Jumping Through Hoops.

The job search is not getting better. If anything, it's getting worse.

I received a rejection form e-mail today that began, "You will not be considered further for this opportunity..." I thought HR people were taught to communicate in "I" statements? How about: "Thank you for applying. We have decided to go with another candidate." Apparently, my ego must be battered as much as possible during this process.

On Friday I decided to apply for a part-time retail job just so I could have some money coming in. I apply in person, with resume in hand. My resume has all my pertinent information on it. But, still, I'm required to fill out an application. Then I'm told to go home, log on to their website and take their on-line assessment.

What is this modern horror, the on-line assessment? A way to weed out the really inappropriate people, I guess. But, somehow, it offends me. Just take the fucking time to sit down and talk to me, why don't you? The manager was standing right in front of me. She could not, however, ask me any questions until I went home and took the on-line assessment. When Iwas finished, I was supposed to call and set up a time to talk to her. Again: I was sitting right in front of her, why couldn't she talk to me then?

I resist taking the assessment. It's not as though I really want the job, I'm just desperate. So two days go by and I finally, grudgingly, log on to their site. I have to repeat all the information I have already given in my resume and on the application. Why they need the information in triplicate, I'm, not sure.

Well, I get to the questions. I answer one. I answer two. I get to three and I answer "neutral", because I would need more information before I could adequately answer "agree" or "disagree". I read four and log off.

I'm taking a stand. I am rebelling against the stupidity of the hiring process. I refuse to jump through fucking hoops.

I'm still unemployed.

Fine Art, Ice Cream and The Sports Book

J is still out of town. I'm broke and still job hunting. I haven't really gotten out all week, except to go to the pool (see tan lines, below). I decide to splurge and have a little solo night out at the Wynn; ie. ice cream and people watching.

It's Friday so the strip is packed. I should come here every day until I get a job just for the ego boost. I like looking at people in their Vegas Clothes. The ones they bought last week because they wanted to wear something flashy so they would stand out. Well everyone is wearing something flashy. And considering that they all bought the clothes at their local mall where the stores are the same as in every other mall in the country, it's all the same stuff. So everybody blends in anyway, in one big, bright, sequinned pile.

My first stop in the casino: the Sports Book to catch the end of the Red Sox game. (We won. Excellent.) While I'm there, I check out what the cocktail waitresses are wearing. I've taken to evaluating the different outfits in case I might need to wear one in the near future (it's looking like a definite possibility). The Wynn uniforms are the best I've seen. It's a moot point, though, since a newcomer with no experience and short, stumpy legs wouldn't stand a chance of landing a job there. I would have to start at the bottom of the cocktail waitress food chain, like out at Sam's Town.

Well, from the sports book I go to Sugar and Ice (lemon tart ice cream in a cake cone- good stuff). As I'm getting ready to leave, I stop by the art gallery and, eager to use my newly established residence to my advantage, decide to see the paintings for $6 instead of the tourist price of $15. I don't have a NV license yet. Fortunately, they accept a library card as proof.

There are about 14 paintings in a hodge-podge of different periods and styles. It's not a cohesive show, it's just a bunch of stuff that Steve Wynn owns. The audio tour is narrated by Steve Wynn himself. I immediately stop feeling so smug about my bargain as every word is a reminder that my $6 is just more money in Steve Wynn's pocket. And the narration is silly. He refers to the works of masters such as Renoir, Rembrandt and Vermeer as "delicious". Throughout the tour, he continually references Las Vegas, his own hotels and the task of bringing great art to Vegas.

Do you want to know the best part? The last picture in the gallery is an Andy Warhol portrait of STEVE WYNN!!!!!!!!

So, as I'm making my way through the casino back to the parking garage, I'm talking to J on the phone. I tell him the exhibit was interesting, but the man clearly thinks he's the King of Las Vegas. So, J says, "What's the difference between God and Steve Wynn?" Pause "God doesn't think he's Steve Wynn."

It's happened. Finally. Horribly. I was compelled to adorn the cat and take her picture. She is humiliated and will try to kill me while I sleep. 

I might not have much; but I do have killer tan lines. 

Hire me, damnit

Ok, this blog has become little more than a depressing reminder that I still don't have a job. I have nothing to report, no news, no interesting updates today. Or yesterday. Or all week.

The most exciting thing to happen is J's ex-girlfriend calling at 6am and waking us up. Apparently she forgot about the time difference. I'm unemployed and he's a gambler. 6am is the middle of the f-ing night for us.

So, there I was, awake at dawn, with the whole long, empty day looming ahead of me.

Stupid coffee

I hate my new coffee pot. I can't make a decent cup of coffee. For some reason, the proprtions are way off and I keep making it really weak. Today I tried really hard to make it stronger, but couldn't seem to help adding extra water.

J makes much better coffee. He uses the French Press. He's still asleep and I need to get ready for a job interview, so I couldn't wait.

Yesterday I had an interview. It appears I use the word "obviously" way too much. Today I have 3 or 4 interviews. I will be overcome by rejection come evening. I'm sure.

I took this one. I'm sort of proud. 

A new friend (and J's hand). 

Mt Charleston. 

Exploration!

I really need to research my bright ideas. I decided I wanted to go hiking on Mt Charleston, so we drove out there yesterday. But I didn't really know how high the elevation was. I figured, it's the desert, the mountains can't be that tall, can they? Ha.

We get to the visitor's center and ask for a good trail for our first time there. They point us in the direction of Mary Jane Falls. We get to the starting point and see that the hike is marked "Strenuous" and the elevation starts at 7,800 ft and ends at 8,800 ft. Hmmm, that doesn't really seem like a beginner's trail to me.

Well, I have asthma and am woefully out of shape. Both J. and myself were lightheaded from the altitude. I kept having to stop to catch my breath. Little children and old people were passing us! I felt a little better seeing that one skinny kid had stopped about half way up, while his friends finished the hike. He had his inhaler out, too. Then I felt mean for taking pleasure in his breathing troubles.

But, really it was absolutely beautiful. I did not die on the way up and everyone we met was very friendly. Most of them had dogs, so I had fun petting and playing with them.

It is good to have a nice, cool place to escape the harsh desert heat. All in all, a very good day.

Despair

Forgive the melodrama but the job search has hit rock bottom. I had just decided that I was ready to accept any old job, and then I lost the card of my contact for said any old job.

Is it an omen? Or am I now officially sabotaging myself?

I'm not sure how much more rejection I can withstand.

On a more positive note, J. came home Wednesday night and it is confirmed: absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder.

Wow, self-pity and tired cliches, all in one entry.

And another view.

My new neighborhood. 

And one more. 

Another view. 

My old neighborhood. 

Shocking!

I think I have found the most elusive of creatures. And, here, of all places. Could it be? It sounds crazy, I know, but I think I've found: an honest mechanic. Gasp! Yes, it's true. When I first moved here I had someone look at my car because the AC didn't seem to be working. They wanted to charge $160 to "fix" it!!! I said no. So, the guy today told me the AC is fine and that nobody's AC works when it's 117 degrees.

I left there having paid $19.20. That's never happened to me before now.

I've also found this cool little coffee place near me that isn't a Starbuck's.

(I'm trying to focus on these positives, because if I think too much about my futile job hunt and increasingly dire financial situation, I will start to hyperventilate.)

Why am I being polite?

It's not as though anyone's reading this f-ing thing. Vegas is full of scam artists and whores. And when I say "whores" I don't mean sex workers. I mean people who will sell any part of themselves (including their souls) for the right amount of money.

The "interview" this morning was a complete sham, an utter waste of my time. I'd rather dance on tables than work for that company.

Is there anybody here who is on the up and up?

Another interview today

I want this search to be over. I want someone to hire me, so I can relax and settle in here. I still don't think I'm looking in the right places for opportunities. I know there are tons, but I'm not finding them. And I don't know the right people.

Crap, I just want a job.

Now I know a lot about hippos

Animal Planet is cool.

I'm trying to get up the strength to work out. The sun is going down, it won't be so hot. And then the grocery store. I need to do that, too. If my life were more exciting, this blog would be more interesting.

An overzealous beautician decimated my eyebrows yesterday. This is what is left. The red, skinless patch isn't visible. Shame. 

Day 2 Alone

Yesterday I sulked, watched bad tv and ate junk food. Today I had a job interview, straightened up the apartment and went to the gym.

I'm not terribly lonely yet. Give me a couple days, though.

Other people keep parking in my assigned spot. Today a guy parked there and his truck died. Fortunately, they towed it. I'm annoyed at having to fight constantly for my rightful space. It wouldn't matter so much except that it's so damn hot here. Getting into a car that has been baking in the sun for hours is not pleasant.

Earlier today I thought I had so much to say, but I really don't.

Valley of Fire, April 2005. 

I think the cat is trying to return home. She keeps running for the door. I never this problem with her in the past. Today she almost got out and I had to run after her. I was on the phone and naked. Fortunately she didn't get beyond the open doorway. The person who left the door open was very amused.

I think I shouldn't leave the house before 7pm. I go out in the harsh mid-day sun and it's an instant bad mood. The evenings are much more relaxed and easy. We went to the park tonight. It was 9:30 and there were tons of people there. It was so nice. There was a breeze and lightening in the distance. I like Vegas so much better at night.

I have 3 interviews this week, which is a very good development.

I stopped by the church today to join the parish. The women weren't very nice. How can a person work in a church and still be a bitch? Now I don't want to join.

On Thursday I am being abandoned. My boyfriend is going out of town for a week. Yikes. Who am I going to talk to? I'll be dressing up the cat in little outfits and having tea parties with her.

It's not supposed to be difficult.

I can't find a job. Ok. I can't find a job I want. Why? Fasting growing city in the country, blah, blah, blah. Why can't I find a job? I don't think I'm looking in the right places.

And it's absolutely impossible to network when you don't know anybody in the city. I've never had this much trouble. Job hunting sucks. It's demoralizing.

The trip. We happened on Vegas a lot sooner than we thought (somewhere in Tennesee).  

Here's My Story

I quit my job on April 1 of this year. I flew to Vegas on April 2. And promptly fell in love.

No, not with the city; with a man. While hiking in the Valley of Fire, he asked the fateful, "Would you ever consider living here?"

Three visits, many exclamations of "You can't be serious!?" from the family and many, many conversations later, the decision was made: I was moving to Vegas.

Now I've been here a month and, well, frankly, I feel like a foreigner.

That's it. That's the story. And from here on in, this page will be a repository for my (not very deep) insights as I try to get used to a place very, very different from home.