Mewsings from Lowecat (aka Indianacat)

My rants, ravings, and overall 'mewsings' on life, the universe, and everything.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I Should've Known Better. . .

My husband will be the first to tell you that I don't deal with rejection very well. Whether it's bein' turned down for a romantic interlude, a bad review on my fan fiction, or bein' turned down for a job I applied/interviewed/tested for, when the rejection comes, depression kicks into overdrive.
Though I'm currently workin' part time at a job I enjoy 99.9% of the time, drawin' partial unemployment requires me to make three attempts to find full time employment each week. This doesn't just mean filin' an application. It means at least testin' or interviewin' with a potential employer. There is the potential for me to move to full time with current employer, but that's a time consumin' process, and I am strivin' to earn that priviledge. In the meantime, I follow the rules.
So imagine my surprise to get an email invite to an open house from an employer that I worked briefly for last year. The employer will remain nameless. Suffice it to say, the parting of ways wasn't pleasant and completely unexpected. Part of me thought it'd be better to stay away and not attend. But, the invtie came from the company's HR department. They'd know whether I was eligible for rehire with the company itself, right? After all, the department that was conductin' the open house/hiring event was the same one I'd worked for last year. No harm, no foul. Right?
So I get all spiffed up, print out a resume, and drive to the open house several hours before going to work for the day. Walk into the main entrance and register at the front desk for the open house. Get directed to have a seat in the nearby auditorium. Sit down and make self comfortable. A representative from the company's HR department and another from the department searchin' for workers stand in front of the assembled throng to welcome us, explain the process and what we can expect.
Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Security is standing behind me.
"Please come with me and bring your belongings," the security guard intones ominously.
Despite the pronouncement to bring my stuff, my first thought is that someone's hit my car. It never occurs to me that the guard is there to remove me from the premises.
Curious onlookers gaze at us. There are whispers in the air. I try to act non chalant about the matter, stand up straight and follow the security guard from the auditorium. Once the doors close behind us, the guard advises me to leave the premises or be charged with trespass.
I pull out a copy of the email sent to me. "I'm not tresspassing, I was invited!"
"You can either leave on your own, or in police custody," the guard replies, refusing to look at the printed email in my hand.
The guard walks me out the door, and stands out front watching me make my way to the car, his cell phone in hand. He continues watching until my car is out on the street, then he walks back into the front entrance.
I pull the car over, shaking with fury. I'm pissed, and hurt. My fist punches the seat next to me, making the car rock. Passing vehicle drivers gaze inqusitively at me, wondering what is wrong with me. I halfway expect to see the local police pull up behind the car with their light bars flashing. I work to regain control of my anger, outrage, and hurt.
Once I feel under control, I start the car and pull away from the scene of my embarassment and head on to work. I still feel hurt and dejected, and the day doesn't get any better. I'm glad to see home and a safe emotional port.
My question to you, Mr. or Ms. HR Rep, is this: don't all y'all check your frackin' personnel files before sendin' out invites like that? Or do y'all get some kind of sick satisfaction in treatin' former employees like somethin' found on the bottom of your boots after walkin' through a cow pasture in the rain?
Frankly, I suspect the latter.
There's a sayin' about not bein' able to go back. I guess that's quite true. Just because you're invited doesn't necessarily mean you're wanted. From now on, those invites are goin' into the trash and/or spam folder.
Obviously, while a former employer may want help, they don't want my help. Even if they invite me.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Solicitations for Charitiable Giving

Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favor of givin' to charity, as long as I get to choose when and where to give. No kill animal shelters, Salvation Army, UNICEF, my church are a part of my charitiable inclinations.
I don't, as a rule, support panhandlers. The ones on the side of the road with their signs askin' for help. Not because I don't care; but because some of 'em scam. That's what Salvation Army is for. They help the homeless, amongst others.
The reason for this particular postin' about charitable givin' and solicitations comes from spendin' part of the weekend at me Da's. He's a 27 yr prostate cancer survivor, and just can't wade through the volumes of mail he gets on a daily basis. He was also needin' help with gettin' financial paperwork in order. What it takes him an hour to sort through, yours truly could sort through in a few minutes.
I got pretty pissed off over the number of charitiable givin' solicitations he receives, from many different solicitors. Whether based on his bein' a retired pastor, or due to his political beliefs, he and my step - mother (who has been in a nursin' home due to Atlzheimer's since 2007, for cryin' out loud!) are innundated with requests for money for this or that. I once took a whole bunch of unopened solicitations back to the post office with 'REMOVE FROM MAILING LIST' written in big black letters on 'em, and that didn't stem the tide. The damn things continued to come.
The problem is that with some of these things, once you contribute some money, they put you on a mailin' list and send you requests on a frequent basis. Not just requests, and this is what got me pissed. They send address labels, date books, calendars, return postage, calculators, magnifying glasses, mirrors, bookmarks, stickers, and all manner of JUNK to make you feel like you need to contribute in exchange for the drek.
They even send money, dimes, nickles (I made a full dollar just from this weekend!) and sometimes even quarters. They send blankets, rugs, personalized notepads and certificates of appreciation. And they ask for more money to support their cause.
I found myself wondering just how much $$$ is tied up in these solicitations and guilt inducing pieces of stuff that they send. How much of that $$$ could be turned back into the charity? And why send requests for support so fuckin' frequent? When does charity change from bein' a gift to bein' a balm for guilt?
So, I wound up takin' a samplin' of all those extra solicitations - religious, political, etc. - and wrote the same message of 'REMOVE FROM MAILING LIST' and 'RETURN TO SENDER'. Dropped 'em in the mailbox in his Southern Indiana town on my way home yesterday. It won't stem the tide, but it sure as Hell made me feel better.
To the religious groups (television ministers especially), political organizations, and the like, he'll give you what he can,when he can, when he is ready to do so. Sendin' him all that shit is NOT necessary. Fact is, if I had any say, I'd tell him to shred the lot of the stuff and remove all y'all from his givin' list. He won't do it though.
More's the pity, because the useless shit will just keep accumulating. He's 84, and he's tired and weak. Lay off, assholes. Put that money you're spendin' on guilt back into the charity itself. It might do more good than you think.
And before all y'all readers jump my ass for bein' anti charity, I'm not anti - charity. I give, when I'm ready, willin' and able, to what I want to give to. Usually in person, so that I don't get on a fuckin' useless mailin' list.
Wish Daddy could do the same.
So shoot me.