Monday Morning Maddie

 

 

So it's been a pretty emotional two weeks with my sweet Maddie. Seemingly overnight, she was having a really hard time trying to stand up and I worried that maybe it was time to say goodbye. She's also had this cough for a while now and it just sounds like something other than allergies. She still has a strong spirit and a good appetite so I thought maybe there was hope.

I finally got the courage to call the vet after crying myself to sleep for two days and I was able to get her in Monday afternoon. I had to carry her in since she was struggling so much with simple tasks like standing. Walking was next to impossible.

The vet evaluated her and took some x-rays. The x-rays showed that she has some marked degeneration in her lumbar region but she said her lungs sounded clear. I had gone the holistic route with Maddie starting in the fall but the vet felt it was best to get her back on meds and switch her to a prescription food that was specifically for joint health. She told me to keep an eye on her cough and suggested some lozenges that would help to calm it if it got worse. I guess when dogs get older, they loose the cilia that allows us to cough things out easily.

 

My new manager has horses and she suggested a joint supplement that she gives her horses that's also used for cats and dogs so I headed to the tack store after the vet. I looked at Maddie in the back seat and started crying happy tears that I was going to get more time with her.

 

Then the vet called the next day.

 

She said that she sent out the x-ray to be evaluated by a specialist and that they think she has a pretty significant mass in her right chest cavity. All I heard was ultrasound, surgery, cancer, chemotherapy.

 

Honestly, the rest of the conversation was a blur. I just can't imagine putting her through surgery. She's TWELVE. And she's never been a particularly strong since I got her a year and half ago. Millie's going to be turning 12 soon but you would never know it. She gets around like a champ and has the energy of a puppy.

 

The vet said that if I do nothing, she'll get progressively worse eventually so I've decided to focus on helping her to walk better and be as comfortable as possible.

 

My sister said that I should expect this since I'm adopting older dogs but, honestly, I would be just as sad if I had her for a month, a year or the full 12 years.

 

Monday Morning Maddie

 

I'm not sure what luck o' the Irish means, but I'm pretty sure it means, breakfast in bed.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"That's just perfect"

Original Post Date, March 16, 2010



I just read about Megan Fox's clubbed thumb. Awesome.



And I already knew about Tina's Fey's scar. Fabulous.



These women make no excuses or attempts to hide their flaws. In fact, they barely acknowledge them.

I'm scarred, too.

No, not mentally. Although, God knows that's the truth. I’m referring to my physical scar. Can you see it?



That’s right. It’s just above my lip on my left hand side. I was two years old when my older sister, Lisa, pretended to be a horse and beckoned me to climb onto her back. As any self-respecting, Bonanza watching four-year old would do, she bucked this rider and I went flying into the corner of a table.

The result was a trip to the emergency room; stitches for me and an ass beating for her. Since the year was 1968, I was likely stitched back together with a rusty sewing needle and the resulting scar is my penance for acting like a two-year old.

For all the different levels of angst and insecurity I've felt over the years, I’m surprisingly unaffected by a scar right on my face. I’ve only had person ever ask me about it on a date and he blurted it out in a fit of nervous chatter somewhere between the salad and the main course during our first meal together.

I actually think it makes my face a little more interesting.

But then, I'm the one attracted to the guy with the crooked smile or the funky cowlick in his hair. And I think the woman with the space between her teeth or the oddly placed mole is beautiful in such a unique way.

Let's face it. Perfection is overrated.


And more than a little boring. So I'll keep my scar.

And my chubby dog:



And my hyperextended fingers:



And we'll be just fine.

Week from Tuesday, then?

The other day, I ran into a friend from my former (miserable) life at the hospital. She and I were both supervisors for the Eye Institute. I managed the support staff of secretaries, front desk staff and file clerks for six locations while she managed all the ophthalmic techs. After the administrator left that we both reported to (and LOVED), we had a revolving door of dopes and power hungry bitches for two years and it was nice to have someone to complain about it with on a daily basis.

 

I had promised that we would keep in touch and try to get together at least once every few months but that hasn't happened. But, like I explained to her, it's nothing personal. I'm an equal opportunity ignorer.

 

Is ignorer a word?  

 

Let's just say that I equally ignore everyone. Notice I didn't say "avoid". I really don't intend to let months go by but without seeing or contacting anyone but before I know it, I'm running into someone, once again, who is scolding me for not calling them.

 

 

It's odd because once I left the daily grind, I envisioned having all kinds of time to fill my social calendar with events that I would pick and choose based on my mood of the moment. Life would be grand!

 

Don't get me wrong. My life is pretty damn good but some days I wonder the heck I did the entire day. It's all relative, I suppose. I had stress in my life before and I have some stress now but it's at such a different level. I love that the worst thing I have to deal with is not being able to get an appointment until tomorrow to have my dog's nails trimmed.

 

Hey, are you free for lunch?

 

Monday Morning Millie

Hey, Mom, I agree with what Winnie the Pooh said, “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”  

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.

"How to be an effective communicator"

Original post date: July 23, 2009

 

 

 

 

I spent 8 hours today in a management training that focused on "What is takes to be an effective leader in our organization." One of the things that I value about working here is that there are opportunities for growth in different areas based on your track record and your willingness to learn and not based solely on your education level. Just before lunch, there was a moderated panel discussion with 4 leaders from different departments in the hospital.

- Panelist A studied in the Phillippines and is the manager of the Histocompatibility & Immunogenics Laboratory and the Molecular Diagnostics Laboratory. Yeah, I have no idea what that is, either.

- Panelist B studied in India and is the VP of Radiology Services.

- Panelist C has worked in healthcare and is the manager of Accounts Receivables and handles billing for 300 physicians.

- Panelist D has worked for the institution for 33 years and currently manages the Supply Chain Services department.

Each panelist was presented with questions that focused on their role as a leader and their role in employee development. Some answered with very succinct responses, some were a little more philosophical and one made no sense at all. It was obvious that he has advanced through the system based on his longevity and ability to adapt to the changing environment and not because of his education.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not an education snob. C'mon, I don't even understand what Panelist A does. Personally, I don't hold any advanced degrees (which I'm reminded of by one doctor who is an education snob-"I have my MBA. Do YOU have an MBA??) and I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I take pride in my communication skills and my ability to interact effectively with all different kinds of individuals but I don't thumb through my word-a-day calendar to enhance my vocabulary before meetings and I don't try to use convoluted analogies to make a point.

Let me give you an example:

Question 1: What do you see is your role as a leader in the organization?

Here was his response: "It's like when you plant a tree or flowers and those flowers or trees, too, are out in the sun. Some trees will only grow in certain climates but others will grow in any climate. And flowers, too. You need to provide that climate so they'll grow. I also use the motivitators that the system has in place." (No, not a typo. He said motivitators.)

Uh huh, uh huh, I see...

Question 2: What systems are in place to help you be an effective leader?

"I can't just do it all myself. Take my shirt for example. It doesn't just wear itself. It's made up of a series of seams and stitching that make it stay on my body. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Uh huh, uh huh, I do....

Moderator: "Okay, thank you all for your responses. Do we have any questions from the audience?"

Yes. What the F#$! is that guy talking about?

Our meeting was held in Shaker Heights, which if this sounds familiar to you, is the name of the city that President Obama held his town hall meeting in today after he visited the Cleveland Clinic. Yesterday, you may have caught a reporter asking the President why he chose to visit the Cleveland Clinic. He floundered for a moment before he said that the reason he chose the Clinic was for its "doctors unique focus on patient care and affordable services over profit."

Let me clarify this for you. It's bull. I work for the OTHER large healthcare institution in Cleveland that shall remain unnamed. The Clinic does not have more affordable services. In fact, dollar for dollar, a great majority of their services are higher priced than ours. What attracted Obama was the model that the Clinic employs regarding physician salaries.

A number of healthcare institutions work on an incentivized model of compensation for their physicians. What this means is that a physician will be paid X number of dollars as a base salary and has the opportunity to earn additional money based on surgeries, higher numbers of patient visits, etc. The perception is that this type of model encourages unnecessary tests and procedures soley for the benefit of the physician's bottom line.

The Clinic has all of their physicians on a flat salary but don't think for a second that administration doesn't know dollar for dollar where those doctors stand at any given minute of the day. Meet your productivity or lose your job. Which is better? I really don't know. And I could give you a long dissertation on the state of healthcare but I'll save you from that.

Instead I'm going to prepare for my staff meeting tomorrow by deciding what kind of flower I am and making sure that I wear a blouse with seams. I want to be sure that I motivitate everyone because I know that some of them are unedumacated.

Don't adjust your TV

 

 

 

 

Yes, you're in the right place!

 

I'm in the process of trying to simplify my life and my blog is part of that. I've had the same template for about 3 years and it was time for a change. I still need to play around with it so I can add/delete some things.

 

What do you think?

All hail the King. Cake, that is.

Did you guys every hear of a King cake?

 

I walked into the kitchen at work this morning and there was this odd looking cake decorated in Mardi Gras colors.

 

It had a note on it saying, "Look out for the baby inside" and I thought that was pretty weird.

 

My first day, as I was being walked around and introduced to everyone, I met a guy named King. Well, King is quite the foodie and he offered me one of the cinnamon buns that he had made. I was in cinnamon bun heaven! King travels around the world as an engineer for us and is currently compiling recipes that he's gathered over the years for a cookbook. Occasionally, he'll make one of those recipes and bring it in for people to try.

 

So, OF COURSE, I assumed "King" had made the cake for Fat Tuesday and scribbled this little note on it to be silly. Well, I couldn't have been any more wrong.

 

Apparently, the King cake has a long standing tradition in New Orleans. Some say the tradition of the wreath shaped cake to honor Christianity's Three Kings goes back to old world France and Spain who then spread the tradition to the Americas. The mardi gras colors are represented in purple for justice, green for faith and gold for power.

 

A toy baby (to represent the Baby Jesus) is placed in the cake and whoever gets the piece with the baby will have good luck. As long as they don't choke on it.

 

 

The tradition was started in our office about 10 years ago by someone's wife who happened to be from New Orleans and thought it would be a fun thing to bring in. The baby recipient is kept secret until the cake is gone. The "winner" is ensured good luck and has the lucky honor of buying the cake next year.

 

For the record, I didn't get the baby but I think I'm pretty lucky to be part of such a fun group anyway. 

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.

"Do you smell that?"

Original Post Date, September 28, 2009

I stopped wearing perfume a few years ago. It wasn't really a conscious decision. I ran out of a fragrance I had been wearing and the prospect of picking out something new was too overwhelming. You know I'm incapable of making decisions. And a whole bottle of perfume is a big commitment. You know I have trouble with commitment.

The last fragrance I wore was chosen by a man I was seeing. We had gone out a few times when he said to me, "I have to ask you something."

"Okay, go ahead."

"I don't want you to get mad."

"Well, gee, when you preface it like that, I guess I'll do my best."

"I would like to take you perfume shopping."

"Oh. So you don't like my perfume?"

"Um..honestly, sweetheart, no, I really don't."

"Oh. Okay. Well, what is it about it that don't you like?"

"Well, you kinda smell like an old lady."

"Oh. Like Bengay and urine?"

"No...no...just cheap and overwhelming."

"Oh gosh, well, when you put it like that, how could I be mad?"

And honestly, I wasn't. It amused me more than anything else.

So I've been thinking about my whole dating life or lack thereof. Maybe it's not as black and white as boy meets girl. There might be something to the olfactory angle. Just maybe I should be thinking of it in a more primal way like animals do. Let's analyze this.

Animals rely on pheromones to attract the opposite sex and signal mating readiness. Researchers studying animals have shown how pheromones work, tracing complex neurological paths to stimulate parts of the brain that are deeply rooted in instinct.

A male hamster smeared with vaginal secretions from a female hamster will attract male suitors. Queen bees ensure their royal status by excreting chemicals that sterilize the other female bees around them. A female boar, after one whiff of a particular secretion from a male boar, will immediately assume the mating position. It usually takes me two lemon drop martinis.

I remember back in the late 80's, a pheromone perfume was introduced to the market that claimed to attract the opposite sex. Of course, when I was in my 20's, it didn't take much to attract the opposite sex. Guys wanted the hot girls in Jordache jeans and girls were eager to expose their boobies to boys wearing pink T-shirts under Armani-like jackets a la Don Johnson in Miami Vice.

The existence of pheromones as sexual attractants in humans is debatable. Some theorize that they don't exist at all or that they exist in the young but weaken with age.

I think we've all come to the realization that I'm a sucker for a pretty face. And that these pretty boys don't serve me well in my quest for a long term relationship. So I'm going to do my own clinical trial on the pheromone phenomenon. I will act as both investigator and participant.

Phase One: I'll place another personal ad online but this time, I'll seek out the successful and stable; yet sheepish and insecure, regular guy. The one who has a 4 bedroom house in a subdivided neighborhood in the hopes that he'll meet Miss Right and fill those bedrooms with the pitter patter of little feet. He's the one who's worked his way up the corporate ladder and defied the theory that only attractive people get ahead.

Phase Two: When we meet, I'll hug him hello and casually spray him with pheromone cologne. By the end of the night, I'm hoping to feel enough tingly tinglies for me to want to see him again.

Phase Three: The protocol will mandate one spray and one lemon drop martini each time we go out. Bowling and/or a night of Dungeons and Dragons optional.

Conclusive evidence of the existence of pheromones as sexual attractants will be proven when I order a second lemon drop martini.


Be sure to stay tuned for the published results of this study.

Work it, baby, work it..

Okay, so I've been at my new job for a week now and I have to admit that it's pretty nice to work for 5 hours and then have the rest of the day free. I'm still getting used to the early mornings, though. The hardest thing has been getting to bed early enough so that I get at least 6 hours of sleep.

 

I get up at 6 and leave the house around 7:30 to be there by 8:00. That gives me enough time to walk the dogs, feed everyone, check my Facebook/email and watch some Good Morning America. As much as I despise mornings, I hate to be rushed.

I'm hoping that once I get back into the groove of being somewhere early in the morning (as opposed to Stella who got her groove back in a completely different way!) that my afternoons can be more productive. Last week, I came home and fell asleep twice!

Everyone is super nice and so far the duties are super simple. I think they're easing me in to be sure I come back the next day. My first job in the morning is as Bevvy Bim, or Beverage Bimbo. My name not theirs. These people go through coffee like crazy! They have two Keurig machines and probably go through over 75 cups a day so I have to refill them twice a day. You should see the back stock of coffee. It's literally an entire supply closet! I drink coffee only once in a whole so I really don't get it but, then, coffee drinkers have always made me scratch my head.

 

One of the more popular flavors is called Dark Magic and this is exactly what I thought of when I saw the box.

 

"Dance for Momma, boys."

I told you how when i interviewed, there was just such great energy here, right? It turns out that a bunch of the staff are huge animal lovers, too.  My immediate supervisor has two horses, three dogs and no kids so her pets are her babies, too. A kindred spirit!

It's so funny because I went from no jobs in September to three jobs now. The weekend one is an admin position for a home senior care organization. Awesome organization! Awesome people! They're a non-medical company that provides services to the elderly so we have about 200 caregivers that assist with respite care, meal preparation, light housekeeping, etc.

I can't believe that I made it all the way through the interview process without asking what the hours were. I assumed it would be 9-5 or something like that. Are you ready?

7:30-5:00!

Me. Who sleeps until 2 in the afternoon being somewhere at 7:30?? Surprisingly, it's working out ok but that was before I had the Monday through Friday gig. I really like this job, too, so I'm hoping that it doesn't become too much but it's only every other weekend so I should be fine. And Sundays are only 1-5. It's a new position for the company so they're still trying to figure it out so we'll see how it all pans out.

Oh. And I hope to get more blogging done, too! We have so much to catch up!

Monday Morning Dino

 

"No, I haven't been in the litter box and frankly, I'm a little offended that you would say that."

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.

"It's 11:59"

Original Post Date, December 19, 2009

I just sent an email to a friend at 11:59, which made me think of my favorite Blondie song, so I had to look it up. I have no clue what the hell this song is talking about but I think it's hands down the best Blondie song ever.

Then I decided to find a photo of Debbie Harry to post and I found this.



And then this...her signature "hands in hair" pose. You know, I still dream of being a platinum blonde because of her.



Well, then I found this. WHO is this woman's plastic surgeon and what is their number?? I'll save you the time in looking this up. She's 63!

(I found a better video than the one I posted the first time around. Enjoy!)

Leaning in your corner like a candidate for wax
Sidewalk social scientist don't get no satisfaction from your cigarette
It's ten to ten and time is running out
Lock up all your memories, get outa here, you know that we can run
Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Pumping like a fugitive in cover from the night
Take it down the freeway like a bullet to the ocean
Wait until the morning, take tomorrow by the hand
Take it down the highway like a rocket to the ocean, we can run

Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Hanging on a frequency and burning like a fire
Boy you've got the motion down, it's getting late, I'm tired and I've lost control
Don't leave me here, time is running out
Take me down the highway like a rocket to the ocean, we can run

Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Hey, I know you!

I say this a lot.

 

And I get a lot of weird looks.

 

You see, I have a freakishly accurate memory of people that I've met. And I'm not talking about people that I went to school with. I'm talking about the guy I met  25 years ago who was the brother of my friend's college roommate that I met when we were at a club downtown and it was last call. His name was Dave, he was studying anthropology and was home for winter break. He drove a red Ford Probe and wore a brown leather Members Only jacket.

Leather!

And he wore Obsession for Men by Calvin Klein. Ahh...the smell of it!

 

Scary stuff, right?

I started my new job on Monday. My supervisor walked me around to introduce me to everyone and as we walked past one empty office, I looked at the name on the door and said, "I think I know her."

Of course, I was sure that I knew her. It was 1997 and I was leasing apartments while I was going to college full time. She and her boyfriend came in and rented a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment. They were about my age and I got to be friends with her boyfriend. He was in sales and I would see him out at the bars after work with his friends. He even tried fixing me up with one of them but we weren't exactly a match.

She was a stunning, petite brunette working as an admin assistant at one of the local television stations. He was always in and out of his apartment as I was touring people around the property and he had a bad habit of forgetting his keys in the front door so I would have to knock and tell him they were there. Again.

She got pregnant right before I transferred to another property and I remember him talking to me about it and telling me they were going to get engaged. I think we may have kept in touch briefly after I left but then we just fell off each other's radar.

I was able to meet her at the office a little later in the day on Monday and when I said, "I think I know you. You lived at The Timbers apartments." she gave me the requisite "Who the hell are you? I've never seen you before in my life." face and stated that she had never lived in an apartment.

A few more reminders and it all came back to her. She said she didn't remember me and I didn't give her any details of my friendship with her now ex-husband because when I tell people things in detail that I remember, I'm sure they're probably thinking that I've been stalking them all these years.

Don't they know I don't have time for that? I'm too busy randomly memorizing every detail of a chance encounter with their third cousin, twice removed, so that I can remember them when I run into them again in 25 years.

Monday Morning Maddie and Dino

 

"Don't worry, Dino. I'll be holding your hand in case you have a bad dream."

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"Don't try this at home"

Original Post Date, June 6, 2012


For some reason, I've had this corn on the cob kick lately. Every night, I boil one ear of corn with dinner. Last night, I got home pretty late and decided that I would treat myself to two ears of corn. So, of course, I had to use my ginormous pot instead of the small pot I usually use.

I got distracted by something and when I came into the kitchen, my yummy corn was in full boil, steam rising up to the ceiling. I don't have any pot holders, so I used two kitchen towels to pick up the pot and take it over to the sink to drain the water out. As I'm sure you know, kitchen towels aren't that thick and I could feel some of the heat coming through from one handle. I placed the pot on the edge of the sink to readjust my grip and the pot slipped.

Boiling water gushed all over the front of my legs. I was so shocked that I stood there for a second before I backed up and dropped the pot. My pants were sticking to me so I pulled them off and rushed to the freezer for some frozen veggies to put against my thighs. I looked down and my skin was peeling but I still foolishly thought it wasn't that bad. The pain wasn't really registering yet but I couldn't feel the cold against my leg so I knew that was a bad sign.

Still...I have a high tolerance for pain so I thought I could work through it.

Then the the pain started. And it was bad.

I called my sister who lives 5 minutes away and told her to come over and look at it. Miss Medical Assistant that she is, you know. Well, it was taking her far too long to get here and by now, I was starting to blister so I dialed 911.

I looked down and realized that I didn't have any pants on which is not a good look for me. I grabbed a pair of bike shorts and ripped the hem open to stretch them before I put them on. The minute they got there, they told me we had to go in to the hospital. By now, I'm crying and shaking. I did get some relief to see that none of the guys from the rescue squad went to high school with me because half of the squad who works there did. And yes, this is the kind of stuff that goes through my head even in the throes of pain.

The ER doc was pretty handsome with his salt and pepper hair and he looked straight into my eyes when he talked. If you're familiar with docs, you know this is pretty rare. The burns are second degree on my left thigh and first degree on my right. He kept asking me so many times if I was sure that I hadn't gotten any water on my genitals that I was tempted to say, "Look, if you want to see my genitals, just ask."

I was going to post a picture of the burns but they are so disgusting, I couldn't subject any of you to that. If you're curious, you can Google second degree burns but not after you've eaten.

All they basically did was apply cold compresses. They gave me some Vicodin which didn't relieve the pain so before I left they gave me a shot of Dilaudid, which is like Morphine. WOW. No wonder people become drug addicts. When we got home, I went over to my car to lock it. I realized when I went out this morning, that I hadn't even shut the window! This is some good shit.

I came home and put this on the stereo.

I saw one of my neighbors today and he yelled across the street, "what are you going to do for an encore?" I shouted back, "I think I'll shoot myself in the foot!" I love my neighbors. Really, they're the best.

I have to follow up with the burn unit tomorrow so I'll give you an update. It looks like there will be scarring, so they're going to need to find someone else for Miss July of the Cougar Calendar.

I can do that!

You know how I've been trying to find something part-time since the summer. Yes, I got the dog walking gig but I've really been looking for something that will pay a little more and have a set schedule. I've come to realize that the less structure I have in my life, the less productive I am.

It's been interesting to see what kind of jobs are out there. Some of them expect you to have oodles of experience/education and do tons of work for next to no pay. I loves the one that say they are part-time, no benefits and 35 hours a week. Wha??

The card store has kept me on as permanent part-time employee instead of just seasonal but that's only a day a week. I actually found a weekend administrative position that's every other weekend and pays a decent wage. I've been doing that for about a month now and I really like it.

I still wanted something during the week to replace the dog walking and I thought I had found a great opportunity with H&R Block. No, no...not as a tax preparer. Oh my gosh, every return I did would be audited!

Instead, as an administrative, front desk person. Scheduling appointments, filing paperwork, etc. There wouldn't be a set schedule but it was perfectly stress free and close to home. I had a phone interview, a face to face and then had to go online to take a test. All the while, no one was willing to tell me what it paid so I just continued through the process.

It seemed that I had made the cut when I got a call from the initial person that I interviewed with. She advised me that I would be getting some forms via email that I would have to fill out before I started. AGAIN, I asked what the pay would be and her response was, "That will be listed on your offer letter."

Wha??

 

How do I know if I even want the job if you won't tell me what it pays?! I interviewed, took tests and let them perform a background check on me because I figured, it's H&R Block. They're a reputable company that had a net income of $455 million in 2012. Surely, they'll pay a decent wage.

 

Then I received my confirmation letter:

 

"......pleased to offer you $8.00/hour."

 

Are you kidding me???

 

Needless to say, I didn't accept and went back to looking for something else. And then I found it: Light administrative duties, Monday through Friday 8-1, business casual.

 

Yes! THIS is what I've been looking for. I applied online and got a call later that afternoon. We spoke briefly on the phone and set up a time to meet in person. When I got there for my interview, I waited in the lobby and looked at the staircase in front of me. There were about 30 wide slatted steps (I think that's what they're called. They're the ones you can see through) At the top, they went up another flight to the left and another flight to the right. My first thought was, Good Lord. I hope they have an elevator because I will fall right down (or up) those stairs!

 

The interview went great. I met with the HR person and the manager I would be reporting to. There was just such great energy there and I had a really good feeling when I left. They called the next day to offer me the job and said, "I know we discussed the range of pay but because of your experience, we're going to pay you more."

 

Um...OKAY!

 

I was so excited! The only thing I'm a little worried about is that I haven't had to be anywhere at 8AM in forever. But, hey, I did it for jury duty, I can do it for this. (fingers crossed)

 

I can finally ditch my dog walking attire and walk into a bank or gas station again!