The Best Laid Plans of Cats and Women...
Mar. 12th, 2006 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterblade...aka The Great Moving Plan Post.
Been thinking a surprising bit about this the past few days (and writing up this post bit by bit over the past few days too), possibly spurred by randomly browsing my bank's website, surveying the possibility of a money market account, and feeding numbers into one of those little savings widget things (according to which, for the record, I could have thirty-six-hundred-something dollars in six months or so, assuming I religiously save a hundred a week of my paycheck (which is kinda hard when I get a hundred and nine x.x) and don't have any secondary income or raises (which I might if I get off my ass and start listing huge stacks of books on Amazon, for example).)
Of course there are pretty much two Great Moving Plans, both of which kinda break down after a certain point. They are as follows:
The Boston Plan:
1. Get my license.
2. Oh, and save some more money.
3. Get a job in the city.
4. Save money from that job, too.
5. Organize and pack up all my shit.
6. Move...somewhere...out... *sound of plan sputtering and dying*
The WTF-I-Wanna-Go-Somewhere-New Plan:
1. Save like crazy.
2. Save some more.
3. If I were conventionally attractive, I would do porn to save.
4. Get my license somewhere in there too. I'll have time. It'll be a while.
5. Decide and research the city I'm going to.
6. Craigslist is my friend...right?
7. Organize and pack up a small and exceedingly portable portion of my shit.
8. Go to said city. I don't know how. The car's really small.
9. Somehow find a job...and an apartment...before I starve in the streets... *sound of plan flailing and gurgling in the gutter*
Now at the moment I'm kinda leaning towards the Boston Plan, not just because it has more steps which depend upon something other than blind luck and not getting fired by Tatnuck, but because I'm finally, just now, starting to feel like I have more than one friend in this area, and the thought of turning around and moving out on that depresses me. And I've always liked Boston, and liked the community that's there--it's just hard being a part of it while in the far suburbs with no car.
So the Boston Plan, working through the steps mostly for my own benefit. Each section cut for length, swearing, and random rantiness, sometimes tangential.
1. The license. This is, in its own odd way, the biggest hurdle, because it depends the least on what I can actually consciously do or the random whims of Corporate HR Evil and the most on what I can, in the moment, without the chance to deliberate, fuck up. Because fuck up I have, repeatedly, sometimes magnificently. But I actually feel more and more comfortable driving recently--though I've not been on a highway or tried parallel parking as of late, but those will likely not be on the test--and am starting to feel like I could actually DO this, third time's the charm, etc. etc.
(On the other paw, if I fail again, will likely have nervous breakdown. x.x;;;;)
So my immediate plan is: this weekend, kidnap my father and get out and drive some more. Hopefully a lot. Highways, parking, get some of that shopping done I've been meaning too, and so on. (This assuming the car DOES drive; Mum got herself rear-ended recently and has a random paranoid fear that the guys in the shop messed up the steering, so I'll have to putter around the block and see. Edit while finishing up this post later: the car drives juuuuuuust fine. XDDD)
If this weekend goes even vaguely well, call up the Registry and set an appointment, which won't be for another month anyway because they're booked that far ahead. Practice like fuck. If I actually fuckin' PASS for once, I'll have my license by mid-April.
And once I get my license, my mother has said that I'll get her old car. One word: HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. Tiny little thing, but I've been driving it for a while and have come to like it, and HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. Of course, she's also sometimes said that she'll sell me her old car, which might put me back, oh, a couple of centuries with this plan, given how little I'm earning at Tatnuck. But HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. And I suppose I'll have to pay insurance somehow--don't understand that mess very well yet--and gas and shit, which might be freakin' impossible with how little I'm earning at Tatnuck. But. HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID.
It's probably a bad thing that I'm counting on getting this car, seeing as Mum is a total flake on even bothering to remember making such promises, much less delivering on them. But fuck am I going to need a car to get ANYWHERE out of this shithole of a town, and actually having to buy my own car will set me back...a while. How much of a while is sortof up to how easily I can sort out the buying a car affair and how much money is actual in this rumored Sekrit Trust Fund From Grandparents.
(Edit: asked my mother for confirmation of this, and she says, yes, she'll sell me the car--meaning I'll empty out the Sekrit Trust Fund and get a car. A little nerve-making, since I'd kinda like to save that money for something else, but still. Car!)
So, with Trusty Hieronymous (yes, that's the car's name, and it isn't even my fault--or rather Hieronymous isn't my fault, the Trusty bit is) at my side, I will embark on That Fucking Job Hunt. But in the meantime...
2. Some money. While I am doing this, I will of course be saving money. And this weekend I'm going to buy packing materials so I can start putting the giant stacks of books up for sale (Edit: SHIT, THAT'S WHAT I FORGOT TO DO WHILE DRIVING AROUND X____X), and possibly some other things as well. Estimated flying-the-nest-egg by the time I get my license: at least $1900.
As far as money goes, it's possible that, if I have somewhere specific to go and something specific to do with it (like buying furniture or putting down a deposit on an apartment), Mum will give or loan me the necessary money. But dear lord do I want something to fall back on in case she decides to be a bitch, which she does with high frequency.
Also as far as money goes, I'm also supposed to have my "you've-been-here-for-three-months-let's-tell-you-if-you-suck" evaluation at Tatnuck as of, oh, by my math, about a week ago and counting. Why am I so eager to be told if I suck? Because there's the possibility, if they don't think I suck, that I'll get a raise. Now my assistant manager seems quite fond of me, performance-wise as well as personally, but the actual manager...well, he falls into my increasing streak--three by now--of much older, prickly, reclusive male bosses who never talk to me, never give me feedback on my work, and radiate an indefinable air of, oh, how would I put it, hating my guts? Plus he's flamingly incompetent and has proposed some mind-bogglingly stupid changes to the cafe. But he's not the one in line for evaluation, sadly; though I did have a rather satisfying dream last night in which he got demoted. Now I think I've been doing a pretty good job--the assistant manager certainly seems to agree with me, and some of the not-actually-with-command-over-me bookstore managers also seem fond of that--but with my luck Teh Manager will turn out to have hated me all this time and I'll get fired. Or, if I do keep the job, I'll get a raise...to $7.25/hr. WHICH IS WHAT THEY ORIGINALLY SAID THEY'D PAY ME. I DO NOT NEED A RAISE TO $7.25, I NEED YOU TO HAVE BEEN PAYING ME $7.25 ALL ALONG INSTEAD OF $7.00 YOU MOTHERFUCKERS.
Erm. But I'm not going to push my luck and ask about said evaluation, just as I'm not pushing my luck and raising a stink about the slimy pay cut. I'm going through this job on the general theory of "keep my head so far down I can smell how well I've mopped the floors."
3. The [new] job. AYYYYIIIIIIIIIII.
So I'd be looking for something in the Boston area that I could get to without a huge amount of fuss, that's full time and would pay me enough to actually live on (though until I move out I'd be saving most of that), that I could and would actually do, and that my theoretical employers would actually want me to do.
One at a time. Location is pretty trivial. Pay...what is enough to live on? Ten bucks an hour, which seems to be reasonably common for entry-level non-shit jobs (I am currently defining shit jobs as ones in which you stand up and non-shit jobs as ones in which you sit down), gives me, at full time, about 20k a year, which also sounds equivalent for some of the salaries I've seen posted for entry-level non-shit jobs. (My indicator for this? Craigslist. Did I ever say I actually know anything? No.)
There is, of course, the not-so-minor problem that the job market's definition of "entry-level" seems to be "already has one to two years experience, complete knowledge of all relevant software, a business degree, perfect customer service record in four or five other jobs with references, and possibly nice tits." Of which I have one, and it's not the one they can technically hire me by.
That aside. What could and would I actually do? I'm leaning heavily towards office stuff. Administrative assistant, that sort of thing. I've done it before at various internships, I've pretty much liked doing it (especially at a company larger than two people, y0!), and, by that odd inverse grade of reward to physical work, it pays better than jobs where I have to stand up and clean things. (And, yes, my back hurts today, why do you ask?) But really, anything interesting-looking that comes up on Craigslist, or anywhere else I might be looking, and that I actually qualify for.
(The reason I'm gravitating towards Craigslist is that, in about one posting out of a hundred there--mostly those which aren't form letters from pretentious staffing agencies--entry-level actually means entry-level. As opposed to Monster or anywhere else, where "entry-level" seems to mean something more like "three to five years' experience, and perhaps you'd like to go to grad school in business before licking our stylish pumps?")
As far as theoretical employers wanting me...I am not the most "professional" person on the face of the earth. I've got a sloppy wardrobe and hippie hair and a bizarre resume and do not, in fact, know how to make Microshit Excel tap dance. To that end, between now and the start of the hunt (i.e. getting my license), I'm going to actually take advantage of the fact that I work in a frickin' huge bookstore with an employee discount and raid the business section. Try to brush up my resume. (Breathe in peace, not actually planning to get a haircut.) Practice writing polished yet witty cover letters. (Gahhhh.) That sort of thing.
(Edit: Yesterday I hit the business section of Tatnuck in hopes of, oh, "How To Give Good Interview Without Giving Head!" or "Job-Hunting For Dummies" or such. Instead I found 29384728374628374 assorted books along the general lines of How To Make Money And Make Other People Look Bad In Your Current High-Powered Managerial Position, only with about twice as much gibberish and stupid catch-phrases. The only book I found (though admittedly I didn't check every single title as I am wont to do, because the section was driving me bugfuck and my father was pacing waiting to leave because he came early even though I told him not to) was on Careering And Re-Careering. I shit you not. Careering. Are all offices actually this insane? Are people going to expect me to expound in job interviews on how I'm planning to career in the future, or am I actually allowed to simply say, "yes, I'm planning on staying in the Boston area, yes, I learn quickly and work with dedication, yes, I ACTUALLY UNDERSTAND THE WORKINGS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE UNLIKE THE REST OF YOU PROFESSIONAL ASSWIPES."
(Well, possibly without the caps.
(I'll break off before I go into a full-blown rant about how absolutely everyone out there seems intent on feeding people BULLSHIT rather than being actually CLEAR AND USEFUL AND OTHER THINGS FOR WHICH I HAVE BEEN SCOURING JOB-HUNTING RESOURCES FOR AGES AND FOUND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, WHICH WAS PART OF WHY I GAVE UP HOPE AND STARTED MOPPING FLOORS FOR $7.25, OH, EXCUSE ME, $7.00 AN HOUR YOU SELF-SERVING POINTLESS CORPORATE MOTHERFUCKERS, because, trust me, I have blown off only a small portion of the steam I have to blow off about this, and I doubt anyone wants to hear more. -.-;;;;)
This also leads to my only actual plea for help in this entire post: anyone willing and able to help me pirate a MacOSX copy of Office? Because I would so not give any money to Microshit even if I had any to give, but for nine out of ten jobs I might be applying for, I'll need to be able to say, "yes, I know these programs" rather than "well, I've played with them a little, but I taught myself freakin' Quark and Photoshop and Maya, I think I can handle a word processor, even a badly desi--oops, did I malign the Microsoft Gods? So sorry! Oh, you only just remembered that appointment? Okay, have a nice day..."
But please? I would offer fic except I'm so freakin' blocked...I could knit you something! Or bake cookies! Assuming I didn't run out of molasses making them for the gaming meet... o.O
That aside...yeah. I'll prepare myself while I'm getting my license--because on the off chance that somebody somehow does want me right away, I want independence and flexibility in my commuting without being even more of a burden on the parentals--and then I'll start sending out my hopefully sparkly and intriguing resume to, well, anything interesting that'll stand still on Craigslist long enough, unless I find a better way in the course of research.
Heck, maybe I'll even find something with health insurance! What an unforseen luxury that would be! I could try to see a doctor about my hands, and possibly also my depression! I could actually get my wisdom teeth out if my jaw explodes! If my Achilles tendons give up the ghost, I wouldn't entirely be a helpless cripple! Because, y'know, it's not like my country is going to take care of me or anything, just take my money and try to keep me from marrying people and having control of my own damn uterus AND IF YOU WANT MY UTERUS, MISTER SHRUB, I HOPE YOU ALSO GET MY PMS, WITH THE OPTIONAL COMPLETE BOWEL UPSET FUNCTION, EVERY SINGLE FUCKIN' DAY OF THE YEAR YOU SON OF A BITCH.
Ahem. Onwards.
4. Some more money. So I've got this hypothetical Halfway Decent New Job, and I quit Tatnuck (or maybe work one day on the weekends if they actually seem to mourn my passing, but meh), commute like hell one way or the other (i.e. train or Trusty Hieronymous, depending upon location), try to resist the urge to spend too much of my suddenly astronomical (by comparison) income on sex toys, and put most of it away for the Actual Move. The hypothetical Money Market Account of Doom will, I hope, bloom and become the hypothetical Money Market Account of Flowers. Y'know, like a top-level monk. And it could, like, heal itself, and feign death, and talk to plants, and maybe even slay its enemies with deadly vibrations. Heck, with the last, maybe I won't even need to buy sex toys anymore...
Okay, I'll stop.
No idea what the estimating flying-the-nest-egg would be once I'm ready to move out, because that'll depend like hell on how much I'm getting paid, what kind of money I have to put into the car, whether my parents will suddenly demand rent, and so forth, not to mention how long before I find someplace to move to. (You'd think my mother would realize that, given how much we both want me out of the house, if she doesn't charge me rent as she's oft threatened to do, I'll move out faster, since I'll be able to save more money...but you'd think my mother would realize a lot of things.)
But if I have a decent-looking amount of money and, am not, in fact laboring under reasonable paranoia of getting fired every day I go into my job, it's time to start the next part wherein, with Trusty Hieronymous at my side, I look for someplace for us both to live.
5. Schtuff. Oh, right, I have to pack first.
Despite what my mother mightly snidely imply if I told her my plans (which is why I'm spamming you instead), I don't actually think it'll be that big a deal. Because moving out is motivation, serious motivation. Having my mother bitch at me and occasionally thinking "man, it would kinda be nice if I didn't have to pole-vault over my armchair to get to my closet" is not, at least not for me. But knowing that in a week or two or four I'm actually getting out of this fucking house...yeah, that'll have me tearing through my stuff in no time. Especially if I know how much I can and will take, because that'll give me a goal--sort out this much stuff to fit in this large a room, leave or toss the rest. And so on.
6. Move out!
But the question is...to where?
I have no freakin' clue how to find an apartment. Now obviously this is something I can research, browse Craigslist to get a picture of the market, and so on. And I feel more comfortable doing this in Boston than strange cities, because I know Boston a bit better and I have more friends and acquaintances in the area.
On the other paw, Boston is apparently really fucking expensive.
Siiiigh.
I'd like to think I'd make a good roommate. I don't smoke or drink or have wild parties, and while somewhat messy in private (though less so if a place is actually mine and worth taking care of--honestly, I sortof think I'm as messy at home as I am just to piss off Mum) I believe in keeping common areas tidy and will do my best to do so. I can tolerate pets of all stripes, though I can also (though sadly) live without them, and while I do have a habit of playing loud music and dancing about half-naked like a maniac, I will turn it down upon request, and the first request at that. I'm terminally nice and have been told that I cook well. If through some fortunate set of circumstances I somehow do wind up having wild sex...well, I like gags. And I come with a fine book collection, a small but interesting DVD library, and--courtesy of my mother--about half a metric ton of quality kitchen supplies.
But, really, I still don't know the first thing about how to shop for a place, what to avoid, how to not get ripped off, what parts of Boston I could live in without getting mugged, and so on, and so on. And I think I could learn, in a while...but I have other things to learn first, like how to get the hypothetical Halfway Decent New Job and take care of Trusty Hieronymous. And maybe between now and then one of my friends will be looking for a roomie in the Boston area, or I'll have forged much better local connections, or a house-sized bag of holding will drop miraculously out of the sky, or.......something. Still, I ph34r the expense of Boston.
But I do know that I'm not going to start looking for a place until I feel secure in the job and have a good idea of what I'm looking for, location-and-budget-wise. And that could be quite a while, so this is sortof a case of crossing bridges when I come to them.
The more I think about all this and the more time I spend hashing out the details of the Boston Plan, the more I think I don't want to move out after all, at least not within the year. Travel, yes. Perhaps move elsewhere after I've been in Boston for a few years. But right now? I want to stay in MA, just closer to civilization. So the long rambles I'd originally planned attempting to compare the three and a half cities I've been considering moving to--Seattle, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and teh Bay Area--are not going to get written up, at least today. The plan is the Boston Plan. At least here I know what I'm doing.
All Plans aside, I fell off the face of the internet again, and I apologize. :/ Will try to climb back up; I think belated comment responses are in order. Except first I have to survive the five-hour-long dress rehearsal of the boring and unfunny Purim Spiel with the sickeningly incompetent director, which I am looking forward to only slightly more than a root canal.
*sound of head banging against synagogue wall*
But hey, if I'm moved out in a year, nobody'll make me do it next time!
There's not a bit of room in here, I've been noticing, for either writing or romance. (Using the term romance loosely; I don't believe in romance; but that same general category of people-whom-one-has-sex-with as opposed to people-whom-one-goes-to-the-movies-or-plays-D&D-with.) Because while I am hoping, expecting, that I'll make friends, perhaps even an honest-to-goodness social circle like I've had in the past, during the process of working and living in the city, it's somehow not even on my radar that I'll find a new SO of whatever gender. Nor have I even thought for a second about writing during all this. And those are two things I'd normally at least consider when it comes to my future--especially the writing. But I haven't.
As an indicator of where I stand with respect to writing (which until the last few months has always been the most important thing in my life) and expecting to be close to other people, this depresses me.
Been thinking a surprising bit about this the past few days (and writing up this post bit by bit over the past few days too), possibly spurred by randomly browsing my bank's website, surveying the possibility of a money market account, and feeding numbers into one of those little savings widget things (according to which, for the record, I could have thirty-six-hundred-something dollars in six months or so, assuming I religiously save a hundred a week of my paycheck (which is kinda hard when I get a hundred and nine x.x) and don't have any secondary income or raises (which I might if I get off my ass and start listing huge stacks of books on Amazon, for example).)
Of course there are pretty much two Great Moving Plans, both of which kinda break down after a certain point. They are as follows:
The Boston Plan:
1. Get my license.
2. Oh, and save some more money.
3. Get a job in the city.
4. Save money from that job, too.
5. Organize and pack up all my shit.
6. Move...somewhere...out... *sound of plan sputtering and dying*
The WTF-I-Wanna-Go-Somewhere-New Plan:
1. Save like crazy.
2. Save some more.
3. If I were conventionally attractive, I would do porn to save.
4. Get my license somewhere in there too. I'll have time. It'll be a while.
5. Decide and research the city I'm going to.
6. Craigslist is my friend...right?
7. Organize and pack up a small and exceedingly portable portion of my shit.
8. Go to said city. I don't know how. The car's really small.
9. Somehow find a job...and an apartment...before I starve in the streets... *sound of plan flailing and gurgling in the gutter*
Now at the moment I'm kinda leaning towards the Boston Plan, not just because it has more steps which depend upon something other than blind luck and not getting fired by Tatnuck, but because I'm finally, just now, starting to feel like I have more than one friend in this area, and the thought of turning around and moving out on that depresses me. And I've always liked Boston, and liked the community that's there--it's just hard being a part of it while in the far suburbs with no car.
So the Boston Plan, working through the steps mostly for my own benefit. Each section cut for length, swearing, and random rantiness, sometimes tangential.
1. The license. This is, in its own odd way, the biggest hurdle, because it depends the least on what I can actually consciously do or the random whims of Corporate HR Evil and the most on what I can, in the moment, without the chance to deliberate, fuck up. Because fuck up I have, repeatedly, sometimes magnificently. But I actually feel more and more comfortable driving recently--though I've not been on a highway or tried parallel parking as of late, but those will likely not be on the test--and am starting to feel like I could actually DO this, third time's the charm, etc. etc.
(On the other paw, if I fail again, will likely have nervous breakdown. x.x;;;;)
So my immediate plan is: this weekend, kidnap my father and get out and drive some more. Hopefully a lot. Highways, parking, get some of that shopping done I've been meaning too, and so on. (This assuming the car DOES drive; Mum got herself rear-ended recently and has a random paranoid fear that the guys in the shop messed up the steering, so I'll have to putter around the block and see. Edit while finishing up this post later: the car drives juuuuuuust fine. XDDD)
If this weekend goes even vaguely well, call up the Registry and set an appointment, which won't be for another month anyway because they're booked that far ahead. Practice like fuck. If I actually fuckin' PASS for once, I'll have my license by mid-April.
And once I get my license, my mother has said that I'll get her old car. One word: HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. Tiny little thing, but I've been driving it for a while and have come to like it, and HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. Of course, she's also sometimes said that she'll sell me her old car, which might put me back, oh, a couple of centuries with this plan, given how little I'm earning at Tatnuck. But HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID. And I suppose I'll have to pay insurance somehow--don't understand that mess very well yet--and gas and shit, which might be freakin' impossible with how little I'm earning at Tatnuck. But. HYYYYYBRIIIIIIIIIID.
It's probably a bad thing that I'm counting on getting this car, seeing as Mum is a total flake on even bothering to remember making such promises, much less delivering on them. But fuck am I going to need a car to get ANYWHERE out of this shithole of a town, and actually having to buy my own car will set me back...a while. How much of a while is sortof up to how easily I can sort out the buying a car affair and how much money is actual in this rumored Sekrit Trust Fund From Grandparents.
(Edit: asked my mother for confirmation of this, and she says, yes, she'll sell me the car--meaning I'll empty out the Sekrit Trust Fund and get a car. A little nerve-making, since I'd kinda like to save that money for something else, but still. Car!)
So, with Trusty Hieronymous (yes, that's the car's name, and it isn't even my fault--or rather Hieronymous isn't my fault, the Trusty bit is) at my side, I will embark on That Fucking Job Hunt. But in the meantime...
2. Some money. While I am doing this, I will of course be saving money. And this weekend I'm going to buy packing materials so I can start putting the giant stacks of books up for sale (Edit: SHIT, THAT'S WHAT I FORGOT TO DO WHILE DRIVING AROUND X____X), and possibly some other things as well. Estimated flying-the-nest-egg by the time I get my license: at least $1900.
As far as money goes, it's possible that, if I have somewhere specific to go and something specific to do with it (like buying furniture or putting down a deposit on an apartment), Mum will give or loan me the necessary money. But dear lord do I want something to fall back on in case she decides to be a bitch, which she does with high frequency.
Also as far as money goes, I'm also supposed to have my "you've-been-here-for-three-months-let's-tell-you-if-you-suck" evaluation at Tatnuck as of, oh, by my math, about a week ago and counting. Why am I so eager to be told if I suck? Because there's the possibility, if they don't think I suck, that I'll get a raise. Now my assistant manager seems quite fond of me, performance-wise as well as personally, but the actual manager...well, he falls into my increasing streak--three by now--of much older, prickly, reclusive male bosses who never talk to me, never give me feedback on my work, and radiate an indefinable air of, oh, how would I put it, hating my guts? Plus he's flamingly incompetent and has proposed some mind-bogglingly stupid changes to the cafe. But he's not the one in line for evaluation, sadly; though I did have a rather satisfying dream last night in which he got demoted. Now I think I've been doing a pretty good job--the assistant manager certainly seems to agree with me, and some of the not-actually-with-command-over-me bookstore managers also seem fond of that--but with my luck Teh Manager will turn out to have hated me all this time and I'll get fired. Or, if I do keep the job, I'll get a raise...to $7.25/hr. WHICH IS WHAT THEY ORIGINALLY SAID THEY'D PAY ME. I DO NOT NEED A RAISE TO $7.25, I NEED YOU TO HAVE BEEN PAYING ME $7.25 ALL ALONG INSTEAD OF $7.00 YOU MOTHERFUCKERS.
Erm. But I'm not going to push my luck and ask about said evaluation, just as I'm not pushing my luck and raising a stink about the slimy pay cut. I'm going through this job on the general theory of "keep my head so far down I can smell how well I've mopped the floors."
3. The [new] job. AYYYYIIIIIIIIIII.
So I'd be looking for something in the Boston area that I could get to without a huge amount of fuss, that's full time and would pay me enough to actually live on (though until I move out I'd be saving most of that), that I could and would actually do, and that my theoretical employers would actually want me to do.
One at a time. Location is pretty trivial. Pay...what is enough to live on? Ten bucks an hour, which seems to be reasonably common for entry-level non-shit jobs (I am currently defining shit jobs as ones in which you stand up and non-shit jobs as ones in which you sit down), gives me, at full time, about 20k a year, which also sounds equivalent for some of the salaries I've seen posted for entry-level non-shit jobs. (My indicator for this? Craigslist. Did I ever say I actually know anything? No.)
There is, of course, the not-so-minor problem that the job market's definition of "entry-level" seems to be "already has one to two years experience, complete knowledge of all relevant software, a business degree, perfect customer service record in four or five other jobs with references, and possibly nice tits." Of which I have one, and it's not the one they can technically hire me by.
That aside. What could and would I actually do? I'm leaning heavily towards office stuff. Administrative assistant, that sort of thing. I've done it before at various internships, I've pretty much liked doing it (especially at a company larger than two people, y0!), and, by that odd inverse grade of reward to physical work, it pays better than jobs where I have to stand up and clean things. (And, yes, my back hurts today, why do you ask?) But really, anything interesting-looking that comes up on Craigslist, or anywhere else I might be looking, and that I actually qualify for.
(The reason I'm gravitating towards Craigslist is that, in about one posting out of a hundred there--mostly those which aren't form letters from pretentious staffing agencies--entry-level actually means entry-level. As opposed to Monster or anywhere else, where "entry-level" seems to mean something more like "three to five years' experience, and perhaps you'd like to go to grad school in business before licking our stylish pumps?")
As far as theoretical employers wanting me...I am not the most "professional" person on the face of the earth. I've got a sloppy wardrobe and hippie hair and a bizarre resume and do not, in fact, know how to make Microshit Excel tap dance. To that end, between now and the start of the hunt (i.e. getting my license), I'm going to actually take advantage of the fact that I work in a frickin' huge bookstore with an employee discount and raid the business section. Try to brush up my resume. (Breathe in peace, not actually planning to get a haircut.) Practice writing polished yet witty cover letters. (Gahhhh.) That sort of thing.
(Edit: Yesterday I hit the business section of Tatnuck in hopes of, oh, "How To Give Good Interview Without Giving Head!" or "Job-Hunting For Dummies" or such. Instead I found 29384728374628374 assorted books along the general lines of How To Make Money And Make Other People Look Bad In Your Current High-Powered Managerial Position, only with about twice as much gibberish and stupid catch-phrases. The only book I found (though admittedly I didn't check every single title as I am wont to do, because the section was driving me bugfuck and my father was pacing waiting to leave because he came early even though I told him not to) was on Careering And Re-Careering. I shit you not. Careering. Are all offices actually this insane? Are people going to expect me to expound in job interviews on how I'm planning to career in the future, or am I actually allowed to simply say, "yes, I'm planning on staying in the Boston area, yes, I learn quickly and work with dedication, yes, I ACTUALLY UNDERSTAND THE WORKINGS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE UNLIKE THE REST OF YOU PROFESSIONAL ASSWIPES."
(Well, possibly without the caps.
(I'll break off before I go into a full-blown rant about how absolutely everyone out there seems intent on feeding people BULLSHIT rather than being actually CLEAR AND USEFUL AND OTHER THINGS FOR WHICH I HAVE BEEN SCOURING JOB-HUNTING RESOURCES FOR AGES AND FOUND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, WHICH WAS PART OF WHY I GAVE UP HOPE AND STARTED MOPPING FLOORS FOR $7.25, OH, EXCUSE ME, $7.00 AN HOUR YOU SELF-SERVING POINTLESS CORPORATE MOTHERFUCKERS, because, trust me, I have blown off only a small portion of the steam I have to blow off about this, and I doubt anyone wants to hear more. -.-;;;;)
This also leads to my only actual plea for help in this entire post: anyone willing and able to help me pirate a MacOSX copy of Office? Because I would so not give any money to Microshit even if I had any to give, but for nine out of ten jobs I might be applying for, I'll need to be able to say, "yes, I know these programs" rather than "well, I've played with them a little, but I taught myself freakin' Quark and Photoshop and Maya, I think I can handle a word processor, even a badly desi--oops, did I malign the Microsoft Gods? So sorry! Oh, you only just remembered that appointment? Okay, have a nice day..."
But please? I would offer fic except I'm so freakin' blocked...I could knit you something! Or bake cookies! Assuming I didn't run out of molasses making them for the gaming meet... o.O
That aside...yeah. I'll prepare myself while I'm getting my license--because on the off chance that somebody somehow does want me right away, I want independence and flexibility in my commuting without being even more of a burden on the parentals--and then I'll start sending out my hopefully sparkly and intriguing resume to, well, anything interesting that'll stand still on Craigslist long enough, unless I find a better way in the course of research.
Heck, maybe I'll even find something with health insurance! What an unforseen luxury that would be! I could try to see a doctor about my hands, and possibly also my depression! I could actually get my wisdom teeth out if my jaw explodes! If my Achilles tendons give up the ghost, I wouldn't entirely be a helpless cripple! Because, y'know, it's not like my country is going to take care of me or anything, just take my money and try to keep me from marrying people and having control of my own damn uterus AND IF YOU WANT MY UTERUS, MISTER SHRUB, I HOPE YOU ALSO GET MY PMS, WITH THE OPTIONAL COMPLETE BOWEL UPSET FUNCTION, EVERY SINGLE FUCKIN' DAY OF THE YEAR YOU SON OF A BITCH.
Ahem. Onwards.
4. Some more money. So I've got this hypothetical Halfway Decent New Job, and I quit Tatnuck (or maybe work one day on the weekends if they actually seem to mourn my passing, but meh), commute like hell one way or the other (i.e. train or Trusty Hieronymous, depending upon location), try to resist the urge to spend too much of my suddenly astronomical (by comparison) income on sex toys, and put most of it away for the Actual Move. The hypothetical Money Market Account of Doom will, I hope, bloom and become the hypothetical Money Market Account of Flowers. Y'know, like a top-level monk. And it could, like, heal itself, and feign death, and talk to plants, and maybe even slay its enemies with deadly vibrations. Heck, with the last, maybe I won't even need to buy sex toys anymore...
Okay, I'll stop.
No idea what the estimating flying-the-nest-egg would be once I'm ready to move out, because that'll depend like hell on how much I'm getting paid, what kind of money I have to put into the car, whether my parents will suddenly demand rent, and so forth, not to mention how long before I find someplace to move to. (You'd think my mother would realize that, given how much we both want me out of the house, if she doesn't charge me rent as she's oft threatened to do, I'll move out faster, since I'll be able to save more money...but you'd think my mother would realize a lot of things.)
But if I have a decent-looking amount of money and, am not, in fact laboring under reasonable paranoia of getting fired every day I go into my job, it's time to start the next part wherein, with Trusty Hieronymous at my side, I look for someplace for us both to live.
5. Schtuff. Oh, right, I have to pack first.
Despite what my mother mightly snidely imply if I told her my plans (which is why I'm spamming you instead), I don't actually think it'll be that big a deal. Because moving out is motivation, serious motivation. Having my mother bitch at me and occasionally thinking "man, it would kinda be nice if I didn't have to pole-vault over my armchair to get to my closet" is not, at least not for me. But knowing that in a week or two or four I'm actually getting out of this fucking house...yeah, that'll have me tearing through my stuff in no time. Especially if I know how much I can and will take, because that'll give me a goal--sort out this much stuff to fit in this large a room, leave or toss the rest. And so on.
6. Move out!
But the question is...to where?
I have no freakin' clue how to find an apartment. Now obviously this is something I can research, browse Craigslist to get a picture of the market, and so on. And I feel more comfortable doing this in Boston than strange cities, because I know Boston a bit better and I have more friends and acquaintances in the area.
On the other paw, Boston is apparently really fucking expensive.
Siiiigh.
I'd like to think I'd make a good roommate. I don't smoke or drink or have wild parties, and while somewhat messy in private (though less so if a place is actually mine and worth taking care of--honestly, I sortof think I'm as messy at home as I am just to piss off Mum) I believe in keeping common areas tidy and will do my best to do so. I can tolerate pets of all stripes, though I can also (though sadly) live without them, and while I do have a habit of playing loud music and dancing about half-naked like a maniac, I will turn it down upon request, and the first request at that. I'm terminally nice and have been told that I cook well. If through some fortunate set of circumstances I somehow do wind up having wild sex...well, I like gags. And I come with a fine book collection, a small but interesting DVD library, and--courtesy of my mother--about half a metric ton of quality kitchen supplies.
But, really, I still don't know the first thing about how to shop for a place, what to avoid, how to not get ripped off, what parts of Boston I could live in without getting mugged, and so on, and so on. And I think I could learn, in a while...but I have other things to learn first, like how to get the hypothetical Halfway Decent New Job and take care of Trusty Hieronymous. And maybe between now and then one of my friends will be looking for a roomie in the Boston area, or I'll have forged much better local connections, or a house-sized bag of holding will drop miraculously out of the sky, or.......something. Still, I ph34r the expense of Boston.
But I do know that I'm not going to start looking for a place until I feel secure in the job and have a good idea of what I'm looking for, location-and-budget-wise. And that could be quite a while, so this is sortof a case of crossing bridges when I come to them.
The more I think about all this and the more time I spend hashing out the details of the Boston Plan, the more I think I don't want to move out after all, at least not within the year. Travel, yes. Perhaps move elsewhere after I've been in Boston for a few years. But right now? I want to stay in MA, just closer to civilization. So the long rambles I'd originally planned attempting to compare the three and a half cities I've been considering moving to--Seattle, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and teh Bay Area--are not going to get written up, at least today. The plan is the Boston Plan. At least here I know what I'm doing.
All Plans aside, I fell off the face of the internet again, and I apologize. :/ Will try to climb back up; I think belated comment responses are in order. Except first I have to survive the five-hour-long dress rehearsal of the boring and unfunny Purim Spiel with the sickeningly incompetent director, which I am looking forward to only slightly more than a root canal.
*sound of head banging against synagogue wall*
But hey, if I'm moved out in a year, nobody'll make me do it next time!
There's not a bit of room in here, I've been noticing, for either writing or romance. (Using the term romance loosely; I don't believe in romance; but that same general category of people-whom-one-has-sex-with as opposed to people-whom-one-goes-to-the-movies-or-plays-D&D-with.) Because while I am hoping, expecting, that I'll make friends, perhaps even an honest-to-goodness social circle like I've had in the past, during the process of working and living in the city, it's somehow not even on my radar that I'll find a new SO of whatever gender. Nor have I even thought for a second about writing during all this. And those are two things I'd normally at least consider when it comes to my future--especially the writing. But I haven't.
As an indicator of where I stand with respect to writing (which until the last few months has always been the most important thing in my life) and expecting to be close to other people, this depresses me.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 02:15 am (UTC)The problem with moving even as close as Albany is that I can't do that transitional thing--find a stable job, then get apartment. I'll have to do both at once, which I'm terrified of. Really, too, I do like Boston.
Northampton rocks my ass, but I so wouldn't want to live there for job market reasons. ;)
no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 02:16 am (UTC)On the other paw, I might find myself looking for better housemates. ;)
no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 06:47 pm (UTC)First of all, have you considered temping? No, seriously. There are places in the Boston area ( here's a small list (http://hfcougar.livejournal.com/102905.html); the places I liked are Randstatd and Spherion), and it's often a good venue to learn the "professional" "skills" which you don't currrently have. (There are also temp places in the Worcester area, but I don't know what or where they are.) It also can pay anywhere from $10 on up. (I was being paid $11 to work at a college bookstore during rush, but I think that was weird and unusual.)
Also, Craigslist has good apartment listings. Also, room shares. Also, if you want, I could start forwarding you apartment pokes I get from people on a mailing list I'm on.
Realistically, a 3-4 BR costs much less than a 2BR, and while I haven't looked lately, 2BRs were running anywhere from $1150 on up, last time I looked. You often need first month, last month, and deposit (which can be a month's rent), although I was finding more places without a deposit last time I was looking. Good cheap areas include Somerville and Malden. Roxbury/Dorchester can be kind of dicey.
no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 07:39 pm (UTC)Car insurance was around $600/year from Geico last time I had it. I had an accident on my record, but also an incredibly old car that I wasn't putting miles on, and didn't live in the Boston area, so that should be a lower estimate for you.
no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 05:17 am (UTC)And then you can practice on the temp agency's computers, and/or your workplace's.
no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 12th, 2006 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 02:19 am (UTC)*will be downloading as soon as she coddles her computer a little, as it's been crashing liekwhoa as of late*
no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 12:59 am (UTC)If there's anything I can do to help, let me know.
no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 03:42 am (UTC)Jesus Buddha in a disco, woman. I will send you email tomorrow re thoughts on job prospects. Because Quark, it is a Way of Life that can provide you with a nice stable job in some quarters.
no subject
Date: Mar. 13th, 2006 03:49 am (UTC)