Career Category
This category tracks my various job hunts, career angst, bill issues, and money woes over the year. If you’re interested in my career stuff, you might want to check out my portfolio.
Andreas and my discussion of a Forbes article that has since been yanked offline (they put it back up with a rebuttal).
[16:41] Ariel Meadow: holy fuck: http://www.thestranger.com/blog/2006/08/forbes_to_men_whatev.php
[16:44] *Dre: Well, forbes is making itself irrelevant with stuff like this
[16:44] Ariel Meadow: yeah, they’ve actually taken the article down.
[16:47] Ariel Meadow: I mean, wow: “wives working longer hours not do not have adequate time to monitor their husband’s health and healthy behavior, to manage their husband’s emotional well-being or buffer his workplace stress.”
[16:47] *Dre: It almost sounds like a joke
[16:47] Ariel Meadow: They should add: “wives working longer hours not do not have adequate time to monitor their husband’s back hair and ear cleanliness.”
[16:47] *Dre: What would happen to me??????
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: destitution.
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: Hairy, waxy destitution.
[16:48] *Dre: ewww
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: I’ll save you!
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: Despite my selfishly working a job.
The defeat of de foil
17
Aug
2006
In: Career
Drat. Foiled again., originally uploaded by .Ariel.
While I was away, my coworkers foiled my desk. Here’s how it happened. And here’s the result.Since I take Fridays off, sometimes I come in on Monday morning to find things in my work area shuffled about a bit. Sometimes someone will borrow and adjust my chair. Sometimes my garbage cans will have been moved. This morning I walked in and found the my desk neighbor had usurped my rolling file cabinet, which also acts as my coat/bag holder. It was not only moved, but it had his bag on it.
Said neighbor was on the phone, so I simply walked up, put one hand on my hip and pointed at the appropriated file cabinet. I do believe the stink eye was involved. My neighbor scurried to move his shit and gave me a look that walked the line between apologetic and terrified.
I felt bad, but Evil Queen must have her rolling file cabinet on which to place her evil handbag and evil polar fleece wrap. Minions must obey.
Transitions
6
Jan
2006
In: Career
Today I gave my notice at work. My last day will be on January 20th. It was really hard.
See, I like the job I’ve been working for the last year and a half. It’s movies! It’s entertainment! It’s fashion! It’s fun! But it also required me to give at least 40 hours of my week to someone else. Some weeks that number was much higher. The entire month of October is a blur of 14 hour days and weekends at the office culminating in a 20+ hour day that ended with me under my desk at 4am, desperately trying to keep my shit together.
There are many people who thrive on this kind of thing. I, however, am trying to write a book. I’m trying to run a community website that’s been getting national media attention. I’m trying to live my life, and selling such a huge portion of it to someone else has been seriously getting in the way of me actually being able to do what I’m here to do.
It wasn’t a secret. I had a meeting with my boss a month and a half ago where I looked him in the eye and said, “I’m burning out. My work isn’t suffering, but I am. You know I’m working on a book, and that combined with the workload here is being a major challenge.” He sympathized, told me I was doing a great job, and encouraged me to keep at it.
But I needed to know my options. I contacted a former coworker and friend who’s an agent with Big Fish. I said, “My dream job pays this huge amount, and it only needs me 32 hours a week. And it has to be in downtown Seattle — like Pioneer Square, where I work now.” A few weeks later she came back to me with a copywriting job that pays almost double per hour that I make now. It’s a block away from my current office. And the company is willing to let me work only 4 days a week (8 hours a day), for the most part. (For the first few weeks they’ll need me full time. But my contract explicitly states 32 hour weeks beginning the second week of February.)
I will have three day weekends almost every weekend. This gives me an entire day (almost every week!) to work on my book and my other projects. And the hourly wage gives me money to save up for whatever adventure is coming next, whether that be a bathroom remodel (ug: the walls are rotting!) or a summer road trip (Shambhala, anyone?) or taking some time off when I need to.
Despite all these exciting things, it was really really hard to give my notice today. I absolutely adore the band of freaks who have been my coworkers. The only reassurance is that they’ll be right around the corner for lunch dates and things. But ug: it was hard. Harder than it should have been, given the amazing opportunity I’ve been given. More money, more time to myself, more freedom. And cool people, even. But not the same crew of cool people. And I won’t be writing about movies.
But ultimately, I can stay friends with the people while taking back the time that I need to enjoy my life. As for the entertainment writing I’ve so enjoyed? My editor at Movies.com and I are talking about me continuing to write for them — as a freelancer. Ahhhh. Freelancing. My new job will be a contract gig — by my choice. They offered permanent, but I need my life to be a little more fluid than that right now. It’s a risk to quit a permanent job for a contract one. The cautious child in my head squeaks “mortgage!” But it’s going to work out deliciously, no matter what.
Moany McGroanerson
20
Oct
2005
In: Career
You know you’ve worked 100 hours in 11 days when …
… You have surreal dreams about your coworkers, including one about a department talent show where you and one of the other editors have worked out a routine involving him dressed up in really half-ass drag, and you crooning Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” as he dances around the stage.
… Sitting at your desk, you start to wonder, “Weird, what’s that sound?” Then you realize it’s your own voice, and that you’re unconsciously moaning under your breath. Kind of like this: “Muhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” But really gravelly and quiet. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but it was kind of creepy. Damnit, Stallings! Keep it together!
- Two words: pus custard
- … master of nasty-ass …
- So that’s what it feels like to be a slug!
- … ultimately all that’s left is a bloody pulp-on-a-neck.
Dude, this next 8 Great is going to put me into therapy. I’ll let you know when it’s live.
Andreas and my discussion of a Forbes article that has since been yanked offline (they put it back up with a rebuttal).
[16:41] Ariel Meadow: holy fuck: http://www.thestranger.com/blog/2006/08/forbes_to_men_whatev.php
[16:44] *Dre: Well, forbes is making itself irrelevant with stuff like this
[16:44] Ariel Meadow: yeah, they’ve actually taken the article down.
[16:47] Ariel Meadow: I mean, wow: “wives working longer hours not do not have adequate time to monitor their husband’s health and healthy behavior, to manage their husband’s emotional well-being or buffer his workplace stress.”
[16:47] *Dre: It almost sounds like a joke
[16:47] Ariel Meadow: They should add: “wives working longer hours not do not have adequate time to monitor their husband’s back hair and ear cleanliness.”
[16:47] *Dre: What would happen to me??????
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: destitution.
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: Hairy, waxy destitution.
[16:48] *Dre: ewww
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: I’ll save you!
[16:48] Ariel Meadow: Despite my selfishly working a job.
The defeat of de foil
17 Aug 2006 In: CareerDrat. Foiled again., originally uploaded by .Ariel.
While I was away, my coworkers foiled my desk. Here’s how it happened. And here’s the result.
Since I take Fridays off, sometimes I come in on Monday morning to find things in my work area shuffled about a bit. Sometimes someone will borrow and adjust my chair. Sometimes my garbage cans will have been moved. This morning I walked in and found the my desk neighbor had usurped my rolling file cabinet, which also acts as my coat/bag holder. It was not only moved, but it had his bag on it.
Said neighbor was on the phone, so I simply walked up, put one hand on my hip and pointed at the appropriated file cabinet. I do believe the stink eye was involved. My neighbor scurried to move his shit and gave me a look that walked the line between apologetic and terrified.
I felt bad, but Evil Queen must have her rolling file cabinet on which to place her evil handbag and evil polar fleece wrap. Minions must obey.
Transitions
6 Jan 2006 In: CareerToday I gave my notice at work. My last day will be on January 20th. It was really hard.
See, I like the job I’ve been working for the last year and a half. It’s movies! It’s entertainment! It’s fashion! It’s fun! But it also required me to give at least 40 hours of my week to someone else. Some weeks that number was much higher. The entire month of October is a blur of 14 hour days and weekends at the office culminating in a 20+ hour day that ended with me under my desk at 4am, desperately trying to keep my shit together.
There are many people who thrive on this kind of thing. I, however, am trying to write a book. I’m trying to run a community website that’s been getting national media attention. I’m trying to live my life, and selling such a huge portion of it to someone else has been seriously getting in the way of me actually being able to do what I’m here to do.
It wasn’t a secret. I had a meeting with my boss a month and a half ago where I looked him in the eye and said, “I’m burning out. My work isn’t suffering, but I am. You know I’m working on a book, and that combined with the workload here is being a major challenge.” He sympathized, told me I was doing a great job, and encouraged me to keep at it.
But I needed to know my options. I contacted a former coworker and friend who’s an agent with Big Fish. I said, “My dream job pays this huge amount, and it only needs me 32 hours a week. And it has to be in downtown Seattle — like Pioneer Square, where I work now.” A few weeks later she came back to me with a copywriting job that pays almost double per hour that I make now. It’s a block away from my current office. And the company is willing to let me work only 4 days a week (8 hours a day), for the most part. (For the first few weeks they’ll need me full time. But my contract explicitly states 32 hour weeks beginning the second week of February.)
I will have three day weekends almost every weekend. This gives me an entire day (almost every week!) to work on my book and my other projects. And the hourly wage gives me money to save up for whatever adventure is coming next, whether that be a bathroom remodel (ug: the walls are rotting!) or a summer road trip (Shambhala, anyone?) or taking some time off when I need to.
Despite all these exciting things, it was really really hard to give my notice today. I absolutely adore the band of freaks who have been my coworkers. The only reassurance is that they’ll be right around the corner for lunch dates and things. But ug: it was hard. Harder than it should have been, given the amazing opportunity I’ve been given. More money, more time to myself, more freedom. And cool people, even. But not the same crew of cool people. And I won’t be writing about movies.
But ultimately, I can stay friends with the people while taking back the time that I need to enjoy my life. As for the entertainment writing I’ve so enjoyed? My editor at Movies.com and I are talking about me continuing to write for them — as a freelancer. Ahhhh. Freelancing. My new job will be a contract gig — by my choice. They offered permanent, but I need my life to be a little more fluid than that right now. It’s a risk to quit a permanent job for a contract one. The cautious child in my head squeaks “mortgage!” But it’s going to work out deliciously, no matter what.
Moany McGroanerson
20 Oct 2005 In: CareerYou know you’ve worked 100 hours in 11 days when …
… You have surreal dreams about your coworkers, including one about a department talent show where you and one of the other editors have worked out a routine involving him dressed up in really half-ass drag, and you crooning Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” as he dances around the stage.
… Sitting at your desk, you start to wonder, “Weird, what’s that sound?” Then you realize it’s your own voice, and that you’re unconsciously moaning under your breath. Kind of like this: “Muhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” But really gravelly and quiet. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but it was kind of creepy. Damnit, Stallings! Keep it together!
- Two words: pus custard
- … master of nasty-ass …
- So that’s what it feels like to be a slug!
- … ultimately all that’s left is a bloody pulp-on-a-neck.
Dude, this next 8 Great is going to put me into therapy. I’ll let you know when it’s live.
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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