Sit back, relax, talk about sports, be opinionated, look good on TV, sound smart. This is the life of a television sports commentator. Is there a better job out there? I don't know, I may be the wrong person to ask, but, aside from the pressure of not looking like an idiot in front of a wide audience, it's tough to see the job's difficulties. Here's my first hand account of a commentator's life.
First off, some background information (why is this always necessary?) I work for Time Warner Sports in Albany. I set up the microphones and cameras and help adjust the wiring prior to the game. I break it all down after the game. There are many complicated parts of the job, but it is mostly straightforward. The team does Siena basketball games, UAlbany basketball games, local college hockey games, and local high school basketball games. Each venue is a little different, so we need to be able to adjust our set-up to the environment. At the Times Union Center, where Siena plays its home games, the commentators sit court-side behind a severely rectangular table. The problem is that there is nobody to protect the expensive equipment positioned in front of them from stray basketballs or diving players. This is where I come in. (It's really a good thing that no players dive out of bounds at half court where I sit. Errant basketballs I can handle, errant 6'9" 250 pound Sasquatches may be more of a challenge. Obviously Time Warner picked me for this job because they felt confident that I would not run and hide if a player came barreling my way. They were very wrong. Only a hearty raise could make me reconsider.)
Second, an ironic aside. I assumed everyone would want this court-side spot, neatly positioned between the game commentators and sports journalists, but, to my amazement, nobody else wanted it. NOBODY ON THE TIME WARNER SPORTS TELEVISION PRODUCTION TEAM IS PASSIONATE ABOUT SPORTS! They love cables and TV production. Works out alright for me. (It does make striking up conversation a bit difficult, seeing as I would rather discuss sports and they would rather talk technology. We understand our differences and interact accordingly.)
The commentators for Time Warner are coined "talent" by the production crew. I'm not sure where the term originated, but it took me a while to figure out whom was being referenced. It makes sense. They ARE the only ones who deck themselves out in perfectly tailored suits. They ARE the talent. But if they are talented, does that mean we are incompetent? Do they say things like "We have to make sure the "incompetence" has all the wires hooked up right" or "Doesn't "incompetence" know we need to look our best for national television?" I hope not. Calling them "the talent" has always struck me a little sorely, since we are just as important to the entire process as they are. Maybe it just becomes normal the more you work with Time Warner. Maybe I am sore that I'm not the one being called talented. Nobody else seems to care.
Here's what television viewers don't see: The space that we sit in is more cramped than the space provided by airplane engineers. As TV viewers merrily listen to the soothing voices of their court-side commentators, those same commentators are stuck in what feels like a confessional box. To add insult to injury, the floor is filled with so many wires and plug-ins that you kind of need to prop your feet up in front of you or keep them squeezed under your chair which, due to a step up required to leave the area, is impossible to slide out from under you. It's sort of like being plugged into the Matrix when you sit down. Once you're in, there's no turning back.
Something I get to see that TV viewers don't is the commentator's body language and physical reactions to plays. For instance, when Siena's in a tight game, and they give up an easy basket, the color commentator often stomps his foot and grimaces. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction. He's followed Siena for a long time, and he hates to see them lose. The funniest part about it is that he immediately tries to cover it up afterward, even though the TV viewers can't see him. On the air, he says "Good offensive possession for _______ and a tough foul call for the Siena Saints". See, I know better. What he's actually thinking is "What a terrible, boneheaded defensive play by Siena, if I were out there playing I could do 10 times better myself. Put me in Coach!"
Commentators have an interesting job. If you think about it, all they do is add words to what everyone sees. In this way, the job is both easy and difficult. Saying something that is in front of you is easy, but saying something that adds insight to or extrapolates on what everyone just saw is difficult. They need to add value to the viewer experience while not saying anything particular opinionated or brash. I suspect that it's a tough balance to achieve.
Next time: Court-side Journalists
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Games of Epic Proportions
As I watched the final seconds of overtime tick down in what is now known as the Albany Cup, I came to the conclusion that sports are, for lack of current creativity, da bomb diggity fo sho. Here I was, in downtown Albany, with about 9,000 rowdy Albanian college students, alumni, and innocent bystanders, enjoying the competition in front of me. It took a moment like this to realize how excitement and contentment are completely relative to the environment. I will now attempt to decipher that last sentence with more sentences. Starting... now:
To start: The Albany Cup is a regular season, division 1 basketball game between Siena College, a regular NCAA tournament participant with a growing reputation, and UAlbany, a regular league doormat with little national exposure. Slightly David and Goliathesque, these two make up the highest level of basketball in town. The Times Union Center, a building with too much capacity for it's market base, rarely gets more than 4,000 or 5,000 spectators. Arguably, Albany only gets excited about basketball this one time every year.
So, to summarize: Once a year, Albany, a city with no professional sports teams and a couple of mid major level college athletics programs, gets rowdy and excited over this one basketball game. To anyone outside of the Capital Region, the game means nothing, but to everyone in the arena, it's the game of the year.
Which brings me back to the original point. We, as Albanians, don't have access to Madison Square Garden, humongous football stadiums with pro teams, or all the excitement that comes with highly successful local teams, but because of this, we get excited for something of minuscule proportions. Does the small stature of the event on a national scale make it worse? The answer is no, because relative to the other home games each team plays throughout the course of the year which are mostly low-key affairs, this game has a boisterous, energetic atmosphere, and although it's only a bunch of people packed into a sort of small stadium watching mediocre teams play each other, it's still the most exciting thing around. I don't think it's a stretch to say that fans at this game felt MORE emotional contentment at it's completion than plenty of spectators do at pro events.
As I watched fans filter out of the arena from my court-side seat (more on the reason for this arrangement in the near future), it dawned on me that a great game had just taken place and that most fans were leaving the arena satisfied (the game was so good that I'm making a huge assumption that the losing fans were okay with it. HUGE assumption.) Fans weren't satisfied because the game had great national implications, but because they had attained a feeling of satisfaction from watching Albany's singular important college basketball competition go down to the wire, with David pulling out the upset win. It warmed the hearts of only a relatively few people, but that was good enough for them. Or, better put, us.
To start: The Albany Cup is a regular season, division 1 basketball game between Siena College, a regular NCAA tournament participant with a growing reputation, and UAlbany, a regular league doormat with little national exposure. Slightly David and Goliathesque, these two make up the highest level of basketball in town. The Times Union Center, a building with too much capacity for it's market base, rarely gets more than 4,000 or 5,000 spectators. Arguably, Albany only gets excited about basketball this one time every year.
So, to summarize: Once a year, Albany, a city with no professional sports teams and a couple of mid major level college athletics programs, gets rowdy and excited over this one basketball game. To anyone outside of the Capital Region, the game means nothing, but to everyone in the arena, it's the game of the year.
Which brings me back to the original point. We, as Albanians, don't have access to Madison Square Garden, humongous football stadiums with pro teams, or all the excitement that comes with highly successful local teams, but because of this, we get excited for something of minuscule proportions. Does the small stature of the event on a national scale make it worse? The answer is no, because relative to the other home games each team plays throughout the course of the year which are mostly low-key affairs, this game has a boisterous, energetic atmosphere, and although it's only a bunch of people packed into a sort of small stadium watching mediocre teams play each other, it's still the most exciting thing around. I don't think it's a stretch to say that fans at this game felt MORE emotional contentment at it's completion than plenty of spectators do at pro events.
As I watched fans filter out of the arena from my court-side seat (more on the reason for this arrangement in the near future), it dawned on me that a great game had just taken place and that most fans were leaving the arena satisfied (the game was so good that I'm making a huge assumption that the losing fans were okay with it. HUGE assumption.) Fans weren't satisfied because the game had great national implications, but because they had attained a feeling of satisfaction from watching Albany's singular important college basketball competition go down to the wire, with David pulling out the upset win. It warmed the hearts of only a relatively few people, but that was good enough for them. Or, better put, us.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Flash Gym
A perk of volunteering time in Siena College's Athletics Department is that I am granted access to their gym. I take advantage of this kind gesture by moving heavy metal objects up and down and side to side for free, and consider it fun. I even found a little side room with plenty of machines and free weights, a spot where people sightings are rare. We'll call it "Sanctuary" from here on out, because it's almost always quiet, mellow and relaxed.
Well, the other day I was happily throwing around pounds in Sanctuary when I noticed a few guys with matching shorts and t-shirts loudly amble into the room. I was concentrating too hard on the start of my next set to pay much attention to them. A few seconds later, I was also concentrating too hard on getting through the first couple of reps to notice the entrance of 30 more uniformed bros. And I was working so hard to finish out the set that I didn't notice when someone turned on the surround sound stereo system that was blasting some techno-rap conglomeration. Finally, I finished my lift, and looked up to find myself in a jungle of matted hair and butt slaps. Lax Bros.
Lax Bros. The worst kind of bro. They had infiltrated Sanctuary by the sneakiest of means. Had I not been in the middle of a lift, I could have seen, smell, heard, and probably tasted them coming. Alas, I was caught off guard. But I couldn't leave. No group of grunting men forces me out of Sanctuary. Not on my watch.
So I hung in there, dodging what felt like 25 pound weights flying by my face. Sanctuary is not a big place, and certainly not big enough for 30 fully grown Lax Bros. Considering the combination of noises, including music, belching, and ceaseless Lax chat, I'm somewhat surprised we didn't blow the roof off of the building. I tried to focus on my lifts, but found it difficult to concentrate when woolly mammoths all around me were springing forward, grabbing 80-pound free weights, doing 3 bicep curls, dropping the weights on the ground and on each other, and then bellowing at the top of their lungs. It's just a tough lifting environment.
And then, just like that, the hair-whisking, fist-bumping, pro-spotting machines of human nature were gone. I couldn't believe it. They were like a swarm of hungry fire ants that got full. It reminded me of one of those flash videos that you see on YouTube where people just start dancing in department stores, for the soul purpose of catching it's workers off guard and confusing everyone in the store. It happens really quickly, and then it's over. We'll call it a Flash Gym.
And I now consider it fact that Sanctuary has magical powers, namely the ability to vanquish the most terrifying of mythical creatures, including the fearsome Lax Bro.
Well, the other day I was happily throwing around pounds in Sanctuary when I noticed a few guys with matching shorts and t-shirts loudly amble into the room. I was concentrating too hard on the start of my next set to pay much attention to them. A few seconds later, I was also concentrating too hard on getting through the first couple of reps to notice the entrance of 30 more uniformed bros. And I was working so hard to finish out the set that I didn't notice when someone turned on the surround sound stereo system that was blasting some techno-rap conglomeration. Finally, I finished my lift, and looked up to find myself in a jungle of matted hair and butt slaps. Lax Bros.
Lax Bros. The worst kind of bro. They had infiltrated Sanctuary by the sneakiest of means. Had I not been in the middle of a lift, I could have seen, smell, heard, and probably tasted them coming. Alas, I was caught off guard. But I couldn't leave. No group of grunting men forces me out of Sanctuary. Not on my watch.
So I hung in there, dodging what felt like 25 pound weights flying by my face. Sanctuary is not a big place, and certainly not big enough for 30 fully grown Lax Bros. Considering the combination of noises, including music, belching, and ceaseless Lax chat, I'm somewhat surprised we didn't blow the roof off of the building. I tried to focus on my lifts, but found it difficult to concentrate when woolly mammoths all around me were springing forward, grabbing 80-pound free weights, doing 3 bicep curls, dropping the weights on the ground and on each other, and then bellowing at the top of their lungs. It's just a tough lifting environment.
And then, just like that, the hair-whisking, fist-bumping, pro-spotting machines of human nature were gone. I couldn't believe it. They were like a swarm of hungry fire ants that got full. It reminded me of one of those flash videos that you see on YouTube where people just start dancing in department stores, for the soul purpose of catching it's workers off guard and confusing everyone in the store. It happens really quickly, and then it's over. We'll call it a Flash Gym.
And I now consider it fact that Sanctuary has magical powers, namely the ability to vanquish the most terrifying of mythical creatures, including the fearsome Lax Bro.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Fame and Fortune
I am sure that fame is not arrived at through pursuing one's dreams, as everyone claims. If this were true, there would be more famous people than homeless people.
I was watching a show on MTV tonight called The Buried Life, where four guys (Canadians, I might add) set out in an RV to cross off items on their list of "stuff we've always wanted to do but probably won't ever get the chance to". The items vary from asking out the girl of their dreams (in this case Taylor Swift) to getting married in Vegas to making a million dollars in one day. They get away with this crap by also promising to fulfill other people's more practical and socially beneficial dreams when they complete one of theirs. It's a fun show that I find worth 30 minutes of my time.
It got me thinking: What does it take to become a talking point amongst regular people? Watching these guys clown around on screen, and thinking of other reality TV stars and celebrities of their ilk, I realize that they have something a bit different from the average. They click together, fill the necessary niches that any successful guy group has, and probably have a keen sense of film-making and editing. So they had this idea. And they did it. And somehow they are now famous.
But they're like 23! (I'm not really sure how old they are, but they look about my age.) It CAN'T be that all four of them have dreamed of this idea for years, and they knew that it would be a kick-ass, popular sensation. I doubt they had a business plan. What they had was a perfect blend of characters, one that unintentionally combined for success, and this simple chemistry propped the whole crew up through the dreaded beginning stage.
Imagine these guys sitting around a college campus or dormitory, coming up with this idea. How many other college students have come up with a comparable novelty? Why aren't they famous? They may half-heartedly pursue it for a short time, but more often than not motivation wanes and the idea fizzles out. Maybe the idea wasn't great in the first place, but these concepts must evolve as they are undertaken fully, and that's where the genius lies. I highly doubt that the guys on The Buried Life had this all sorted out before they set out to film their show. Maybe they dreamed that it would become a national sensation, but it's hard to imagine that they actually believed themselves. It's easy to imagine that they were just in it to have a blast.
We all want to be famous, or at least for someone to recognize us on the street. We've all got that dream of seeing ourselves on TV or in a magazine or authoring a book. And we're told our entire lives that "we can become whatever we'd like if we work hard at it" and to "not let anyone tell us what we can and can't do". But no matter how hard we work, more likely than not, we will never become reality television stars or celebrities, which is what many people would like to "become".
My point is this: Consider all of the ideas similar to The Buried Life that went forward, did not become famous, but satisfied it's participants nonetheless. For example: This blog. I write it because I believe it goes towards improving my long-term writing abilities, but also because it's kind of fun. In all likelihood, it will not become famous or noteworthy, because it isn't new or different. It's an idea that I undertook for the purpose of being able to express myself, and because it's something I somewhat like to do. There are no repercussions if nobody ever reads it or gets inspired from it, so it's a win-win. I think that creative undertakings where fame and fortune is a vague subplot and in which failure doesn't exist, are how stars are accidentally born.
Today, everyone's so focused on becoming the next big thing, a stressful endeavor in and of itself. Look at some ideas that took off, like Facebook and Reality TV. These didn't occur through careful planning and quick, efficient work to get ahead. It seems to be that they came about mostly through luck and trial and error. We can't try and try and try again to innovate. It has to come through an individual or group passion that evolves into something entertaining to others. So stop worrying about getting ahead of the curve, and let the world spin as it may. In my opinion, acting this way will get you there faster anyways.
I was watching a show on MTV tonight called The Buried Life, where four guys (Canadians, I might add) set out in an RV to cross off items on their list of "stuff we've always wanted to do but probably won't ever get the chance to". The items vary from asking out the girl of their dreams (in this case Taylor Swift) to getting married in Vegas to making a million dollars in one day. They get away with this crap by also promising to fulfill other people's more practical and socially beneficial dreams when they complete one of theirs. It's a fun show that I find worth 30 minutes of my time.
It got me thinking: What does it take to become a talking point amongst regular people? Watching these guys clown around on screen, and thinking of other reality TV stars and celebrities of their ilk, I realize that they have something a bit different from the average. They click together, fill the necessary niches that any successful guy group has, and probably have a keen sense of film-making and editing. So they had this idea. And they did it. And somehow they are now famous.
But they're like 23! (I'm not really sure how old they are, but they look about my age.) It CAN'T be that all four of them have dreamed of this idea for years, and they knew that it would be a kick-ass, popular sensation. I doubt they had a business plan. What they had was a perfect blend of characters, one that unintentionally combined for success, and this simple chemistry propped the whole crew up through the dreaded beginning stage.
Imagine these guys sitting around a college campus or dormitory, coming up with this idea. How many other college students have come up with a comparable novelty? Why aren't they famous? They may half-heartedly pursue it for a short time, but more often than not motivation wanes and the idea fizzles out. Maybe the idea wasn't great in the first place, but these concepts must evolve as they are undertaken fully, and that's where the genius lies. I highly doubt that the guys on The Buried Life had this all sorted out before they set out to film their show. Maybe they dreamed that it would become a national sensation, but it's hard to imagine that they actually believed themselves. It's easy to imagine that they were just in it to have a blast.
We all want to be famous, or at least for someone to recognize us on the street. We've all got that dream of seeing ourselves on TV or in a magazine or authoring a book. And we're told our entire lives that "we can become whatever we'd like if we work hard at it" and to "not let anyone tell us what we can and can't do". But no matter how hard we work, more likely than not, we will never become reality television stars or celebrities, which is what many people would like to "become".
My point is this: Consider all of the ideas similar to The Buried Life that went forward, did not become famous, but satisfied it's participants nonetheless. For example: This blog. I write it because I believe it goes towards improving my long-term writing abilities, but also because it's kind of fun. In all likelihood, it will not become famous or noteworthy, because it isn't new or different. It's an idea that I undertook for the purpose of being able to express myself, and because it's something I somewhat like to do. There are no repercussions if nobody ever reads it or gets inspired from it, so it's a win-win. I think that creative undertakings where fame and fortune is a vague subplot and in which failure doesn't exist, are how stars are accidentally born.
Today, everyone's so focused on becoming the next big thing, a stressful endeavor in and of itself. Look at some ideas that took off, like Facebook and Reality TV. These didn't occur through careful planning and quick, efficient work to get ahead. It seems to be that they came about mostly through luck and trial and error. We can't try and try and try again to innovate. It has to come through an individual or group passion that evolves into something entertaining to others. So stop worrying about getting ahead of the curve, and let the world spin as it may. In my opinion, acting this way will get you there faster anyways.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Goodnight Moon
Each night, there exists a minute or two when I lay down for sleep on my back in my warm bed, tuck my hands behind my head, and melt into an utter state of relaxation. Not until recently have I experienced this moment of bliss. It's as if the weight of decisions made that day leaks out of my body and adds to the pillowy softness of my mattress. It's a wonderful feeling, although it comes at a very odd point in time.
Why would this be happening now? I've been bitching and moaning for the past 3 months about jobs, living arrangements and just about anything else I can think of. To be honest, I'm at peace with my situation. I've somehow been able to enjoy the minimal amount of work I do and not felt the burden of finding something better. And instead of being scared of the last sentence, I'm okay with reading it over again. Some things aren't meant to be pushed that hard, and this job search is one of them.
What's the use of pushing so hard for something more when I'm content with what I've got? Eventually, I know for a fact that the contentedness I feel now will drift away, and at that point I will more doggedly pursue a new location and a new line of work. But until then, setting limited weekly quotas for such onerous activities as applying for jobs, researching grad schools, studying GMAT's and networking leaves me most at peace.
And it all culminates in the minute or two when I compress the day into my head before bed. I summarize it and recreate it and look forward to the next one. Life ain't so bad.
Why would this be happening now? I've been bitching and moaning for the past 3 months about jobs, living arrangements and just about anything else I can think of. To be honest, I'm at peace with my situation. I've somehow been able to enjoy the minimal amount of work I do and not felt the burden of finding something better. And instead of being scared of the last sentence, I'm okay with reading it over again. Some things aren't meant to be pushed that hard, and this job search is one of them.
What's the use of pushing so hard for something more when I'm content with what I've got? Eventually, I know for a fact that the contentedness I feel now will drift away, and at that point I will more doggedly pursue a new location and a new line of work. But until then, setting limited weekly quotas for such onerous activities as applying for jobs, researching grad schools, studying GMAT's and networking leaves me most at peace.
And it all culminates in the minute or two when I compress the day into my head before bed. I summarize it and recreate it and look forward to the next one. Life ain't so bad.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Podcasts
Have you ever browsed through the free podcasts available to anyone on iTunes? These wonders of technology now allow the day's news to come to you instead of you going to today's news. You know that commute to work, the one in which you get tired of listening to talk show radio or the same music over and over again? Now, instead of wasting time at your computer checking out the day's news, you can listen to it on the way to work. Even better, you don't get to pick what news topics you read. Instead of guiltily clicking on the web browser tab that links you to last night's story about who won Dancing with the Stars, certain podcasts choose the day's top stories. Simple, easy, straightforward. Voila.
Some podcasts are informative. Some are funny. Some talk about news, some about sports. There's a podcast for just about anything. The difficult part is deciding which one you would like to listen to today. Before I got into podcasts, driving a long distance was a hassle. The same old music got boring and cell phone tickets got expensive. It's the easiest way to multitask. Can you listen and drive? Good, I have the perfect product for you.
And then, just like that, you forget to download your new podcasts. That drive you once excitedly anticipated becomes so much longer. So be careful not to leave those juicy podcasts at home, or you may find yourself twisting that radio dial again, scolding yourself for your ineptitude.
Hearing just became your most valuable sense.
This has been a plug-for-no-reason production.
Some podcasts are informative. Some are funny. Some talk about news, some about sports. There's a podcast for just about anything. The difficult part is deciding which one you would like to listen to today. Before I got into podcasts, driving a long distance was a hassle. The same old music got boring and cell phone tickets got expensive. It's the easiest way to multitask. Can you listen and drive? Good, I have the perfect product for you.
And then, just like that, you forget to download your new podcasts. That drive you once excitedly anticipated becomes so much longer. So be careful not to leave those juicy podcasts at home, or you may find yourself twisting that radio dial again, scolding yourself for your ineptitude.
Hearing just became your most valuable sense.
This has been a plug-for-no-reason production.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Working Without a Job
I have now had 6 different job titles without established functions. There's nothing more debilitating to ones feeling of self worth than to be at "work" with nothing to do. Now a seasoned pro, I've come up with a list of necessities for surviving a jobless job. Here they are:
1. Know who knows that you don't do anything while at work. Avoid them at all costs.
2. Practice your "busy face" at home. This usually consists of furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips, and upward-looking eyeballs, as to better see your brain hard at work up there.
3. Consider your current location. Find a more interesting one i.e. vending machine, bathroom, hidden corner.
4. If at a computer, utilize right hand for mouse clicking and left hand for lap cell phone usage. If intruder enters, focus on computer screen and click furiously while doing your best to hide the cellphone in your lap.
4.5 www.sporcle.com
5. Really draw out the simplest tasks assigned to you. Try to understand every facet of your assignment i.e. If you need to make a simple Excel spreadsheet that should take 6 minutes, take as long as you need to find the best built-in Excel formula to accomplish your task. Jazz it up a bit. In doing so, you'll become more familiar with Excel, waste time, and put off another hour of boredom. (Disclaimer: Only use this if you are fully certain there will be nothing for you to do afterward.)
6. Become friends with coworkers who won't ever have anything for you to do. The general lack of caring for what the other person does can lead to a fun "working" relationship.
7. Make an intricate and detailed schedule of what you will do after work and for the upcoming weekend. Never follow it.
8. Write raps and e-mail them to friends. (True story)
9. Dress as nicely as possible to insinuate that you are THERE FOR A PURPOSE!
9a. Be on time. It's counter intuitive, but tardiness is a slippery slope sliding towards not showing up at all, at which point everyone will just assume you've been fired... from a job with no function. That's depressing.
10. Most importantly, stop trying to network your way into jobs, because those people kind enough to take you in never realize the burden you will inevitably become. Just grit your teeth and apply to real jobs. Stop procrastinating and just do it already DAN!!!!
1. Know who knows that you don't do anything while at work. Avoid them at all costs.
2. Practice your "busy face" at home. This usually consists of furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips, and upward-looking eyeballs, as to better see your brain hard at work up there.
3. Consider your current location. Find a more interesting one i.e. vending machine, bathroom, hidden corner.
4. If at a computer, utilize right hand for mouse clicking and left hand for lap cell phone usage. If intruder enters, focus on computer screen and click furiously while doing your best to hide the cellphone in your lap.
4.5 www.sporcle.com
5. Really draw out the simplest tasks assigned to you. Try to understand every facet of your assignment i.e. If you need to make a simple Excel spreadsheet that should take 6 minutes, take as long as you need to find the best built-in Excel formula to accomplish your task. Jazz it up a bit. In doing so, you'll become more familiar with Excel, waste time, and put off another hour of boredom. (Disclaimer: Only use this if you are fully certain there will be nothing for you to do afterward.)
6. Become friends with coworkers who won't ever have anything for you to do. The general lack of caring for what the other person does can lead to a fun "working" relationship.
7. Make an intricate and detailed schedule of what you will do after work and for the upcoming weekend. Never follow it.
8. Write raps and e-mail them to friends. (True story)
9. Dress as nicely as possible to insinuate that you are THERE FOR A PURPOSE!
9a. Be on time. It's counter intuitive, but tardiness is a slippery slope sliding towards not showing up at all, at which point everyone will just assume you've been fired... from a job with no function. That's depressing.
10. Most importantly, stop trying to network your way into jobs, because those people kind enough to take you in never realize the burden you will inevitably become. Just grit your teeth and apply to real jobs. Stop procrastinating and just do it already DAN!!!!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Corporate vs. Nonprofit Tradeoff
I've been wondering lately if it's legitimate to believe that corporate work is undertaken for your future well-being while nonprofit work is undertaken for other people's well-beings. Is it fair to categorize them that way?
Private sector work is so focused on growth and expansion and getting bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter that sometimes it seems like they have lost perspective on most social issues. But public sector work can be so tedious and slow, as bureaucracy severely hinders speed of execution and ease of tangible results.
Here's how I see it: People working for big corporations often have profit or promotion incentives, and thus work more hours with gritty determination, and in doing so earn more money, but also cut down on leisure time and a kind of direction or meaning in their lives. Nonprofit and government sector workers do not make as much money as private sector workers, but have an easier time separating work from play, and generally have some sort of social aim. This a huge simplification, but let's just say it's the truth because simplification is nice sometimes.
But getting back to it, there's been this nagging quandary in the back of my mind lately. It basically reads: "Is it selfish to want to work in the private sector and make more money as opposed to working in the nonprofit sector for less money, but with a positive societal contribution and a chance for self-satisfaction?" Do I want to live for myself or for others in the US or in the world who are worse off than myself?
It's a difficult decision, because on one hand money is everything, but on the other hand, it would probably get old after a while. Isn't it easier sometimes just to use what you've got instead of lusting after the next best thing? If this were the case, it would seem safe to say that I should work in the public sector against something I despise in a manner that I enjoy. But I've also been infused with a competitive instinct that leads me to want to be better, work harder and have a higher number (meaning yearly salary, and ensure people know it with accompanying material wealth) than the next person. That's a hard urge to curb.
In the end, Third Eye Blind said it nicest: "How's it gonna be?"
Private sector work is so focused on growth and expansion and getting bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter that sometimes it seems like they have lost perspective on most social issues. But public sector work can be so tedious and slow, as bureaucracy severely hinders speed of execution and ease of tangible results.
Here's how I see it: People working for big corporations often have profit or promotion incentives, and thus work more hours with gritty determination, and in doing so earn more money, but also cut down on leisure time and a kind of direction or meaning in their lives. Nonprofit and government sector workers do not make as much money as private sector workers, but have an easier time separating work from play, and generally have some sort of social aim. This a huge simplification, but let's just say it's the truth because simplification is nice sometimes.
But getting back to it, there's been this nagging quandary in the back of my mind lately. It basically reads: "Is it selfish to want to work in the private sector and make more money as opposed to working in the nonprofit sector for less money, but with a positive societal contribution and a chance for self-satisfaction?" Do I want to live for myself or for others in the US or in the world who are worse off than myself?
It's a difficult decision, because on one hand money is everything, but on the other hand, it would probably get old after a while. Isn't it easier sometimes just to use what you've got instead of lusting after the next best thing? If this were the case, it would seem safe to say that I should work in the public sector against something I despise in a manner that I enjoy. But I've also been infused with a competitive instinct that leads me to want to be better, work harder and have a higher number (meaning yearly salary, and ensure people know it with accompanying material wealth) than the next person. That's a hard urge to curb.
In the end, Third Eye Blind said it nicest: "How's it gonna be?"
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Don't Ever Believe Your Resume
I was looking at my resume the other day, and realized that most of what was on there just was not true. Did I actually organize and operate 2 community service days with over 25 volunteers each? Yes, if you consider that "operate" means following the instructions of someone else and if "25 volunteers" actually refers to 10 people who are required to be there and 4 people that cooked lunch and 5 people that were supposed to show up but didn't and 6 dogs that kind of helped out a bit. Is the key to a good resume to have what you say about your accomplishments be plausible, but not accurate?
The funniest part about all of this is that I actually... start to... believe... that my resume speaks the truth. Why not? There's no reason not to. Nobody will ever know otherwise! It's like a story that has been passed down through generations, and been exaggerated each time. By the end, great grandpa Chester walked 15 miles a day to school in negative temperatures with no shoes on his feet and a 50 pound pig on his back for lunch. And everyone knows it can't be true... Or can it? See what I mean?
I've found from experience that there's a fine line between flat out lying and just exaggerating a little bit what actually happened. It's important not to cross that line, because if a recommendation letter unwittingly contradicts something you've said... Employer 1, Dan 0.
The funniest part about all of this is that I actually... start to... believe... that my resume speaks the truth. Why not? There's no reason not to. Nobody will ever know otherwise! It's like a story that has been passed down through generations, and been exaggerated each time. By the end, great grandpa Chester walked 15 miles a day to school in negative temperatures with no shoes on his feet and a 50 pound pig on his back for lunch. And everyone knows it can't be true... Or can it? See what I mean?
I've found from experience that there's a fine line between flat out lying and just exaggerating a little bit what actually happened. It's important not to cross that line, because if a recommendation letter unwittingly contradicts something you've said... Employer 1, Dan 0.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Rejection from the West
My first job rejection occurred last week. It felt like the girl I had just met, kinda sorta maybe liked, like like-liked, and just maybe had a crush on, had just informed me that "it" wasn't working. Wait... what? Are you sure? (Fast-paced brain functioning) Well, can't we work it out? I didn't know you felt that way? Hold on, what can I do to make it better? You... are... my... everythingggggggggggggggg (sound trails off into darkness.)
I had high hopes for a job with the financial department at ski resort in a place called Incline Village on Lake Tahoe. I had spoken with a very nice lady on the phone 2 weeks beforehand and told her about my situation, desires and ambitions. She was highly receptive, and said that she'd be interested in hiring me to help create, and ensure accuracy within, the annual report for the mountain, which takes about 5 months to complete. This would have given me great experience with financial statements and budget constraints, in an area of the country that had a room available with my name on it, with a bunch of my best friends who were already there. The Finance Director lady said that she only needed to get it approved by the mountain's Controller, at which point she'd let me know when I would need to show up.
My excitement meter had risen to Mount Everest levels. This would be fun, stable, and give me good work experience. I'd even get to drive cross-country, a kid with a dream. Also, it's lack of permanence meant that I'd be back east when spring rolled around. I'd even begun to tell people that I had landed a sick job in an exotic place called California. In hindsight, telling people was my biggest mistake of all. Couldn't I see how badly I had jinxed myself?
The e-mail finally came. It was short. Too short. Gmail lets you read the first 10 or so words of the e-mail, and, glancing over them, my eyes focused in on the word "unfortunately." My heart sunk. I opened the e-mail to read that she was "unfortunately" back at work from a week vacation! YES! a lifeline! But the rest of the e-mail reported that the Controller had decided that there wasn't enough room in the budget for me, and that she was very sorry that it didn't work out. I think I read that e-mail about 4 times in 30 seconds. She wished me well, and said that if I ever got out there that we should meet up. If I ever got out there? I CAN ONLY GET OUT THERE IF YOU GIVE ME A DAMN JOB YOU SLOPPY SALLY!!!!!! I was actually frozen in time. It could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes, I just sorta stared at the computer screen as my heart began to pound in my chest. Eventually I sort of rolled onto my bed and just laid there. Back to square 1. Time to reboot.
I had high hopes for a job with the financial department at ski resort in a place called Incline Village on Lake Tahoe. I had spoken with a very nice lady on the phone 2 weeks beforehand and told her about my situation, desires and ambitions. She was highly receptive, and said that she'd be interested in hiring me to help create, and ensure accuracy within, the annual report for the mountain, which takes about 5 months to complete. This would have given me great experience with financial statements and budget constraints, in an area of the country that had a room available with my name on it, with a bunch of my best friends who were already there. The Finance Director lady said that she only needed to get it approved by the mountain's Controller, at which point she'd let me know when I would need to show up.
My excitement meter had risen to Mount Everest levels. This would be fun, stable, and give me good work experience. I'd even get to drive cross-country, a kid with a dream. Also, it's lack of permanence meant that I'd be back east when spring rolled around. I'd even begun to tell people that I had landed a sick job in an exotic place called California. In hindsight, telling people was my biggest mistake of all. Couldn't I see how badly I had jinxed myself?
The e-mail finally came. It was short. Too short. Gmail lets you read the first 10 or so words of the e-mail, and, glancing over them, my eyes focused in on the word "unfortunately." My heart sunk. I opened the e-mail to read that she was "unfortunately" back at work from a week vacation! YES! a lifeline! But the rest of the e-mail reported that the Controller had decided that there wasn't enough room in the budget for me, and that she was very sorry that it didn't work out. I think I read that e-mail about 4 times in 30 seconds. She wished me well, and said that if I ever got out there that we should meet up. If I ever got out there? I CAN ONLY GET OUT THERE IF YOU GIVE ME A DAMN JOB YOU SLOPPY SALLY!!!!!! I was actually frozen in time. It could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes, I just sorta stared at the computer screen as my heart began to pound in my chest. Eventually I sort of rolled onto my bed and just laid there. Back to square 1. Time to reboot.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Do All Post's Need a Title?
Glancing over my previous posts in this blog has made me realize something I've unintentionally done, and that is to belittle the waiting profession and restaurant industry. Let me clarify this: Waiting tables is emotionally draining and surprisingly difficult. Little intellect is required of it's professionals, but, to be a good waiter or waitress, you need a great memory and incredible organizational skills. Those who work in the industry are smart in their own way, a way that was never my particular strength. Part of my poking fun at waiting tables is my own insecurity at being an extremely average waiter. My apologies.
Where am I now in my job search? I don't really know. When will it end? Someday. I AM, however, quitting my waiting job in 2 weeks time, which signifies the end of my stay at home and the scariness of a move elsewhere with little more intact than I started.
If this post feels melancholic or gloomy, than it's done a nice job of summing up my emotional state. There's so much uncertainty going forward that it's difficult to feel like I've accomplished anything. If a positive situation does come about, it will feel like I've settled for less than I should have. There's something dangerous about finding the first real job. This very well could be the most important decision I'll ever make. Any serious misstep could affect my future happiness in life. Who knows. It's too difficult a concept to try and grasp right now. Just gotta keep moving forward.
Where am I now in my job search? I don't really know. When will it end? Someday. I AM, however, quitting my waiting job in 2 weeks time, which signifies the end of my stay at home and the scariness of a move elsewhere with little more intact than I started.
If this post feels melancholic or gloomy, than it's done a nice job of summing up my emotional state. There's so much uncertainty going forward that it's difficult to feel like I've accomplished anything. If a positive situation does come about, it will feel like I've settled for less than I should have. There's something dangerous about finding the first real job. This very well could be the most important decision I'll ever make. Any serious misstep could affect my future happiness in life. Who knows. It's too difficult a concept to try and grasp right now. Just gotta keep moving forward.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Bad Economy
I drove to the restaurant Saturday morning listening to a Wall Street Journal podcast that covered most major news of the preceding week. It went through the Dow's movements, China's unfair yuan valuation, yada yada yada. I slouched in my driver's seat as mundane stories rolled out of the little black cube. Then I heard a story that piqued my interest. Unemployment rates! As soon I heard those two keywords, I elongated my spine and improved my posture as to better comprehend the words being emitted from my static-laced speakers. I assumed it would be more bad news about the job market, but, to my surprise, the report stated that job prospects had risen sharply and the unemployment rate had fallen! Hallelujah! My reaction? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
You see, there's an interesting dichotomy associated with my job search in a slumping labor market. I want a job. I want an entry level job in accounting or financial services (ok, sports teams, I'll work for you too if I HAVE to) in New York City. I want to learn how these organizations operate, what services they provide, and how these services effect inviduals and companies that use them. I want to be good at my job. But at the same time, virtual unemployment(restaurant work requires the IQ of the pizzas being served) is, well, easy. It's not exactly difficult to wake up whenever you'd like to do whatever you'd like however you would like to do it. So while the job market is weak, I can prance around town with a verifiable excuse for my unemployement. I even receive pity on occasion for my situation. But if the job market were to come back, what excuse would I have? What if I could't find a job when there were plenty available? On one hand, I'm excitedly applying for jobs, but on the other hand, I'm using the bad economy as an excuse to not look hard enough.
I love this idea that the economy is bad. It becomes the foremost excuse for just about anything. Lindsay Lohan's back in rehab? Well, she can't find work with this bad economy. Ford's closing down 175 dealerships? That damned economy. Hitler's ghost has risen from the dead and is waiting in the Rhineland to resume his oppressive regime? Stupid move on his part, that job isn't available in this economy. There is a large part of me that feels like our culture has become one reliant upon excuses, and the "bad economy" of this era is serving as the primary get-out-of-jail-free card.
You see, there's an interesting dichotomy associated with my job search in a slumping labor market. I want a job. I want an entry level job in accounting or financial services (ok, sports teams, I'll work for you too if I HAVE to) in New York City. I want to learn how these organizations operate, what services they provide, and how these services effect inviduals and companies that use them. I want to be good at my job. But at the same time, virtual unemployment(restaurant work requires the IQ of the pizzas being served) is, well, easy. It's not exactly difficult to wake up whenever you'd like to do whatever you'd like however you would like to do it. So while the job market is weak, I can prance around town with a verifiable excuse for my unemployement. I even receive pity on occasion for my situation. But if the job market were to come back, what excuse would I have? What if I could't find a job when there were plenty available? On one hand, I'm excitedly applying for jobs, but on the other hand, I'm using the bad economy as an excuse to not look hard enough.
I love this idea that the economy is bad. It becomes the foremost excuse for just about anything. Lindsay Lohan's back in rehab? Well, she can't find work with this bad economy. Ford's closing down 175 dealerships? That damned economy. Hitler's ghost has risen from the dead and is waiting in the Rhineland to resume his oppressive regime? Stupid move on his part, that job isn't available in this economy. There is a large part of me that feels like our culture has become one reliant upon excuses, and the "bad economy" of this era is serving as the primary get-out-of-jail-free card.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Job Search vs. Job
Writing a cover letter is like reading over legal documents in that they are both so tedious that you have to constantly remind yourself that the agony you are enduring is necessary to attain that life dream. At some point, someone told me to "keep your cover letters tight", but since then the only tightening I've experienced while writing is in the back of my throat as I choke back tears. And I become unable to think the word "tight", instead preferring the Austin Powers' adapation, "toight". It becomes impossible to say it any other way. Anyways, sentences need to be clear, concise and to the point. No wasted words. Keep it TOIGHT. I spend approximately 30 minutes per paragraph, ensuring that my cover letters are... you guessed it... toight. My blood pressure rises with each Microsoft Word "Synonym" look-up, and by the end of one cover letter, I'm basically sweating bullets. Then I consider a terrifying possibility: This is what full-time work is. I'm writing these cover letters so that I can... write cover letteresque memos and reports. My entire future will consist of me writing toight cover letters.
After that exaggerated epiphany, I drink some water (I like water) and calm down for a bit. I'm pretty sure real jobs don't require you to constantly write toight cover letters for success. I believe simple "loose" e-mails and conversations should suffice. But than I consider this: Is it better to write one or two toight cover letters a day with no job than it is to have a full-time job? In my opinion: Fuck no. Cover letters are like getting a flat tire in a snowstorm with no gloves. You want to kick, scream, punch your computer (only once have I ever witnessed someone actually punch their computer, but that one time proves that it DOES happen), and yell, "WHY ME GODDDD?" (I'm not very religious, so when I'm yelling at god for fucking this all up for me, it's bad.) But you don't do any of that. You stare at the screen and try to decide whether "extensively" or "broadly" is a better fit for the toight sentence you've just created.
Why can't cover letters allow for creativity? Wouldn't that really separate who had innovation, work ethic and focus? Of course, it would still have to be well written to show off your writing and communication skills, but wouldn't it convey more accurately your abilities? Allowing freedom of expression in cover letters might get us away from the networking requirements of today's job hunt and even up the playing field a bit.
Quick End-Of-Post tangent: Why does every employer have to include "Excellent writing and communication skills" as a requirement. WE GET IT! We have to be able writers and communicators. It's about as important as being able to eat, sleep and breathe in the job application world. So basically, if you're an illiterate mute, just stop writing your application now, because god damn it you're not qualified. We understand this employers. Now stop it.
After that exaggerated epiphany, I drink some water (I like water) and calm down for a bit. I'm pretty sure real jobs don't require you to constantly write toight cover letters for success. I believe simple "loose" e-mails and conversations should suffice. But than I consider this: Is it better to write one or two toight cover letters a day with no job than it is to have a full-time job? In my opinion: Fuck no. Cover letters are like getting a flat tire in a snowstorm with no gloves. You want to kick, scream, punch your computer (only once have I ever witnessed someone actually punch their computer, but that one time proves that it DOES happen), and yell, "WHY ME GODDDD?" (I'm not very religious, so when I'm yelling at god for fucking this all up for me, it's bad.) But you don't do any of that. You stare at the screen and try to decide whether "extensively" or "broadly" is a better fit for the toight sentence you've just created.
Why can't cover letters allow for creativity? Wouldn't that really separate who had innovation, work ethic and focus? Of course, it would still have to be well written to show off your writing and communication skills, but wouldn't it convey more accurately your abilities? Allowing freedom of expression in cover letters might get us away from the networking requirements of today's job hunt and even up the playing field a bit.
Quick End-Of-Post tangent: Why does every employer have to include "Excellent writing and communication skills" as a requirement. WE GET IT! We have to be able writers and communicators. It's about as important as being able to eat, sleep and breathe in the job application world. So basically, if you're an illiterate mute, just stop writing your application now, because god damn it you're not qualified. We understand this employers. Now stop it.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Preparation Woes
No matter how hard you plan, networking, or more specifically phone calling, can become a stressful undertaking. Before you make a cold call to your Aunt's, friend's, cousin's, ex-coworker (that was an exaggeration, but sometimes it feels that way), you need to prepare what you will say and be knowledgable of their company and what they will say. Oftentimes, that entails 20 to 30 minutes of stalking someone on the internet (precisely what I was doing before I decided to write this blog entry.) You learn all sorts of random crap, like where they used to work from LinkedIn or that they finished 247th in the 10th Annual Typicaltown 5K Run. And then you are ready for the big phone conversation. You dial the number pensively. First ring. Second ring. Your heart begins to pound a little bit. Third ring. Fourth ring. Fifth ring? Now you've lost your mental edge and are just hoping this damn ringing stops. Then finally, ye olde message machine. "Thank you for calling Company X. There was nobody available to take your call. If you would like to leave a message for Joe, press 1. For Sally, press 2. For Ivan, press 3." Etc., etc. You leave your message, somewhat happy that you didn't have to actually talk to anyone but also somewhat disappointed that you didn't just get this over with. You assume the deed is done.
Unfortunately, it's not. Just as you are sitting down for lunch with freshly heated up leftovers, your left pocket starts buzzing uncontrollably. Guess who? But now you're not in your comfort zone. For me, when this happens, I have to race upstairs to retrieve a pad and paper, sit down on my bed (the only place to conduct phone conversations), and try desperately to not sound out of breath when I finally pick up the phone. Sometimes, of course, you miss the call, and call them back while they are still leaving a message, leading to some confusing calling back and forth. And you've lost your focus and your mental checklist of topics to cover has escaped through the hippocampus.
Just another day of bullshitting. What's not to love?
Unfortunately, it's not. Just as you are sitting down for lunch with freshly heated up leftovers, your left pocket starts buzzing uncontrollably. Guess who? But now you're not in your comfort zone. For me, when this happens, I have to race upstairs to retrieve a pad and paper, sit down on my bed (the only place to conduct phone conversations), and try desperately to not sound out of breath when I finally pick up the phone. Sometimes, of course, you miss the call, and call them back while they are still leaving a message, leading to some confusing calling back and forth. And you've lost your focus and your mental checklist of topics to cover has escaped through the hippocampus.
Just another day of bullshitting. What's not to love?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Restaurant Tales
Everything about the restaurant business separates it from every other profession out there. Where else do you work evening hours and get paid directly by your customers? Here's some uncorrelated thoughts on the food service industry:
1. Kitchen's in restaurants are dirty. Get over it.
2. You basically make an hourly wage. Even though it's tip-based, we all know that no matter how friendly, caring, honest, reliable or timely you are, you're getting about 18%. Once in a while someone will randomly give you 25%. And you feel great, like you earned it. And then you get 10%, and think "what the fuck did I do to deserve this you rotten cheapskate." It all evens out. Good work on the part of restaurant owners to sneakily institute the idea that staff pay goes up with performance, when in reality it makes little to no difference. When was the last time you tipped your waiter extra because they were so damn good at bringing your food? Were you awestruck at how effectively they carried 3 plates at once?
3. The interaction between waiter and customer is horribly awkward. "Hi, how are you today?" "Oh great!" "So, let me tell you about our specials..." Interpretation: "Listen, I don't give a shit about you, I'll forget your face within 4 minutes of when you leave, but I have to pretend to care now so that you won't remember me 4 minutes after you leave, because if you do it's most likely because I sucked. So here are our specials today..."
4. The worst is when I feel like I really connected with the customer, we laughed together a little bit and shared glowing smiles. And then BOOOOMMMM!!! They drop a 12% tip on me. I've been hoodwinked! It's like a battle of who can be the fakest:
- "Oh, a great start their from the waiter, really dripping with comfort and enthusiasm. That will be tough for the customer to overcome."
- "But WAIT! Will you look at that? The customer has helped to tidy up their dirty dishes, an amazingly useless maneuver that almost makes them seem genuine."
- "And the waiter comes back over the top by offering a FREE iced tea refill! Bold AND daring!"
- "BUT THE CUSTOMER HAS JUST SLIMILY SLIPPED OUT THE BACKDOOR HAVING LEFT ONLY A 12% TIP!!!!! A great showing by both sides, but the customer took control at the end there when it really mattered."
5. Don't be a waiter if you have a tendency to zone out. Too many times have I found myself in the kitchen area with a pitcher of water in my left hand and a medium-rare burger with fries in my right, and had no idea why I was holding either of them or where they were going.
6. Little known fact about waiting tables: There's no time to pee. As someone who hydrates to the tune of 3 nalgene bottles a day (is that weird?), peeing is an essential and gratifying part of my day. Once the action starts, I forget that my bladder is screaming at me, but once the day ends, it comes back, meaner and louder then ever. If there was a guiness record for longest pee, I'd be right up there after a day of waiting tables. Hmmmm, is the Guiness book of records named after Guiness the beer? If so, maybe that record exists... I should look into this.
7. Kitchen staffs nowadays are purely Hispanic. The names of those I can remember at Zany Zinc: Romero, Enrique, Ernesto, ... , shit what's that dude's name... damn it. There's one more. It's like Pedro or something. Anyways, our conversations consist of this:
Them: "Hola amigo."
Me: "Sup playa."
I can't understand why they seem to dislike me...
1. Kitchen's in restaurants are dirty. Get over it.
2. You basically make an hourly wage. Even though it's tip-based, we all know that no matter how friendly, caring, honest, reliable or timely you are, you're getting about 18%. Once in a while someone will randomly give you 25%. And you feel great, like you earned it. And then you get 10%, and think "what the fuck did I do to deserve this you rotten cheapskate." It all evens out. Good work on the part of restaurant owners to sneakily institute the idea that staff pay goes up with performance, when in reality it makes little to no difference. When was the last time you tipped your waiter extra because they were so damn good at bringing your food? Were you awestruck at how effectively they carried 3 plates at once?
3. The interaction between waiter and customer is horribly awkward. "Hi, how are you today?" "Oh great!" "So, let me tell you about our specials..." Interpretation: "Listen, I don't give a shit about you, I'll forget your face within 4 minutes of when you leave, but I have to pretend to care now so that you won't remember me 4 minutes after you leave, because if you do it's most likely because I sucked. So here are our specials today..."
4. The worst is when I feel like I really connected with the customer, we laughed together a little bit and shared glowing smiles. And then BOOOOMMMM!!! They drop a 12% tip on me. I've been hoodwinked! It's like a battle of who can be the fakest:
- "Oh, a great start their from the waiter, really dripping with comfort and enthusiasm. That will be tough for the customer to overcome."
- "But WAIT! Will you look at that? The customer has helped to tidy up their dirty dishes, an amazingly useless maneuver that almost makes them seem genuine."
- "And the waiter comes back over the top by offering a FREE iced tea refill! Bold AND daring!"
- "BUT THE CUSTOMER HAS JUST SLIMILY SLIPPED OUT THE BACKDOOR HAVING LEFT ONLY A 12% TIP!!!!! A great showing by both sides, but the customer took control at the end there when it really mattered."
5. Don't be a waiter if you have a tendency to zone out. Too many times have I found myself in the kitchen area with a pitcher of water in my left hand and a medium-rare burger with fries in my right, and had no idea why I was holding either of them or where they were going.
6. Little known fact about waiting tables: There's no time to pee. As someone who hydrates to the tune of 3 nalgene bottles a day (is that weird?), peeing is an essential and gratifying part of my day. Once the action starts, I forget that my bladder is screaming at me, but once the day ends, it comes back, meaner and louder then ever. If there was a guiness record for longest pee, I'd be right up there after a day of waiting tables. Hmmmm, is the Guiness book of records named after Guiness the beer? If so, maybe that record exists... I should look into this.
7. Kitchen staffs nowadays are purely Hispanic. The names of those I can remember at Zany Zinc: Romero, Enrique, Ernesto, ... , shit what's that dude's name... damn it. There's one more. It's like Pedro or something. Anyways, our conversations consist of this:
Them: "Hola amigo."
Me: "Sup playa."
I can't understand why they seem to dislike me...
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Battle Plans
I have a plan: 6 weeks at the Stinky Zinc, 2,000 bucks profit. That's about 330 a week, which is feasible but might be overshooting it. The plan's ephemeral structure is good for me to concentrate on what will happen after 6 weeks.
I'm still searching for opprotunities in finance or sports, or a melding of the two, and primarily through networking. The other day I wrote down all the folks I had called or spoken with, and was excited to see how many names were on that list. I then sorted them depending on whether they were a closed door or an open one, and there turned out to be more open ones. So... why... am... I... still... sitting... here? Well, let me tell you a little something about networking. It's like watching golf on TV. You move around from player to player, and you watch them get the ball in the cup, but then proceed to the next player who is shooting. Networking is similar in that the focus constantly changes from contact to contact, and you may have a great conversation and set up a meeting with a new contact or even arrange an interview, but because you can't rely on that one person to pull through, you have to continue with all your other networks also. And just like watching golf on TV, networking can upset you and make you feel unwanted. And once you've expunged all genuineness from your conversations, and are basically reading from a script, it gets really boring. Kinda like TV golf.
I'm still searching for opprotunities in finance or sports, or a melding of the two, and primarily through networking. The other day I wrote down all the folks I had called or spoken with, and was excited to see how many names were on that list. I then sorted them depending on whether they were a closed door or an open one, and there turned out to be more open ones. So... why... am... I... still... sitting... here? Well, let me tell you a little something about networking. It's like watching golf on TV. You move around from player to player, and you watch them get the ball in the cup, but then proceed to the next player who is shooting. Networking is similar in that the focus constantly changes from contact to contact, and you may have a great conversation and set up a meeting with a new contact or even arrange an interview, but because you can't rely on that one person to pull through, you have to continue with all your other networks also. And just like watching golf on TV, networking can upset you and make you feel unwanted. And once you've expunged all genuineness from your conversations, and are basically reading from a script, it gets really boring. Kinda like TV golf.
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Restaurant Business
I decided to try my hand at waiting tables while waiting for an inspirational, full-time desk job to call me back. The Berkshires, a stones throw from my home in New Lebanon, is a great place to prey on affluent New Yorkers vacationing in the fall foliage. Little do they know that the locals are after their tips. Come to think of it, they probably know this fact, and even rationalize their nasty attitudes by thinking that they can bully the rural poor as long as they pay for their snobbiness. Who knows. Anyways, I donned my freshest tan button down shirt, a slick pair of black slacks, a freshly shined pair of black loafers, and a combover that screamed "strictly business", and, clutching a notebook stuffed with resumes, began my search for destiny.
2 hours and 7 applications later, I left the area, feeling satisfied with my performance: Plenty of cheery remarks, a sincere smile or two, and a swagger that made women within 15 feet of me blush. The next day, however, I got a call back: "We'd like to see how you work with customers, why don't you come in tonight and show us your stuff?" (I paraphrased a bit there.) Tonight??? So wait, this job search thing actually requires you to work at some point? I had romanced about submitting applications and possibly working a couple days here and there, whenever I felt inclined. But work at night? And on weekends? Full-time? Waiting tables isn't a 9 to 5 job? I'm so used to making networking calls and writing e-mails that I never anticipated having to immediately follow up on something. I'm used to getting advice about my life, dwelling on it, and moving on. Now the resaurant business wanted me, and I felt the relaxation in my life slipping quickly through my fingers.
I called them back and said "no". But then another one called. "No, Thanks", I said. Only one restaurant gave me a good vibe: Bistro Zinc. And wouldn't you know it, the next day they called me, asking for my services. After months of drawn out e-mail communication with prospective employers and networkers, it took only 1 day to get 3 responses from restaurants. Is there any chance that I am the ONLY human in the Berkshires looking for a restaurant job? Is there something they know that I don't? There's something fishy in the air. I better get used to the smell, because I start training in 3 days. Until then, I must practice my French to give our customers the full experience. Ow Revwar!
2 hours and 7 applications later, I left the area, feeling satisfied with my performance: Plenty of cheery remarks, a sincere smile or two, and a swagger that made women within 15 feet of me blush. The next day, however, I got a call back: "We'd like to see how you work with customers, why don't you come in tonight and show us your stuff?" (I paraphrased a bit there.) Tonight??? So wait, this job search thing actually requires you to work at some point? I had romanced about submitting applications and possibly working a couple days here and there, whenever I felt inclined. But work at night? And on weekends? Full-time? Waiting tables isn't a 9 to 5 job? I'm so used to making networking calls and writing e-mails that I never anticipated having to immediately follow up on something. I'm used to getting advice about my life, dwelling on it, and moving on. Now the resaurant business wanted me, and I felt the relaxation in my life slipping quickly through my fingers.
I called them back and said "no". But then another one called. "No, Thanks", I said. Only one restaurant gave me a good vibe: Bistro Zinc. And wouldn't you know it, the next day they called me, asking for my services. After months of drawn out e-mail communication with prospective employers and networkers, it took only 1 day to get 3 responses from restaurants. Is there any chance that I am the ONLY human in the Berkshires looking for a restaurant job? Is there something they know that I don't? There's something fishy in the air. I better get used to the smell, because I start training in 3 days. Until then, I must practice my French to give our customers the full experience. Ow Revwar!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." - Johnathan Lennon
When we last checked in with Dano, he was finishing up Americorps, a more self-assured, brazen individual looking to make his mark on Upstate New York. But incorporating himself back into his old life won't be easy. Income is low, dead ends are easily visible, and his hard-earned, golden tan is slowly fading from his body. The world is his oyster. What will he do?
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