This sign outside my polling place always amuses me.
I had a pretty good day today. I was feeling a little depressed about being a week away from unemployment, but then my boss offered to pick up lunch from Baggin's for me. We even shared a joke about the name of the sandwich I ordered, Unforgettable. The punchline is I honestly misremembered whether the Unforgettable was the turkey with avocado and cream cheese, the turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce, or the egg salad. It turned out to be my least favorite of the three, but it was good.
During the afternoon I also finished my current reconciliation project, saw a variety of butterflies (I'm getting rather fond of them, despite previous claims to the contrary), and best of all, got a call from a recruiter. Over the weekend, I had updated my resume and uploaded it to five sites. This recruiter saw it, and decided to try again to connect with me. In the past, our timing has been terrible: she tends to call me right after I accept a job elsewhere. Not this time. I'm meeting with her the day after this job ends.
What makes this especially good news us that she has several permanent positions in mind to send me out for. I've come to the conclusion that I hate temping. I never feel like I'm quite part of the team. I'm just the temp, peering through a window at a happy family I'll never be part of. Job security is poor, benefits are problematic (was I eligible for the open enrollment that ended August 31st, which I found out about on August 31st, when the plan administrator was closed?), and just when I overcome my shyness enough to get to know a few people, the job is over. I would happily continue to work with the company in Oro Valley (I forget the silly pseudonym I gave it for blogging purposes), but I can't and that's that. And bouncing around like this, I start to feel as if I can't hold down a job. I know it's not my fault that First Magnus folded and the RV dealership cut staff in the wake of low sales and high gas prices, but it feels as if I'm a bit of a jinx!
So I'm thrilled at the idea of trying out for a permanent job. That's exactly what I want, to find a good company and stay there for 20 years.
And here is where I need your help. Not everyone's help, but help from, let's say, three or four of you who consider me a personal friend. This recruiter wants me to provide at least six references, a mixture of professional and personal ones. It's getting to be too long ago for my UoP instructors, and my ex-bosses are mostly all scattered to the winds, or dead. So I need to fill things out with a couple of you folks! If you've known me, online or both online and off, for at least three years, not just as that blogger with the dogs but on a personal level, then I'd appreciate you serving as a reference. (I should just email you, but I thought it would be more fun to blog the request. Please email me if you're interested in helping out.)
This evening I voted in the Democratic primary for local and statewide offices. I was enthusistically greeted by the people working the election, probably because they were having a slow day. They asked why I took pictures outside. I told them it's a tradition with me to document that I voted by taking pictures of the signs. Someone offered to take a picture of me voting, but I declined. Fun fact: I voted for Paul Newman for Corporation Commission, because he's pro-solar. Last year I voted for Dean Martin for some other statewide office - treasurer, I think.
And tonight I watched some Quantum Leap for the first time in a couple of years. I also took the Seventh Doctor's umbrella away from Cayenne, and later caught her chewing a California Adventure map. Bad dog! Since I scolded her, she's been avoiding me. Boo hoo!
Oh, and I doubled the length of the Wikipedia entry about Richard Wilson, a fairly obscure but award-winning science fiction writer who was an acquaintance of mine in college. He worked for Syracuse University as its press officer, and I found out tonight that he was the main person who convinced a slew of major science fiction writers to donate manuscripts, galleys, correspondence etc. to the S.U. research library. (I was once shown a 1950s fanzine donated by Frederick Pohl, and a color drawing of Vincent Price donated by Forrest J Ackerman.) So I wrote about that.
With references, of course.