out of curiosity than anything, and the company did not disappoint. The company supplies undergarments to the Broadway, London's West End, and Broadway touring companies with under garments for their productions. Who would have thought, but somone has to do it. The owner was a very enthusiastic and dedicated New Yorker who was able to speak about women's undergarments as easily as most men discuss sports statistics. The weak point in the interview was that I was going to be his executive assistant's assistant and as I observed her from across the room she was a mild mannered young woman (may-be 35) wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and her hair in a ponytail. As the owner and I carried on a lively conversation about his business and I enthusiastically explained why I was the perfect candidate for the position I observed her reserved personality from across the room. I'm sure that after I left he asked her opinion and she gave a definiative "no". Although I have no problem learing new job skills and taking directions from more experienced coworkers of any age I think she may have had a probelm with training someone who had a particularly strong personlity.
I don't want to mention the name of the company, but they sell medical emergency detectors. They had a position for a receptionist. There were so many good things about this job, but the hours were less than desireable, 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.. I had an interview with the hiring manager and everything went perfectly. I had the experience, the enthusiasm and the availability. As the hiring manager approached the human resources adminisrator to send me to the next phase of employment she was on the phone, so she had a minutes to chat with me while we waited for her to finish her call. During the interview she asked me why I had moved from Colorado to New York. I explained that my two children were in college, so my husband and I were free to pursue new opportunities. But in this limbo interview she asked the pointed question, "So how old are your children?" I had no choice but to answer honestly, "I have a 22 year old daughter who just graduated, a 20 year old son in college, and a 13 yearl old caboose baby in the 8th grade." A saw a shadow cross her face. I could see her mind calculating the number of upcoming evening school functions that would require my attendance over the next few months, the number of personal phone calls I would receive on a daily basis from my husband and daughter regarding homework, schedules, and other personal issues. After hearing that I have a middel school aged daughter at home I believe that the candidate with the two hour commute from Staten Island that I was interviewing in conjunction with shown very brigh in the hiring manager's mind. In this case the job was right, but the available hours were wrong and may-be the hiring manager did the best thing for all of us by passing me by, Although, I still wonder if the question she asked me about the age of my children was actually a legal question to ask a job applicant.
One medical practice with several locations had a job for a receptionist that would float to the different locations. They offered medical receptionist training and the boutique practice sounded very desireable. I sent in my resume and got an email back requesting that I call in for an initial phone interview. If the girl I spoke to was 24 I would be surprised. She told me all about the practice and how tightly knit the team was and how important it was for them to find a candidate that would join the team in smooth transiition. I felt like I was in a sorority rush interview. After about ten minutes of her talking she began to wrap things up, then asked, "Do you have any questions?" Honestly, I just wanted to laugh and say "no", but I am looking for a job, so I pressed forward by replying, "Well, let me tell you a little bit about myself." Of course she had tuned out probablyy in the first 30 seconds of the interview when she realized that I was more her mother's age than her own. Even as I spoke I wanted to stop mid sentcence, but I continued on with the painful drill.
I would say that my interview at a bowling alley (think neon lights, disco music, and music videos) had to be one of the most frustrating. I had a four o'clock interview and the hiring manager did not show up until 6:00. You may wonder why I waited for two hours, but I am desperating looking for a job and the position as an party/event manager was something that I was more than qualified for and it actually sounded interesting in the sea of security desk jobs and cashier positions that I was swimming through in the help wanted ads. Waiting for the guy to arrive was myself and two other girls (may-be 20 years old). When I finally met the guy I was glad to see that he was in his early 40's and he made me think that it was just a matter of interviewing with the Director of Special Events to get me started. The call never came. What? Rejected by a bowling alley? That was definately a low point.
The one that got away was a job as a floor manager at a busy Upper West restaurant near Columbia University. The pay was great, the hours were good and I was more than qualified. I would basically oversee the floor staff and bar, handle the cash at the end of the shift, and provide customer service as needed. The one thing that I did not have was a rapport with the hiring manager. I imagine he summers in the Hamptons and prides himself of his sailings skills, and there is nothing wrong with this except that we had absolutely no connection. Our conversation was flat and forced. I just didn't shine. Most people like me, but there was nothing that I could have said or done that would have made this man think that coming into work with me every day was going to be of any interest to him.
As you can imagine these experiences have left me feeling rather minimized and humbled. But I can't quit. I have contacted everyone I can think of as a possible contact and some long lost friends have even contacted me to say that they have put my job search in their thoughts to share with friends who might be in hiring modes in their professional lives. One day very soon it will click. Someone will call or email and in my interview with them they will see my enthusiasm and abudant work expereience and offer me a dream job. We have come too far to retreat. I am too employable to be unemployable (several recuriters have actually told me that). Prayer, persistance, and the support of my family and friends will see me through this hard time and into my next phase as a full time employee in a dream job in Manhattan! You can guess what I'll be asking Santa for this year.
The first interview I had back in September was with a company called "The Bra'tender". I replied for an adminstrative support job more out of curiosity than anything, and the company did not disappoint. The company supplies undergarments to the Broadway, London's West End, and Broadway touring companies with under garments for their productions. Who would have thought, but somone has to do it. The owner was a very enthusiastic and dedicated New Yorker who was able to speak about women's undergarments as easily as most men discuss sports statistics. The weak point in the interview was that I was going to be his executive assistant's assistant and as I observed her from across the room she was a mild mannered young woman (may-be 35) wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and her hair in a ponytail. As the owner and I carried on a lively conversation about his business and I enthusiastically explained why I was the perfect candidate for the position I observed her reserved personality from across the room. I'm sure that after I left he asked her opinion and she gave a definiative "no". Although I have no problem learing new job skills and taking directions from more experienced coworkers of any age I think she may have had a probelm with training someone who had a particularly strong personlity.
I don't want to mention the name of the company, but they sell medical emergency detectors. They had a position for a receptionist. There were so many good things about this job, but the hours were less than desireable, 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.. I had an interview with the hiring manager and everything went perfectly. I had the experience, the enthusiasm and the availability. As the hiring manager approached the human resources adminisrator to send me to the next phase of employment she was on the phone, so she had a minutes to chat with me while we waited for her to finish her call. During the interview she asked me why I had moved from Colorado to New York. I explained that my two children were in college, so my husband and I were free to pursue new opportunities. But in this limbo interview she asked the pointed question, "So how old are your children?" I had no choice but to answer honestly, "I have a 22 year old daughter who just graduated, a 20 year old son in college, and a 13 yearl old caboose baby in the 8th grade." A saw a shadow cross her face. I could see her mind calculating the number of upcoming evening school functions that would require my attendance over the next few months, the number of personal phone calls I would receive on a daily basis from my husband and daughter regarding homework, schedules, and other personal issues. After hearing that I have a middel school aged daughter at home I believe that the candidate with the two hour commute from Staten Island that I was interviewing in conjunction with shown very brigh in the hiring manager's mind. In this case the job was right, but the available hours were wrong and may-be the hiring manager did the best thing for all of us by passing me by, Although, I still wonder if the question she asked me about the age of my children was actually a legal question to ask a job applicant.
One medical practice with several locations had a job for a receptionist that would float to the different locations. They offered medical receptionist training and the boutique practice sounded very desireable. I sent in my resume and got an email back requesting that I call in for an initial phone interview. If the girl I spoke to was 24 I would be surprised. She told me all about the practice and how tightly knit the team was and how important it was for them to find a candidate that would join the team in smooth transiition. I felt like I was in a sorority rush interview. After about ten minutes of her talking she began to wrap things up, then asked, "Do you have any questions?" Honestly, I just wanted to laugh and say "no", but I am looking for a job, so I pressed forward by replying, "Well, let me tell you a little bit about myself." Of course she had tuned out probablyy in the first 30 seconds of the interview when she realized that I was more her mother's age than her own. Even as I spoke I wanted to stop mid sentcence, but I continued on with the painful drill.
I would say that my interview at a bowling alley (think neon lights, disco music, and music videos) had to be one of the most frustrating. I had a four o'clock interview and the hiring manager did not show up until 6:00. You may wonder why I waited for two hours, but I am desperating looking for a job and the position as an party/event manager was something that I was more than qualified for and it actually sounded interesting in the sea of security desk jobs and cashier positions that I was swimming through in the help wanted ads. Waiting for the guy to arrive was myself and two other girls (may-be 20 years old). When I finally met the guy I was glad to see that he was in his early 40's and he made me think that it was just a matter of interviewing with the Director of Special Events to get me started. The call never came. What? Rejected by a bowling alley? That was definately a low point.
The one that got away was a job as a floor manager at a busy Upper West restaurant near Columbia University. The pay was great, the hours were good and I was more than qualified. I would basically oversee the floor staff and bar, handle the cash at the end of the shift, and provide customer service as needed. The one thing that I did not have was a rapport with the hiring manager. I imagine he summers in the Hamptons and prides himself of his sailings skills, and there is nothing wrong with this except that we had absolutely no connection. Our conversation was flat and forced. I just didn't shine. Most people like me, but there was nothing that I could have said or done that would have made this man think that coming into work with me every day was going to be of any interest to him.
As you can imagine these experiences have left me feeling rather minimized and humbled. But I can't quit. I have contacted everyone I can think of as a possible contact and some long lost friends have even contacted me to say that they have put my job search in their thoughts to share with friends who might be in hiring modes in their professional lives. One day very soon it will click. Someone will call or email and in my interview with them they will see my enthusiasm and abudant work expereience and offer me a dream job. We have come too far to retreat. I am too employable to be unemployable (several recuriters have actually told me that). Prayer, persistance, and the support of my family and friends will see me through this hard time and into my next phase as a full time employee in a dream job in Manhattan! You can guess what I'll be asking Santa for this year.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
To Join the Crowd or to Stay Home and Watch it on TV?
crowd 1 (kroud)
n.
1. A large number of persons gathered together; a throng.
2. The common people; the populace.
3. A group of people united by a common characteristic, as age, interest, or vocation: the over-30 crowd.
4. A group of people attending a public function; an audience.
In the last two weeks I have been part of two of the most famous crowds in America. Last week I wrote about our efforts to get as close as possible to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and then last night Jordan and I joined the masses and went down to see the tree lighting at Rockefeller Center. But what I want to talk about is the crowd and what it is like to be in the thick of tens of thousands of people (I am not exaggerating the numbers).
Last night at Rockefeller Centrer Jordan and I were able to make our way down 50th Street to the side of Radio City Music Hall heading towards the plaza where the tree would be lit in two hours after various pop star performances and Al Rocher talking to the crowd. Because President Obama was just blocks away at the Sheridan on 53rd Street security was insanely tight and all of the major avenues were blocked off to allow him several exits through the city. So not only were thousands of people vying to get into the tree lighting area, but the police were keeping people behind metal barricades on the sidewalks so that the streets did not become conjested. For people with small children and especially for people with babies in strollers it was almost impossible for them to move an inch forward or backward. At one point we found a nice spot where we could see the big screen tv and hear the singinng over the loud speakers (the performers were down in the skating rink so no one but a VIP audience actually saw the performances). People weaved in and out of the crowd, but you have to understand that it was a crush, so if anyone pushed through it distrubed the angle you were viewing the screen and the tree. At one point a group of at least six basketball players pushed their way forward. I mean they were at least seven feet tall and I am not exaggerating. They stopped in front of us. WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING? They were literally a wall of humans. The people who come to these events are for the most part families out to celebrate the season, but don't mess with a woman hanging on to five kids who has finally gotten to a point where all of her kids have a view. Luckily, that is exactly the sort of family standing next to us and she gave the basketball players an ear full and they pushed forward far enough to clear our view and block some other poor spectators view of Justin Bieber singing his heart out on the big screen.
After the tree was lit some barricades near the tree where opened and the crowds pushed forward for a better view and for the photo op. For the most part everyone moved in a slow crush forward. At one point I allowed my mind to wonder as I looked up at 30 Rock as we inched forward in a shoulder to shoulder mass. Certainly if a terrorist wanted to do some serious damage all that needed to happen was for a small explosion to cause the crowd to stampede forward. With a Christian holiday celebratoin being televised all across the country and the President of the United States just blocks away at a black tie fund raiser what more opportune time to hit our Achiles Heal. At that moment there was no room to move. I mean, no room to move. I took a deep breathe and took my eyes off of the skyscrapers that surrounded me and joined back in the lively conversations that always pop-up when complete strangers are thrust together in the name of a good time.
Just to revisit the Thanksgiving Day Parade so that I can vent about something I had never seen before in a crowd. When the balloons floated by everyone looked up and was able to enjoy Kermit the Frog as he headed down Central Park West, but the floats were barely visible with people pushed together so tightly and to add insult to injury as soon as a float or a a marching band passed all the parents shoulders suddenly had a kindergardener perched up on them, so the view was completely gone. Then there was a very daring subset that actually brought ladders. For the most part they were step ladders, but there were actually a few full sized ladders. These people had no shame. They came to the parade to see it and by god they weren't going to let some babies on their parents shoulders stop them.
No, we will not be going to Time Square for New Year's Eve. My tolerance of crowds is reserved for family fun including parades, Christmas tree lighting ceremonies, shuttle busses to the beach, and lines for boats at the Boat House in Central Park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. But grocery stores at rush hour literally packed with people so that a grocery cart is prohibitive drives me screaming from the market. I pick and chose my crowds!
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