Finally, something stupid enough to write about!

So, this was a first:

Last Friday, on a whim, I replied to an employment ad on kijiji (Mistake #1) looking for a "leader, not a manager" and promising a salary of $50,000 - $70,000. What the ad failed to mention was the name of the company I possibly might be employed by (Mistake #2).

On Monday I got a phone call from the mystery employer, saying they were interested in setting up an interview with me and would I be available Tuesday at 10am? Since I was in the doctors office at the time, and was having a hard time understanding the person I was speaking to, I failed to catch the name of the company, but I did get the address and the name of the person who would be interviewing me. The closing remark by the person on the phone was "This is a professional environment, so dress sharp".

That night I Google mapped the address I had been given, and based on the google street view of the building, narrowed down the names of the companies listed on the sign to the company that I thought sounded most like the name of the company I had been told on the phone. Then I found their website and read a bit about the company, and otherwise prepared for my interview.

The next morning I got up early, did some more reading about the company, and managed to find an entire forum, which, to sum it up, basically told me not to bother, this company is a joke (!!!!). I decided to ignore the forum (Mistake #3) and that even though this job might not be for me, the interview would be good practice.

I dressed "sharp", and arrived at the office which was less than profession in appearance. Dirty carpet, cheap interior decoration etc. Then I noticed that the employees, the people that would be performing my interview, looked less like professionals and more like fraternity boys in suits. (This entire paragraph is Mistake #4)

I got invited into the office for my interview by one of the frat boys, and was told that another frat boy would be sitting in on the interview. The first frat boy asked me questions, while the second frat boy sat in the corner and played on his phone. I aced the interview, and was told that I could now move onto another part of the interview process where I would learn more about the company.

This is what I learned:

I would not move directly into a "leadership" position, instead I would start at the bottom of the company, and work my way up....and be paid by commission. Oh, and I would be selling life insurance. Yeah, that sounds exactly like the position I had applied for. Not.

At this point I realized what a joke this was, and decided I would just see how far I could get....after all, it would be good practice for future interviews. I sat through an hour of promotional videos (that looked like they had been made in PowerPoint) and then I was told that I would receive a phone call that night to let me know if the rest of the "management team" wanted me to move onto the next set of interviews.

That night I got my phone call, and was asked how I felt about the company and if I would be interested in working there. I decided to put the nail in the coffin (or so I thought) and said "I dont feel that this company is a good fit for me", to which Mr. So-and-so replied "Well, the management team didn't feel like you were a good fit either". End of conversation. Wrong.

About 20 minutes later, while I was driving to my yoga class, I got another phone call from the same Mr. What's-his-name, saying that he actually wanted to talk with me some more about my cover-letter, and see if he could talk me into taking the position. Wait, I thought the "management team" didn't think I was a good fit?! I told him I was currently driving and that I would have to call him back tomorrow (playing hard to get is fun, but Mistake #5).

The next day I called him back. He wanted to know why I wasn't interested in the job. I told him that the job ad completely misrepresented the job I was actually being offered, and that I had no interest in this job.

Him: "Oh, ok, I completely understand. So, do you spent most of your time in Ottawa, or do you spent more of it in Winnipeg."

Me: (Thinking this is weird, why is this conversation still happening?) "Blah blah blah, I travel back and forth, blah blah"

Him: "Well, since it wouldn't be a conflict of interest -"

Me: (Thinking he is going to offer to give my resume to someone else he might know...)

Him: " - I was wondering if I could be so bold as to ask you out for dinner"

Me: "Im actually engaged"

Him: "...."
Him: "Well he is a lucky guy. I guess this wouldnt work then."

Me: "Yes, I think my fiance might find it a little odd"

Him: "Oh, well I wish you the best in the future. I know you will be successful in whatever you do"

Me: "Thanks, you too"

Him: "Bye...."

Me: "Bye."

CLICK.

[Insert manic laughing here]

Priceless. I cant wait to see what my next job interview ends up like!

The One Liner...

For those of you that rely on my blog to know what is going on in my life, this post probably won't make much sense, so let me update you quickly before going on to what I actually wanted to write about. Here is what is new (in order of relevance, not importance):

1. I got a puppy! ( This is relevant to this post) His name is Sir Ichabod Crane (Icky for short) and here he is:

I have no idea what a dog this spoiled has to look so disgruntled about...

2. I got engaged (to Charles, you may remember him from previous posts such as "Urine? Im Out.") (This is not relevant to this post, but will be the subject of a later one)


Now that you are up to date...

Charles and I were both home the other day. As I walked into the living room I caught Icky in mid-poop-crouch on the rug near his play pen.

"Mid-poop-crouch"

It should go without saying that that is NOT where he was supposed to be going poop, and so I scooped him up and plunked him on his potty pads so he could finish his business.


At this point in the story it is critical to add that Icky has this cute, but somewhat unusual, habit of preferring to eat his kibble when it has been spread around on the ground. Food that has been sitting in his dish undisturbed for half a day suddenly becomes especially irresistible if it is removed from the dish and scattered across the floor. That being said, it isn't unusual to see fairly sizable quantities of kibble strewn across our living room floor at any given time.

I am not sure if anyone else has noticed this, but when you're looking for MIA (Missing In Action) poops without your glasses on, suddenly EVERYTHING on the floor, from raw-hide chews to remote controls, begins to look suspiciously like doo-doo, and kibble on the ground in small groupings is no exception.

To be sure what I was looking at wasn't just some rouge kibble, I took a step forward to get a closer look. As I did so I managed to place the middle of my right foot directly on top of a piece of dog dooty, strategically camouflaged by the dark rug it was on.

The sound that spew forth from my lips probably sounded a little like this:

AAaaaAAaaaRRRRrrrRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

Using the toilet paper that was supposed to be used for picking up poop, not wiping it off the bottom of my foot, I tried to remove the doo-doo the best I could and in the process managed to rip the TP and get some on my fingers. I requested that Charles, instead of laughing at me, go and get a baby wipe so I could cleaning off my hand/foot.

Instead of getting a baby wipe, Charles went into the kitchen to get me a wet nap that he had taken from Montana's (the restaurant).

He handed it to me and said:

How to Capture A "Rat Creature"

Something had been keeping me up at night. What is was, I didnt know. All that I knew was that I had to discover what the creature scratching and clawing its way around in the attic from 10pm-3am every night was, and then evict it.
Since I am currently staying at my parents place, I informed them of our unwelcome guest. My mom called an exterminator who told us it would be about $600 to "get the job done". Maybe it is just me, but I have seen enough episodes of Billy the Exterminator to know that catching a random Rat Creature (the name that I decided to give the mystery beast.) isnt exactly rocket science, and so, I volunteered my dad and myself for the job.

Our mission? Find Rat Creature, capture him/her and remove him/her from the attic.

Since Billy the Exterminator wears ridiculous costumes to do his job, I figured that must be a key component in the fine art of exterminating.

Just so there is no confusion, THIS is Billy the Exterminator.

Unfortunately since I shower regularly I was already at somewhat of a disadvantage. Undiscouraged, I put together the best outfit I could find for the job.

And THIS is me.

Rubber gloves, plastic bags to prevent insulation from getting into my shoes, some kind of scarf thing to help reduce the amount of junk I was breathing in....I know I look like a pro, but I swear this was my first time!

My dad also dressed up. He looks less like an exterminator and more like a cowboy-bandit-terrorist (they are the worst kind).

We got our tools ready: peanut butter, crackers and then set up the traps. (Ignore the hammer, it was only there in case something attacked me first.)

Then we left the traps and waited until morning to see if we had captured anything.

That night, as I lay in bed I heard the familiar scuffle of Rat Creature above me. I silently willed him to investigate the traps filled with delicious goodies. After about 5 minutes of shuffling sounds from above, all was quiet, and I fell into a restful nights sleep.

The next morning when I woke up, I immediately wanted to see if Rat Creature had been caught. I figured that if he had in fact been lured into the trap and been caught he would be thirsty from all that peanut butter and crackers (this is the kind of nice person I am)...

Up into the attic my dad went....

"Did we catch anything?!"

"Yep, we got something..."

Now, part of me really did want this thing to be a vicious, ugly, red eyed, sewer rat- it would have made the story that much better. Then we could have dropped some F-bombs and said things like "AAAAHHHH! IT GOTS ME!"...that didnt happen. Why? Because this is what we found.

Look how cute and potentially deadly I am!

I swear this guy was so adorable it took all my will power not to stick my fingers in there, scoop him out, and snuggle him to death- that and the fact that it is a Deer Mouse (Peromyscus maniculatus)- and they can carry wonderful things like Hantavirus and Lyme Disease.

Anyways, since I am not a fan of killing adorable mice (even if they keep me up for nights on end, and can be vectors for diseases like Hantavirus (which, by-the-way, I am now paranoid that we may have contracted...), my mom and I took him to a nicely wooded area not far from our house and released him next to a stream :) Part of me still cant help but feel like a big meanie though for pulling him out of his nice warm attic and throwing him out into the big, mean, cold world! Now that we are rid of him, and we filled up the cracks that he could have snuck into the attic through, hopefully my nights will continued to be filled with silence and not the sound of Rat Creatures from above.

Absolutely No Bumping

This is how your employer shows he really cares (or wants you back at work ASAP): a bubble wrap "helmet" and a delicious Edible Arrangement :)

Yes, it says "ABSOLUTELY NO BUMPING". None. Not even a little.

Helicopters, Fuel Trucks and Prairie Chickens! Oh My! AND "The Mom Vs. Bicycle" Incident

So it seems as though my new job has some pretty awesome perks to it. Things like actually being paid for the number of hours you work, not having pay deducted for time that you take to go to the bathroom, not having to work on Easter Sunday, and getting to go on impromptu helicopter rides followed by being allowed to drive a fuel truck (when, in fact, you were hired to be an office manager), AND STILL GET PAID!

To make a short story shorter, yesterday I flew up to Gypsumville (approx 250km Northwest of Winnipeg...with a big ol population of 285) with Jeff (our pilot) and Walter (the guy who does everything from ordering coffee to designing new camera systems for the helicopter).

C-FJPL our Bell 206 Long Ranger Helicopter

The purpose of this trip? Jeff had some work to do with Water Stewardship (or maybe it was Manitoba Infrastructure and Transportation), and I wanted to drive the fuel truck back to Winnipeg for no reason other than to say I have done it!

I named her "Big Bertha". She is old (1987), rusty, noisy, has a wimpy horn, and her seats are really bouncy. I like her :)

Like any good trucker I wore plaid for the occasion (unlike any good trucker, I showered that morning)

Walter and I stopped for lunch in some little town called Ashern, evidently known for nothing besides its giant prairie chicken (even though the website claims it is an ideal place to raise a family, settle in for retirement or start a business).

We then continued on, eventually stopping to fill up with gas (Charles, I finally found a truck that gets worse mileage than yours did! It averages out at 5 miles per gallon!). It was at that time that Walter decided to change the view of the CHASE camera (which was recently bought to use for aerial filming with the helicopter and Walter brought along to test out) to this:

 

Had I known I was being filmed I would have something more interesting than just sitting there, bouncing along and giggling to myself. I would have definitely honked the horn, because for the size of truck the horn sounds extremely wimpy (very similar to the Road Runners "meep meep!"), and maybe even made a clever joke or two. Unfortunately, I didnt do either of those things... and instead got caught saying something about how the muddy gas station window water (that Walter had just finished "washing" our front window with) probably didnt even contain water, just mud...but then realized that if it didnt contain water and just mud, it would be a solid....ah damn.

If you overlook the fact that that afternoon, while I was happily bouncing along saying unintelligent things about muddy water, my mom had been run over by a bicyclist on Fort St. and ended up in the emergency room at Health Sciences Center (but she is OK now, aside from what we assume is a mild concussion, some bruising, and general soreness (so I wont say more about it than that because she is embarrassed that weird happenings always have a way of finding her...)), it was a great day! 

On that note, I shall end this blog and go wait by the phone for everyone to start calling and demanding further explanation of what shall forever be known as "The Mom vs. Bicycle" incident.

More Laughs (Brought to you by Veteran Affairs Assistance Service)

It has been a while since I have poked fun at the military. Trust me, it isn't for lack of things to poke fun at, it's just that sometimes there there are other, more pressing, issues on your mind (like your partner going away for the better part of a year, or impending world doom).  Truth be told, Ive been feeling a little less than "good" lately, and it almost might be worth while calling the Deployment Support Center, but wouldn't you know it, I have no idea where I placed their number (if that remark wasn't funny then you should read THIS post).

Luckily, I was recently put back on some (prescribed) mood altering medication (the stuff my deployment support package should have come with in the first place). This means that my depressed mood has been replaced with a slightly more cheerful, albeit still sarcastic and cynical, mood.  That said, here is my random, sarcastic, and cynical, thought/rant for the day:

The Veteran Affairs Assistance Service is in cahoots with the Deployment Support Center when it comes to giving people useless junk.  

 
I find it ironic that a card with a 1-800 support line that is open 24/7 feels the need to place a "mood reader" on their business card. It is almost as if there the instructions should be edited to read "Hold thumb on square for a count of ten to indicate how stressed/troubled/worried/sorrowful/depressed you are. To avoid high call volumes, and longer than usual wait times, please only call us when square remains black."

Now dont get me wrong, there definitely needs to be a support service, such as Veteran Affairs, available to Veterans and their families. However, is it really necessary to put a device that apparently reads you mood on the back of the card?  Can't a business card just be a business card and nothing else? Must every support group available to me couple their support with novelty items? If so, leave out the practical, boring things (IE: sticker, plastic bookmark, magnetic ruler) and the weird mixed meaning things (IE: Big Grip jar opener, band-aide dispenser, mood calculating contraption) and put something in there that I can at least have some real fun with (IE: multicolored plastic monster finger puppets).

Good Things Come in Small Packages...

And when you order something from Stapes.ca, small things come in big packages.

That is a 12" ruler...

...a whole lot of protective cushioning...

...and a Micro SD card.

Part of me wants to give the packer of this box the benefit of the doubt and assume that they were out of smaller boxes at the warehouse. But you know what? I really doubt it.. Thank goodness shipping was free.