After about five days of being in pain, doped up, and napping off and on, I had a sudden burst of creative energy and finished up a bunch of knitting projects and started a couple of new ones. My pace has been pretty good. That’s what I spent last week doing. I’ve been back to work for two half days and I can already feel the creative part of me draining away. *sigh*

It’s times like this that I really miss my recruiting consultancy. Enough so, in fact, that I spent a few hours this morning looking for contract opportunities – anything!

I’d be happiest spending 20 hours a week screening applicants and referring candidates. It’s just so much to work to make something like that happen.

One of the things that I have struggled with since moving to the desert (outside of no Pho, the comic shop closing, and driving everywhere) is that people here really don’t give a shit. The work ethic in general is severly lacking.

Now, I love to slack. Love it. But I work my ass of and get my shit done, then slack. I also have a fairly high standard for completed work. So, you know if I’m busy and not slacking that I’ve got too much work on my plate and, if I miss a deadline, you need to hire more people.

But here, people slack, and then only do work when someone notices that something is not done or gets pissed. They are also clueless about what their jobs are or should be – I get a real sense that the idea that you get paid for WORK is not taught in schools here or something. I have yet to meet a real professional here.

So, in reality, I can half-ass it and still be THE top performer in any work environment. It’s fucking weird. I’m used to working with really good workers, who took pride in a “job well done” whether it was reception or client management or fucking link-farming.

It’s really been sitting on my mind-grapes of late because the people I interact with just keep getting worse and I think, “I never would have hired you and if I had (made that mistake), I would fire your ass.” And no wonder the agency recruiters I tried to get work with or through down here didn’t know what to do with me – apparently, when your candidate is more qualified than you, you ignore them and hope they go away. When the recruiter redid my resume and made me look like I hadn’t done anything but filing for the last ten years, I told that her that she made me look like dead weight, when in fact I’ve been steadily promoted until I could break off and consult, and that I’m incredibly valuable… she told me she used her resume as a template, and I responded, “Well, then, YOUR resume needs work.” Oops.

I guess I’m weird because even though skating by is okay, I prefer a challenge and a commensurate reward. But these people aren’t even skating by, they’re being dragged along.

The postage meter at work is broken, so we had to go buy stamps. Apparently, the United States Postal Service has a new series of stamps commemorating the Flags of Our Nation. It wasn’t long before I got to Arkansas and I was immediately struck by how their flag looks like a beer label.

So, I immediately began thinking of slogans for Arkansas beer.

The post title was the best that I could come up with. Sorry, Arkansas.

For those of you who don’t remember or are new to this blog, I work in a synagogue. I am not Jewish. I am an atheist.

Right now we are smack dab in the mack dab of the High Holy Days. The Days of Awe, ten days of super Jewishness, that begin with Rosh Hashanah and end with Yom Kippur. There is feasting and the fasting. I believe the Jews invented the crash diet.

I have been named (in jest and in some truth) as our Temple’s Shabbos Goy, even though our Temple is Conservative and not Orthodox. This means that I’m working on the High Holy Days, even though, technically, our Temple is closed except for services.

I am surprised at who is being really observant and who isn’t at this time of year. It’s not who I expected… and this is peak attendance for synagogues. it happens every year, and you’d be amazed at the number of people who call at the last minute or just show up expecting seats to be available. Or the number of incredibly wealthy people who refuse to pay for tickets or dinners or to pay their dues. I guess that’s why they are wealthy.

Anyway, I’ve already heard all of the sermons since I was Rabbi’s practice audience. They are really good and hardly mention G-d (Jews don’t spell it out – haven’t figured that one out yet) at all, but are full of stories about the olden times, tradition, Fiddler on the Roof, and how it all relates to the now. In one sermon, our Rabbi called out certain people as “amateur gentiles” which cracked me up.

A lot of old ladies are dressed up in outfits that look like they stole them right out of Nancy Reagan’s closet and their make-up was done by Pamela Anderson’s person. The perfume!

The old men are all wearing ties that look like colorblind tests and, last night, one of my regulars said, “This shirt is 30 years old – you can’t get shirts like this anymore!”

No, you can’t, and you can’t get the matching striped mauve tie and jacket, either.

HEY INTERNET PEOPLE – I NEED SOME ADVICE.

Because this is work related, I’m putting it behind the cut (even though it doesn’t hide it from the internet, it’s a psychological comfort). Read the rest of this entry »