Two jobs, or maybe one, or maybe none

Unless I land the job as the new traffic reporter for Chicago's CBS morning news team - for which I will likely apply, because why not? - it's looking like I'm close to getting a job. The question is which one.

First, there's Hinsdale Central, which would be a fantastic job to have. It would be well-worth entering the teaching profession if I was hired there, especially if I could teach statistics and discrete math again. My interview went fairly well yesterday. I can't say that it went great, but I believe I answered all of their questions in a truthful way that was well-received. I just didn't feel like I charmed them. Hopefully they're the clinical types, because I likely have a better chance for the job if they are. (And hopefully they looked past the cheesy mustache I'm currently sporting.)

Then there's the job with Riverside Publishing, a part of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. It's listed as a "test development specialist," but I'm having a hard time getting past the travel demands. I've heard to expect traveling 25% of the time to places like New York and Florida. This concept sounded exciting to me at first but now it doesn't. Who likes to fly these days? Not me. When would I have to fly? It sounds like it would not be on a regular schedule. Would I be missing more than 25% of weekends with Margie? Would I have to quit the band?

I'm quite pessimistic about wanting the job now for this reason, and also because it's new, and I'll admit, I'm not one to relish trying new things. So I tried postponing the interview until later next week, by which time I should know about the Hinsdale Central job. But the contact pressured me into meeting with them today. I'm flattered by what she said about me, but I'm going into today's interview feeling somewhat disingenuous.

If I don't want the job, why am I going? Well, because maybe I do want the job. I need to learn a lot more about it. The contact said that there's good room for promotion. If I've wanted to get into the corporate world, this could be a way. The office itself is close by. Maybe the people there are great. And traveling to new places and feeling like a jet-setter still sounds exciting.

I suppose that, in the unlikely event that I land both jobs, I could work for the publisher until late summer and switch to the teaching job. Unlike teaching, where you're possibly blacklisted if you quit during the year, you can quit at any time in the corporate world.

You know what a good interim job would be? The traffic position. I get into these "pie in the sky" situations, you see. I managed to live through the crushing news that I wouldn't be the new Cubs' PA announcer. Oh well, one shouldn't expect that organization to make the right choice, should one?

What's sad is that I spent six months studying for two actuarial exams, both of which I passed nicely, all for nothing. I wanted it to lead a possibly boring job, but one with every other possible perk. But in 2011 Chicago, I can't even get a voluntary position for such a job.

Why don't companies hire people for who they are and for what potential they have, rather than the expertise in one particular subject that they possess? Doesn't anyone want a smart man?

Song idea

Nick Drake was depressed because he had a message to give the world and so little of the world cared to hear it. During his lifetime, that is.

Instead of writing about the inane topics most rock songs use, I'd rather look at interesting aspects of the world around us (or far from us) and make it an enjoyable listen.

I don't know if this could be one such topic, but I'm curious about the story of the St. Louis-area teacher that has been suspended by her district because a student discovered her past identity as an actress in adult films. It's very sad that, in this country, you are not allowed a second chance. We're way too morally finger-pointing.

But I wonder if the boy - and you KNOW it was a boy - that found her past was tempted to offer her a choice: either get ready to lose your job or be my lover. Such blackmail would be a terrible thing to experience, of course. But what would she do?  It's an interesting conjecture.

You can look at porn on-line for free for hours and hours - though I don't, at least not for hours and hours - and never come across the same person twice. How many girls out there will have the morality police gunning for them for the rest of their lives? How many girls exposed their breasts for a free "Girls Gone Wild" T-shirt and will live in decades of fear, fear of losing their public sector job once they're exposed?

My first girlfriend took a picture of me wearing just my underpants, though I didn't want her to do it. They were bikini-style and nearly see-through, leaving little to the imagination, and I know she showed the picture to at least one friend of hers. This was in 1990, before digital cameras made it so easy to share a private moment with the entire world.

I suppose it's ironic that I'm going to my blog to discuss how people should be more discreet. But is that my point? I guess it's that people shouldn't think in this day and age that anything is private, but they should be allowed to live a public life away from it as well. This teacher should be allowed to teach. Paying for one's mistakes shouldn't have to continue forever.

When is the debt paid in full? Though Tera Myers never broke the law, she's not allowed to break free from one misguided part of her past.

Great Friday, disappointing Saturday

Obviously, I've been quite down with the job prospects, or lack thereof. Friday changed that, at least for a day.

The bad part of the day is that I didn't make callbacks for the Cubs' PA job. Oh well. Nearly 3,000 people applied and only 25 got invited for the next step, so I'm not surprised, though I was happy with my audition tape and have few (if any) regrets.

But so many other things went well, making Friday a wonderful day. A local publishing company contacted me about a job as a Test Development Coordinator. I wouldn't consider the work overly exciting, and it would involve traveling about a quarter of the time, but there might be some life experiences to be gleaned about of it. This is the first callback I've gotten since not getting the math position at Montini, a close-by private high school. I'm still at a loss why I didn't get that job.

After the call, where the lady was saying great things about me and my potential and set-up an in-person interview for next Thursday, Margie and I went to lunch and watched her alma mater, Dayton, upset Xavier. A great win! Dayton then beat St. Joe's in the Atlantic 10 semi-finals, only to lose to Richmond today. But that's okay. Dayton won't get into the NCAA tourney, but they wouldn't have had a prayer. I'd rather see them in the NIT, where they have a chance. They won it last year, after all.

Then I got a call from Hinsdale Central. There are just a few high schools in the Chicago suburbs that stand out as excellent schools, where kids average ACTs in the 25 range: New Trier, Stevenson, the two main Naperville schools, and Hinsdale Central.

I'll be meeting with an assistant principal and the math chair on Wednesday.

In all honesty, I didn't think I would ever be a teacher again. But if HCHS wants to hire me, I'll work my butt off to be the best teacher I can be there. Teaching AP Stats and Discrete Math, my favorite classes, in a great high school that's not too far from me? Yes, please, sign me up.

And then, to top it all off, I pulled off a miraculous feat in the backyard. Our yard used to have grapevines, which were suspended by wood planks stabilized in the ground with concrete. For whatever reason, a previous neighbor tore them down and sawed off the planks but left the concrete in the ground, too high for anything else to grow on top of it. With a little help from Margie, I got one of them out. The other one isn't as bad and isn't in a location where people could trip on it, but maybe I'll try to extract that one later this week. Come on, though, why would anyone use concrete and fill it all the way to the top of the ground? Doesn't matter; I got it out anyway, using a semi-broken shovel and my bare hands. Test of physical strength and desire a success!

That was Friday, truly a great day. Life seemed a lot better on Friday. Things were balanced. My world was beautiful.

Saturday was different. It really wasn't that much of a contrast, as Margie and I had a good time at my Aunt Diane's 75th birthday party, but it didn't end well. My band played at what the bass player deemed to be a very important gig at our favorite venue in Arlington Heights. It was also his birthday, and people usually celebrate occasions with drink. But it was our worst performance in recent memory, and in my opinion, it was because of him.

Dave's a great guy and has been a good friend of mine for many years. Probably one of the top ten friends I've ever had. (Another one is Brett, a great musician with whom I've recently reunited. He's got a great girlfriend and had nice things to say about us, though he only saw my opening act and the band's first set.)

It'll be very hard to tell him, but something needs to change. He was missing bass notes left and right, often on some strange tangent or sounding as if he had no clue how the song went or if it was a new song to him and he was trying to play by ear. He missed a bunch of cues, including two on "American Girl" alone. He was oblivious to the rest of the band, even when on stage. His singing was completely off at times and way too loud at others. It was the worst I've ever heard him.

He's a self-made bass player. With smarts and hard work, he got to a level of respectability. Plus, he's funny and enjoys being our front man. But his overall performance has really started to slide in the last year. The biggest problem may be his purchase of a wireless unit, allowing him to venture away from the stage. Which is exactly what he does ALL of the time now. Even though we discussed it in the past and he agreed that it was distracting, he took it to a new level last night. I don't think there was a single song after the first set that saw him staying on stage, save the ones on which he sang lead. He even did that "yeah I'm playing now, go ahead and hit this string" flirtatious conversation that, as you can imagine, doesn't make the band sound very good.

Our rhythm guitarist, John, had bad moments when he first joined us, from lack of practice and lack of confidence. But he's worked on those things and has made great strides. I can't say anything negative about him from last night; he's becoming more fun as time rolls on. (Our other guitarist is consistently excellent.)

But still, we sounded like crap last night, and though I missed a beat once and the lead singer forgot a few lines, was because our bass guitar was a mess. If we were trying to impress groups of people last night - which Dave said we were - we undoubtedly failed.

For the first time, I've found myself wondering how good we could sound with another bass player. I don't have one in mind and wouldn't dream of trying to oust him; he's too much of our band's identity, and no one enjoys playing more than Digger. But man, was he sloppy. He's apologized about moments like this before, but it's getting worse.

The best thing would be for him to ditch the wireless unit. If he stayed on stage, he would concentrate more on his playing, miss fewer cues, and maybe reel in his ego a bit. The only nice thing about him leaving the stage is that it frees up space in front for Eileen and our two guitarists, John and Paul. (Beatlesque, eh?) They play off each other well and put in some enjoyable physical play. (Don't know how to describe that better. They don't grind or anything, but they have the ability to be entertaining that way.) So maybe he could stay a little more in the back. You know, where the drums are stuck.

I won't enjoy having that conversation with him, but since I'm not the only one feeling this way, maybe I won't have to. But I feel that something has to be said, as I don't see this being a phase. It's becoming a trend.

There's a slight chance that Dave will read this, as I once sent him the link to this blog. If so, no hard feelings, Dave. You just need to get your groove back.

My alcoholic neighbor

When my wife and I first moved into our house, my autistic brother decided to lay in the front yard, where the guy across the street came out to check on him. He was a nice guy, this guy named Jeff. Very friendly, albeit talkative. Reminded me of Dubya in his resemblance and friendliness.

Jeff had helped me on several occasions in the short time we'd lived here, be it furniture pickup or assembly of a homemade compost bin.

Jeff has a great wife and three daughters, all of them stunning. He worked at a construction company as a manager and appeared to have the respect of his colleagues.

That was the Jeff I knew about a year ago. He's a mess today, thanks to Jack Daniels.

Since then, Jeff has taken out most of his youngest daughter's college fund, presumably for booze. He's been to several detox clinics, but only going during the day, and eventually checking himself out.

A couple of weeks ago, Jeff feel down the stairs and was taken to the hospital via ambulance, where his blood alcohol reading was 0.45. Yes, over five time the legal limit. Pushing fatal levels. But he was conscious the entire time.

According to his wife, he has reached such severe stages of alcoholism that his brain has shrunken and has little feeling in his extremities.

He's recently done weird things, such as put a "for sale" sign in front of his house, to try to scare his wife during an argument. When I asked him about it, he lied and said it was about pulling a joke on me.

So I don't know if I should ever bother talking to him. If I approach him, he'll lie his way through it, then possibly do something even more rash. Today, I had a very small talk with him as he got into his car and drove away.

Yes, he no longer has a license. But he drove away anyway.

He's driving most everyone and everything away.

Job searching, and the pain that comes with it

I'll admit, my job searching effort has been less than stellar. Mostly that's true because it's very hard to remind oneself how little anyone wants you.

I had two interesting jobs pop up today. One was for a company named Imagination Publishing. Doesn't that grab you already? Their web site sure pushed the "happy people" and "vibrant energy" angle. The job was for a fact checker, which is something I can certainly do, though it's not complete in my wheelhouse.

As I was looking at their site, checking out the pictures of the people that work there, suddenly there's Kevin. As a high school student, Kevin worked for me at the local newspaper when I was in my mid-twenties. I worked with four kids from Batavia High, and they all had different good qualities. Kevin was the most intelligent, though none of the others were dumb.

I got in touch with Kevin a couple of years ago, as he was writing sports blogs for a Chicago paper. How cool is that, right? We didn't get together then. Just an e-mail or two.

Anyway, I got in touch with him again because of the job, and he said he would put in a good word for me and make sure we got together for a beer.

By the time I read his e-mail, another e-mail from Imagination was waiting for me. Man, they didn't take long to tell me "no," did they?

So many jobs don't even bother to get back to me, even after follow-ups. This one tells me right away, when all I wanted was to spend a little mental time imagining how cool it would be to work there and take the same train as my wife into the big city.

Depressed enough, I decided to look at teaching vacancies. I've been a high school math teacher for seven school years, but not this year. Not my choice. I got RIFed (Reduction in Force) two consecutive years and couldn't find another job. So I spent six months studying for, and passing, two difficult actuarial exams that have led me absolutely nowhere.

Anyway, Hinsdale Central has an opening for next year. They're a fantastic school, or at least the students coming out of there have fantastic college prep scores. I nearly went there as a teen, but our family moved out to Batavia right after I graduated from junior high.

Get this: the job wants someone with Discrete Math, Introductory Statistics and/or AP Statistics experience. Seriously, I have ALL of those. Discrete and Stats are my two favorite classes to teach.

I have a major concern that the principal and possibly the head of the math department at my last school cost me a job at a local private school and might do the same on this one. But I don't know the best way to take care of it. If I can get an interview, I think I can do a good job explaining what happened.

I've had a rough go as a teacher the last two years. My patience was not where it needed to be. Even though my performance reviews were good and my lack of work was not performance-based, I didn't feel as if I was doing my best as a teacher.

I could do that now. At Hinsdale Central, I certainly could.

When I asked Margie about applying for this, she said that I've had such difficulty that I don't know "which way is up."

Right now, having a job, responsibility, purpose and a paycheck is "up."

Please, karma. I've been a good man. Please keep me believing that I should continue to be so.

Freeport

Pretty depressed today. No purpose. None. Not working sucks. It sucks worse than working.

I could tell Margie this, and I do, but continuing to tell her can't be helpful. Besides, she's not the reason for my depression. She's often the only bright spot in my life.

Facebook? Nope. No one responds to me. Even in virtual reality, I'm a loser. Seriously, I have very few friends. You'd think that someone with my smarts could figure out how to find companionship. My wife has a similar issue.

We went to a wedding of people we know from Virginia. This was about three years ago. The wife works for CNN and is really one incredible woman. Her husband is a decent guy, but let's say that he married well.

Anyway, at their reception, they made great programs in which everyone at the reception had a biography written about them. The bride and groom called us "the coolest couple they knew." This was at a reception that had John King and Dana Bash, and lots of interesting folks.

I respect their judgment, but if this is true, why can't I make any friends? I can't even blame the lack of a job, as I've made one friend through my last two year-long teaching jobs. I really don't fit in anymore. I never really have.

I'm like that bee in the "No Rain" video, except I never find the field of other bees. But I do have Margie, a kindred spirit. Perhaps I'm like John Lennon in his "God" song, except no one cares to hear my song.

If I were to write a song, and I sincerely wish to do it, one song would be about running away to Freeport. It's a fairly small town west of Rockford, Illinois. It doesn't have a port. But there's something about it, as Margie and I saw when we drove through it one afternoon. Freeport school sports teams are known as the Pretzels. They were a stop for Lincoln and Douglas during their 1960 debates. They have a little league field designed after Wrigley Field, with an amazing amount of work put in.

It's in the middle of America, mirroring a lot of the good and zany things about this country, but nowhere near anything. It's familiar but hidden.

Sometimes I want to hide in Freeport. Instead of hiding in plain sight, which is what I continue to do now.

Cubs PA

Today, I finished my application to be the Cubs Public Address announcer. I applied for the job back in the mid-'90s, when I was working at a small radio station and was just learning inflection and enunciation. I'm certainly better at it now, but am I good enough? It was worth a try.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKtKkFFyBgU