Busy for Unemployed...

I've been kept on my toes for the past 24 hours! Let me tell you how.

In the daily craziness that is my job search (my only non-job-searching productive time in the past week has been the 4 hours yesterday morning when our internet was down) I have been busy finding places to apply, editing resumes, making phone calls... [Minnesota accent:] ya know. Yesterday I was winding down after sending out a few new applications and my "job search.xls" spreadsheet told me that it was time to follow up on some past applications.

As it happened, a number of days ago, I applied to a number of bank teller positions at a great many local[ish] banks. There are after all several major bank headquarters in the Twin Cities metro area. Anyway, I made some calls yesterday, scored an interview this morning at one bank, left few messages and... called it a day. Brooke studied on, and I went up to the kitchen to prepare some delicious sausage/bread/apple/onion-stuffed acorn squash.

While I was in the kitchen cooking, I chatted and bumped elbows with my housemate Noor. He was preparing an elaborate feast for his beloved wife Tasnim, who he was picking up from the airport later in the evening. (She had been visiting family in Bangladesh for over a month.) It was only after Brooke and I stuffed our faces with squash that I realized that he intended to invite us to eat with him and Tasnim after she got in (not 'til 10:30). Brooke had to get to bed early, but I rallied, took a shower and tried to think hungry thoughts.

Tasnim arrived right on time and was a pleasure to meet. (Good thing too, as she is now one of my housemates.) We three sat down to a Bangla feast of fried rice and lentils, shrimp and eggs, and I also got a small taste of Bangla hospitality as I was served up a generous serving of the delicious food. I started out with a full belly, tasted some food, quickly developed an appetite again, tried to convince them that I was too full for seconds, ate some seconds anyway, and finally convinced them that I couldn't possibly fit thirds into my stomach. Only by 11:30 did we all mosey on to our beds.

Bright and early the next morning: I woke up groggily, popped a dumpstered bagel in the toaster oven, looked up some directions and put on my nicest shirt and tie. Never mind that one of my shoes was scuffed beyond repair and that a safety pin was preventing my temperamental fly from unzipping itself, I was going to be dashing... motivated... a young professional. (Huh. Bull. But, hey, I am becoming a desperate man, and I might actually possess the skill set to get hired as a teller. "Leasing My Soul to the Devil" I almost called this post...)

The interview went well. There's a chance I will be called to a second interview. As I left I got a call from a different branch of the same bank - a response to a message I had left. Why yes, I would like to interview with you too. I got home, ripped off the tie (no more of that for the day!), put on some more casual clothes and tried to have a coffee date with the pastor of the church where Brooke and I are now attending. He was sick today, so we took a rain check. And then made plans to go out for lunch with Brooke's parents who happened to be in town.

Just before we left for lunch, I followed up on a different bank branch. "Oh. Good. Well, what is your availability like this week?" {ANY TIME!} Brooke, my ever-faithful job coach, mouthed. "Uh, any time is fine." -- "How about today at 3, then?"

And thus it was that after a delicious Mexican buffet ("Not too many beans!" job coach warned) I retied my best tie and headed out the door to another interview. Good practice. I'm getting better at coming off as a motivated, ambitious, career-oriented, young professional. And when I got home, I contacted the hiring manager I had talked to earlier in the morning, to set an interview time. Tuesday at 2 pm was best for her.

I have an interview at a temp agency at 10 am planned for the same day, as well as a stage (hands-on, second interview for a cook position) scheduled from 3 pm - 10 pm. I said that 2 pm would be great.

Noor: my Nordic skiing protégé

Left Jab, Right Hook AND HE'S DOWN FOR THE COUNT!

He enters the ring: Several weeks ago I began job searching here in my new home of St. Paul. A daunting task and one that I'm quite sick of. Having moved so many times in the past year I've also spent a great deal of time job searching. I hate the resumes, the revising, the tailoring... I hate the scanning of want-ads, Craigslist, websites... I hate interviews, formality, dressing up, showing off your abilities... Most of all, I hate the gut-wrenching feeling of knowing that you don't know when or from where your next paycheck will come - nor do you know whether you are being seriously considered at any of these jobs you are applying to.

The opponents circle: I gather information, I suck it up and revise my resumes. I apply and email and submit. I get fatigued but am propelled by the knowledge that I need to find work.

Matthew swings and connects!: At the advice of Brooke (a former employment counselor who helped refugees find jobs) I followed up some applications with phone calls. I was rewarded with two interviews. One, a national tutoring company, made it sound like I could probably work for them. The pay would be good, the hours few - though they would be evenings and weekends. The other interview was at a local cafe - very awesome place - and went quite well. A few days later I was offered a job at the cafe. Not quite full time, decent pay, some weekend work, but I was sure I would enjoy it. But that very morning I saw a posting on Craigslist for an Education Assistant position at a nearby high school. Right up my alley. I asked the owner of the cafe if I could give him an answer in a few days.

He closes in for the knockout blow...: I called the school, got an interview scheduled, and prepped myself and my materials. The interview went well. Granted, I didn't have loads of experience in a school setting, but I thought I would be a good match for the job. AND the job would look great on a future education-tailored resume. Not to mention, it was full time, offered benefits and payed much better than the cafe. Now to wait for their response.

but his opponent wipes the blood from his mouth and shakes it off: I wait and I wait. No word. Finally, today I can't take it anymore. I call the school. Only voicemail. Finally, later in the afternoon I reach the assistant director who helped interview me...

Left jab!: "Sorry, the position's been filled." [dahhhhhhhhhhh! I got my hopes up!!! and for what!] I call up the cafe. Hi, I'm just calling to say I didn't get the other job. I'd love to work for you if you still want me.

Right hook!: "Huh. Well, actually, I've been interviewing some other people since. Tell you what, give me a call back on Friday and I can let you know for sure."

And Matthew is down for the count!: So now I wait... just like I was waiting a few days ago, only this time I don't have a fall-back plan. So much more is on the line. I wait... just like I was waiting a few weeks ago, only I've now been job searching for weeks and I'm weary. I'm like a boxer knocked to the ground, trying to get up - knowing that if I don't I lose. Except I can't lose. I have a rent check to send in a few weeks. I must get back up. But it's soooooo difficult.

[End note: I'm not actually worried yet, just depressed. I have other sources of income for now - enough to get by. And on a good note, Brooke and I are eating like kings and queens for very little a month. So far the goal of cooking with raw, simple ingredients is met! Last night: chili and cornbread...]

I Went for a Walk in My Neighborhood

and this is what I saw...

I'm TOTALLY Gonna Win the Future...

President Barack Obama: "In fact, to every young person listening tonight who's contemplating their career choice: If you want to make a difference in the life of our nation; if you want to make a difference in the life of a child — become a teacher. Your country needs you."

Me [yelling at computer screen while watching the State of the Union address]: "Yes! Yes, Obama! I will help you!"

(Admittedly, I was planning on becoming a teacher anyway.)

Food for Thought

An original title, I know...

As I sat down to a lazy Saturday morning breakfast this morning (nearly afternoon) I reflected on my decadent meal: a homemade buttermilk Belgian waffle, topped with butter, chopped walnuts, apple and maple syrup, coffee on the side. Not thirty minutes earlier my meal had been a collection of 'raw' ingredients: flour, salt, buttermilk, butter, baking soda, maple syrup, coffee beans, egg, apple and walnuts - not a pre-packaged* item among them. What's more, now that I thought about it, all I had eaten for the past week had been prepared by myself (and/or Brooke) from other such raw ingredients. This was a satisfying thought, especially in light of some of recent reading and thinking I've been doing.

I won't pretend to be an expert - or even very knowledgeable - on the subjects of food, the food industry or nutrition. In fact, much of what I have been musing over has come from only one source - an interesting piece of journalism by Michael Pollan titled The Omnivore's Dilemma. Still, the distilled version of what I've gleaned from this book** is this: Corn (as well as number of other crops) has become a commodity in our economy, a process fueled in part by government subsidies. More and more corn is produced on an increasingly larger scale and the end result (aside from the detrimental environmental effects of mono-cropping: erosion, chemical runoff, reduction of genetic diversity in crops, etc.) is lower corn prices (= bad for domestic AND foreign farmers) and a market saturated with cheap corn.

And just what does a nation do with millions of bushels of cheap commodity corn??? One answer is to add value by turning it into an expensive product, say a corn-based breakfast cereal sweetened with corn syrup, fortified with vitamins derived from corn... And behold: a nation that has gone from general stores and open markets selling predominantly raw goods to chain grocery stores that sell meals (frozen or boxed and LOADED with corn-derived ingredients) ready - or "ready in minutes!" - to eat. (Not to mention that most of the meat we eat is fed on a diet primarily comprised of... CORN!)

From here we could go to the realm of nutrition and the purported negative effects of processed food (i.e. high fructose corn syrup) on American health, but already I've written much more than I intended. I'll save the soapbox for a less-lazy day, that is not filled with snow, sun and a promise to teach my housemate how to Nordic ski.

A bit more reflection, to wrap things up: I'm pleased with my recent cooking endeavors. I feel like I'm eating food that is healthier and furthermore, the menu has been varied and delicious: homemade ravioli with cheese and meat filling and homemade tomato sauce, ham and white bean soup, barley and mushroom casserole, baked macaroni and cheese, baked polenta with roasted vegetables. Hopefully this is a trend I can continue. And, future salary increases pending, I also hope to replace more and more of these store-bought raw ingredients with ones that I grow, make, preserve, forage, brew and kill myself - partially in the name of improving my ecological/economic impact and also partially just for the fun of it.

And tomorrow, we're making refried beans and tortillas. This will be my first attempt using lard as a main ingredient. I've long heard of it's deliciousness in all things Mexican, as well as pie crusts and other things, but I've still never tried using it. We'll see how it goes.

Oh, and I would highly recommend The Omnivore's Dilemma to any curious or socially/ecologically/economically-conscious mind.

*I almost said "processed," but I'm not quite that naive. All of these ingredients have been through many machines, been introduced to plenty of additives...

** Actually, this is just what I learned from merely one part of the book. The rest is equally informative and fascinating.

Fast Forward [insert apology for not blogging in many months here]

I have long loved Minnesota Public Radio's A Prairie Home Companion. Though I haven't listened to it very religiously, I occasionally happen upon it by chance on a road trip or at home, while aimlessly searching the frequencies. I particularly enjoy the segment News from Lake Wobegon, in which Garrison Keillor recounts recent events from a small, fictional Minnesota town full of Lutherans, hot dish, and plain & simple everyday life. Like Steinbeck (one of my favorite authors), Keillor has a knack for turning even the most mundane happenings into an emotionally-charged story. I love that. It helps me realize that all of life - especially all the stuff between "major events" - is truly an adventure and worthwhile story, full of interesting character development and surprise plot twists.

As it happened, I was driving a car yesterday evening when a particularly crappy pop song led me by chance to the middle of the News from Lake Wobegon. Keillor was telling the story of a man who was lovestruck, complained of chest pains and was mistakenly rushed to the nearest hospital - in St. Cloud, MN. I had just left St. Cloud. And I got this warm, fuzzy feeling of inclusion. Now I was a denizen of central Minnesota too! Who knows, maybe I was passing Lake Wobegon that very moment!

I continued to listen to the rest of the program, chuckling at the segment griping about "snow emergencies," a condition I am now familiar with, and the towing of vehicles failing to park off of the paths of the coming snow plows. I listened on as "Guy Noir" narrated his movements, down University Ave (a few blocks from my new apartment) toward downtown St. Paul. So much more context. Minnesota was already beginning to feel more like home...

The reason I was driving from St. Cloud, destined for St. Paul, is one on which I'll have to elaborate more.

The end of December and beginning of January for me was three full weeks of transportation, family Christmas gatherings and moving. In transit, my body moved a total of just over 2,600 miles - all on the road, either bus or car. Most of it was uncomfortable. I attended four family Christmases/gatherings. And I moved myself and about 200 lbs of my stuff from Pittsburgh to St. Paul, where I now reside.

On my second night in town - the same day I had secured an apartment, before I was even feeling settled - Brooke (my girlfriend and the reason I moved to St. Paul) got a call from her brother-in-law. Peter (said brother-in-law and a wonderful guy I had the pleasure of getting to know at their family gathering) works for an organization dedicated to helping out Chinese students - who have come to the Twin Cities to study - in every way possible: taking them shopping, making living arrangements for them, picking them up from the airport...

Peter was enlisting our help. He needed someone to pick up students from the airport and drive them to Saint Cloud State University and he knew I was strapped for cash. Brooke was busy, but I said I could do it. Peter and his wife (Brooke's sister) Ginger had already done so much for me (letting me borrow some essential furniture for my room, among other things) that I was willing to do about anything to help, though since the organization enlisting Peter's organization's help (is this getting confusing?) was offering money anyway, most likely this was just Peter trying to help me out some more. In any event, I said yes to... well I still wasn't quite exactly sure what. Peter is himself Chinese and though his English is excellent I'm still not convinced that we have 100% information transmission in our communications. But one of my life's philosophies (or so I try to make it) is say 'yes' first, ask questions later. I was told I would be emailed more information.

The email was a bit late in coming, but still on Friday morning - the day of the first chauffeuring - I received a forwarded list of places. Pick up students at airport, drive them to Richard's house, take them shopping for essentials at Target, drive them to St. Cloud, meet contact there, drive home. Okay. Sounds like fun... I did some Google-mapping, jotted down some directions in my little memo pad, crossed my fingers, and headed out to pick up the Chevy Astro that was to serve as my transport vehicle.

I suppose - technically speaking - that having done something for money, one becomes a 'professional,' if only for a particular job. That said, I have quite an interesting resume: professional forklift driver, professional finish carpenter, professional meat-grinder, professional wine-maker, professional cow-herder, professional millet-sower, professional deliveryman, envelope stuffer, quiz grader, roofer, vodka-bottler, musician, wilderness guide, ... And now I can add 'professional chauffeur' and 'picker-upper' to my list. I'm sure there is a better word for that latter term, but that was the wording a random dude in the airport chose to use as I was waiting for my students, sign in hand, Chinese transliterations of names printed on it.

"So, are you a professional picker-upper?" the all-too-friendly tall white guy standing next to me asked, thus beginning what became an extended conversation. He was waiting for his wife's (Korean-Chinese) family to arrive. While we stood together, now bound by the bizarre laws of random-stranger-conversationdom, he prattled on, interspersing interesting factoids about China with trying to teach me how to say, "you all come with me" in Mandarin (so as to impress my pick-up-ees). All the while, we were interrupted by frequent calls from his wife (also coming to join the welcoming party) and my newfound Chinese contacts Peter and Richard, asking about my progress.

Finally I got a[nother] call from Richard, telling me that not only were my students arrived through customs, but they were now waiting for one student's luggage at carousel 6. Apparently we had missed each other, despite my diligent holding of my sign. (I had always wanted to be one of those people - standing at the international arrivals gate, professionally displaying a name placard, patiently waiting... too bad I failed at my first real opportunity.) I found them, we waited still longer for the student's bags (Phew! - it was okay that I had missed them. No time lost.), and we finally hit the road, me very professionally loading their luggage and then ushering them into the back seat of the van.

On the way to Richard's house I debated whether to go all out in making these young students first interaction with American culture (on American soil) an exciting one - blasting some country music, honking the horn at every opportunity... but collective fatigue (mostly theirs) led me to keep the radio on some low-key alternative music. Very professional. I guess.

I could keep drawing out this story. The snowstorm, interactions with Richard (a very nice dude), conversation with students ("You like NBA?" "Uh, yes?" "Me too. I like Kobe Bryant. Who is your favorite? [Doh! Caught in a fib...] "Uh... I like... many of them."), snow, accidents, detours, 40 mph on the interstate on the way home... Suffice it to say I arrived home very late, barely wanting to repeat the process over again the next day. Fortunately, this second day was much much better. Less waiting, a delightful passenger (who spoke much better English, resulting in some actual conversation - interesting at that), a gift of good Chinese tea from Richard, sunny skies and clear highways, AND the joy of A Prairie Home Companion. All in all a good experience.

With that, I leave you with...

a picture of Brooke, the very talented ladyfriend/sled-jumper!

Matthew Job-Hunts in Pittsburgh, Episode 1: The Butcher Shop

"Well, should I wear any special clothes? Jeans okay?" I asked.

"I'll give you a red shirt to wear. And as for pants, just wear something you don't mind if a little chicken blood gets on 'em."

"Okay, sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow at 7 then. Thanks a lot."