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My resume's imperfect. I know this.
I also know that a bit of time off between jobs isn't unheard of, especially for people of my generation. Remember, when we graduated from college, the economy was dicey. People I know practically sold naming rights to their firstborns in exchange for shitty entry level jobs with zero benefits.
Plus, back then, the whole concept of "gap years" was coming into fruition. Suddenly that year off after high school or college to help child prostitutes in Southeast Asia (while perhaps scoring fine Asian hash during one's downtime) didn't seem so hippy dippy and odd anymore. It became normal, and in some quarters, expected.
Given that all of this is pretty much a given these days, I felt a bit squirmy today when asked about a couple of minor gaps on my res. In fact, I felt more exposed than at my last GYN appointment.
One resume gap was after my graduation..."What were you doing for those months?" the person asks.
Well, I was fucking enjoying not punching a clock and putting up with office bullshit. I traveled abroad (but not for long enough!). I relaxed. I miraculously found an apartment and a crazy roommate. But most importantly...I looked for a job, dammit.
Gone are the days where everyone you know goes straight from cap 'n gown to corporate clock punching. That I even had to explain myself kinda irked me. I mean, the questions are expected, but the whole tone of the questioning was sort of...I dunno...borderline accusatory.
If I sound a bit defensive, it's because I am. I never took a proper semester abroad or "gap year." Of course, on an academic calendar, then on the calendar of a recent grad, I enjoyed more work-free days than most working Americans. Duh. But believe it or not, I worked during most of my school vacations. And when I wasn't working, I wasn't exactly enjoying a carefree life. Even on my most exhilarating of travels, I always knew that the time to find a real job was just around the corner. And yes, finding that real job was every bit as hard as I'd suspected it would be. Perhaps even harder.
So just the idea of anyone looking at that time of my life in an even vaguely accusatory manner really gets my back up. I know how my friends and I busted ass to land jobs, and I remember all too well how we all suffered: the anxiety, the dashed hopes, the fears of bill collectors, and, perhaps worst of all, even the faintest idea of our parents saying that they'd "told ya so."
It's harder in today's world to realize one's dreams. This overpopulated is growing increasingly competitive and elitist. The jaded person in me thinks the "you can be anything you want to be" line is a load of crap.
But I guess for the young and naive, such platitudes are good motivators. What's saying? "Shoot for the stars. At the very least, you'll land on the moon."
Without going into detail, I can honestly say I've been officially penalized at work for not kissing sufficient ass. It's an unofficial job requirement...one I clearly can't satisfy.
A co-worker of mine who seems to have a smoother time dealing with the horrid excuse for a exec who runs our firm recently told me, in all sincerity, that a "a little ass kissing goes a long way with 'So in So.'" My co-worker was trying to help me by basically encouraging me to pucker up, and pronto.
Uh. No. And no. While I appreciate the attempt on my co-worker's part to make my tenure at the office smoother and less frustrating, I will not be taking the aforementioned advice. EVER.
I'd rather get fired than kiss some idiot's ass.
(That being said, I feel grudging admiration my co-worker's ability to do what I can't, yet I don't think less of the co-worker. To each his own, right? Obviously the co-worker is a bigger person than I in this regard, and would clearly have a better shot at public office than I ever would. Not that I'd ever want to whore myself out as a candidate, but that's another topic for another day.)
Back to my Ass Kissing Aversion: I'm sure I'm not the only one on the planet who feels this way. My stubborn streak makes it ridiculously easy for me to not give in, though. Perhaps that's the difference between me and a lot of people.
As fortune would have it, I've run into a few job leads this week. Friends have tipped me off to some openings in what could possible turn out to be much greener pastures. (For the record, I adore my friends!) Even if nothing pans out immediately, it feels great to know that I don't have to take the current nonsense from the current boss forever.
I firmly believe that all jobs come with a certain level of BS and annoying tasks. That's why it's called work, not "paid recreation." However, the current situation is over-the-top in the BS Department. I'm old enough to have been around and to have worked in many types of workplaces. The last time I was treated with this little respect was when I was cruising down the hall without a Hall Pass in high school. Even as a lowly intern during my college years, I was treated with more dignity and kindness.
In other news, I showed a space today in Upper Manhattan that had mad peeps milling around in front--talking loudly, laughing, smoking. Free country and all that, but they were kinda creepy, to the point that one of the clients seemed truly turned off. Fun.
I've been making an effort towards forcing myself to be more detail-oriented and thorough at work. It seems that what Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss (CMM from here on) wants, after all. And, believe it or not, I've been doing it all with a convincing fake smile. I was almost proud of myself. Until. . .
Today CMM gives me a bunch of stuff that CMM wants updated. Ok, fine. I go through everything, looking into each property in detail, and provide the update towards day's end. With a frickin' SMILE, too!
CMM Boss then complains to another one of the higher ups that "I already knew XYZ. Why did she include that information on here?"
(Then why the hell did CMM Boss ask me in the first place? More interestingly, why didn't the boss have the balls to approach me directly if there was some sort of a problem with the update I provided?)
The other higher up said, "Well, if Anon NY Realtor hadn't provided the info you already knew, then you'd be complaining about that instead."
Which is 100% right. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is ever good enough for CMM.
While it's better to err on the side of caution with regards to Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss, it's an incredible waste of energy all around, especially considering that no matter what, there will be complaints and dissatisfaction.
Have you ever worked for someone you could barely stand to look at, much less take orders from? I have, and I do.
This particular person takes everything the worker bees say or do in the wrong way. I've been mis-interpreted so many times on this job, I'd started to doubt my sanity. Seems that lately every innocuous remark, or "just FYI" email has been taken as either aggressive, passive aggressive, or somehow offensive in amazingly creative ways I'd never have been able to think up on my own. It must take a lot of talent and hella shitty self-esteem to:
A) Think everything your workers say or do is a personal affront to one's competence as a boss.
and
B) To be so much on the defensive that you manage to mis-interpret even the most mundane of utterances.
Seriously, the world doesn't revolve around you. Or me. Did ya miss that memo? Oh yeah, you did. Because you never read the memos your workers send you and you come storming into our offices bitching and whining about issues that have already been dealt with ten times over. Read the memo. It'll save you a world of stress. (I know you don't give a rat's ass about any stress it'll save us. We're here on this earth for no other reason than to serve you, after all. It's why we were born. It's our reason to live.)
Thank goodness my co-workers are a talented, hard-working, and equally picked on/mis-interpreted bunch. Though I will admit some of them have adapted in Stockholm Syndrome-esque ways that don't seem too functional. I'm like the new prisoner who's all "Hey guys, this isn't fair! We don't have to take this crap."
And they're all, "Yeah, but they give us stale bread and lukewarm water a couple of times a day. Just you wait. You'll be grateful for that someday, missy. Maybe you'll even get watered down pea soup if you're really good."
I hate to be this way, but I think the ol' resume's about to get dusted off for another round of fun. Though there are some major changes coming up at the office, so depending on how those things play out. . .
We'll see. For now it seems the smartest thing to do is to try act like the personal attacks aren't really personal (whatever) and to sip (not gulp!) a glass of fine red when I get home at night.
What a shit way to start the new year.
Happy 2008, folks.
I'm constantly making new resolutions, setting new goals, all of that self-improvement-y type stuff. I'll admit that somehow the thought of a fresh start, a whole brand-new, un-used year stretching out before me gets to me--in a good way. So no, I'm not in the camp of people who think New Year's resolutions are corny, unneeded, or silly. In fact, I've been known to have kept/fulfilled a few of my own New Year's resolutions.
2008 New Year's Resolution:
To post more to this blog. Also, I have a title change in mind for No Vacancy NYC--something a bit catchier. So I'll probably re-launch this blog under that name sometime in the first month of 2008.
In order to post more, it seems I'll have to go into stealth mode at the office (a bit scary, and not the ideal scenario for obvious reasons.) OR I could simply commit to 15-30 minutes of posting per day. . .which is tough in its own way, because when I'm not working, the last thing I want to do is think about and write about. . .work. Even for 15 minutes.
Speaking of work, today I got out of work early. But damn, was I surprised at the amount of calls I got both today and on Christmas Eve. Forget about real estate for a day or two, people, and celebrate the damn holidays. Sheesh.
Happy 2008, everyone!
By now pretty much everyone in NY who watches the news or reads the local bird cage liners has heard of the grisly murder of "Broker to the Stars" Linda Stein. Now apparently her alleged killer, her assistant who confessed, is claiming that some guy dressed as ninja did the deed.
Whomever killed Ms. Stein, frankly I'm surprised brokers don't get attacked more often. Let's face it, brokers are in the same neighborhood as used car salespeople on the most disliked professionals list. Only ambulance chasing lawyers and telemarketers are lower, and I could be wrong about that, so don't quote me.
Think about it. Brokers often get paid what seems like a lot of money for doing what seems like very little. (In reality, there are few easy deals, but most consumers don't see the nitty gritty of what real estate agents do, so they think we're overpaid).
Brokers are also vulnerable. In what other profession, besides perhaps being a TV reporter or some sort of actor or adult film star, is your picture on the internet? Even worse, your contact info and even parts of your schedule is often online, in order to attract customers to, say, an open house you may be running.
A motivated stalker could do serious damage with this info. In the end, even an exclusive agent like Ms. Stein--someone in that rareified realm of brokers to the rich and famous, someone who should have been nearly inaccessible-- was surprisingly easy to get to.
Scary stuff. Scary enough to make me cancel an evening appointment when I learned the space didn't have electricity.
