I had another one of those idiot e-mail exchanges with the demented partner of the company I work for. And I'm tired of it. I think after the holidays, I'm going to have a sit-down with the other partner, my boss/friend, and tell her I have a concern over Ms. A's memory issues. It's seriously a problem. Dealing with her is like going to a nursing home and dealing with an invalid. Either that or she assumes I either already know something that I don't, or that I don't know something that I do--so big assumptions are being made. Even being blunt, "I have no idea what that means," does not get me the right answer from this person. *shrugshoulders* It's like playing charades with someone who does not share a language with me. I'm SO over it.
My husband may have a line on some work out of state. If he does, I'll be in a position to have more leverage to say, "I'm done." If boss/friend is upset or angered or disturbed by my conversation with them in January, I can say "I can't work like this. Unless an author asks for me, I'd just rather not have to deal with it any more, or work only with you." I need to polish that a bit, but that's what I mean.
I'm ready to walk away, if it comes to that. I have enough skills to work on my own, I just don't have the clients, so I'll have to build up my own clientele. I don't have a problem with that, either. Also, There is a very, very good chance that with the reality of extra money coming in, we can move to California. Somewhere in the suburbs of Sacramento. *fingerscrossed* I'm ready to go. I really like where we live now, but our unit is getting smaller and smaller every day, even as we throw away, put in storage, or donate more stuff. It's just too small. And I'd like a yard to do some gardening and let our pets run around in. So yeah, I'm looking forward to that.
I received the manuscript for one of the gigs I've been waiting on. The client is still waiting for the cover art back from the designer, but if I get it formatted before then, when it comes back, I can compress the photo, insert it, and upload for publication. *bam* it's done, and this client always pays quickly. Yes, this is my third project for this client. I really like her, she's professional and thorough, and her stories are really good.
So that's where we are today. A teeny tiny miniscule beam of light on the horizon.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
No Work
I have no work, therefore no money in the pipeline.
I had four jobs lined up, but all four have withered up. One had their own financial problems, and the $1,000 deposit I've been expecting since the last week of September, along with the contract for services, have not arrived. And I don't know when they will. Mostly because the client doesn't know. And they had contacted me in September stating they were ready to move forward with their project.
Two clients wrote that they feel like they need to spend more time with their manuscript, but they'll get back to me after Thanksgiving.
And the last one? I've heard nothing.
I have one final project I'm managing, and the proofs are here for the author, but I need to drive across town and hand it to them--I think I'll send R tomorrow. It looks great to me. I don't know how much I'm getting paid for this gig, although I've already received $50- last month, because the spreadsheets of payments for projects from this vendor does not include fees for what I'm doing. When I asked Ms. Alzeheimer, she said, "Don't worry; you'll get paid."
Huh.
So, things are bad here at our house. The TV / Land Line / Internet are off. I either go somewhere with free WiFi (McDonald's, Denny's, Starbucks, etc.), or we ride on an open WiFi from one of our neighbors. Niiiiiiice. Not proud of that. I asked our cable company for a 48 hour extension on paying our bill, and they said no. Unbelievable. So we've decided to do without (for now).
My husband, who is unemployed, gets the last of his unemployment pay on December 29th, so that may get us through the middle of January. If he doesn't get a job soon, we are Fucked. No doubt about it.
I have an iron in another fire, but I don't wish to talk about it in public. But it won't come before January either.
So to say I'm a bit down in the dumps is an understatement.
My whole life has been like this, and I'm so fucking sick of it.
I had four jobs lined up, but all four have withered up. One had their own financial problems, and the $1,000 deposit I've been expecting since the last week of September, along with the contract for services, have not arrived. And I don't know when they will. Mostly because the client doesn't know. And they had contacted me in September stating they were ready to move forward with their project.
Two clients wrote that they feel like they need to spend more time with their manuscript, but they'll get back to me after Thanksgiving.
And the last one? I've heard nothing.
I have one final project I'm managing, and the proofs are here for the author, but I need to drive across town and hand it to them--I think I'll send R tomorrow. It looks great to me. I don't know how much I'm getting paid for this gig, although I've already received $50- last month, because the spreadsheets of payments for projects from this vendor does not include fees for what I'm doing. When I asked Ms. Alzeheimer, she said, "Don't worry; you'll get paid."
Huh.
So, things are bad here at our house. The TV / Land Line / Internet are off. I either go somewhere with free WiFi (McDonald's, Denny's, Starbucks, etc.), or we ride on an open WiFi from one of our neighbors. Niiiiiiice. Not proud of that. I asked our cable company for a 48 hour extension on paying our bill, and they said no. Unbelievable. So we've decided to do without (for now).
My husband, who is unemployed, gets the last of his unemployment pay on December 29th, so that may get us through the middle of January. If he doesn't get a job soon, we are Fucked. No doubt about it.
I have an iron in another fire, but I don't wish to talk about it in public. But it won't come before January either.
So to say I'm a bit down in the dumps is an understatement.
My whole life has been like this, and I'm so fucking sick of it.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
The Beat Goes On...
Last month, I received an e-mail from a client whose blog, seven months ago, I had helped clean up and purtify.
Last month, she wrote me saying that she wanted to hire me because her blog was being inundated with spam--thousands of spams--in the comments.
I wrote to my boss, the ball-dropper (BD) *ahem* and asked her how I should proceed. She told me to wait and she would get back to me. She did the next day saying that she and the writer had been communicating, and that they were not ready to move forward with their next book until closer to Thanksgiving. A contract had been mailed for the author to sign (she is not tech savvy and can't do HelloFax or attachments.).
I wondered about the blog spam, but when I didn't hear from the author or BD, I figured that it was taken care of. Until today.
Yep, author has written me still wanting assistance with the spam on her blog. *rolleyes*
So I forwarded the email to the Alzheimer's queen with a question, "was the blog spam issue addressed?"
So, now what do I do? Help the client, for free, to keep her business? Punt it to ball-dropper (who has already dropped it once)? I don't know what to do. I'm inclined to fix her blog just because she's a nice person and so am I, and I could fix it in five minutes.
I fucking hate this. It's just ridiculous.
The saddest part is that I've come to expect this behavior as normal. *argh*
Last month, she wrote me saying that she wanted to hire me because her blog was being inundated with spam--thousands of spams--in the comments.
I wrote to my boss, the ball-dropper (BD) *ahem* and asked her how I should proceed. She told me to wait and she would get back to me. She did the next day saying that she and the writer had been communicating, and that they were not ready to move forward with their next book until closer to Thanksgiving. A contract had been mailed for the author to sign (she is not tech savvy and can't do HelloFax or attachments.).
I wondered about the blog spam, but when I didn't hear from the author or BD, I figured that it was taken care of. Until today.
Yep, author has written me still wanting assistance with the spam on her blog. *rolleyes*
So I forwarded the email to the Alzheimer's queen with a question, "was the blog spam issue addressed?"
So, now what do I do? Help the client, for free, to keep her business? Punt it to ball-dropper (who has already dropped it once)? I don't know what to do. I'm inclined to fix her blog just because she's a nice person and so am I, and I could fix it in five minutes.
I fucking hate this. It's just ridiculous.
The saddest part is that I've come to expect this behavior as normal. *argh*
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Holy Crap!!
I called my briend this morning to tell her my internet was down and I didn't know when it would come back up, so if she needed to get in contact with me, she'd need to call the land line. My cell phone, laptop, and e-reader all run on the Wi-Fi.
While we were talking, she told me that she and the other owner of the company I work for spent about a month talking about closing the business.
*OhSNAP*
I think the bookkeeping problems have become overwhelming for them. So they're having a meeting with their accountant this week and hopefully can get some things straightened out and re-strategized, because right now, in addition to enjoying the work, this is the only income I've got going on at the moment. *gulp*
I think to really make this work, they need to relinquish some duties and some control to others and not try to do everything themselves. Delegation is a learned skill. There's a certain amount of trust involved.
I did NOT see that coming.
While we were talking, she told me that she and the other owner of the company I work for spent about a month talking about closing the business.
*OhSNAP*
I think the bookkeeping problems have become overwhelming for them. So they're having a meeting with their accountant this week and hopefully can get some things straightened out and re-strategized, because right now, in addition to enjoying the work, this is the only income I've got going on at the moment. *gulp*
I think to really make this work, they need to relinquish some duties and some control to others and not try to do everything themselves. Delegation is a learned skill. There's a certain amount of trust involved.
I did NOT see that coming.
Gittin' 'er Done
So in-between not whining and carrying on about how shitty I feel and sleeping WAAAAY too much, I managed to convert a book for e-reader (which is 3 conversions--for Nook, Kindle, and Smashwords [which is everything else not Nook or Kindle]), and project manage a new cover for a former client who published an e-book last year and is now doing her print book.
The cover came out FABULOUS and the artist I worked with was so talented and so thoughtful and listened to my requests, and I'm so excited for the author. I'm going to change the cover of the e-book, too, once the paper version is published.
I also got rid of some crap in the living room, packed some stuff up to go to storage--we need to find a new one, bigger and cheaper, if possible--and I am going to do some baking later (I SO love having a working oven again!), and maybe a crockpot soup (potato), and then maybe tackle the dining room.
So I have managed to get some things done even though, well, I feel crappy. It's either that or be a lump. I don't want to be a lump. So I do what I can.
I woke up today with a gnarly backache, even my shoulders hurt. The slat at the end of our bed has come off--again. So the bed then tilts downhill. Not comfortable AT ALL. We purchased our mattress five years ago, brand new from the store, and quite frankly, it has not held up as well as we'd both hoped it would. I'm very disappointed. We got a $1300- mattress set on sale for around $800+. I had an Ortho mattress last over 12 years before I replaced it with a used Queen set a friend sold me for $200-. That lasted well over 10 years. Very, very disappointing. I'm going to check the manufacturer again because I won't be buying it again.
And finally, I have two gigs coming up, both repeat authors so I'm making a name for myself, and one of them I'm VERY excited about. This author holds a special place in my heart. I just love their work. I can't wait to get started on it.
*fingerscrossed*
The cover came out FABULOUS and the artist I worked with was so talented and so thoughtful and listened to my requests, and I'm so excited for the author. I'm going to change the cover of the e-book, too, once the paper version is published.
I also got rid of some crap in the living room, packed some stuff up to go to storage--we need to find a new one, bigger and cheaper, if possible--and I am going to do some baking later (I SO love having a working oven again!), and maybe a crockpot soup (potato), and then maybe tackle the dining room.
So I have managed to get some things done even though, well, I feel crappy. It's either that or be a lump. I don't want to be a lump. So I do what I can.
I woke up today with a gnarly backache, even my shoulders hurt. The slat at the end of our bed has come off--again. So the bed then tilts downhill. Not comfortable AT ALL. We purchased our mattress five years ago, brand new from the store, and quite frankly, it has not held up as well as we'd both hoped it would. I'm very disappointed. We got a $1300- mattress set on sale for around $800+. I had an Ortho mattress last over 12 years before I replaced it with a used Queen set a friend sold me for $200-. That lasted well over 10 years. Very, very disappointing. I'm going to check the manufacturer again because I won't be buying it again.
And finally, I have two gigs coming up, both repeat authors so I'm making a name for myself, and one of them I'm VERY excited about. This author holds a special place in my heart. I just love their work. I can't wait to get started on it.
*fingerscrossed*
Friday, October 19, 2012
Bad...Everything Day. Week.
Well, I've felt like crap all week. A lot. Throbbing pains in my right leg, calf, ankle, and foot like being hit by an electric cattle prod (or how I imagine one feels. I've never actually been electrically prodded). Then I had a crisis with one of my paid projects, and I called my interviewer to reschedule my appointment. I got her voicemail. I should have given her my cell phone. I forget to check the land line voicemail.
She said she could see me at 2:30 on Thursday, so I called back--after 6pm when I got the message--and said 2:30 was fine, I would see her then.
I got up a little earlier than I normally do, dressed and prepared to go to the interview. Then it dawned on me to check the voicemail. Evidently she had called at 8:02am to tell me she had given the 2:30 time slot to someone else. She had a 1:45 appointment and that was it. It was 1:15.
My husband told me to hurry and finish dressing and we would fly...fly down the freeway to the interview (and then run errands after).
We get outside...and our van had a flat tire. I am not making this up. FLAT. TIRE. Freaking out ensued on both our parts. We calmed down and decided to take the other car, but something came loose underneath the front bumper after scraping over a cement parking stop and it drags on the ground when we drive. And it was dragging badly. We had just paid to have the brakes done on the van; there was no money to fix the other car. It was about this time that I noticed that it was 1:30pm, and there was no fucking way we could be 35 miles away in 15 minutes.
I threw up my arms in resignation and headed back into the house. We then had a debate on who was more of a loser, me or him. Me for assuming that the 2:30pm time slot was mine, him for not realizing that the van had a flat tire.
I called the woman I was to interview with to tell her I would not be at the 1:45pm appointment. She had no other slots available for interviews. I thanked her for the opportunity and that was it. I blew it.
We each sat quietly for a while surfing the Internet and contemplating our loserness. Then he found a place where he could get a replacement tire for low, low dollars, and he headed out to take care of that. And get stamps for some mail we had.
I decided I was not going to end the day a loser, and I hand-washed a sink full, FULL of dishes--the DW is out. We just want the landlady to get our rent check before we tell her it's on the fritz. And then I decided to clean the refrigerator. It hadn't been cleaned in a while. The glass shelves come out, but the kitchen is so small, that the door hits the cupboards on the opposite side and won't open all the way. I had a bitch of a time getting everything out and washed and then put back in. Overall, it took me over three hours to do everything. Something sticky had spilled and dripped to the bottom of the fridge, under the fruit and vegetable bins (which was a real Houdini trick to get those out and back in), and lots and lots and lots of cleaner, scrubbing, and judicious use of a Santoku knife.
By the time I was done, I was wet, sore, and just plain pooped. I was going to start on the dining room next, but I was out of steam.
But by G*d, I was a loser with a clean kitchen and refrigerator.
So self-fulfilling prophecy? Subconscious wish to fail? Fear of success? Moderate agoraphobia? Fear that I never feel well enough to get through even a day as a partially employed, work-at-home person? Or E) all of the above.
I've got to be realistic. My health is not that great. My good days when I feel ok are less than the bad days. I probably feel ok three or four days a month. Seriously. I am not good at recognizing my limits, but perhaps my body and/or subconscious do. I don't know if I could have made it to work every day. What kind of employee would I be? A sucky one.
It just sucks to be me. That's supposed to be funny. OK, not funny.
I'm still trying to figure out this "new" body of mine that just doesn't work as well as it used to. Jeesuz I'm tired.
***
In response to the commenter (I've got a ticket in as to why I can't reply to comments here on my blog):
Thank you. Your kindness and non-judginess throughout the years have been very sustaining. Hugs back. J.
She said she could see me at 2:30 on Thursday, so I called back--after 6pm when I got the message--and said 2:30 was fine, I would see her then.
I got up a little earlier than I normally do, dressed and prepared to go to the interview. Then it dawned on me to check the voicemail. Evidently she had called at 8:02am to tell me she had given the 2:30 time slot to someone else. She had a 1:45 appointment and that was it. It was 1:15.
My husband told me to hurry and finish dressing and we would fly...fly down the freeway to the interview (and then run errands after).
We get outside...and our van had a flat tire. I am not making this up. FLAT. TIRE. Freaking out ensued on both our parts. We calmed down and decided to take the other car, but something came loose underneath the front bumper after scraping over a cement parking stop and it drags on the ground when we drive. And it was dragging badly. We had just paid to have the brakes done on the van; there was no money to fix the other car. It was about this time that I noticed that it was 1:30pm, and there was no fucking way we could be 35 miles away in 15 minutes.
I threw up my arms in resignation and headed back into the house. We then had a debate on who was more of a loser, me or him. Me for assuming that the 2:30pm time slot was mine, him for not realizing that the van had a flat tire.
I called the woman I was to interview with to tell her I would not be at the 1:45pm appointment. She had no other slots available for interviews. I thanked her for the opportunity and that was it. I blew it.
We each sat quietly for a while surfing the Internet and contemplating our loserness. Then he found a place where he could get a replacement tire for low, low dollars, and he headed out to take care of that. And get stamps for some mail we had.
I decided I was not going to end the day a loser, and I hand-washed a sink full, FULL of dishes--the DW is out. We just want the landlady to get our rent check before we tell her it's on the fritz. And then I decided to clean the refrigerator. It hadn't been cleaned in a while. The glass shelves come out, but the kitchen is so small, that the door hits the cupboards on the opposite side and won't open all the way. I had a bitch of a time getting everything out and washed and then put back in. Overall, it took me over three hours to do everything. Something sticky had spilled and dripped to the bottom of the fridge, under the fruit and vegetable bins (which was a real Houdini trick to get those out and back in), and lots and lots and lots of cleaner, scrubbing, and judicious use of a Santoku knife.
By the time I was done, I was wet, sore, and just plain pooped. I was going to start on the dining room next, but I was out of steam.
But by G*d, I was a loser with a clean kitchen and refrigerator.
So self-fulfilling prophecy? Subconscious wish to fail? Fear of success? Moderate agoraphobia? Fear that I never feel well enough to get through even a day as a partially employed, work-at-home person? Or E) all of the above.
I've got to be realistic. My health is not that great. My good days when I feel ok are less than the bad days. I probably feel ok three or four days a month. Seriously. I am not good at recognizing my limits, but perhaps my body and/or subconscious do. I don't know if I could have made it to work every day. What kind of employee would I be? A sucky one.
It just sucks to be me. That's supposed to be funny. OK, not funny.
I'm still trying to figure out this "new" body of mine that just doesn't work as well as it used to. Jeesuz I'm tired.
***
In response to the commenter (I've got a ticket in as to why I can't reply to comments here on my blog):
Thank you. Your kindness and non-judginess throughout the years have been very sustaining. Hugs back. J.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Interview Tomorrow
And I feel like shit! Yay! Not.
I'm not nervous, interviews never bothered me too much in general, but I'm anxious about not looking like I don't feel like shit.
I want the job...but...I feel like shit.
I just hope I don't come off as a total idiot. "Hey man...like, butterflies, and trees, and we all can...look, a squirrel!"
LMAO
I've got my outfit picked out, I was going to get a haircut today but...say it with me now, "I feel like shit." So I'm going to put it up.
The Vice President is coming to town, and I was going to go on Monday, the date on my tickets, but he changed to tomorrow so he could attend Arlen Specter's funeral. I get it, but I can't go tomorrow. Sorry, Joe.
I'll let you know how it goes late tomorrow. After my nap.
I'm not nervous, interviews never bothered me too much in general, but I'm anxious about not looking like I don't feel like shit.
I want the job...but...I feel like shit.
I just hope I don't come off as a total idiot. "Hey man...like, butterflies, and trees, and we all can...look, a squirrel!"
LMAO
I've got my outfit picked out, I was going to get a haircut today but...say it with me now, "I feel like shit." So I'm going to put it up.
The Vice President is coming to town, and I was going to go on Monday, the date on my tickets, but he changed to tomorrow so he could attend Arlen Specter's funeral. I get it, but I can't go tomorrow. Sorry, Joe.
I'll let you know how it goes late tomorrow. After my nap.
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