Seriously?

2012-05-13T10:08:00.002-07:00

Ruth’s Daughter

I began working at NASA in April of 1988, and from that day forward I had to change my name. I was no longer Barb, or even B.J., as some knew me. From that day on I was simply “Ruth’s Daughter.”

It’s not as if that would be so horrible really, but I now understand what my mother must have gone through raising five kids. On the day that my oldest brother started to school, she became somebody’s mommy, and though her first name changed from time to time, the second one seemed to stick. You would think this would cause an identity crisis, but she wore it like a badge of honor.

She precariously balanced home and career with the stealth of a tightrope walker, teetering now and then, but never losing control. Tip-toeing with determination across that slender line and, at least in the eyes of her family, dancing high above her world. Her savvy and sense of humor came so naturally that we took it for granted. We never knew there were others out there who also recognized the value of her advice and the strength of her shoulders in time of need. We believed she was ours alone.

That misguided opinion changed suddenly when I started to work at NASA. My mother had been working on the same contract since 1971, and for many of those years she worked in Human Resources. For her it was the perfect mating of personality and position. Everyone who came to her office left with the feeling that she truly cared and she would do her best.

Some who visited didn’t really come for advice, they just needed to talk. Mom called this “venting.” Us kids had done this for years, but we never knew others did it as well. We thought that somewhere between the Christmas stockings and Easter egg hunts she had invented it just for us. My new fellow employees were more than happy to regale me with stories of my mother and her ability to listen to the ranting of otherwise normal employees. I was told that some people vented so well that mother had to replace the potted trees in her office with the more durable rubber variety.

Though many years ago she transferred from Human Resources, and has since retired, there are many people who still seek her out. Apparently they have grown to depend on her in much the same way that we did. I remember that as I stumbled through adolescence I found the usual faults with my parents that most teen-agers encounter; but I have since discovered to my amazement that the older I get, the smarter my mother becomes.

In 1996, my mother suffered a devastating stroke. Her world and mine were turned upside down. Suddenly gone were the quick wit and ready counsel I had come to rely on. There were days that I believed I would lose her altogether. The doctors seemed so convinced she wouldn’t make it through the critical first 72 hours. Or, if by some miracle she did, how much would she have left? But my mother had always had a tremendous faith and had taught us to expect miracles. My brothers, sisters and I prayed that, once again, she would prove to be right.

As the days progressed, she struggled to identify even the simplest things - where she was, what year it was or the food she was eating. Worst of all, the woman with whom I had once shared my innermost thoughts, hopes and dreams, was now unable to even remember my name. Our roles were reversed and I became her caretaker, protector and occasional tormentor as my brother and I quizzed her with pictures and word games to help her brain re-path around the damaged area. Through it all, she never gave up, and she never complained. Though I knew she wanted to, it wasn’t her style.

I realize now that even in her illness, she again taught me some of the most significant lessons in my life–perseverance and the importance of family. Then one day in the hospital we were going through our usual routine of questions and answers, and I asked her who I was. I cannot begin to describe the euphoria I felt by her matter-of-fact response: “You’re my daughter, Barb.”

As my Mother continues to recover, I let her know in every way I can that I love her. Never again will I take our time together for granted. I cherish each precious moment because I realize how quickly we might lose them.

And now those words that used to make me feel like I had no identity have helped me define who I am, and I could never adequately express the tremendous feeling of pride that rushes over me when someone asks, “Are you Ruth’s daughter?”

It’s still not an easy cross to bear. She has, after all, left me with enormous shoes to fill. But how lucky I am that she is my mom, and she is willing to continually remind me that I have big feet.

Happy Mother’s Day from “Ruth’s Daughter”!

I wrote this article in 2001. And though my mother has since passed, I still feel she is ecouraging me to be the best I can be. I don’t believe I can ever filled her shoes, but I continue to walk as straight as I can in my own. I know that’s all she ever really wanted.

2011-11-11T07:36:00.000-08:00

Friendship for Life

Friendship is the elixir for life’s troubles, the bandage for a torn soul and the cast for a broken heart. To have a friend is to have two times the fun and half the hardship. My best friend is a woman I have known since grade school. Over the years we have been through a lot and have done a great deal of growing up. Most importantly, what we have done, we have done together.

Through the years I have often wondered how we could remain so close, and I believe I have finally figured it out. On many things we had very little in common. We never fought about boys because we never liked the same ones. We never borrowed each other’s clothes, because we weren’t the same size. We never fought over money as neither of us had any. We don’t look alike, we don’t dress alike, we didn’t study the same thing in college, and we don’t have the same type of jobs. There is probably only one thing we do have in common. We both have a special friend.

I can vividly remember going out for pizza one night we and preparing to correct, or at least address, all the problems of the world. A few moments into our discussion, and our meal, I caught sight of the concerned look on my friend’s face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

I could see her trying to choose just the right words as she shifted in her seat and leaned forward. “Well,” she said finally. “You know only your closest friend would tell you this....”

All at once I was dreading her words and anticipating a major catastrophe in my life. “What is it?”

“You have olive stuck in your teeth.”

Best friends

I remember being hassled on night at a local chili cook-off (boys will be boys.) All of a sudden all 5 foot 2 inches, 100 pounds of my friend, came to my rescue. She informed these young maniacs in no uncertain terms that their behavior was unacceptable, or words to that effect. Amazingly to everyone around us these 6 footers took heed and lumbered away. I can’t say as I blame them, I wouldn’t want to tangle with her either.

Then there was the time that, in a state of nervous agitation over an upcoming appointment, I sprayed mouth freshener on my neck. My friend never missed a beat. She simply picked up the freshener and proceeded to spray her own neck. She theorized that if one person does something out of the ordinary it’s weird, but if two or more do the same thing it is a bona fide fad.

To my best friend I can reveal all my secret dreams, but need not mention my faults. She already knows them, and they don’t matter to her. She is my mirror and sounding block, but never my judge. She supports me in my endeavors, not necessarily because she believes in them, but because she believes in me. To have known her for so long is a joy, to have her as a friend is a privilege.

2011-11-03T11:13:00.000-07:00

Toto, I don’t think we’re at the ballpark anymore

It’s obvious to any visitor to a major league ballpark that owner’s have become wizards at concessions. If food lines are any indication, food sales should send these purveyors of pretzels higher than a balloon over OZ. Their fast food acumen and Barnum and Bailey style have caught the curiosity of many new fans. Unfortunately, unless they can teach them a true appreciation for the game of baseball, few of them will don their ruby sneakers to continue on the next yellow brick road trip. After all, a fan cannot live by hot dog alone, and most of them cannot even pronounce some of today’s player’s names, let alone speak their language.

Maybe I can at least help the fans. As a long time season ticket holder, I discovered certain criteria that fans should meet to enjoy the game and survive life in the stands past the seventh inning stretch. To aid the first time fan, it is perhaps appropriate at this time to get acquainted with a few easy to follow fan rules for spectator etiquette.

RULE NUMBER 1 - It is a fan’s inalienable right to get too loud, drink too much beer and soda, and eat too many hot dogs. This is, after all, the reason that bicarbonates were invented. Dining at the ballpark is generally best if the hot dog is cooler than the beer, and the peanuts pre-date Abner Doubleday.

RULE NUMBER 2 - Food etiquette. Before spilling food or drink on a fellow spectator, it is crucial to ascertain whether he uses suspenders or a karate black belt to hold up his pants, and whether the trophies adorning his mantel at home are for wrestling or speech and debate. This information could quickly become vital to your well-being, and determines whether or not you will be able to stay and enjoy the remainder of the game.

RULE NUMBER 3 - Even if you do know who Babe Ruth got his first major league homer off of, keep it to yourself; the other fans seldom care, and the players are too young to know that Babe Ruth is not a candy bar.

RULE NUMBER 4 - It is the duty of all loyal fans to constructively criticize every umpiring call which goes against their team, regardless of its accuracy. To neglect this duty would breed complacency in umpiring, and create confusion in their ranks. Besides, they expect it.

There are a few basic guidelines to follow when verbally criticizing an umpire. First, never call him anything that you cannot prove, or spell; this only confuses him further and he doesn’t need that kind of distraction. Second, try and disguise or throw your voice; this challenges the umpire to use his sleuthing skills to keep from having to eject an entire section. Lastly, Never use hand signals; most umpires couldn’t see them anyway.

RULE NUMBER 5 - Stay informed about the nationalities of opposing players. Harassing players in a language they do not understand can prove to be a frustrating experience for all concerned. Becoming multilingual is definitely an asset. This provides the avid fan the option to purposely berate a player’s ineptness in a language he doesn’t understand to tick him off. However, the fan should remember that many hand gestures are universal.

RULE NUMBER 6 - Managers try to make at least one major mistake per game just to be certain that the fans are paying attention, so be alert. The manager may give you some indications that a mistake occurred by sitting on the bench with his hands covering his face and shaking his head slowly from side to side. Another clue may be simply his standing at the edge of the dugout, thrusting his hands high in the air, and casting his eyes heavenward in supplication. This movement is occasionally accompanied by a slight shrug of the shoulders in a ‘Why me?’ type of gesture. In the event of a managerial error, the fan should immediately address the problem in a loud, clear tone. Second- guessing is perfectly acceptable, but caution should be exercised when questioning a manager’s parentage, as many of them tend to take exception to this.

RULE NUMBER 7 – Players also occasionally make mistakes. After all, they are generally only human. If these mistakes are humorous, it is appropriate to stand and cheer as you would for any other outstanding play; unless this brain cramp has just cost the home team the game.

One note of caution: Often when a mistake is made, the manager will go through his managerial error indicators (See rule #6) just to throw you off, so be vigilant. If this occurs, simply address your displeasure to both the manager and the player, thus covering all your bases.

In the event of a game losing error, the fan should release a long low groan and continue to mumble under his breath as he exits the stadium. Under no circumstances should you turn to your neighbor and scream, “Did you see that?” If he did, he's mad, and if he didn’t, it’s too late, and it doesn’t really matter anyway.

RULE NUMBER 8 – Never tell a player, manager, umpire or fellow spectator to whom you have been belligerent, where you parked your car.

I hope these simple rules will enable the rookie fan to better enjoy the game, But don’t feel they must be learned all at once. The season is 162 games long, which gives home-town fans 81 chances to use their brain, follow their heart and get up the nerve to visit the ballpark.

2011-10-13T11:01:00.000-07:00

Skunks and their smell

Late one evening,I was finishing up a few dishes in preparation for retiring for the evening. It was all very Norman Rockwell with my sister letting our dogs out once more before bedtime. And then the idyllic evening was broken by her screaming, "SKUNK!"

We don’t live in the city, but we aren’t in the middle of nowhere either. We have certainly smelled skunk before, just not quite this close. All three dogs ran in the house, and we could tell right away which one had been trying to make friends with the striped kitty. The white one with black spots and a yellow film on his nose. Petey, my curious and over friendly Chihuahua had been hit square in the face with the most foul smelling substance you can imagine. We could hardly get near to help him.

We immediately tried to think of all those things we had heard that would take out the skunk smell. First, we tried every kind of soap in the house with no relief. All we got was a mad, wet and still stinky Chihuahua.

Then we thought of tomatoes. We grabbed the only thing I had in the house made with tomatoes, a jar of spaghetti sauce. We poured the entire jar on him and rubbed it deep into his fur, then rinsed him again with soap. No joy. That didn’t fix the smell, but it did turn my white dog to a lovely shade of pink.

Finally on the list was vinegar. An entire jug of white wine vinegar. That did help some, he kind of smelled like a limburger cheese salad. But worse.

He slept in his crate in the garage.

The next morning I called the groomer and explained what had happened. Thankfully she took the appointment and I dropped him off. When I picked him up he smelled really good. No more skunk smell. I was amazed.

Now, I had been told that there are two kinds of dogs. Those that learn to avoid skunks, and those who will stink again. Knowing my Petey, I asked the groomer if I could buy this wonder skunk smell removal product commercially. She smiled and said that there were a number of good products on the market, but she went the simpler route. Feminine douche.

I stood there looking at her smiling face as it all started to make perfect sense. No wonder he smells so fresh. I secretly vowed never to tell him. Petey is gone now, but his lessons live on. I now keep some feminine douche in the house for emergencies. One of my new dogs will someday encounter that striped kitty, and I’m ready.

2011-10-06T08:57:00.000-07:00

Shout from the Rooftops

Now that I have a resume, what’s next?

Network! Do not let foolish pride keep you from getting tips on potential jobs. Tell everyone you know that you are now unemployed and are looking for a job. If they seem interested enough, tell them a short (30-second) sound bite about what you are looking for, and why you would be good at doing it.

Don’t be shy. It’s time to (truthfully) toot your own horn. Look at the summary of your brand new resume, and adapt it for conversation. Both the summary and your sound bite should sell your qualifications without sounding like you are reading it from the page. If they still seem interested, ask they may ask for your resume. If they do not ask, just ask them nicely to let you know if they hear of anything in your “wish list”. Do not send them an unsolicited resume, as it will only grace the bottom of their recycle bin.

When you meet prospective bosses, the first 30 seconds can make or break you. Start out with the sound bite. As with your resume, you should adapt your sound bite for the position and the company where you are applying. Tell they prospective employer why you are better than the other 30 people he might have interviewed before you.

Joining groups like LinkedIn is helpful to your search as it is an excellent way to network from your home, but nothing beats face-to-face encounters if you can make those happen by whatever (legal) means possible. Don’t forget religious and fraternal groups as they are a surprising boost to the numbers of protective chance meetings.

There are also several sites that you can create a search for the job and location you want, and save the search. The site will email you every day with the results of that days search for your job. It doesn’t hurt to continue your own job searching on the internet, but it’s a good place to start.

Think outside the box. There are more jobs beyond the wrapper.

The last bit of advice I have learned so far, is to start each workday as if you had a job. Get up by 7. Get dressed and have breakfast and go to your designated place to look for your dream job.

Then take the weekend to get a breather and get back to your family and friends. That’s your reward for “working” so hard for the week.

Suddenly, I need a Resume

2011-10-04T09:14:00.000-07:00

Notice of Reduction in Force (Me)

I suppose I should have been more prepared. I certainly wasn’t the first to go. I would be joining a group of thousands (including my own brother) who had entered the world of the unemployed sudden, unexpectedly and against our will.

But one moment I was sitting in a room full of people meeting about the week’s assignment, and the next, I staring down the barrel of unemployment. Twelve thousand emotions and thoughts swirl together in my head as I tried to come to grips with what just happened and how I was going to get re-employed in time to save my house from foreclosure, and feed the three small furry mouths that depend on me.

So that very afternoon, I took the first steps on the road of ended my 20+ years of aerospace writing and stepped on the path to a new career. I went to the Aersopace Transition Center and signed up. Now What?

So, what do I do best and how can I use it to make a living?

First, I signed up for unemployment. You can do that online now so there is no standing in line for hours before talking to a person who wishes they were anywhere else. Next, I took a resume writing seminar. Apparently, all these years I had no idea how to write a resume. When I read my version, it sounded like me. All the pieces were there, they were all accurate, and I AM a writer. I thought it looked good.

But unbeknownst to me, the rules had changed. The order of the universe, and my resume, had to be updated. In this new world, your resume may first have to go through an automated “sorter” that will toss any admission that doesn’t match the company’s criteria. The problem with this approach is that the submission of many qualified people will never make it to the hands of a human being because they used the wrong words.

Tip Number 1: If you have what the posting asks for make sure you call it what the posting called it. The sorter is checking for certain words that match the posting and anything different will never be seen by human eyes. However, you shouldn’t just copy the posting and add it to your resume. Even if you make it the same color as the paper so the eye can’t pick it up, as admissions that match too perfectly will also be tossed. These machines have figured out that angle.

If, by some miracle of God, your resume makes it past the mechanical dream shredder, then it will probably end up in the hands of an HR rep (or worse a preliminary screener who MAY have a high school diploma). This person is not anymore acquainted with the position you are applying for than what is in the job posting.

Tip Number 2: A person reading your resume in a hurry will hold it between their hands, which will be placed on either side of the paper about halfway down. This means that whatever you think will get you THIS job, needs to be placed on the top third of the page. Not much room, so choose your words for maximum effect (Summary: Degreed blah-blah professional with extensive knowledge of the production of whatcha-callits.)

Next is years of experience. I understood that you never say “over” however many years of experience, as it isn’t over your head. You should say, “more than” however many years, right? Well, grammatically maybe, but apparently there was a study done that said using symbols (@#&) brings focus to a particular point and slows down the rapid scanning of the content.

Tip Number 3: When noting years of experience, don’t use anything more than 10 years as it will age you (unless a position calls for more than 10 years), and use symbols. “Thing-a-ma-jig production manager with 10+ years of experience and a 100% weekly completion to order ratio over the last 3 years.”

Tip Number 4: It’s probably best to use a chronological list of your previous jobs and then bullet the experience within each job that applies to the job you are applying for. The chronology is something that an employer is comfortable seeing, and the bullets (like other symbols) direct the readers’ eye to your experience.

That is what I have learned so far. Hopefully these small changes will get me a fabulous new job.