Dress Codes and Generalities

It has been a busy week making the rounds filling out job applications, faxing my resume, filling out online forms, but I have met some nice people in this process. The nice people at Communigraphics, Steve and Barry’s, and Office Depot to name a few. With all the trotting around looking for a job, I have managed so far to gain one interview. I had a bad feeling about it from the get go but decided nothing ventured nothing gained so I trekked over to Deans Bridge Road Wednesday morning. My appointment was for eleven and, so it seems, was everyone else’s. First impression; what a dump. The interview suite, if you can call it that, was in a row of warehouses. Upon entering it jumped out at me that there was no décor, nothing to inform a person what business was being carried on there and holes that seemed to have been punched in the walls from a fit of rage dotted the area. There were 13 others that were scheduled at the same time. Given that I had such a hinky feeling about the whole thing I did not bother to fill out all of the application; no one seemed to notice. As I was waiting my turn to be interviewed my eyes wandered around the room to the group of people gathered there. One thing for sure, mode of dress has changed in the interview world. Instead of professional attire such as a business suit or nice pants and shirt, the dress code seems to be anything goes. One such outfit caught my attention; blue jean Capri pants, a very low cut sequined sleeveless pullover, quilted stained jacket, 3.5 inch sequined heels, open toed, no pedicure, and long lank unwashed hair. One young man came in sporting a baseball cap, worn out jeans, a plaid shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and dirty. The woman sitting next to me was just as outrageously dressed and I spent the next few minutes mentally shaking my head. After my interview I was still as clueless about the job as when I arrived but left with a promise from the interviewer that I would be getting a phone call between 5 and 7 P.M. tonight.
Yeah right. 7 P.M. came and went and as expected no phone call came. I still have a hinky feeling about the entire thing therefore I’m driving back over there today to retrieve my application.
For the past few days my neighbors and I have awoken to the sound of jack hammers. Nothing like the thud of jack hammers in the morning to get one going. The work was being done on Meridian Avenue, however it sounded and felt as if it was right next door. One of my neighbors, in an effort to drown the noise, has made it worse by raising the volume on the music they play thereby creating an off-beat to the pounding on the pavement. Do not know which is less tolerable, the sound of progress or the sound of “music”.
In our paper and the paper across the river there have been comments lately about the traffic problem generally and speeders specifically. For sometime, people on their way home from work, have bypassed Georgia Avenue in favor of West Avenue thereby turning West into our version of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Speed limit signs do not seem to matter these days; 40 interprets to 60, 30 to 45 and so on. Stop has turned into pause, new cars no longer come with turn signals and driver courtesy is a thing of the past. Used to be folks were afraid to speed over here. Used to be tickets were given out regularly. Used to be crossing the 13th Street Bridge was a signal to slow down when entering our city now it seems to be a signal to hurry up no matter the consequences to other drivers. Most of us are aware of the fact that tickets are rarely given across the river. Regular RMP’s are not allowed to give out traffic tickets over there but it used to be people respected our speed limits out of fear of getting stopped. Used to be.
My deer friend is back. She has decimated my cabbage, broccoli and one tree, leaving me no alternative but to drag out the liquid fence sprayer. It is something I detest doing as the smell is similar to rotten eggs albeit that is not the main ingredient. Even so the smell is preferable to ravaged hydrangeas. She has no fear of me. Early in the mornings she strolls across the backyard quietly picking her way through the woods then repeats the process at dusk. Last night there were gunshots echoing below me and I fear for her life. She is so beautiful and quite honestly I don’t mind her eating some things. It is not her fault that her habitat has been razed.