Those of you who know me in real life know that I am a bit of a Brer Rabbit when it comes to the workplace. No, no, NOOOO! Not the Briar Patch. Nothing is worse than the nightmare of paid holidays courtesy of severance dollars. Whatever you do, don't force that horror upon me!
And then...something else interesting always comes along.
What is my secret to always landing sweet assingnments, people often ask.
Well, on the record - I would say... get a good education, an advanced degree is preferrable...be articulate, network, make 10 contacts per day, have a smart looking resume.
Off the record, I would say - be a non-freaky-looking person who can smile and crack a joke. It goes a long way.
However, being a woman in your 30's is a big anchor around your neck. At any given time a large proportion of this demographic is gone for a year having babies (yes, maternity leave in Canada is a full year, sorry for your luck USA), inconveniencing all around them in the workplace, both when they are absent, and even more when they get bored at home and start stopping by monthly with their screaming spawn and stand in the middle of the office, triggering the loss of an hour or so of productivity as the entire workforce must drop everything and run over and stare for a while, asking pithy questions like "oooooh, is she sleeping through the night yet?" or "how is her little brother getting along with her now?" or "are you breast feeding? How are your nipples taking it?".
So in the interview, try to crack that joke about how much you hate children, even if you don't. Often they give you a good lead in, just to see where your head is at on the subject. You can identify this lead in, because they usually add an "Ooops! I guess I shouldn't really say that in an interview, should I!" at the end... and that's your cue! Child bashing - GO!
|Well, sure, I could screw like one if I wanted to, but think of all of the KIDS!! YUCK!|
So, I don't need to tell you who I called first on Tues... I landed this job before the month - or my severance - was through, along with a signing bonus that covered most of the cost of Ms. V.
THAT, my friends, is a life lesson. Silver lining....every cloud.
Anyways, I know you are now saying "blah blah blah, Curmudgeon - what happened with the vet check?"
Well, nothing really. After all of my sleepless nights leading up to the fateful Thursday, it was kind of a let down. Ms. V was perfectly behaved - did not even require sedation for the poking, prodding, jogging, filling of feet with play-doh to pose on slanty little wood blocks for x-rays, etc. The seller stood wringing her hands and smiling nervously in the background - and for the most part, stayed out of it fairly well for which I was grateful - I know it ain't easy to do.
The vet was, well, not exactly Mr. Personality Plus, but then I guess I wasn't paying him for his witty banter. I could tell he was underwhelmed by the horse, but not for any particular reason associated with soundness - I have a feeling that they see some pretty hot horseflesh at their clinic, weedy 2 yr olds probably aren't what it takes to light his fire.
So after it was all said and done, he packed it in and I went home and waited for his call, and the associated laundry list.
Consistent with horses of similar age and performance history. Horse looks thin and wormy. Deworm horse.
Well I am no James Herriot. But this - I can do.
I made only one mistake associated with this vet check. I told Mr. Motard the vet's findings.
So, when we showed up on Saturday with the Red Rocket to pick up Ms. V, he bounced out of the truck ready to talk the talk with the seller. Well Hellooo, nice place here, (pet dog for a bit), blah, blah, blah...
Hey, the vet said your horses look WORMY. Have you ever heard of this before? He says you might want to give something called DEWORMING a try...
And here I thought seeing the horse she had raised from birth drive down the laneway was going to be the most depressing thing that happened to this woman today.
MOTARD!! GET IN THE TRUCK. NOW!!
|Lord, I was born a travellin' Woooorrr-m. You'll feel me in your anus when I start to Squirrr-mmm.|