Dear Mr. Man, AGAIN!

Maybe you didn't hear me the first time. Sending me an e-mail promising to call me on a certain day is not very helpful, and does not make me feel very good, when you never. call. when. you. say. you. will!!! For example - a response to my voicemail via e-mail saying that you're still in the final evaluation stages of several candidates including me, and that you'd call me [this afternoon] to talk more doesn't hold a lot of water.

Why on earth should I believe I'm in your final list? Because you say so?

As sincerely as one can be at this point,
DMD

Dear Mr. Man at my (FORMER) company's division here in Atlanta,

Mr. Man,

Having known you for the better part of five years, I was under the impression that we had something of a friendly working relationship. I've pulled your group out of the mud on more than one occasion, and I've collaborated with them to pull off some pretty great feats.

So, I was excited to see a position open right within your group. One that had my very skills and talents in mind. One that seemed to be an ideal move for me, and one that would require very little training for me to perform extremely well.

I came in and I interviewed. Then I returned to meet your staff. At that time, I felt very good about everything. I dutifully fired of thank-yous to everyone, appreciative of their time.

And I began to wait. I knew of the turmoil in your larger ornganization, and I knew that you would be a little longer in getting back to me. I dutifully followed up weekly, and you likewise responded, giving me one reason or another that no decision had been finalized.

When finally you told me that you had to circle back with your team to make a final decision, and that you'd be in touch 'early next week', I was glad, at least to know that this saga would be over. Because, even if I didn't get the position, you'd call and give me some feedback, right?

Oh hell no. That 'early next week' should have been 'early LAST week' by now. And I haven't heard word 1 from you. You know, I feel pretty shitty as it is right now - I'm sitting here with a family SOLELY dependant upon my ability to find a job, and I was under the impression that I HAD A JOB.

But even worse is the fact that you cut me off, entirely. I worked my ass off to get in a position to come see you. I'd say I invested at least 8 hours in meeting with your people to try and get this job. At the end of it all, however, you can't even pick up the phone and call me to let me down gently?

Here's what makes me sick about the whole thing. I've let this affect my self confidence. I've let it put me into a spot that I left long, long ago. I remember what it was like, sitting around, waiting on HIM to call after we'd had a couple of wild nights together. You see, I was one of those sad party girls who thought that mugging down with a guy in a bar meant he was interested. And so I spent a lot of time waiting on guys to call, to no avail.

And here I am again... Waiting on a guy to call. To no avail.

And I feel like such shit. I just wanted to put it out there that I do, really do, feel like another rejected gal on Monday morning.

Regards,
DMD

As an aside - I have begun to go back to the mantra of my youth. Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. I might as well go eat worms.

Now, however, I ask "How many points do worms have?"

Attention Commenters: I'm SORRY!!!

First, a big thanks to Quinn. I have been really cramped for time, and I've been barely even posting on my own blog, let alone commenting on others. So, I hopped over to hers and made a comment.... She commented back that I wasn't answering comments on my blog. And I didn't SEE any comments on my blog (I thought that my friends inside the computer didn't like me any more). So.... Anyway, long story short, I figured out I had somehow turned on this 'moderate comments' option, except I wasn't moderating the comments, which sat in comment purgatory for-evah!

So anyway, now I figured it out. And now that's much better.

I promise to be a better blogger now that I'm settled in my house. And I have no job, so I have to do something, right? Heh.

Presto Pesto!

My neighbor across the street has turned her yard into a vegetable garden of sorts, growing beans, tomatoes, squashes, gourds, and, among other herbs, basil. She is most excellent at growing basil, and yesterday, graced me with a grocery bag full of the stuff.

So I pulled the leaves off, measured 12 cups and set aside the rest which I'll dry in the oven, except a few bits I'm keeping for some tomatoes. I added a cup and a half of olive oil, a cup of pine nuts, a cup of blended parmeggian, peccario, and romano, 6 large cloves of garlic, and three pinches of salt (tripling my recipe). Yum! Of course, what does one do with this much pesto? I'll definitely pack some back to my neighbor, and send some off with my sister. I'll take some to the people hosting us for tomorrow afternoon. But really - I do have 6 cups (and a serving is 1/4 cup - that's 24 servings I have!). Maybe it freezes?

Related question (associated with the grating of cheeses) - is something still vegetarian if it contains human blood? As I continue to slice and dice myself, this question is coming closer and closer to being a real consideration. Sigh. I grated my knuckle on my left ring finger, along with the cheese. Owie!

We give good party

There's nothing more nerve-wracking than trying to throw your first party as a newcomer into a community. Even worse - when the party is the birthday party of your 9 year old, who is just trying desparately to fit in and have friends. Even worse - when the party is being attended by your mother-in-law, and both siblings-in-law. It's as if you must put forth the command performance on several levels.

But, there again, I'm pretty darnded skilled at this thing. So it went well, I think. I hope - it seemed like everyone had a good time.

Most importantly, however, was when Miss M came back to the bedroom with me for a little while, and she just gave me a random hug. I asked what that was for - she responded "Oh, I just really wanted to say thank you for my wonderful Birthday Fiesta. I really had fun."

Ah, yeah. :)

Everloving Snakes

How silly we are. Mr. Mac and I have decided to go see Snakes on a Plane with a bunch of 20-somethings at the Starlight Drive-In tomorrow night.

Heh. Sometimes I dig acting like a kid. Maybe we'll take a blanket and screw in the back of the minivan! Hah!

Dear Duke University Men's Basketball Schedulers

In days of yore, I remember a time were one could drive in from out of town on a Friday evening, catch a game on Saturday afternoon, and then return home for the following work week.

What is wrong with this scenario? Why do you allow Fox Sports to schedule all our weekend home games after Christmas on a Sunday? What ever happened to trying to preserve the ability of your fans to see their beloved team?

It's just sad - Mr. Mac and I finally move to a place where it's feasible for us to get to a game or two. And there just really aren't any to go see - the schedule is inane.

Ode to Comcast

I'm not a poet, nor a particularly good writer. I have very poor taste when it comes to music, I'm sure. However, I do know crap when I see it, and Comcast, you're it.

You see, it wasn't enough that it took you three weeks to get our internet service up and running to begin with. That, in and of itself, was enough to memorialize you in the craptastic hall of fame.

No. You had to bring more. Yes more.

The internets kept going wonky, and I kept calling bull-honkey.
Day and night, I knew I was right.
You're just full of malarky.

See, when the internets went out AGAIN, we couldn't figure out what was wrong, and so we had your wonderful technician come visit. Seems our modem was 'fried' - likely by lightening. And so your wonderful technician replaced our fried modem.

With another one.

Fried that is.

It worked for approximately 4 hours, and went on the fritz again.

I called for an appointment, which finally you gave to me. After I cried.

But you didn't show. You cancelled it, because you didn't have time for me.

I cancelled my service.

Now the internets work, but we generally have to use dial-upBut occasionally, we do get broadband coverage. Despite the fact that I cancelled our service.

So, Bellsouth, it is. DSL is our friend.

I'm sorry for this ramble and for being out of touch, but my wonky internets won't allow me online so much.

Sigh.

New Blog

Since I have no time to read the blogs I already link to in my sidebar, I thought I'd add another one. The Naked Vine is by a friend, and his goal is to write about wines in the $10-20 range, so it seems. So enjoy.

Now back to my regularly scheduled ignoring of everyone. :)

Goodbyes

The best kind of goodbyes are those when you know you'll see each other again soon. They're really the only kind that are bearable.

So why am I so sad right now?

I dropped Miss M and Mr. Mac at MARTA almost two hours ago. They were going to the airport to get Miss M on a plane to go back to Florida to start her school. She'll be back in just over two weeks, and for that I'm thankful.

It's been so wonderful, yet heartbreaking, to have her with us this summer. She's such a wonderful child - so thoughtful and sweet. But she's still so much a child, and I don't know what to do with it. She has to begin learning to take care of herself and her things, and I just don't trust her mother to teach her in the right way. She has to begin to learn that it's not okay to 'clean' her room by stuffing all the things under the bed.

So I'm sad - sad that I won't be there to help her every day. And I'm glad to be able to see her so frequently in this modern age of cheap, regular air travel.

So it's a bad day, and it was a sad goodbye. But she'll be back again soon. And I just can't wait!