Land vs Cell

Land vs Cell

So, I belong to a professional organization for editors and threads fly around all day, usually with deep discussions of grammar—I tend to delete those quickly because I really can’t that deep on the issue. But then a really interesting topic came up—or actually two of them: Do you give your landline or cell numbers to clients? And do you accept texts from clients who have “quick” questions?

To answer the second one first: I think I’ve only ever received one text from a client, ever. The issue was dealt with in three minutes and then switched to e-mail. The first question is better because landlines, from what I’ve read, are starting to disappear as people use their cell phones for their only lines.

Personally, I like being able to have both. I never give my landline information to a client unless it’s an emergency. But if I have a conference call, I dial in from the landline because the receiver can stand up on its own and has a better speaker; and I don’t have to worry about it running out of power, or minutes.

And I like having a landline because it almost always works—and because I can have an old-fashioned phone with cords. Have a blackout? I plug in the phone with the cord and I’m good. Something happens to the portable handheld, again, I plug in the one with the cords and I’m ready. And my old-fashioned phone has a really long cord for the receiver so I can get pretty far with it. 

During Superstorm Sandy, though, I plugged it in and nothing happened. Even those lines were gone. But once the power came back, I made sure it was plugged in for a couple of days just to make sure everything worked all right-and to let all those other communications devices recharge at their own pace. Yes, I’m nutty with it.

Even more importantly, I give out the landline number whenever I have to put something down for contact that isn’t that important. The store will call to let me know when the package will be delivered? They can leave a message. Need to put something in the phone book—and yes, those are disappearing too but a lot of that information can be found online so it’s a good number to have—the landline is the way to go. I have an answering system set up that I can call into a couple of times a day if I’m working onsite, but usually (yes, there are some calls that should have been answered faster) that’s fine. Nothing there is urgent.

My cellphone, though, is my business line. All of my clients have the number. Even prospective clients have it. Plus, all of the vendors I work with have the number. My handyman can reach me no matter where I am. Same goes for the guy who cuts the lawn, and the one redoing the driveway. Those people need to be able to find me quickly and I’m on at least 12 hours a day—less on weekends. Plus I keep my contacts’ information in the phone so I can find them just as quickly—both phone numbers and e-mail addresses. It’s a business thing and seems to work well. Do I want them to text me regularly? Not really; but a text here or there won’t be a problem. And I use a Bluetooth earpiece when I’m in the car. I don’t actually get many calls when I’m driving but if I do, I can answer and then I usually pull off whenever possible to talk. And no, I never text while driving.

The system works for me. What would you do?

Home Improvements

Home Improvements

Ah, the joys of home ownership. When you first move into a house, there’s the joy of making things the way you want them. Then if you’re lucky you trade up, and once again you can make things yours. In fact, the ongoing idea once again is that you fix things to match what your vision is in that home.

But now we’ve lived in our house for 27 years and not only have we made it the way we wanted it—including a lot of renovations in 2009 and 2010—but now we have to “fix” a few things. Hence, the joy of home improvements…the kind you can’t avoid and really need to make happen.

Our driveway is more than 90 feet long. And the mailbox is at the street end so if the weather is really bad I’m happy to leave the mail in the box until I can get out there. My husband is willing to put on a heavy coat, boots, a hat, and gloves in order to get the mail that day. I let him; it’s not worth the fight. But a couple of ties this summer I went out—once in the rain—I went down the driveway to the box, and on the way back, I felt like the driveway had sunk a little bit. Actually, it felt like it was a little wavy.

The Driveway Saga

Because I didn’t want to spend a lot on things, I figured we could just have it “capped.” A thin layer of asphalt would be laid over what was there and things would even out. What did I know? Apparently not a whole lot. First I called my handyman for a referral; no problem. I called the place he sent me. it’s been 3 weeks; I’m still waiting to hear from the guy they were going to contact about it. Oh, the joys of dealing with subcontractors. Apparently they’re in total control. My husband thought I should wait but I’ve seen this before. There isn’t enough time in life for me to wait to hear. On to plan B.

I had this neighbor for a few years—okay, probably at least 12 years but I really didn’t like her so I try to minimize it. But this neighbor was very picky in who she used to work on her place, and I remembered the name of that company. Called them; had a call back within an hour and an estimate within two hours. Unfortunately, my dream of capping the driveway was just that, a dream. It seems that driveways actually have shelf lives and we were years beyond expiration. His price included ripping it out—remember, this is over 90 feet, and did I mention the part where it’s even wider because there is a turn into the garage and that it actually extends about 10 feet beyond the end of the garage—laying new gravel, and then repaving with half an inch more than the required depth of asphalt. Fortunately, the price isn’t horrific. My husband was home; he said we should do it. I’m not happy but fine. At least when we go to sell the house, we can use it as a sales plus.

The next Tuesday they came and I had to get out of bed by 7n a.m. to put the cars in the street before the trucks come. My husband is stunned that I’m doing this, but to me this is normal. It’s the first time he’s been around for a major home improvement and he has no idea what it takes. This is nothing; remind me to tell you about when we refinished the floor in the family room. I lived upstairs the entire week. Notice that the driveway is now just gravel and will be paved in another week or so. Meanwhile, I still haven’t heard from the first firm with an estimate.

Also the Deck

But this wasn’t all. The week before we started asking about the driveway we realized the deck needed to be power washed and re-stained. Talked to the handyman (he knows someone for anything he doesn’t do) and we were referred back to the guy who painted the ceilings last winter. This guy is a pleasure to deal with; he actually answers his own phone. He comes over and we have a chat about cleaning and staining except he heavily advocates solid stain and not the transparent stuff we originally used. It seems that will last longer, and I’m thinking again about selling points for the house.

So, it’s off to Home Depot (fortunately he will handle picking the stain up so I don’t need extra cash to pay them; I'm very aware of hackers). I hate picking colors; I don’t trust my eye for how it will look on a big space. But the husband narrows it down and I just pick one. The painter comes literally the next Monday and starts the washing. As long as we’re doing it we also had him power wash the back of the house and the patio. The area is heavily shaded and we’re always battling mold. Oh, and did I mention the part where I had to have someone come and prune the bushes around the deck before we could do anything? There was a lot of rain over the summer and the plantings were running amok. There’s a lot more space around the deck now. Fortunately, the painter is very good; he was in and out in three days (it rained in between or it would have been two). I’m still getting used to the color but it looks really good so I’ll adapt.

That's All for This Year...I Hope 

The last commitment I made on the house was to promise my husband that there will be no more big projects this season. We’ve hit the limit. Of course, the new year is in less than three months, and I have a list for next year. It’s a house, something always needs to be fixed, upgraded, adjusted.

Back to My Threads

Back to My Threads       

Time to return to more fun in my life. I’m going back to crocheting. For those of you who think knitting is “da bomb,” sorry. I can’t knit. I crochet. Why is that? I do know how to knit, but I’m left-handed and when others tried to teach me it wasn’t easy, or pretty. Essentially, I have very uneven tension and therefore anything I do looks really messy.

Why crochet? Because I get it. My mother taught me to crochet in 2 hours sitting by a pool in Arizona—no lie. Those were the days when my father sometimes traveled and if I was lucky, and it was summertime, sometimes I was invited along. She was working on a project way back when and I just got to figure it out with her. From there I made an afghan—in sections, with joins to other colors. For a first project it was probably more complicated than it should have been but I actually still have it in a linen closet, and it’s been more than 40 years since I made it. Since then I’ve made a lot of afghans--for my kids, my sister, my husband, even my son-in-law (his matches the one I made for the husband but is a foot longer)—and they all still have them, although sometimes in a slightly dilapidated state.

Then there was the skirt. My mother and I were in a store when we saw this skirt in graduated colors and pieces. It was stunning but way out of the budget. A couple of months later I saw the same idea of a skirt in a pattern book. It was irresistible—and became the project to eat all projects. Took me years. It wasn’t the pattern that was so hard, or even making the 97—yes 97—pieces in graduated sizes. It was putting it together. But it was great when it was done, and I wore it for several years. Got a lot of compliments on it too, but eventually it was just too out of style to keep wearing it. It’s gone now.

I’ve made a lot of shawls, some of which I’ve kept. My younger daughter, who knits incredibly well—and has tried to get me back into that but there’s still that tension problem that no one can solve—and also crochets, pointed out that I don’t have to make the pattern to learn the stitch. I can use the stitch for something else once I know the repeats—lights went off, and now I have several shawls in more complicated patterns.

Learning More

I’m pretty good with most patterns and can usually keep to a gauge. Right after my granddaughter was born, I took up Tunisian crochet. Actually while out there helping with the baby I found a class on the basics and had a great time with it. And I ended up learning several stitches and emerging with a cowl. Now I have patterns for those too. I’ll be heading out for her birthday next month and figure I can work on a scarf on the plane. There’s a lot of downtime.

I was supposed to make something for the granddaughter but that hasn't happened either. It's a supposedly easy pattern that for some reason I can't "get." I'm not sure why because "easy" is usually a no-brainer but I'm thinking that I have to sit down in the next two weeks and just knock it out. I know that if I just spend the time, it won't take more than an hour to do. Hopefully, she'll like it.

But Where... 

My greatest issue these days is where to crochet. I used to have a recliner in my bedroom and I could sit there and work and have the TV on as background--and something to see when I looked up. The chair broke and I put it out for the trash. The only thing keeping me from working now is no place to do it. Still working on that one, but I plan to resolve the issue this week.

Stay tuned for more on crafting habits…

The Closet Purge Returns            

Yes, it’s back. I’m cleaning out my clothes again. I’m not sure why that happens so regularly but I find that if I clean out my clothing, whether due to size changes (fortunately, I’m not getting bigger these days), boredom, or just a general need to clean, I feel better. And I would bet there are a lot of people out there like me.

So this week, it was mainly the dresser. I went after anything I haven’t worn in the last summer—most of the gutting was on the summer side of things. It wasn’t a lot, but I have a nice little pile going. I still have a couple of drawers to go elsewhere—yes, there is an elsewhere with odds and ends that don’t really fit into a specific season. But I’m willing to bet there are items in there that I haven’t even looked at in a couple of years. I remember a pair of shorts I bought for when I first tried out yoga. I must have scared the class not only with my efforts to get to the various positions—a topic for another day—but with the outfit I wore. Looking back I have to ask myself, “Self, what were you thinking?!?!?!

Next, it will be the fall/winter/early spring items. I don’t think there’s as much there because I’ve been weeding out that side of things regularly. I do need to hit the coat closet in the front hall though. And that’s where I might even “lose” some of my husband’s treasured items. I helped my daughter “redo” her front coat and whatever-we-can-hide-in-there closet recently. A lot of the “hidden treasures” weren’t hers, but were stashed by her husband. I think her thinking was that he hadn’t mentioned them lately so he won’t miss them. She knew what really had to be kept; the rest has met the dumpster of history. But she felt really good after the purge. She also routinely clears her daughter’s closet of outgrown clothing. Of course, since my granddaughter is only just 11 months old that can happen every 2 weeks without fear of losing anything.

On a side note, personally, I like the idea of people passing their clothing on by way of donation or giving them to specific people who need them. My granddaughter is a benefactor of that policy, which has given her a huge—and very fashionable-wardrobe. If eventually she gets a little sister, that kid will also be set for clothes. And if there is a little brother, well, someone out there will become the latest mini fashionista.

 Other Side of the Closet

Returning to my main point, my next question is this: How is it that no matter how often we women clean out our wardrobes, the men have nothing to purge? I mean, really? My husband hasn’t needed to wear a suit daily to work in years. If he has one on, it’s either black or navy blue, sometimes with a pinstripe. And he’s wearing a red tie. He doesn’t have to tell me he has a meeting that day; I can just see that he’s going to be talking to the bankers. Plus, in the last couple of years he’s lost 25 pounds. A number of clothes are hanging on him. So when I ask if he has anything to add to the donation bag, the answer is usually no, or he puts in one really old pair of running shorts that I then take out of the bag because they’re really not something that should be given as a donation. It would be embarrassing. Therefore, there’s nothing from his side of the closet. Really?

Anyway, I think I’ve gotten rid of some stress now, which is always good. I’m going back to the purging area now—I have one more drawer to do.

I the Worker

I’ve never argued with the fact that when I am on a job, I’m frequently one of the oldest people in the office, if not the oldest by at least several years. Some businesses just seem to hire younger and younger people, which is a way to save money.

What’s wrong with saving money? Or never mind that, what’s wrong with thinking that on every job you should come in at 10 a.m., but expect to leave at 5 or 5:30 p.m., and take at least an hour for lunch. I think this is where my age comes in. I wouldn’t ever think of assuming that, but then again, I’m older and probably considered odd. And my work ethic doesn’t happen like that.

Instead, I listen to the hours HR tells me to be there, and I come in for them. If the meeting is at 9:30 every day, I don’t assume I can miss it because I was there late the night before. (Then again, if I work until after 11 p.m. to make sure the job gets to the client on time, I probably won’t be at the meeting, an neither will anyone who was there late with me.) I don’t assume that I shouldn’t have to work hard but will still be rewarded. And I never assume that someone else is there to pick up behind me. My office is not my mother—and she doesn’t pick up after me either.

There are some benefits to having been around for a while. First, I actually usually know the job I’m asked to do, so there’s no training involved. Second, I’m happy to have the work so I’m easier to get along with in the office, and usually ready to go as soon as I get in. I don’t need a 20-minute coffee break to start my day. Finally, due to having been around for a bit, I’m usually pretty good at getting along with just about everyone I meet (yes, there are some duds, but it’s a minority) so I don’t rock the boat of office dynamics all that often. I’m also pretty good at figuring out quickly who I should avoid in the office in order to make sure I’m invited back—more billings for me.

Would I like my workload to be less? Sometimes. Do I try to take pride in what I do and put in the time to make sure it’s right? Absolutely. Unfortunately, I seem to be in a very small minority. Why is that? Who decided we were owed for not doing a job? Who thinks that if you work the basic hours someone else will just pick up the slack—and never question that you must be superior because you don’t cover for yourself? And who decides who gets what assignments—yes, that would be the boss. Frankly, if you’re not doing your work, don’t expect the promotion—and don’t complain when you don’t get it. In all likelihood the person who moved up the ladder was probably the one coming in earlier, staying later, and making sure the job was done—well. Yes, they might have been currying favor with the powers above them, but ultimately, most of the time, if you can’t do the work you’re not going to get anyplace. It just about always comes home to hit you if you move up to where you shouldn’t be.

And for those who do realize that I might be older than their mothers, remember that I’m polite; I still try to smile at everyone; and I do deserve respect unless I behave like a complete fool. Manners really do count much of the time, and periodically, they pay off. Maybe if the young came in at the appropriate time, sat down, and did what they were supposed to, the firm wouldn’t need to hire me to clean up after you. Or to do your work. And the firm wouldn’t routinely have mass layoffs due to budget cuts, or because there was less work available. Instead they bring in people like me, who may not be willing to stay really late but also don’t get benefits and work on an as-needed basis. (That means that if we come in and after 4 hours you don’t need us, we go home, even if we were promise three days of billings.) Maybe they would keep you around if you had shown loyalty and an ability to do the work—or even an interest in doing it well.

Homework Counts

Putting in the time to do a job right counts. I know you just graduated from college, and your professors said you were great. Doesn’t mean you know everything. I once worked in a place where the assistant questioned me on a style issue. Seems her professor said one thing but I was doing something else. Of course, the fact that the professor was teaching her newspaper style, and we were doing medical, never came up—oh wait, it did, when I pointed it out. She admitted she hadn’t even opened that manual; I suggested, politely, that she did. Then I went off to ask my friend with 20 years of newspaper experience (not the 20 days this girl had) about the question she asked. My friend in the trenches immediately pointed out that style is subjective, and no one followed it that tightly. Plus, you need to follow what the client wants, not just what a professor is teaching. The real world can be different.

Step back for a moment and try listening. Learning doesn’t end when you get your diploma. In fact, that’s only the beginning—yes, it’s a cliché but there is truth in the saying. You can learn something and do better if you listen to people like me—the old fogies.

Oh, and for you “friends” who know all about getting a job, but haven’t actually had to find one in the last 20-plus years: the answer to someone who is out of work isn’t, “Well, I’m sure you can find a job if you really want one.” (And no, I don’t talk to her anymore.) Do you really think the world is waiting to hire you if you want to suddenly go out once the kids are gone and make a little money? When there are at least three people for every job, and most of them have far more current work experience than you do? I bet you’ll be surprised when you don’t get an interview—unless you know someone who is willing to create a little something for you. Trust me, it won’t be all that scintillating to do whatever work is tossed at you; you’ll still be expected to get it done; and I’m pretty sure it won’t pay what you think you’re worth.

Older Really Isn't Stupid 

Remember, you’re older now, and a lot of young people think older means stupid. Yes, this has been a bit of a rant, but as an older worker, who has been through both the ups and the downs, I think I have a right to say something—due to my age, and the fact that I have never been let go for cause, or even been put on probation because I didn’t perform well, you might want to listen. 

The Thrill of the Chase—Time for Shoe Shopping             

Then

I was never particularly into shoe shopping until perhaps the last five years. Don’t get me wrong; I, like many women, really like shoes. I like the idea that I can wear flats, and heels. I like the colors; I like the fabric, and the leather. I’m not a fan of stilettos, although I’ve owned a pair, but I admire people who can wear them. In short, there’s nothing I don’t like about shoe shopping. But...

I have wide feet and constantly being in stores with sales people who acted like my width was a criminal offense. I really mean that. I went into one store and was shown some “wide” shoes that were particularly ugly; even the salesgirl had trouble looking at me when she brought them out—those were the shoes they had available. When I questioned the look the answer, also made without looking me in the eye, was “this company believes people with wider feet should cover them up.” I left the store.

Don’t get me wrong; I know I have wide feet. In fact, I’ve always had shoe issues. 

Growing up, my mother would take me into the leading shoe store in town, and I’d have to choose from the very few styles that came in wide sizes. There was never much of a selection, and I got the impression that having wide feet was my fault. More recently I went into a store that advertised in the catalog—mailed to my house—that they carried wide sizes. When I asked for them I was told the catalog meant I should order online and they’d send them to me. I don’t like to buy shoes—or even clothes for that matter—online until I know the brand well and have a feel for what size will fit. I pointed out, very politely, that the catalog said the stores carried the sizes, and was told the catalog was wrong. When I asked, still politely, whether I could return a shoe to the store if I ordered online, I was told no, returning them was my problem, not theirs. I needed to order correctly. Left that store. But this time, I went home, found out how to contact Customer Service for that brand, and wrote to them—online—with the whole story. I got an answer to the effect that that was not acceptable behavior from their people and that I’d be hearing shortly from someone higher up about the incident. I’m not sure what “shortly” means to them but it’s been two years; fortunately, I’m not holding my breath waiting.

Now

Fast forward to the recent past, and things are improving. First, more manufacturers are acknowledging that maybe people with wider feet can look decent in nice-looking shoes. Second, I lost weight and while my feet aren’t narrow, I went from a 2W to a 1W, which was a little more helpful. In fact, I’m starting to get a little obsessed with shoe shopping. It turns out that if you really work at knowing what brands fit you, the shoes are not that hard to find. In fact, some of them have outlets that sell wider sizes for less. Miracles do happen. I now have shoes in styles I like, and a variety of colors that I never had access to before. I don’t have as many pairs of shoes as a number of women I know, but it’s nice to have something to try on.

Last week, I spent a morning shoe shopping with a friend. A shoe store we both liked had closed in the local mall and we really wanted to find another one. It turned out there was an outlet for that brand within 10 miles of her home, so off we went. The most gratifying part was that I tried on three pairs of shoes, one of which fit. But, I decided they were a bit dull so didn’t get them. My friend, though, hit the jackpot, and she has a different problem. Her feet can handle three different sizes, all in medium, based on the style. She left the store with three pairs of shoes, in different sizes. But she was happy. Her only disappointment was that I left with nothing. I’m okay with that; at least I was able to try some on because they had my size. Plus, July is a little off-season so I probably need to go back in September to see updated styles. There was one pair I really loved but I had no use for them in my life at all; I just don’t dress up that much anymore.

Soon

My new plan is to go to an outlet mall in about three weeks, when more fall styles are around, that has a store with a brand I like. Just the thought of going is thrilling me. I’m starting to imagine what colors might be available. I don’t actually need new shoes, but it’s the thrill of the chase. Wish me luck!

The Diet War            

 Like many women, especially we older ones, I have an ongoing fight with my weight. I frequently feel that I gain weight anytime I look at a carb. But I also really like carbs, so it’s an ongoing internal war. In 1999 I was at my heaviest (which was nowhere near the numbers you read about people losing). So, I decided that was it and weight would be coming off.

Two Parts

We all know that the issue is diet and exercise I’ve always been a walker, no matter what I weigh, so I pulled on sneakers and on my lunch break at work, I went out for a walk. If it was raining, I’d do some laps in the parking garage attached to the building. Otherwise, there was a huge circle in front of the hotel attached to the office building and I’d go there. I’d walk out the back—near the parking garage—work my way to the front, do the entire circle (probably over a half mile), then work my way to the back of the building and go inside I didn’t want to go more than a couple of miles because it was an office building and I couldn’t get a shower if I overdid it. Still, it was at least 30 minutes of walking 4-5 days a week (sometimes workload did me in), so I was trying.

Monday through Friday I was very careful in what I ate. After each walk I’d go to the cafeteria and get a salad and a bottle of water. I’d try to avoid any snacking, both during the day and at home at night—remember, I see a carb and I gain weight. On weekends I was a little less careful and sometimes dessert came in. Still, I began to lose weight. And to make a long effort short, in about 4 months I was down 25 pounds and all my clothes were so big on me. It was a great feeling—especially when people noticed that something had happened and there was less of me.

Years Later

Cut to 2010. I’ve gained back maybe 5 of the 25 pounds—something that’s really good since a lot of people tend to gain back even more. Then my daughter got married, and I looked really good thanks to a really good tailoring job at the dress boutique. But, I still felt I needed to lose more. So, back to walking, and being exceptionally vigilant. And over time I lost 14 pounds. Now I look really good   But it’s really hard to keep it off.

So here comes the baby shower. Yes, my daughter is pregnant and I’m part of the baby shower team. And I really didn’t think I ate all the badly that weekend, but I gained 4 pounds in 5 days – and I still can’t get them off. And the baby is 9 months old. So I promised myself new shoes if I can lose the 5 pounds in 4 weeks.

Age Is Catching Up

I’m walking more again. I’m watching everything I eat. But it is almost 4 years later, and I’m almost 4 years older, and my metabolism is really shot. And my arthritic hips really don’t like too much exercising—you know how it is: work out 1 day, suffer for 2 days. Or, spend 5 days helping with granddaughter, which means a lot of lifting, and you have to sit down for several days when you get home just to let your body catch up. But then again, I can still get into the smaller sizes of clothes that I have and there’s still space inside them. I just want those 5 pounds off again—actually, I’d like 7 or 8 pounds off but I don’t want to be cranky about it.

As I said, it’s a war. I think I’m losing it--in more ways than one.

Not So Common Sense

I know, probably not an original title. But, it is true that many people were born without common sense.

I come from a very bright family, at least from an IQ test point of view. My IQ, which I admit hasn’t been tested in a very long time, was never as high as the others. I’m fine with that. What I find hysterical though is that when you need someone to do the little everyday things, I’m called on. I’m considered to have more “common sense” than most.  My mother makes a party and furniture has to be taken apart so tables can come in? My sister the engineer isn’t first for that—I’m under the desk with a screwdriver…taking apart and putting together. Getting ready to move? From my children: “Mom, can you come pack me? You do it better and have better ideas to get everything in.” Yes, it’s true; I think through all the steps and figure out which ones are really needed, before I even get to the scene of the action.

But let’s talk about common sense in the thinking area. I know a very bright woman, eminently successful in her field, but she keeps getting into trouble because she doesn’t think things through in advance. Think about health care. She’s an independent contractor, and was paying for her own health care (separate topic she screams about that we’ll skip for today). The date for signing into the Affordable Care Act was announced far in advance. Three days before the deadline, she’s on the phone redoing her plan and complaining about how bad this all is. Now she’s complaining about how much she’s paying—never mind that her old plan was no longer available, and that she can now go to the doctor more than the four times annually that was previously allowed; and her new plan covers prescriptions, something else she didn’t necessarily have before. 

I don't claim to be better than anyone, but my plan came due at the end of June. I spent time on the phone with four companies, including hers, to get prices. No way would I sign up for her group; their charges are way out of line compared with others. I almost flipped when I heard what they would charge me – then again, that was before I heard what my current carrier wanted me to pay. Turns out they only recently started to cover NJ and have only a gold standard plan. I’m not staying with them either. If she had bothered to think about it, maybe she could have had other estimates. That would be common sense.

Thinking Ahead? 

Let’s talk about thinking for a moment. Really, if you do everything last minute, who’s actually to blame when things don’t go the way you want them to? I know, it’s the other guy’s fault. But maybe, just maybe, if you sat down a little sooner, and thought about it, and what it would take to get the result you wanted, you might get what you want, at a better price/time/location…. You get the point.

The other issue with common sense is that it doesn’t make you look brilliant, it’s more that you look like you’re plodding along, thinking a little too much. Plodding can have its advantages. That kind of thinking, for someone with common sense, can sometimes make you think of all the possibilities and outcomes, so you can at least look good, and maybe also make others look good. Always a welcome result.

And speaking of just thinking and planning ahead. Does it really make sense to look at a problem from only one viewpoint and then be surprised when other opinions are voiced and are better thought out than yours? Maybe it’s good to consider all sides of the question before figuring out the solution—that applies to not only assembling things, but also planning dinner, trips, and anything else that can happen in more than one way. Plus, if you insist that only one way can ever be the right way, you can end up with the car in mud in the middle of a dirt road that you really weren’t supposed to turn onto. The actual road to turn on is 100 feet up--and paved.

Have to go now. I’m doing another basement purge, and planning this week to get the bags ready for the garbage pickup. I’m trying to plan ahead. It’s only common sense.

To Commute Is the Question

I work as a freelance editor. Most of the time, I work from home, although I have a couple of clients who I visit on a regular schedule—and based on their workload. I also live in northern New Jersey, in an area where it takes at least two trains, each way, to get someplace. That’s why I freelance.

I could get a staff job in New York City—they’ve been offered to me. I could even work only as a freelance there, but I’ve chosen not to. At this point in my life, currently considered middle age, I have made a conscious choice not to commute. And people always ask: Why? It’s because of those two trains, each way. Followed possibly by a subway since most firms aren’t that close to the train station. And because I’m an editor. There have been times when I went into a local office at 9 a.m., and came out at 11 p.m. How does that work if I take a train? I can take the train from my town between 7:30 and 8 a.m., and switch to another train in either Secaucus or Hoboken, just to get into the city. Unless the office is near the station, I’d then have to take a bus or a subway to the office, and then start to work. If I come out at 11 p.m., I’d have to do that in reverse, on off-peak trains, which means that there are fewer of them. And sit in moderately empty train station waiting areas until the train arrives. The thought of doing that makes me really tired. Actually, doing it would exhaust me within the week.

Yes, as a freelance I could say that I leave at 5 p.m. every day, but then I probably wouldn’t have the temporary gig. Because employers in my areas know that they can find other people to do what I do, whether better or worse doesn’t matter. And for those of you who say, let them get you a car to take you directly home, that’s not happening either. In fact, I’m hearing it doesn’t happen for many people with staff positions either. I know people who used to have that privilege, but in the last few years it’s gradually been eliminated. I’d be on my own. And even if I didn’t find the commute exhausting—because I’d still need to be in the office first thing the next morning—I think it’s an abuse of the employee to expect it.

So where do I work? I have a regular client for whom I’ll do 4-5 hours per day, and drive almost 45 miles each way for them. It’s not great, but I still control my transportation; the transit system doesn’t. I have another client who is only 25 miles away. For them, I’ve even gone in on a Saturday night. It’s not great, but the pay isn’t bad and I still get to control my transportation; it doesn’t control me. And because I can do that, sometimes I’m willing to go the extra mile for my client. One night, I was in the parking garage getting ready to leave and my phone rang. Could I come back in? They hadn’t realized that a big job had to be done that night (time management is not a good issue for them) and they desperately needed help. So, I went back in – and made another 4 hours worth of income. Sometimes being nice can pay off.

Then there was the Saturday night I worked on the launch of a new drug—when drugs are approved, most of the time the manufacturer wants to get it out there immediately in order to start to recover the millions that have already been spent in development and approval processes. Strangely enough, I had done so much freelance work on this that I was considered one of the “experts,” so I was the one asked to stay. It was the weekend that Daylight Savings Time ended, and one of the men walked me to the car just before 2 a.m., the time that the clocks change. I still kid them that I got home before I left because the time changed as I put the key in the ignition. It’s a good story—and true—and I’ve been dining out on it for a long time.

And Staying Home... 

The rest of my clients I deal with remotely, which means that I’ve taken status calls in my pajamas (not very often, but it’s happened), and I’ve put in a load of wash when I needed to stop staring at my computer screen. The convenience of working at home is, for me, great. If I want to take a break at 3 in the afternoon, I can. So long as I make my deadlines no one cares if I work in the middle of the night. And while I still have to wait for the work to arrive, I have the ability to manage my own deadlines, so if one job isn’t there, I fill in my time. And if the job arrives at 7 p.m., I can tell them I’ll do it in the morning. I’ve never had a client get really upset over that issue, but I have had clients beg me to do something on a really quick turnaround because they know they’ve caused the problem. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen too often – and at least I’m doing things I want to do while I wait on them rather than sitting at a desk in a cube thinking about what I could be doing.

I choose not to commute. For me, it works. If at some point I need more than freelance, the issue will be reconsidered. For now, anyone need me to find where their commas belong?

My Life in Reading

I think I’ve said before that I read—a lot. As in, when I go online in the morning, before I start any work, I’ve read my e-mail, which fortunately isn’t a lot, at least skimmed several news site, looked at a couple of jobs sites—a freelancer can never have too many thoughts about those—and looked in general at whatever might tickle my fancy.

Before I go to bed I’ve probably looked at more than one book—an e-reader can do that for you but I also look at paper materials. If there’s an interesting magazine floating around the house, I might peruse that too. Then again, sometimes I just accumulate magazines, especially those that aren’t time sensitive, and then one day I sit down with the pile and start to plow through. Actually, that kind of reading always me happy. You know, if you don’t like the article—and I’ll at least read part of it—you can just flip the page and move on. Plus if I’m in a store with a magazine selection, that’s ultimately where I’m drawn. I like to find new magazines, and see what’s doing in old favorites. But there I tend to read what they call “women’s” materials. Not so much the decorating or celebrity stuff, but stuff with interviews, and fashions, and sometimes weepy stories. And I will also look at the crochet and cross-stitch/needlepoint magazines. Those meet my need for hobbies. I have a large pile of the latter with designs marked. I don’t always want to make the item, but I like to try out new designs—hence my having an odd set of wraps in my closet. I don’t wear them often but I had fun trying out that pattern.

My reading habits can probably only be described as eclectic. I let my mind wander all the time. Fortunately, there is a decent library in my hometown so I’m there once a week—I have to work sometimes, which gets in the way—reviewing the latest, and some of the not so recent books. If I find something that is interesting but is part of a series, I put the new one back on the shelf and will go looking in the stacks for the earlier works. I really can’t stand to read out of order.

Choices Have to Happen 

But then again, I frequently don’t read what can only be described as “SERIOUS” work. My daily job keeps me reading usually in the medical field. That can be depressing—have you ever looked at some of those possible side effects all day? When I come home I want things to be a little lighter. I’m addicted to romances, romantic suspense, and maybe mysteries. If it’s by Nora Roberts, I have to check the library constantly for the latest release. But not all of Nora; personally, I’ve never been into her J.D. Robb persona. Eve and Roarke are interesting but I just don’t care enough. That’s happened with a couple of authors who write under several names. I’ll read everything in one genre, but not in others.

The e-reader was, I think, invented for me. I’m sitting on an airplane as I start to write this. But I’ve already listened to six podcasts, half of a Neil Diamond album, and read a book. Okay, it wasn’t great, so I skimmed some a lot of it. But I had the option, and had already deleted one of the books from the device. It was well rated but getting really stupid. I’m not that indiscriminate in my reading. I’ll probably finish at least three more books before the flight home in five days. I have to read before I go to bed and this is the easy way to do that.

How did all this reading start? According to my mother, as soon as I figured out how the letters worked, and how words were made from them that was it. I loved the library. When my sister figured out reading, she decided she didn’t want to know anything from books. I was the one who pointed her to the good ones–Babar was a personal favorite. She now also reads but like me handles serious stuff all day so is also on the romance wagon.

One of my goals when I had children was to make them into readers. In that area, I’m definitely a success. My husband was the one to read to them every night, and he and they sometimes fell in love with some books that I had to take out of the library repeatedly (yes, I tried to buy some of them but we managed to find a fair number of out-of-print volumes.) I actually now have a first edition of one of the books in my house because it was the only copy I could get. My husband can’t wait to read it to our granddaughter, who’s still just a bit too young for it. Right now we use board books for her to avoid ripping pages. And my daughter is reading those to her daily. She even has some favorites already.

And I used the older one to help the younger one pick out books. Plus, they read an even wider range of material than I do, and even more seriously. Yes, my older daughter reads a fair amount of “chick lit” but I’ve been in her home and trust me, it’s not the only “good” literature there. In fact, I’m thinking of borrowing a couple of books from her. Early in high school my younger daughter and I were in a book store and I agreed to buy any book she liked (up to a certain price) for her. We went home with the complete books of F. Scott Fitzgerald.  I really couldn’t believe that was what she chose but it’s still on her shelf, and she’s been out of high school for a while.

Just Open a Book, a Magazine...Your Choice 

Many years ago I read an article about the birth of the organization “Reading Is Fundamental.” I thought it was a wonderful idea. You can’t dictate to someone what they can read, or at least I believe you shoudn’t try to do that. To make a reader, sometimes you just need them to open a book—any book—on a topic they like. It will spread to other topics from there. There have been news stories on how the Harry Potter series got children to open books. And after that, they discovered other books just because they became interested in new topics. I think it’s wonderful.

To me and my family, reading is the best way to get knowledge. I read on any topic that vaguely interests me. On any given day I’ve done a lot of news, maybe some science, a bit of fiction; whatever catches my eye—and sometimes I’m reading on the Internet and end up far from where I started. I just keep clicking along. It was made for me.

What are you reading? And if you’re not, why not start now?

Too Much Digital?

I admit it: I like technology. And I’m probably too into it, but I can justify it. 

I used to have a Palm Z100, which kept my calendar and my contact list. Except, as you can imagine, it was starting to age, and I knew it was going to flame out in epic fashion (I knew that because my previous Palms had done the same thing) soon. I had to find something new, but no one had anything like that—small, kept things in order, just ran itself, I could plug it in every couple of weeks and charge it. While trying to figure out what to do, I went out to Denver to visit the kids for a few days. At lunch, I was complaining to the younger one – and by younger I’m talking my late-20s tech guru child – and she just looked at me and said, “But mom, your phone is due for renewal, and if you get a smartphone it can handle both the phone stuff and the other stuff.” A light went off and when I got home I went looking at smartphones. The salesmen were fascinated by the Z100, which I still carried. They had never seen one. And ultimately, I did buy a smartphone, which I have a love/hate relationship with.

For a lot of my work, especially from home, I use a laptop, to which I have attached a second monitor, bigger than that on the laptop, so I can compare documents. Plus, the larger monitor is just easier to read. But when I need to print I usually send the document to myself and then print off my husband’s PC. What can I say, I don’t keep a printer on my system. I don’t print that often so I use his technology, which does things I don't have, to fill in the gaps. I think I need to work on how to send things wirelessly to the printer so I can skip that middle “mailing” step. It would so suit my need to be digitally up-to-date.

The Tablet Rules Things 

And then there’s the tablet issue. My husband and both of my daughters own iPads. They love them. But I work in a Windows world most of the time. I didn’t want an iPad. Plus, I suspect I’m just anti-Apple (my smartphone is not an iPhone). I’ve worked with Macs in the past, but not recently, and they’ve changed a lot. Plus, I work mainly in Word, PowerPoint, and PDFs. I really didn’t want to deal with programs that have to be converted back to what I actually need, or have to set up a mirror site that would allow me to work more easily with programs that don't run as well on Apple technology. Plus, the iPad seemed a bit addictive. My husband is always carrying it with him from room to room, and checking it for odd trivia all the time. I didn’t seen an iPad coming into my life.

But Microsoft came out with the Surface. It’s a little bigger than the iPad, but thinner. And it had real versions of those programs I needed. And my birthday, a major one, was coming. Plus, Sandy had just hit and the mall, with its Microsoft kiosk, was open.. So we started to look at that. We went back to the kiosk at least 3 times, and finally I broke down. After all, the rest of the world had apps, why shouldn’t I? So, I have a Surface (yes, I’ve had it for a while).

I took the Surface with me to a client’s office one day because they don’t have a computer for me to use and sometimes I have to check references. I took it out, put in the codes to hook into their servers, and the next thing I knew I had a crowd around me. No one had ever used a Surface, anywhere, or even tried to use one--they actually hadn't even seen one in the "flesh" so to speak. But, they were fascinated by it. Plus, there were a couple of people who won’t buy Apple, and they wanted to know how it worked.

I’m not sure I was right to get it, but the Surface, over which there have been numerous online comments for and against, has definitely fulfilled a need I didn’t know I had. First, I took it on the plane with me and was able to work while traveling, with no problems. I even wrote a couple of blogs in the air. Then, I had more entertainment for when I was tired of reading. I downloaded apps that I actually use; and for the ones I download that I find I don't use, except in my dreams, I can remove them really easily. If I have questions, I just stop by that kiosk in the mall (which is now a big store with even more technology offered) where I bought it. They’ve been doing a booming business, and their people are very helpful. I don’t need an appointment in the back for everything. I’ve even called the online tech staff and they have been pleasant. It’s been a nice change from some of the support personnel I’ve dealt with. And for all of you who are upset about the Start button…really? It’s not a big issue. Once you learn where it is, you’re fine. Get over the issue

Is there too much digital in my life? Probably. Do I enjoy it? Definitely. And can I put it down when I have to? Absolutely—or maybe not. But the question is: Do I want to?

Starting to Build a Business

I’ve been working on building my client base so I can do more editing from home, and don’t have to think about going back to a staff job. If I can do that, I’ll have more freedom to travel with my husband when he has business trips, visit the children—and grandchild--and just plan my own hours. Plus, I can approve my own vacation time and not have to rely on others to “allow” me to go. I’ve been lucky in that I know people who like my work, and recommend me to their friends. Networking has been good to me, but I also need to find more clients.

This morning I read an article by Richard Branson  comparing parenting with business. I couldn’t agree more. There were a couple of paragraphs that really appealed to me. Time management is always key. Years ago, when I went back to work full-time, I did it without “breaking back in” to the business world. On Friday I was a stay-at-home mom. The next week, I was working full time but essentially trying to maintain everything I did as mom. Fortunately, my children were a little older and could take care of themselves a bit more, especially in getting home from school. After a while, I started to ask for help. There was no reason they couldn’t throw in the wash, or get something started for dinner. They knew how, and were old enough to handle hot items.

And I agreed when it talked about learning things “on the fly.” I try very hard to never say that I can’t do something, or don’t know how to do things. I might say that I have a little less experience with something, but I know how to do research, and can almost always find a blog or a board, or a site that tells me the basics of what I need to know. In that first job, I knew how to edit, and had minimal experience in Quark (yes, I go far enough back that magazines were being laid out in Quark), but knew almost nothing about article acquisition or making contacts that would get me to who I needed. I was lucky to have editors-in-chief who pointed me in the right direction, but they were all really doing those jobs as sidelines to their main careers so their input was limited although well intentioned. (Yes, it was not how you normally hear of a magazine being run, but then again it gave me huge experience in dealing with all kinds of people and problems, and I managed. I think I only really fell apart once and started to lose it in the office. After that, I learned to hold on until I could go into the ladies’ room and hit my head against the stall for a bit so that I didn’t lose it in the office, something that is never a good idea.)

That job taught me to just deal, and after I left there, I was able to handle a lot of problems without missing a beat. To this day, I’m not afraid to deal with whatever is thrown at me. The worst that can happen is that it will take me a little longer to figure it out—but I’ve never missed a deadline, even when a client is late on their end, and I don’t intend to do so. I may have to stay up most of the night to finish something, but it gets done.

The other topic that struck me is sleep deprivation. Yes, when they were small, the kids kept me up. Now I have trouble emptying my mind at night, so between that and the arthritis, I don’t fall asleep well. Then again, some of my better ideas also pop into my head at 3 a.m. Unfortunately, I can’t turn on a light to write them down, so I have to trust that I’ll remember them at 8 a.m. Most of the time I do, and I take the view that if I can’t remember an idea, it either wasn’t that good or it will come back later. I’ll probably be up another night anyway and can rein it in then.

Sneeze, Sniffle, Stay Inside

Ah, the first round of allergy season. The time of the sneeze, the sniffle, the sinus headache, the runny eyes. You know it . . . staying inside to try to feel better. Waving to the nice spring flowers that you really do love from inside the glass door. If you spend much time outside, or go to handle the flowers, that’s it—an allergy attack.

Yes, I have allergies, particularly the pesky pollens and molds. And I mean mainly the molds, such as those that breed in piles of leaves or grass. Oh, and there’s the dust allergy, which of course occurs indoors too. I’ve been known to dust between visits from a cleaning service because I see the dust piling up, but afterwards I fully expect to have breathing problems. But then again, sometimes I just think breathing is overrated.

Should I mention the incident a week before one daughter’s bat mitzvah? I dared to have the carpets in my room cleaned. Woke up the next day almost totally unable to open my eyes. My husband couldn’t break a meeting appointment so a friend drove me to the allergist, who had agreed to see me whenever I could get a ride. One look at me and the assistants were running for the doctor. I almost left when I barely saw him coming at my eyes with a needle. Turned out it was the easiest way to get medication in so things would calm down. Suffice it to say, we figured out that not only had the carpet dust settled on the bed during the cleaning, but the pollen had come in early in the morning because we had the windows open. It was not a good week. Fortunately, I recovered in time. Since then, if I have the carpets cleaned I make sure everything in the room is covered so I avoid the dust; and, if it’s in my room, I sleep elsewhere. We won’t be repeating that one.

Plus, I was president of an organization for which I was in the same building at least four times a week—and that was without the religious service attendance. Turned out the building, as should be expected, had allergen molds in it. It was a long term of service, and I tried to cut time in the building back as the years went on. I’m thinking I was the only president to have that kind of issue.

You know those shots that are supposed to help you get over your allergies? Not so much. I went to be retested after the requisite 7 years of needles—usually 7 to 10 shots a week—and it was a wonderful result. I had developed new allergies. After a while I stopped the shots and just went to taking pills every day. I made a deal with the doctor, since I really hate to always take pills, that during the winter, when things calmed down a bit, I could cut the pills back to every other day. That seems to work. It turns out that most people never recover completely from allergies and go for shots all their lives. I wasn’t into that idea. I do have a friend, though, who is considered a model of what can be good; she goes for maintenance shots every 4 to 6 weeks and is considered “cured.”

Unfortunately, the doctor and I had a disagreement over something totally unrelated to the allergies, I felt he behaved like a 5-year-old, and I fired him (as in, I asked for copies of my records, including the last set of tests, paid for them, and never went back). But my pills had moved to the generic category so now I buy them over-the-counter in a big-box discount store and everything is pretty much the same. I can go to my primary care provider if something goes wrong, but on the whole things just hum along on an even keel so I can’t complain a lot for the moment.

Coping on the Drug Allergy 

And then there’s the big allergy: penicillin. This is a humdinger—and could be a killer. I don’t think I was 10 years old when my parents found out I had this one—I was given a dose for tonsillitis and we won’t discuss the reaction. My mother will tell you that I rarely do anything easily on the medical side—starting with my birth when I began choking on the cord and things turned into an emergency c-section. Do you know how many doctors there are out there who say I should just try a little bit to see if I’m still allergic? I usually don’t see those doctors again. Fortunately, there are now alternatives to penicillin, but when I was younger, it was hard. No, I don’t wear a medical bracelet, although I probably should. Maybe I’m just living dangerously but I know a lot of people who don’t use them; they’re not a great fashion statement. I have successfully avoided taking penicillin since that one time, which also put me flat on my back for a month. On the plus side, that’s the summer I read all of the Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, Bobbsey Twins, and Honey Bunch books (anyone else remember Honey Bunch? I really loved her). I pretty much read everything they put in front of me. When you are lying on a lawn chair in the garage or the back yard for the entire day (anyplace that was out of the sun), you tend to read pretty much anything you can get your hands on. Neighbors lent us books in bunches either tied together with string or in bags. Funny how I remember that.

All in all, I haven’t had a terrible life with allergies, but they do make things interesting. And I have found ways to live with them, which is all that matters. 

Apologies… But Work Just Kept Coming         

I know, I know…it’s been a long time since I posted anything, but really, it wasn’t my fault, even if it has to be my fault since I’m the only writer here. I really meant to post, and I meant to write, but things have been very hectic.

Regardless, it’s obviously my fault and I’m trying to better my time management skills. Then again I’m always working on time management. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. This was one of those times.

So where have I been? Freelancing. Buried in work. And when I did come up for air I had no brain cells left with which to even think about a blog— mine or reading anyone else’s -- and that gives me great guilt. But as anyone who does it knows, blogging requires effort. Then again, so does working, which pays better. I think I had work 28 out of 31 days in March; almost as much in April; and pretty much as well in May. June has been a little better but every time I think I’ll have downtime…wham! Take this week. I told my family I was going to start to catch up on all those little details we all have to get done. Not the bills or anything urgent—those I manage to get done—but the stuff like cleaning up areas of the house that are just getting cluttered, or figuring out how to take care of some issues. Trust me, I have lists (I have lists of blog topics I want to cover too, but never mind that).

Monday morning, I started; I even got a few things done. Then I had a query on availability. I couldn’t say no; clients pay me to think about their stuff. Then I had another request, and a third. It’s nice to be wanted but once again, I’m feeling stress from a little overbooking. But, I got it done—oh, and then I had a query about a friend referring me to someone else looking for an editor. I can’t say no if there’s the prospect of a new client. Hopefully, Ill hear frm that one soon. Similar stuff happened on Tuesday. The week became a lot more profitable than I thought it would be, which is great but…

Yesterday I went onsite with a major client. Supposedly they were going to have a really big job for me to do. Turned out the job didn’t come in anywhere close to on time. In fact, I left after 4.5 hours and the bosses weren’t happy because the job still wasn't there and they would have no one designated to do it. Plus, I’m not available now for a couple of days (yes, sometimes I do plan ahead and I've made commitments both personal and professional). But, word was I should check in because if nothing turned up the department might/could/maybe would push the job to tomorrow and maybe I can come and do it. I really like big jobs; someone tells me what they need and I get to do it on my own. Yes, if I have a question I can send out e-mail queries, but usually they just let me handle it. They trust I’ll get it right, and if I can’t do something, I’ll just leave a comment box somewhere with a question and the powers in charge will have to get the answers. Just heard, though; I’m not going in tomorrow but maybe I will if they call last minute and I still have time—no one right now is knocking down my door to get something done; that could change at any time. Oh well. But then again, there are still those pesky odds and ends to do so I might clear off a few more items on the to-do list; I just made a new one..

So, freelancing is very time-consuming, although profitable, which is good for the food budget. But I am going to return to blogging now, with this as a start. Please bear with me. There are a number of things I want to get off my mind, hopefully interesting to more than just said mind. My new plan is to post at least one blog a week—until I have a better grip on the freelance issue (and I'm trying to broaden my client base so it could be a big issue). My ultimate goal is to post at least twice a week, and I’m going to try to have some topics in the can just in case. Some weeks I have more ideas than others. This weekend my husband and I will be on the road a lot for a family event. He usually plays CDs on a road trip. I’ll sit in the back seat, where I can stretch out my legs, keep my tablet (a Surface; yes, I’m one of those people) in my lap, and maybe get some blog plans done.

No matter what, I’m really going to try to keep to this new plan. I’m aiming for happy posting!!

I think I can! I think I can!

Wait, is that paying work coming in?

Yes, I’m trying to do it all.

---

 [GS1]

The Art of Listening

I was just catching up on my blog reading—others, not mine— which made me stop and think. Do I appreciate the right thing when my child does it?

I stayed home and raised my children for 16 years. I was lucky to be able to do it. And I enjoyed being there when they got home from school, and helping them with homework—especially the projects they had to do that went beyond writing a paper or a book report. It was a wonderful time in my life. And I think I could better appreciate what they were doing because I didn’t work. Before anyone gets upset, that doesn’t mean that people who work don’t appreciate the things their children do. It’s only that, for me, when my mind wasn’t divided between work at home and work at an office (and my first office when I went back to work was very chaotic; I can get witnesses to attest to that), I concentrated better on what they were saying.

Looking back, I feel badly about that because I probably missed things. My older daughter probably needed to just talk things out more (she’s always been extremely verbal) and wasn’t asking for an opinion, just for someone to listen. And I probably offered too many opinions. I’m grateful that she still does ask for my input—and sometimes she even listens to me. I’ve been working on better hearing what she is saying these days, rather than hearing what I want to hear in the conversation.

And my younger daughter probably could have done more extracurricular activities in high school. I had just read so much on overscheduling kids that I wasn’t as aware of what she could, and wanted to, handle. Now she’s grown, and living on her own, and she probably is starting to schedule more into her life. Odd how that works. First I almost forced her not to overschedule, now I push her to get out more. But I’m also happy that she does seem to reach out to us more lately—usually while walking her dog in the evening—and does ask for our opinions. It seems to have come full circle.

New Generation to Hear 

Now I have a granddaughter and I’m thinking that as a grandmother, I really need to work on the happy medium between the two styles. We live 1700 miles from our children; it just worked out that way and since we’re still working it makes more sense for us to stay on the East Coast and not base our lives in Denver. But I still want to be able to understand how that child will think; and what his or her opinions come from. That’s where FaceTime comes in, by the way. We get to talk to her every weekend. Yes, my daughter and son-in-law are doing most of the conversing, but my granddaughter has been known to focus on our faces, appear to be into us, and when there’s a lull in the conversation, she offers a few words. One day, we’ll even understand what she’s saying—and then the real listening can begin.

Now I have a granddaughter and I’m thinking that as a grandmother, I really need to work on the happy medium between the two styles. We live 1700 miles from our children; it just worked out that way and since we’re still working it makes more sense for us to stay on the East Coast and not base our lives in Denver. But I still want to be able to understand how that child will think; and what his or her opinions come from. That’s where FaceTime comes in, by the way. We get to talk to her every weekend. Yes, my daughter and son-in-law are doing most of the conversing, but my granddaughter has been known to focus on our faces, appear to be into us, and when there’s a lull in the conversation, she offers a few words. One day, we’ll even understand what she’s saying—and then the real listening can begin.

The only thing I can think of to say for that: Praise the inventors for Skype and FaceTime.

Management—in Your DNA?

There are several categories of managers—and I speak from experience. I’ve had all of these “leaders.”

First, there is the tyrant. The manager who thinks that a 70-hour week is normal; you should be available 24/7; and the purpose of the employee is to make sure the company has a profit—so the owner has a better bank account. I literally once had one of these say there would be performance reviews but no raises. In fact, the belief was that no employee should ever ask for a raise; it meant they were incompetent. Of course, all good ideas must come only from management because serfs should never think, and if an idea you had wasn’t liked you were publicly branded an idiot. The people who were promoted were usually those who learned to play the game just as the manager did, perpetuating the bad management ideal. I’ve also heard of managers who deliberately bury any idea from an employee that might be better than their own. Or conveniently lose the paperwork trail that showed who really solved the problem (although in the e-mail era, that’s a lot harder to do).

Then there is the good manager. The one who recognized that if they encourage their employees, and don’t belittle them, both sides look good and everyone moves up the chain of command. These are also the managers who actually listen when their employees talk, and are not afraid to let said employee have the credit for a good idea (then again, the employee also needs to take blame when a good idea goes bad). These managers hear what their people say, and are not interested in running them into the ground. There is an awareness that burnout is not really the goal for anything.

Who Did They Know?

And there is the manager who, when you look at them, you just say “How did that person get here?” Yes, they are good at what they do, but people skills are slim—to none—and said managers don’t really have a grip on what is happening in their department. Planning is not their forte. And this is the manager I really want to talk about. Some people are very good at their jobs. They should be rewarded accordingly. But some people really should not be promoted to management. They know how to do the basic job, but putting them in charge of others is not a good idea. For example, there is someone who does his/her job exceptionally well, especially when left on their own or put in charge of a very specific project, but when people are assigned to report to them, immediately assumes that everyone else is stupid, and they have to pick apart their work. The tiniest issues, ones that are easily fixed if necessary, are cause for nasty comments and denigration of someone’s abilities—and ultimately, the work product slows down. Unfortunately, people in other departments that will do the next part of the work start to notice the problem, and just go around the manager to get things done. It’s not hard to do.  Over time, upper management hopefully will notice the problem, and act. In this case, new bosses were brought in above the existing supervisors, and while titles were kept, people reporting to the bad manager were reassigned. Unfortunately, if a bad manager doesn’t start to figure out the problems, or react to what’s happening, they’ll be out of a job—at which point I can only hope they have learned the error of their ways.

They’re not bad people; unlike the other manager, they aren’t nasty. If anything, they are very positive with their employees. But, sometimes, as a friend of mine put it, management is not in their DNA. They have no idea of the work flow for the office. They don’t know if they’ll need extra help—or, they hire people to come in during “busy” periods and then discover it won’t be busy, leaving the extra help out in the cold. If, like me, you freelance, that can mean a direct impact on your income because the work you thought you had is gone, and there’s no time to replace it. Managers like this should really be valued for their skill sets in the work that has to be done, perhaps as “senior” level employees, or used to train others (provided they don’t regard everyone else as stupid), but unless they can be trained to better manage people, they should be in supervisory roles. It just doesn’t fit for them, and ultimately, no one else is hurt.

The Unnoticed Manager

I like to think that when I was in management I was one of the better ones. My people didn't know that I was the person taking the flak from above until after I left. And for the most part, so long as jobs were done correctly I didn't have to get in their faces about it Of course, that also leads to people believing that you're not managing at all. The world is far more used to the nasty types than the good ones. It's something I've learned to live with.

Sorry, No Animals Here

I’m not an animal lover. No dogs; no cats; not even birds. Sorry, it is what it is. I’m not into anything that flies around and might drop unmentionable items on my head. I’m extremely allergic to cats—we won’t get into how bad things got when my husband was playing with a friend’s cat and I was sitting on the other side of him. It was four days to full recovery. As for dogs, I understand that when I was three and wanted to play with a dog, it stood up and put its front paws on my shoulders and probably licked my face. I was totally traumatized. I get really tense when there are dogs around but I have improved—trust me; and you can confirm it with both my daughters who have dogs, and my mother, who is in shock that I don’t run screaming from them.

Away From Me

Having said that, I don’t wish ill for any animals either. I just wish them elsewhere. I admire people who are into animals, and think most of them do a good job with their pets—including their fish. My problem is with people who believe that if I don’t like animals, I’m a terrible person, who must have evil in her heart. Yes, you know who I mean. I know several of those people, and find that I prefer not to be with them. Somehow I attract people who believe they can change my views—regardless of my opinion.

Where should I start? How about the young woman related to my husband who thought the best idea would be to plop a dog into my lap repeatedly so that I would learn to love him? Aside from the fact that I’m old enough to be her mother—my kids are older than her actually; she owed me some respect at least—what gives her the right to decide this for me? How about the young man who told me I really had to learn to love dogs because not loving them was just wrong. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t own any animals himself, although he does babysit dogs owned by some of his family members when necessary. I respect the fact that he feels he’s not home enough to adequately own another being, but he needs to learn to respect my views. I get that a lot.

My children both own dogs—from the same litter. No, they didn’t get shelter dogs but that was after a lot of research and soul-searching on their part. They know I’m not into animals, so when they come to my home, the dogs have been taught to stay away from “mom.” In fact, one day the water bowl was empty—yes, I even provide food and water for the dogs; I just don’t go near them—and when I went to refill it, one of the dogs sat down 6 feet away from me and waited until I was done and walked away before coming for a drink. My mother was hysterically laughing watching it. I call the dogs well trained and appreciate that their owners have done that for me.

I'm the People Person

So, why should I be told that I have to love animals? Some people I know who adore their pets won’t cross the street to help someone who needs help. Do only animals deserve help and love? Are all people no good, or just those who don’t like dogs/cats/insert name of whatever you have? If someone is drowning do you save their pets first and hope they can hold on until you can get back to them?

Sorry, but I’ll go for the person before the animal. You can hate me for it but remember…I’ll support your right to make your choices. Please don’t get crazy over mine.

Freelance Life

I am a freelance editor by trade. I’ve had staff positions, which definitely had some benefits I don’t have now, but I choose to freelance because it suits what is currently happening in my life. Having said that, I do mostly medical editing, which can be depressing because of the therapeutic areas I’ve worked in (reading material on trials of cancer drugs is particularly upsetting). Any work related to pediatric issues really bothers me, but I keep telling myself that at least cures are being worked on, and the best way to move them forward is to help them get things right when drugs are submitted.

The Pluses

Then again, there are some benefits to the freelance life. I recently read a posting on why people should have four-day workweeks. A lot of it made a great deal of sense but I have a few other ideas. First, my view of freelancing as a “have laptop, can work anywhere” idea. And I have. I once found work waiting for me when I got off a plane to visit my children and e-mailed back that I could get it to them by first thing in the morning since there was a time difference and I was going to work on it after I started the visit. I had dinner with the kids, hung out, and then did the work in my hotel room. Last October I spent time with my daughter and her husband after my granddaughter was born. My clients knew I was out of town but I never missed a deadline. I just got up early, got dressed, and worked until I got to take care of the baby, at which time almost all of the technology was put away. In the evening, when they had friends over to see the baby, I’d disappear and finish up anything that hadn’t been done earlier. Clients found the work waiting in their Inboxes when they came in since everyone was on a later time zone east of where I was.

Plus, with freelance I can pick and choose what I work on. If I don’t like a client, and have other work to fill in (always a big “if”), I can say no. As a staff editor, I had to deal with the accounts I was assigned to, and sometimes the teams weren’t all that nice.

And if I know I’ll need to take a couple of days—or even just hours--off, I just build them into my calendar. That means I have the flexibility to set my own schedule. I can now make a lunch date, and keep it.

The Minuses

But what’s the problem with freelance? It’s freelance. I spend a lot of time hoping work will come in. Clients call and ask me to hold time and then the work doesn’t appear—lately, I tell them I’ll put them on the calendar but if it’s not there when they say it will be, someone else immediately gets the slot. The fact that their client is three days—and sometimes three weeks--late getting back to them cannot be my problem. Like everyone else, I still have to pay my bills and put food on my table. And speaking of food, according to that posting, freelancers eat better. I’m not so sure of that. Sure, I’m not wandering past free food in a company kitchen, but my own kitchen is just downstairs and not everything in my house represents a perfect diet. I’m just as drawn by a piece of chocolate as anyone else I know, but I frequently do make an effort not to have it in the house.

Collections

Then there’s the issue of being paid. I do the job, I send the bill—or in a couple of cases I can submit the time digitally and their system has me on file so I can be paid on a regular schedule, which is not the norm—and then I wait. All of my bills very clearly give the client 30 days. It seems math, and how many days are in a month, is not that strong an area for a lot of people. Thirty days turn into 45 days—at which point I rebill—or into 60 days. I know one firm that has a policy of not paying people for 10 weeks, at a minimum. They won’t say that up front, but that’s what they do. Or, I’ve had the answer “We’ll pay you when the client pays us.” My answer, “When did you bill the client?” It turns out they haven’t done that yet. If you can meet payroll you can meet my bills. Don’t complain then when you can’t get freelancers to work for your firm. There is a network and word gets out on who the worst payers are. I really hate the nagging.

And then there’s the issue of finding work to begin with. I have a writer friend who will mention me to everyone who hires her—she’s also a freelancer. The thing is, most people don’t believe they need editors. Aside from the style issues, which in medical editing really do count, spell-check on your computer isn’t that reliable. Sentence structure does count though. And even if the job you have is only going to be seen by the sales reps, the material should make sense, and be spelled correctly. If there is no sense, the reps will get it wrong—and the FDA really doesn’t like that—and sound like they don’t know what they’re talking about.

Think about it. Your high school English teacher actually was right when he or she insisted that you make complete paragraphs. Writing well-formed sentences makes you sound like you know something even if you don’t.

Call me; I know where the commas go.

Far Away—But Still Connected

My children—and now my granddaughter--live in Denver; we live in New Jersey. It’s roughly 1700 miles apart. Why they live in Denver isn’t really the issue (it is, but I’ve learned to live with it). Fortunately, through the miracle of the phone (especially the cellphone) and the Internet, I can be in touch with them frequently. Sometimes probably a little too much.

But the distance doesn’t matter because it’s almost like they’re still here. Or at least, some of their “stuff” is. I literally just got the clothes in the closets completely cleared out by putting my foot down and demanding when they thought they’d be wearing the stuff that either no  longer fits or is so totally out of date they wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Some things went to Denver; the rest went to the donation box. But I still have accessories and books. Many, many books.

My daughters are both readers. The older one has actually winnowed the book inventory here down, but they’re still there. The younger one has a completely filled bookcase and can’t decide what to do. I don’t blame her; I don’t like to get rid of books either, but decisions have to be made. I’ve been purging “stuff” from the rest of the house for a couple of years—at one point, I had things at the curb for the “whatever” garbage pickups for 6 months in a row. I think the neighbors were expecting a “For Sale” sign on the front lawn at any moment, but we’re still here, and I have more to purge. Still, a lot is gone.

But what to do with books, and old school “stuff”. It’s a cord that stretches from the new home to the old, and one day it will have to be cut (metaphorically speaking). I’d like the snipping to happen sooner rather than later.

The latest purge of "stuff" started yesterday. 

Friend as Therapist         

Are you the class listener? The kid who didn’t talk a lot but sat and listened to everyone expound on school subjects, hair, who was dating whom? Maybe you were the person in the background doing a lot of the basic work so others could swoop in for the big picture? Now that you’re all grown up, are you the person people talk to—because you already know how to listen? I am.

There are talkers, and there are listeners. I’m in the second group. I also know how to keep my mouth shut, as in I try not to offer a lot of advice, and I don’t tell others about you, unless you want me to. This makes me an ex-officio therapist for some people. I’m still deciding whether that’s good or bad.

I like when people tell me things, thinking that they can trust me with what they are going through—and they can. I’m not sure I’m all that good with advice when it’s asked for, but I think a lot of people just want someone to listen. They know what they need to do to resolve a situation, but talking to yourself isn’t the same as telling another person. That makes it more real—and puts the talker into the position of doing something about it. After all, how many times can you tell the same story, have the same solution, and then do nothing about it? (Don’t try to answer that; we all know it can happen repeatedly.)

So, how do I handle the therapy issue? First, I try not to be looking at the person. I love the speaker phone because while I’m listening, I’m multi-tasking. For example, in a 20-minute rant from the phone, I can write an entire blog. Or I can get dressed—some calls are early in the morning. Or how about doing some cleaning, paying the bills—yes, a few of those still go by handwritten check left in an envelope in the mail box.

And how does the other person feel? Usually, better. They’ve had a chance to complain, whether about the same thing for the 12^th time or something new. They go off feeling better, and with some fresh views that they have figured out themselves on how to solve their problems—whether it’s the umpteenth rendition of that advice or something totally new. And more positive reinforcement for their actions, even if the “therapist” doesn’t agree.

Next patient!!

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell: Not Really for the Military

A couple of years ago, the military ended its “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy. Not an insignificant accomplishment considering how many military leaders stood up to disagree with abolishing it, but a huge victory for those in favor of its demise. Now, it’s generally said that the end of the policy did not cause any big problems among the men and women already serving, and those caught in its teeth can live openly while serving their country.

But there’s another use for “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” Do you have a college student? You might know what I mean.

In the late ‘90s I sent my older daughter off to college. The economy was different then, and I firmly believed that sending someone away for that part of their education, if financially feasible, was a good idea. She went to a school in upstate New York that I could get to within a few hours from my home in northern New Jersey, and learned to live on her own, handle her own work, and in general, figure out how to get along with a much more diverse population than she knew where she had grown up. To this day, I believe it’s a good idea for a student to go away if the costs can be handled.

But her living far away also made me realize some things. The phone rings at 2 a.m. My first thought is that someone is hurt—or even dead. But no, it’s a boy issue. Do I really want to know? Not really. She has to figure out her social life. Did I even ask? Well, yes, the next afternoon, when I had both eyes open. If she wakes me up for that, I have a right to ask more questions. Notice, I didn’t ask in the first place.  I wanted her to have a good social life, although not at the expense of her grades, but I wasn’t going to ask about it. And I really didn’t want her to tell me too much unless she was heading for trouble.

My children know that I’ve always been there to listen to both the good and the bad. And that I have the right to offer an opinion even if one is not requested. But if I don’t ask about something, and you don’t want to tell me about it, then there’s no harm. At least not for the small stuff. Obviously, if you’re hurt, or sick, you should tell, but I still try not to ask too many questions unless I detect something in the conversation that is bothering one of them. Then, I might poke—or shove—at it a bit. I like to think I know when to back off.

So, I think “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” might have two audiences. I’m all in favor of the military accepting the homosexual population into its ranks. Knowing every little nuance of my daughers’, or anyone else’s, life, is not necessary. If I don’t ask, think carefully before telling me.

And the new rule is: if it’s after midnight, someone really needs to be dead, or very sick, before you call me. Otherwise, the answer you get probably won’t make a lot of sense--or could be something you weren't expecting.