As promised, I am writing once again for the second time this week. This has been a very long week for me. I looked for jobs, worked a forty hour workweek, cooked and assisted in cooking a few homemade meals, cleaned, and washed Moe (my dog).
Out of the entire week, looking for jobs was the hardest task. Working forty hours is hard, don’t get me wrong. At the pharmacy where I work, the Pharmacy Manager does not believe in having chairs to sit down. I know you may think this is strange, but I embrace the exercise that I receive from always being on my toes! Standing for eight hours a day is not easy, much less juggling anywhere from two hundred to four hundred prescriptions a day to be entered, processed, counted, filled, filed, and sold to the customers. Finding jobs in this economy and with my background has been much harder.
You might think cooking would be harder. I made bow-tie pasta (also known as farfalle or butterfly pasta) with meat sauce. The meal went extremely well, minus the fact that the fire alarm went off. Unfortunately, any time food manages to spill into the bottom of the oven, smoke occurs. The smoke that manages to escape the oven floats throughout my home; therefore, floating right by my fire alarm.
An average night when a homemade meal is made with the fire alarm going off is set up similar to this:
Food drips onto the bottom of the smoldering oven. Smoke leaks from the oven and continues to float throughout the house with both the hood fan and ceiling fan on to no avail. The smell of the smoke turns Moe into a shaking machine. He heroically tucks his tail and runs for cover under the nearest side table. If he is feeling froggy, he runs up the stairs and dives under the bed. While shaking non-stop under cover, he looks around feverishly to see if his stupid owners have died from the imminent danger that floats throughout the house (I now know that Moe will NOT be my savior if there is ever a REAL fire!).
The smoke sets off our extremely sensitive fire alarm.
Moe despises the fire alarm. The fire alarm goes a little something like this: a woman’s monotone voice yelling, “FIRE, FIRE, FIRE” followed by high-pitch beeps to separate the yelling before once again sounding the alarm. Who wouldn’t hate that? I understand that it is for emergency situations, but if someone is yelling “fire” I am bound to panic! Yet, Moe sees it as a sign from God that the end is truly near.
Now, either Taylor or I pop into view to silence the alarm. Taylor simply reaches high to silence the alarm. I, on the other hand, have to climb at least three or four stairs before I am able to reach over the railing to hit the silence button. I only stand at a mere five feet and once inch; therefore, it is not possible for me to hold the silence button from the ground floor. While this alarm is annoyingly sensitive and cannot be unplugged because it is hardwired, it has made me much more alert and quick during emergency situations. I can run to that alarm like my life depended on it. While I hate the alarm’s monotone voice, the monotone voice stating “hush mode” brings me immediate relief.
Very soon, Moe is wrapped in a blanket in my arms being rocked back and forth while I pet his head and coo, “you’re okay, you’re okay,” until the shaking stops. Moe eventually calms down and easily falls asleep. Once again, trying to find a job is harder than this situation.
From that relay of events, I can understand that you might think “poor Moe!” Let me get to the best part of my week, which happened today: washing Moe. I did a substantial amount of cleaning today. I took out trash, did a few loads of laundry, dishes, vacuumed and cleaned the carpets, but none of these chores measure up to the chore of washing Moe.
When Moe needs washed, Taylor and I find it best to tag-team it. Moe, the once adorable wired haired fox terrier, turns into a raging beast. I admit that he does not bark (thank goodness), but he does turn into a cartoonish version of a cat being placed near water. His eyes get big, his hair can’t really stand on end but I am sure it would if his hair weren’t wiry, and his claws come out. He physically digs his nails into you as much as possible as to stay away from the water. You don’t need to really hold him, because he holds on for dear life.
Unfortunately, this chore has not become easier over the years. Moe ranges around twenty pounds; I honestly believe that most of that weight is muscle. Washing Moe equals lots of quick movements and scratches from the cat/dog. I imagine Moe seeing his life pass before his eyes, believing that he must fight for his life. Today I was smart, I let Taylor hold Moe in the shower while I took soap and lathered Moe until he was sudsy. Then, I took the shower head and maneuvered it to hit Moe to get him squeaky clean.
Of course Moe got me back. As soon as I got him as dry as one can with a towel, he shook like all dogs do after getting wet. I just happened to be standing right beside him. He drenched me with the remaining water that I was not able to rid of before he hurtled for the door. This event still does not compare to looking for jobs.
All of these accomplishments and chores have not compared with my recent experience in searching for a job. I love a challenge. I love the hunt, the chase, and the victory. It is extremely hard to look for jobs. Because my degree is in English, I am not able to simply click on a category and find all the jobs awaiting me. I love this fact, because I do not fit into any one category. I can range from anything from Business to Human Resources to Publishing to Marketing. I can look through any category, but it does make my search for a job a bit harder. For some reason I have the feeling that even though this challenge has been harder than most, the reward will be all the greater. My daily life, accomplishments, and everything in between are challenging, but not as challenging as starting my lifelong career. Therefore, I will enjoy the challenge for now and await the rewarding career that I am soon to find.