You are not very Pinteresting

I haven’t written in days. Actually, it seems like months it’s been so long. And, I have so many things that I should’ve written about when they happened because they were timely and relevant and funny and now it’s too late. Oh well.So, I’m left to write about what’s on my mind tonight.

I’ve been working like a dog lately and haven’t had a lot of idle time. So, I thought I’d take a stroll over to the world of thoughtlessness. Where you don’t have to problem solve, cure any major diseases or even have a profound thought.  A world where you let your pleasure center take control and you spend some quality you time (after writing that I now remember why most of my readers are female. The others are secretly bringing out their stash of Girlie mags). Yes, I am talking about Pinterest.

Pinterest is like crack (Confession: I’ve never taken crack but since it’s highly addictive, THIS is what I imagine it to be). Once you enter the world of pinning, you’ll never go back. It’s fun, entertaining and as I found out last week as 1,000 of my closest (HA!) friends re-pinned my Zucchini fries, an over the top high when you see some response.

I do have to confess that at first I didn’t get it. I’m not a scrapbooker. Not sentimental. But once I got on and could start my own boards. Pin my own stuff. I was hooked. And, to confess, I still am.

Until now.

I kept logging on and only saw one persons pins. The first time, I just scrolled down to see what the other couple of hundred people that I follow were doing but I just hit an entire wall of the same person’s pins. I figured it would be different the next time I logged on. Negative. Or the following time. Um, nope.

Now before I go on, I must say that I myself am a “free speech” pinner. While I don’t care about wedding pics, anything pink or cakes, I do respect your right to pin what you like. I just will choose to admire it from afar and move on. But, I am what I like to call an “equal opportunist.” I’d like to see what you like. And others. Just saying.

If you clog up my wall for days on end without giving me a chance to experience something else I will be forced to make a drastic move. The unfollow. After all. You’re not very Pinteresting, are you? Thoughts?



I’m done with the B.S. Read on. If this is you, contact me!

I’ve blogged for a long time and focused on Motherhood. I’ve written about childbirth, my failure to breastfeed and putting a lock on the outside of my kid’s door at four. I’ve tackled bad teachers, bullying and puberty. But, I’ve never had the chance to write about something that defines me until now- my career.

I’m just starting to dip my toes into the water that may be a little deeper than just being a Mommy. And, in a way I think that’s cool. But there’s still a part of me that’s a little fearful to take the first leap. So, it must be baby steps for a while. But here’s what I can tell you for now.

I’m hiring. This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. But it is certainly the most entertaining in my 20+ years of career-dom.  For some reason, my current endeavor seems to attract just about everyone (which is interesting since my last one seemed to repel all) and while I am flattered, I have to continually remind everyone that contacts me that is it WORK (Yes, that is a four letter word to some). Yes, I am hiring independent contractors, but call me crazy, at the end of the day I still have some expectations for the kind of gal it takes to do the job.

This job takes someone that has connections to the community so I ask. And, here’s what I hear, “oh, yes, I am connected.” Really. To whom. Tell me. (I am hearing crickets chirp. Are you?)

It’s essential that the consultants has business contacts, so I inquire. And, I’m told, “I have a ton of them.” So I send each candidate home and tell them to come back to me with a list. Over 80% of them bow out.

It’s  a part-time gig so lots of gals think they can do this and the four other MLM things they have going on successfully. Maybe it’s time to focus on one and rock it. Just saying.

I’m looking for passion. Excitement. A lot of energy. I am looking for enthusiasm. And, unfortunately, it’s hard to find. But do you know what’s even more difficult to discover? A good work ethic. It’s just not there. I am still searching.

Hopefully you saw the title of this blog. If you are REALLY connected and have sales experience,  I have an amazing opportunity for you. Even if you’ve stayed home with kids for a few years and are looking to get back out there. PTA president? Involved in your church or synagogue? Bring it on. I want to meet you.



Real women don’t wear navy

I’ve blogged for almost four years and I’ve never been able to write about what I do for a living. While I’ve been free from the shackles of compliance B.S. for eleven days, I’m still not ready to write about the eight year odyssey.  First, because I’m a lady and I still believe that if you don’t have anything nice to say you probably shouldn’t.  But to be more honest (as if I have trouble in that department), I have absolutely deplorable things to say which means I probably have a book and in that case, I may have to keep the stories close to the vest until I create a pseudonym (another word for “you don’t know who I am so you can’t sue me for slander”) and tell all.

What I will tell you is I’ve spent the better part of the past decade in a box. In a career where it doesn’t pay to be original and coloring outside the lines is not encouraged. It’s a male-dominated business (and if you don’t have all the appropriate parts they WILL let you know) where the guys dress to the nines to look successful even if they’re not.  So, I felt that I had to play the part (and no, I did not dress like a dude).

When I started I bought suits and button down shirts and I always wore a skirt unless it was below zero. I also submitted to a torture that no woman should: pantyhose (but that’s another blog that you can read here.) I dressed for success every day.

Now, I work for a company run by moms for moms and I don’t have to dress like a stuffed shirt. So, I’m taking a long look at my clothes and trying to figure out what goes (my hubby has tried to talk me out of this adventure as he sees it as possibly expensive endeavor). I’ve come to one conclusion: real women don’t wear navy (and no, I’m not talking about cute nautical duds or something trendy). Stay tuned and you’ll see what I mean.



This ain’t Pan Am

I’ve found myself lately a little enamored by the ABC show Pan Am (which is supposed to be a little like Mad Men which I never got into so anytime anyone says, “isn’t that the Mad Men copycat show?” I look stupid as heck because I’m not really sure). It’s about the Golden age of flying when it was glamorous to be a stewardess.

Flying in the 60’s was a luxury and it was a coveted job to be a Pan Am stewardess.  They signed up and endured weigh-ins and what I think was probably hazing for the opportunity to travel the world. T hey were young, extremely attractive and it was their job to make sure that each guest was thrilled with their flying experience.

A lot has changed since the 1960’s.

First, the name stewardess is no longer politically correct. They are now flight attendants as not to offend anyone and it’s an equal opportunity job as you can be male. And, as my most recent travel experience proves, they no longer discriminate on age  (the average age of the crew was upwards of 65. The guy in the seat next to me cleverly commented that he “hoped the pilot was a little younger.” I quickly told him that “if we crashed we were S.O.L. as none of the crew could probably lift him into a life boat.” For some reason, he pulled down his shades and napped after that.)

And, don’t get me started on customer service because there isn’t much. You can easily get water and sometimes a coke, but if it’s more complicated than that you can almost always be prepared for an eye roll or some snarky retort. Here’s an example from the same trip:

Mature disgruntled flight attendant: “Drink?”

Young guy (who obviously hasn’t traveled much): “What drinks do you have?”

MGDFA: Didn’t you listen? We have water, coke, juice…there’s a menu in the front pocket

YG: (frantically searching for menu that doesn’t exist because he’s in the bulkhead): Do you have cranberry apple juice?

MGDFA: “We have cranberry and we have apple. WHAT do you want?”

YG: “Cranberry Apple”

MGDFA grunts and looks impatient. She gets the coke for the gal next to him

Me: “Ma’am. I think he wants a CranApple.”

MGDFA: “Well, why didn’t he say that?” she storms off.

This would never happen on a Pan Am flight. Ever. The young, pretty stewardess would immediately know what the young lad wanted and would even spike it for free with a little Ketel One. Then they’d act interested in his life story before they fell in love with him (but that’s another blog).

Anyone traveled lately? What was your experience?

Travelling stinks.

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