I think we are going to be ok together. I’m feeling optimistic.
It’s probably because the sun is back.
Or the fact that I realized I’ve had nearly two full weeks of social activities, including:
Line dancing with Henry, a friend from college who was passing through.Karaoke with coworkers and friends old and new.Games with long-time friends from my Savannah days.A huge wine-tasting event I was able to attend for free with another coworker.Line dancing at a new-to-me club in Salem: Silver Spur.
About that club …
It was packed with folks aged 25-35.
Hence, not folks like me. 😂
I enjoyed the people-watching.
But then this happened:
I have thoughts.
This is LINE DANCING, not a sporting event. No need for the national anthem. (I would argue that we don’t even need it at sporting events.)
This is HOURS into the night. Why play it THEN?
Is this girl signing the anthem? If so, is that RIGHT? It looks made up. Like this lady. (Based on this, I think she’s full of it.)
In addition to the fascinating fauna people, the flora is pretty great too.
Double-flowering plum trees are everywhere.They are lovely until a stiff wind comes by.
In general, I’m happy. Everything is going to be ok.
My first week went well. Everyone has been very kind, very welcoming.
I’ve also been a bit overwhelmed at the scope of the work to do. I stayed late every night this week trying to get a handle on my role. But my instincts have proven to be sound, and I’ll be fine.
The view from my desk
I have discovered that Oregonians are a particular kind of nice.
They are lovely people, but don’t seem to go out of their way to help. High school friend Aileen, who lives in Salem, warned me about that.
You have to ask explicitly for what you want.
For example, I locked myself out of my house for the first time in my life the week before I started work. The doorknob of the door leading into the garage has a thumb lock you really have to work at to pop out. I thought I had done that.
When I returned from taking out the trash, I realized I had not.
I had only the clothes on my back. No phone. And I was filthy because I had been painting and unboxing and trying to get the place in order.
I didn’t even know where campus security was to get help. (I live on campus.) I walked to my soon-to-be office building to call campus security. One of my direct reports was working late. I materialized in her doorway. She and I were both horrified at the state of me. She barely recognized me.
Beth?!
Yeah.
She called security and handed me the phone.
Security officer: I don’t know that we even have keys to that place.
Me: If you don’t, do you know a locksmith?
Him: I’m not from here. I don’t know a locksmith.
Me: Could I use your phone to call one?
Him: Sure. I’ll meet you at your house in 10 minutes.
We arrive at the same time. He tried the keys. No luck. I use his phone to call a locksmith. The dude has to come from Salem, which is 45+minutes. He asks me what kind of lock it is. I tell him it’s heavy duty because it’s campus housing. He says he might have to drill it out. We hang up.
Me: I don’t think the facilities group is going to like that.
Security officer: No. I don’t think the campus locksmith will either.
Me (incredulous): THERE’S A CAMPUS LOCKSMITH?!
Him: Oh yes.
Me: Well, can we call him?
Him: Yes, I’ll call the facilities manager on call.
Me: THERE’S A FACILITIES MANAGER ON CALL?!?
Darrell the Campus Locksmith got there in five minutes and let me in.
See what I mean? Nice but not forthcoming.
It’s different from Southern nice, where people WILL go out of their way but talk smack about you when the screen door shuts.
And different from Midwest nice, where people will go out of their way with no expectation of return favors and no gossip.
So now I know. I can work with that.
I’ll keep you posted on the adventures I expect to have.
My car arrived. I returned the RV. The boys left. The moving truck arrived. I lost count of how many boxes I opened in my quest to settle in. I gained a hundred bruises on my body. I lost weight via sweating.
It’s starting to come together, but it’s been a long week.
The house provided to me has not been loved for some time. I’m grateful for it, but it’s clear it has been short-term housing. I want to be here long-term. I want to leave it better than I found it.
So I painted the living room and dining room by myself.
Look at this nonsense I found while preparing to spackle:
Come ON!Who paints a living and dining room this yellow anyway? Yes, I know gray has a bad reputation, but it’s better than yellow.
I haven’t painted walls in YEARS. My body was a wreck afterward.
But it looks good.Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about the Blair Witch basement. Except not EVER go down there at night.I also met the neighbors.
I haven’t even started work yet, but I had a work event last night. My new university is home to a large wine festival. There is a salmon bake. I was invited to mingle with trustees and donors.
I hadn’t put on makeup and nice clothes for about two weeks.
I even got all the paint out of my hair!
I don’t know what I expected, but it was not the huge event that it was.
Look at all these people!Meat for milesThe salmon bakeAll local produce. Delicious!
I’m so glad I went. It was nice to be among people again after a week spent with boxes and Leo.
Things started looking up, scenery-wise, once we started driving along the Columbia River.
Once again, Leo could not be bothered.
That mouthJust LOOK at him!
Everyone perked up when the landscape started looking like what you would expect from the Pacific Northwest.
Mt. Hood welcomed us.Sasquatch hasn’t … yet.
We drove up to my new digs and got the key.
It’s got some things going for it (a big front porch, good size overall) but some things against (no central air, bathrooms are on the first floor while bedrooms are on the second).
And this kitchen — while fine — is nowhere near as great as my St. Louis kitchen.My St. Louis kitchen. See what I mean?
In fact, I missed my kitchen so much that I CRIED when my utensil organizer wouldn’t fit in the drawer.
It wasn’t about the drawer, though.
It was THE MOMENT that it all became real. I live here now.
You absolutely did NOT find something that would interest me. In fact, if you knew me, you would know that is the LAST job that would interest me. Also, unless mini golf counts, I am completely unqualified.
How did you get my email address? I don’t know you. What profile? Linked In? If so, it STILL doesn’t match up.
I Tetrised the heck out of my stuff to get it all to fit in my tiny trunk.
Dear Readers:
I’ve been keeping this blog for 12 years. I started it because I was about to make a class of students start one. I figured I needed to practice what I preached.
Anyway, though I’ve traveled all over the place and written about my adventures, my home base (i.e., where I get my mail) has always been Georgia.
That changes today. I’m Missouri bound.
Q: Um … why? A: I got a great new job, and I’ll be based in St. Louis.
Q: Isn’t that where your birth family is? A: Yes. The universe clearly has something to say. It’s also where I have loads of adopted family.
Q: Is your family excited? A: Excited for me, yes. But Eddie and the boys aren’t coming with me right now.
Q: What? A: Yeah. Eddie did not thrive when we moved to Atlanta. He missed Savannah, his job, his friends. So he went back to work at his old job. He’s much happier. The boys are staying in Atlanta with friends until winter break, then they will join him. I’ll be back with them as often as I can, and we’ll work it out.
Q: You think this is the right decision? A: I effing hope so. We had many family discussions. We decided on this plan together.
Q: You’re ok? A: Eh. In general. I watched two episodes of “Intervention” last night because I couldn’t sleep. Of course, I convinced myself I was scarring the children. I told Gideon that this morning. He rolled his eyes at me. So maybe I’m not scarring the children.
Q: But what if you are? A: What if I am? This is the path we chose together. At least the boys will see their parents doing jobs they really like.
Q: When do you start? A: Monday. I’ll be staying in university housing for two months. My plan is to find a permanent place this week, so I can make arrangements to get all my stuff moved up there.
Q: And you’re sure you’re ok? A: Well, there’s been plenty of ugly crying. I made a road-trip playlist. I got to “Wide Open Spaces” around Chattanooga, and lost my shit.
If you are inclined, send positive thoughts my way as I (we) embark on this new journey.
I am looking forward to writing about a new environment. I’m sure the Show Me State is named that for a reason.
Though this year has sucked in ways large and small, I’m thankful for all of you. I have big emotions regarding a few of you, but I’ll save that for a later post.
On this day of Thanksgiving (glossing over the actual horrific origins of this celebration), I’m thankful for small things (in no particular order):
Maybe I shouldn’t blame mothers. Maybe it’s our digital culture that makes people lazy and rude.
When looking for a job, however, you should be on your best behavior.
Ensure your emails are professional. Often, an email is the hiring manager’s first impression of you. Make it count. A candidate recently copied me on an email to an HR recruiter. It was the first email I received from the candidate. It began with this sentence: It does not appear that my candidacy for the [REDACTED] opening has thus far been accorded the proper level of respect and professionalism. I had been on the fence about the candidate. That certainly helped me make a decision.
Watch your tone. Remember that positive emails tend to come across as neutral; neutral emails read negative. Perhaps the candidate was simply neutral. (Yeah, right.)
Use proper grammar and mechanics. Do not use textspeak. SYK.
Don’t write a book. People often read emails on their phones. Don’t make them scroll and scroll and scroll. Get to the point.
Proofread. Then get someone else to proofread the email also.
Don’t be a pest. Say everything you need to say in one short email. If the person writes you back, then you can write again. Send one email to follow up on an interview. If you haven’t heard anything in two weeks after that email, send a final email. Then let it go. If the listing says “no calls or emails” then you have to respect that or risk pissing off the hiring manager.
Always send a hand-written “thank you” note after an interview. It’s just good manners. Sadly, few people have good manners nowadays. That means you will stand out in a good way.
Observe and report 