digital pen, digital paper.

digital pen, digital paper.

I have a giant clothes pin on my ear.

Articles of Confession

Early Tuesday morning I receive a phone call while at work. It’s my roommate telling me that his girlfriend has a fever of 101. He is leaving for work and asking if it would be okay for her to stay in my house until she feels a bit better, later in the day, to drive home. With full sympathy, I give the okay and fully anticipate that she will likely be there all day and not make it home.

Sure enough, when I return home from work, with her car still parked outside, the coughing coming from my roommate’s room indicates her condition has not improved to the point that she would want to go home. It is questionable whether or not she could have made the drive, and even if I were a doctor, she is hidden away from diagnosis. A short amount of time later, my roommate returns from work and disappears as well.

The following morning, as I am about to leave for work, my roommate catches me and though he has not yet checked on how she is feeling, would it be okay… I cut him short and again convey there would be no problem if she is too ill to leave. And, as anticipated, she is still present in my home at the end of the second work day. I knock, and through the closed door ask if there is anything I can get her from the drug store. I happen to be going anyway. She says no thank you. I see my roommate briefly, later in the evening, but never his girlfriend.

Thursday morning I can hear her coughing as I leave for work. Is she really so sick that she cannot drive home? Shouldn’t she be at her home if she is sick? If I were sick, I would want to be in my own bed.

Still there thursday night. Still coughing. Still no sight of her, but I hear her coughing every so often. I do see my roommate after he makes a run to publix for food to bring her. I question if she has seen a doctor. No, but he is going to suggest it to her if she is not better by Friday morning. He says he feels fine, and asks if I feel like I may come down with something. I remind him I do not get sick, and he does not mention an opinion to suggest she should be in her own bed.

Friday morning and the work day come and go. Both are in my roommate’s room and I have yet to see either one. I do not imagine she will be leaving before the weekend is over.

My home is filling with germs and there is the ever-present sound of World of Warcraft.

Sickness be damned, there are ogres to slay and a week of spring break to do it.

Articles of Confession

Has anyone ever had any luck on Monster.com?
via atomatic

No. And employers who post there get flooded with hundreds and sometimes thousands of resumes (especially in this economy), so you really have to do something amazing with your resume to get noticed. After lasting more than two seconds on their screen, you better fit their criteria very closely if not perfectly to not be discarded.

I had to hire my replacement at my old job and parsed through 80 to 90 resumes from a monster listing. Perhaps 40 more poured in after the selection of my replacement. A number of people would just direct you to their website, so for the first batch, I trashed anything that took too long to load on my screen. Then I gave up on web-based resumes all-together and trashed all of them.

Since the position was for graphic design, I looked for a resume with good layout and did not actually read any text unless it looked pleasing to the eye. That included the handful that utilized solid bright colors as a background, making any text impossible to read had I not immediately closed and deleted their files. For content, I looked for experience and then for a link to any portfolio work. At this point, I was willing to navigate their web page as a supplement to an already interesting if not impressive resume.

But again, if the page took to long to load, they were cut.

In the end, I just ended up handing the job over to my friend’s girlfriend, because really, it’s all about who you know.

Articles of Confession

Last Sunday, I returned from Vegas. I am not photo-crazy, so I only snapped a few shots, but they are certainly worth sharing.

We arrived early Wednesday, and as I dropped my luggage in my room, before going on a four-day gambling bender, I glimpsed out the room’s window to see a beautiful view of the building rooftop. In the distance however, I saw New York city. Or at least New York New York, the hotel and casino. The Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building loomed over the famous New York roller coasters. Very authentic.

Wednesday evening, after a successful session of poker, I pushed the door open to my hotel room, stumbling upon what appeared to be an alien invasion. The room glowed the same eerie green that one might expect to find from a scene in a B-Movie about Toxic Monsters from Planet Slime.

The following morning, we awoke to a stern-faced bald man looming over our beds. His silent gaze gripped the rays of morning sun, snapped them like pretzel sticks, and let them crumble to the floor as if to show that he were more powerful than the sun itself. We did our best to avoid the room. This vacation was best lived on the casino floor.

There is a significant amount of walking to be done up and down the Las Vegas strip, and by late Thursday we were happy to avoid the exercise. We picked up a 3-day pass for the monorail which connects the hotels along the east side of the strip to save from blistering our feet.

The monorail itself is pretty boring and uneventful, but Saturday afternoon delievered us an excellent photo opportunity. As we stepped into the station, I looked forward to see myself walking ahead of us. It made no sense. I was there walking with my friends, but then I was also there, ten feet ahead of myself, walking with some other people I had never seen before. He was either an imposter or a stunt double, and either way I was compelled to stand next to him in the monorail car so we could sneak a picture or two. Or three or four, but only two were clear enough to share.

Articles of Confession

Prior to the purchase of my home, I spent a solid two years searching the real estate market around southeast Orlando. What I learned was that not a single of the perhaps ten realtors with whom I came into contact was easy to work with. They asked too many questions involving my finances, and refused to show a house unless they expressly represented me in a transaction.

I am capable of finding houses on the market within my price range. I am capable of assessing the quality of a home by setting foot into it. I do not need your sales pitch. I do not need you to search for more houses that you think I will like. And you certainly do not need to know my income if I have done all of the prep work to secure financing.

Why can’t these realtors just show up, fulfill their responsibility to the seller by showing the house, and fill in a dollar amount and date on the standard issue purchase contract when I want to make an offer? You do not deserve to double your commission when I am the one putting in all the effort and you are only unlocking a door and filling in a form.

There were several houses in which I had significant interest that were left unseen because of the refusal of the realtor. If I were the seller, I would be pissed and ask how the realtor expected to sell a house without showing it!

As result, I have formed poor opinion of all realtors. Ten was a large enough sample to develop a generalization of these so called professionals. My frustration grew to such levels that I not only wished to keep them from gaining commission from me, but the idea of keeping any money out of their pockets gave me satisfaction.

For this primary reason, I decided to get my real estate license. If the morons I had to deal with could get a license, I certainly could with minimal effort.

A quick visit to the Department of Professionals website listed the tasks to accomplish.

• Step one, complete a 63-hour educational course and achieve 70% correct on a 100-question end-of-course exam. Course fee: $190.
• Step two, submit electronic fingerprints for State and FBI record. Submission fee: $60.
• Step three, submit application for approval to take State Licensing Exam. Application fee: $105.
• Step four, pass 100-question State Licensing Exam, achieving 75% correct. Exam fee: $40.
• Step five, complete a 45-hour post licensure educational course and end-of-course exam. Course fee: $130.

The first course took some time, but little effort. Fingerprinting and the application were simple enough. Everything was smooth sailing until, prior to scheduling the State Licensing Exam, I tried some practice exams. They did not go over well, and it had nothing to do with knowledge of the material. Apparently, it is common for the State to utilize trick questions in all professional exams. Not only were they worded for confusion, but many were also matters of opinion with a few good answers, but only one they would accept as correct.

I reviewed all of the course material a few times over and made an appointment with the testing center. Waivering confidence flowed through me, and I almost gained respect for the real estate professionals who had already passed their exams. Almost. If they could get a license, I could certainly pass this exam and get mine.

Two forms of photo I.D., an affidavit signature, and literally emptying my pockets of everything except for my drivers license, granted entrance into the computer-lab exam room. Every question was 4-option multiple choice. In most cases, careful reading, understanding of vocabulary, and basic common sense led to the answer. However, there were a number in which two choices could immediately be discarded, and the other two options were both correct, but one was somehow more correct. Sometimes, differences between the two answers were as minor as the additional of a simple phrase or the changing of an “and” to an “or” in the wording.

The software allowed earmarking of questions for self-review before submitting all answers. As I tested, I answered each question, but still marked the ones that were trick questions that I was concerned about. Halfway through the exam, a review revealed 15 questions earmarked. If the trend followed, 30 in total, I would not achieve the passing score of 75% assuming I miss all 30 (which felt likely at the time). This reduced my confidence further.

Finally, after 90 minutes of the allotted 3½ hours, I concluded all 100. Another review revealed a total of 17 questions earmarked. Only two during the second half of the exam! Even if every of the 17 were incorrect, that was still good enough for a passing grade. So I click submit, log out of the computer, and give my I.D. and signature to exit the exam room. The administrators do not really say much, but print out a piece of paper and set it face-down on the front desk for me. By State Law, they are not allowed to know my result unless I tell them.

I would think they would know every persons result by watching their reaction to reading either of those four-letter words, PASS or FAIL. I, on the other hand, showed no excitment or distress. I only looked at the paper, read it over momentarily, then gathered my belongings from the provided locker and left the building. I can only imagine what the administrators were thinking, and it makes me laugh. How can a person have no reaction like that?

Passing was of course important to me, but not in a joyous sort of way. I had, after all, invested significant time and almost $400 with another $130 to go. Plus another 30 days and $40 if I failed the exam. Passing was only to relieve the stress of having to pass. It was inevitable. When I picked up that paper, there was no number or percentage grade, but the paper did read this:

Exam result: PASS.

Time to start stealing money from you other realtors. My fee: $0. My commission: 0% or Deducted from the sale price.

I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces. That is when I will feel the joy.