My husband recently went through the arduous process of hiring an assistant. When he posted the job online, he received more than 100 applications. To give this some perspective, when he did this three years ago, he received about 40. After reviewing some of these choice pieces of prose, I just have a few pointers for some of the job seekers out there.
1. Proofread. I mean really it is a simple thing to do. Ask a friend to help you catch things you might miss. Don’t just rely on spell check.
2. Again, proofread. When cutting and pasting your cover letter, make sure it is addressed to the person you are actually sending it to. I mean, really folks.
3. Follow directions. If the job posting says send in your resume, then don’t just email questions. With this economy, managers aren’t interested in your worries, concerns, etc. They are weeding through hundreds of applications and looking at any reason at all to delete your email.
4. Address your weaknesses. Put yourself in the manager’s position when looking at your resume. If you are applying for a job that you are WAY overqualified for, then address it in your cover letter. If you are currently residing in another part of the state, city, or country, then say something about it.
5. Do your research about the company before applying and tailor your resume and cover letter to it. This may help you stand out unless they’ve read my tips too.
6. Send a thank you note. This tells your interviewer that you are interested in the job and really is just basic common courtesy. So take a couple of minutes, find a card and a pen, and write something heartfelt out.
So, I can’t guarantee that you’ll land that perfect dream job by following my tips, but I can tell you that your resume will be less likely to end up in the trash pile (assuming you have a decent resume, which would be another article and more advice than I care to give tonight). Good luck with your job search!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Head injury
I've just finished my first two-hour check on my oldest son Dylan. I can already tell you that it is going to be a very long night. I will check on him every two hours to make sure he is still moving in response to a slight touch. I already knew that it was going to be rough waking up every two hours, but frankly that one thing did nothing to calm my fears that this could be a skull fracture and we could be looking at much bigger issues than a big ugly goose egg on his head.
This afternoon, I took my boys and some friends to the local ice rink. We are planning to go out of town to see family this week and he is going to miss his regularly scheduled Thursday hockey practice. Typically, when you go to public skate, you don't wear a helmet as you do in hockey. Dylan is a pretty decent skater, and doesn't usually fall unless he is playing hockey. But, his hands got cold on the ice so he stuck them in his pockets and when he lost his balance practicing different moves on the ice, his head was the only thing to hit. I was probably 5 feet behind him and couldn't do anything to help him. He started crying immediately and when I got to him, his forehead was dented in right above his right eye. I'm no doctor, but I knew that your head isn't supposed to be caved in.
Everything snapped into focus and I knew he needed help. One of the girls that worked there came over and we got him off the ice. I asked her to go get the head of the hockey program and some ice while I carried Dylan to a table. I took off my outer sweater to make a pillow for his head, held his hand and asked him simple questions, held up two fingers, etc. It seemed like hours were passing and I wasn't sure how serious his injury was. And, where the hell is that ice?!! I felt extremely inept at helping my baby boy. So, I went and asked the girl that runs the sports shop to get us some ice. Finally the girl returned with a bag and we got the ice started to help reduce the swelling. The head of the program comes over and asks him some basic questions to check for a concussion.
After he had the ice on for almost 10 min, we sat him up. Thankfully, he didn't get dizzy or pass out. We sat with him for a bit more and began alternating the ice 10 on and 10 off. The head of the program suggested that we continue to watch him, that he seemed fine.
After we left, I thought I would call his pediatrician just to alert them to the situation. I had forgotten that they leave early on Tuesdays. Of course, they left early today! So, I'm directed to the on-call pediatrician. They instruct me to take him directly to the emergency room. By this time, we have made it back to the house, and Dylan still seems absolutely fine. I tell the pediatrician's office that my main concern is that his head was actually concave after the fall and that was what made me nervous, but that all of his symptoms point to him being fine. So the nurse checks with the doctor and he confirms - take him to the ER.
So, we all pile in to the car. At this point, my adrenaline rush comes crashing down and I start thinking why didn't I bring his helmet in? He would've worn it, no problem. Why didn't I bring his gloves in? He wouldn't have put his hands in his pockets. Why didn't I tell him to take his hands out of his freakin' pockets? It never occurred to me that he wouldn't be able to catch himself in a fall. What kind of an idiot mother am I? Then I start thinking, what if I lose my baby? I've read several articles where kids have head injuries, seem fine, and then die suddenly. At the time, I didn't remember that it was often due to a second impact and returning to sports too soon. Thankfully, before I work myself into a complete and utter panic attack, I force myself to stop thinking that way and focus on driving downtown in traffic, because there is ALWAYS traffic on I-35.
So, we go to Dell Children's ER. Everyone is very nice and helpful. We eventually get a room and the nurse comes in to check on him and ask some questions. He wants to know if Dylan is nauseous, has a headache, etc. So, he gets Dylan some Tylenol for his head. Hopefully, it wasn't a recalled one. He doesn't ask me if I'm about to toss my cookies, because I was. My stomach couldn't have been twisted any tighter if it was maypole.
After the doctor completes her examination, she recommends that we not get the CT Scan because of the radiation issue. She doesn't feel it is truly necessary. Since I had read a report on those issues and the fact that Dylan has already had one, as well as other X-rays, I'm not inclined to subject him to something that could lead to a brain tumor down the road. So, we opt for a night of checking on him every two hours. That decision seemed a lot better in the light of day, in a hospital room, with Dylan alert and responsive. Now that we're home and I have no idea what his simply moving in response to my touch is supposed to tell me? Yea, well, not so much.
This afternoon, I took my boys and some friends to the local ice rink. We are planning to go out of town to see family this week and he is going to miss his regularly scheduled Thursday hockey practice. Typically, when you go to public skate, you don't wear a helmet as you do in hockey. Dylan is a pretty decent skater, and doesn't usually fall unless he is playing hockey. But, his hands got cold on the ice so he stuck them in his pockets and when he lost his balance practicing different moves on the ice, his head was the only thing to hit. I was probably 5 feet behind him and couldn't do anything to help him. He started crying immediately and when I got to him, his forehead was dented in right above his right eye. I'm no doctor, but I knew that your head isn't supposed to be caved in.
Everything snapped into focus and I knew he needed help. One of the girls that worked there came over and we got him off the ice. I asked her to go get the head of the hockey program and some ice while I carried Dylan to a table. I took off my outer sweater to make a pillow for his head, held his hand and asked him simple questions, held up two fingers, etc. It seemed like hours were passing and I wasn't sure how serious his injury was. And, where the hell is that ice?!! I felt extremely inept at helping my baby boy. So, I went and asked the girl that runs the sports shop to get us some ice. Finally the girl returned with a bag and we got the ice started to help reduce the swelling. The head of the program comes over and asks him some basic questions to check for a concussion.
After he had the ice on for almost 10 min, we sat him up. Thankfully, he didn't get dizzy or pass out. We sat with him for a bit more and began alternating the ice 10 on and 10 off. The head of the program suggested that we continue to watch him, that he seemed fine.
After we left, I thought I would call his pediatrician just to alert them to the situation. I had forgotten that they leave early on Tuesdays. Of course, they left early today! So, I'm directed to the on-call pediatrician. They instruct me to take him directly to the emergency room. By this time, we have made it back to the house, and Dylan still seems absolutely fine. I tell the pediatrician's office that my main concern is that his head was actually concave after the fall and that was what made me nervous, but that all of his symptoms point to him being fine. So the nurse checks with the doctor and he confirms - take him to the ER.
So, we all pile in to the car. At this point, my adrenaline rush comes crashing down and I start thinking why didn't I bring his helmet in? He would've worn it, no problem. Why didn't I bring his gloves in? He wouldn't have put his hands in his pockets. Why didn't I tell him to take his hands out of his freakin' pockets? It never occurred to me that he wouldn't be able to catch himself in a fall. What kind of an idiot mother am I? Then I start thinking, what if I lose my baby? I've read several articles where kids have head injuries, seem fine, and then die suddenly. At the time, I didn't remember that it was often due to a second impact and returning to sports too soon. Thankfully, before I work myself into a complete and utter panic attack, I force myself to stop thinking that way and focus on driving downtown in traffic, because there is ALWAYS traffic on I-35.
So, we go to Dell Children's ER. Everyone is very nice and helpful. We eventually get a room and the nurse comes in to check on him and ask some questions. He wants to know if Dylan is nauseous, has a headache, etc. So, he gets Dylan some Tylenol for his head. Hopefully, it wasn't a recalled one. He doesn't ask me if I'm about to toss my cookies, because I was. My stomach couldn't have been twisted any tighter if it was maypole.
After the doctor completes her examination, she recommends that we not get the CT Scan because of the radiation issue. She doesn't feel it is truly necessary. Since I had read a report on those issues and the fact that Dylan has already had one, as well as other X-rays, I'm not inclined to subject him to something that could lead to a brain tumor down the road. So, we opt for a night of checking on him every two hours. That decision seemed a lot better in the light of day, in a hospital room, with Dylan alert and responsive. Now that we're home and I have no idea what his simply moving in response to my touch is supposed to tell me? Yea, well, not so much.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Make-up boot camp
We had make-up boot camp today. The four of us cannot make our normal Thursday morning boot camp, so I worked out a deal with Drill Sergeant to kick our butts on another day. Well, we dropped like flies and it was just me and Brownie in the end. Blondie just had to go to Destin with her family. I think she wanted to beat the oil there. And, Sucker texted me in the middle of the night on the Fourth of July to tell me that they had decided to go out of town and she needed to pack. Whatever, she just drank too much.
Make-up boot camp is a bit like make-up sex minus the happy ending. It goes on forever; it makes you really sweaty; and you near heart-attack status.
It is boot-camp eve and I have to get up at 4:45 in the morning to go pick up Brownie so that Drill Sergeant can hear us beg for mercy tomorrow. We had a birthday party at a water park tonight and my oldest is having a sleepover. As soon as we get home, my lovely husband informs me that he’s going to watch the Yankee game. Excuse me? What part of, I have to get up before the dawn even thinks about cracking and we have people sleeping over did you not understand? Oh, he is so sleeping on the couch tonight (or the guest bedroom, whatever), and I’m having some yummy ice cream. I don’t care what Drill Sergeant says.
Make-up boot camp is a bit like make-up sex minus the happy ending. It goes on forever; it makes you really sweaty; and you near heart-attack status.
It is boot-camp eve and I have to get up at 4:45 in the morning to go pick up Brownie so that Drill Sergeant can hear us beg for mercy tomorrow. We had a birthday party at a water park tonight and my oldest is having a sleepover. As soon as we get home, my lovely husband informs me that he’s going to watch the Yankee game. Excuse me? What part of, I have to get up before the dawn even thinks about cracking and we have people sleeping over did you not understand? Oh, he is so sleeping on the couch tonight (or the guest bedroom, whatever), and I’m having some yummy ice cream. I don’t care what Drill Sergeant says.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Diary of a Wimpy Mom
Boot camp: Week "too long"
Ok, so I’m totally rockin’ these cute white shorts after our excruciating boot camp this morning. I’m home trying to let the dog out to go to the bathroom and get to my hair appointment across town on time. (I may have been late to everything including my own wedding, but I am NEVER late to a hair appointment – it’s important business.) And, let me just tell you, a big black Bernese Mountain Dog and white shorts DO NOT mix. Hello! Does he have to show his affection all over my shorts and Pliner shoes?!! I could do with a little less affection thank you very much.
So, this week Hurricane Alex, or Adam or whatever, is wreaking havoc on our little outdoor boot camp so we’ve had to move our little butts (yes, they are getting smaller) inside as to not damage the fields. No, Drill Sergeant is so not concerned about our hair getting frizzy – it’s the field damage that is disconcerting. So, we are in an air-conditioned (I know, poor us) room that’s normally used for Zoomba, karate, etc. with mirrors everywhere. I mean really, do you think I want to look at myself at 5:30 in the morning? Um, no – my hair isn’t done, I have no make-up on and I haven’t showered, because really what’s the point? (Shut-up! No comments from the peanut gallery about my lack of showering.)
So, this is what I want you to do: Stand on one leg, put the other leg straight behind you. Put one hand behind your back and the other just barely on a chair for balance (if you need it). Now, bend the leg you are standing on – shoulders back, chin up. Now, stay there for 5 minutes. Feel that? That is your ass and that fleshy part of your thigh with all of those dimples that is melting off. You can thank me later. Blondie, Brownie, Sucker and I did it, so you can too.
Okay, so maybe we whined a bit and let our foot down when Drill Sergeant wasn’t looking. But, when you only have two rows of people and all of those damn mirrors, you really can’t get away with much. Creative counting does NOT work here.
After our upper thighs and derrieres fell off, we did some crunches that would have Jillian Michaels yelling uncle. Combine all of that with these weird push up things with weights and rolling around so that your arm is in the air and running laps and stairs and that constituted our workout today.
So, I can gladly say that today I burned a whopping 500 calories compared to Tuesday’s paltry 300 and I am ready and able to eat all of the juicy ribs and hot dogs that the Fourth of July has to offer. Oh, and ice cream, did I mention before that I liked ice cream? What’s the Fourth without ice cream over cobbler? Besides, I’m sure that I’ll have to run up and down the stands at the baseball game getting all of those delicious things that Drill Sergeant has banned. As if! He thinks everything we eat should fit in a sandwich bag. Maybe he means that I can eat all of the ice cream that would fit in the bag, and all of the ribs, and potato salad, and cobbler. I bet that’s it.
Here’s to a Happy Fourth!,
Ok, so I’m totally rockin’ these cute white shorts after our excruciating boot camp this morning. I’m home trying to let the dog out to go to the bathroom and get to my hair appointment across town on time. (I may have been late to everything including my own wedding, but I am NEVER late to a hair appointment – it’s important business.) And, let me just tell you, a big black Bernese Mountain Dog and white shorts DO NOT mix. Hello! Does he have to show his affection all over my shorts and Pliner shoes?!! I could do with a little less affection thank you very much.
So, this week Hurricane Alex, or Adam or whatever, is wreaking havoc on our little outdoor boot camp so we’ve had to move our little butts (yes, they are getting smaller) inside as to not damage the fields. No, Drill Sergeant is so not concerned about our hair getting frizzy – it’s the field damage that is disconcerting. So, we are in an air-conditioned (I know, poor us) room that’s normally used for Zoomba, karate, etc. with mirrors everywhere. I mean really, do you think I want to look at myself at 5:30 in the morning? Um, no – my hair isn’t done, I have no make-up on and I haven’t showered, because really what’s the point? (Shut-up! No comments from the peanut gallery about my lack of showering.)
So, this is what I want you to do: Stand on one leg, put the other leg straight behind you. Put one hand behind your back and the other just barely on a chair for balance (if you need it). Now, bend the leg you are standing on – shoulders back, chin up. Now, stay there for 5 minutes. Feel that? That is your ass and that fleshy part of your thigh with all of those dimples that is melting off. You can thank me later. Blondie, Brownie, Sucker and I did it, so you can too.
Okay, so maybe we whined a bit and let our foot down when Drill Sergeant wasn’t looking. But, when you only have two rows of people and all of those damn mirrors, you really can’t get away with much. Creative counting does NOT work here.
After our upper thighs and derrieres fell off, we did some crunches that would have Jillian Michaels yelling uncle. Combine all of that with these weird push up things with weights and rolling around so that your arm is in the air and running laps and stairs and that constituted our workout today.
So, I can gladly say that today I burned a whopping 500 calories compared to Tuesday’s paltry 300 and I am ready and able to eat all of the juicy ribs and hot dogs that the Fourth of July has to offer. Oh, and ice cream, did I mention before that I liked ice cream? What’s the Fourth without ice cream over cobbler? Besides, I’m sure that I’ll have to run up and down the stands at the baseball game getting all of those delicious things that Drill Sergeant has banned. As if! He thinks everything we eat should fit in a sandwich bag. Maybe he means that I can eat all of the ice cream that would fit in the bag, and all of the ribs, and potato salad, and cobbler. I bet that’s it.
Here’s to a Happy Fourth!,
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