Okay, I just realized that I completely spaced and did not send a thank you note for my interview a few weeks ago. Should I send it now or just call to follow up?
Spike's Bitches 46: Don't I get a cookie?
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I think calling would be best, although I might want to mail it and thus avoid having to talk to anyone about it. Maybe they will think the mail was slow?
Found the Idiot's Guide and am reading. Oy.
Thank you notes. Right. Gonna need to do a few of those. Hmm... should maybe buy some notecards.
Vortex, I think I'd call at this point. You're good at it and it means that they have to give you an answer about where they are in the process. If you email/mail then they can ignore you.
I don't understand your boss, Stephanie, but I'm really not the one to ask about American office etiquette (sending thank you notes after interviews, for example, is sci-fi scenario in Israel). However, if you have someone else in the office to speak with, I'd ask them for their opinion, if I were you (while following the boss' instructions).
But it might be better not to listen to me on this one and leave it in the trusty hands of Bitches.
LiveBlog of Glenn Beck's event this weekend from Stinque.
The truth is that I'm just annoyed and ready to leave this place. So I'm not bothering to confront him about anything, lest my desire to leave become too apparent.
I've actually mentioned this to my co-workers, but they have no real advice for me.
~ma for Max.
Yay for Kate P.!
I'm supposed to upload stuff to our blackboard site for a class that meets tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. for the first time, but I'm paralyzed with not caring. Also, my other two co-instructors haven't uploaded anything either, so I think it's catching. We're going to be a lively bunch tomorrow.
On the not-caring, see also: vacuuming, composting, dusting, putting together TV stand, clearing off TiVo, paying bills, putting away laundry, putting clean sheets on the guest bed. I appear to be having some sort of minor breakdown that involves staring into space a lot (work version) and updating my delicious links obsessively (home version). I need to turn back into the old neurotic me soon, otherwise I'm not going to recognize myself.
Also, while I'm bitching about my boss, I've just inherited one of his former files. It's about 3-4 inches of paperwork, none of which except the initial contract is hole-punched and filed. It's literally a stack of paper. WHY???
Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote a letter to a friend upon the death of her husband, and it was something like "How much I wish I could be there with you, to just sit quietly for the space of a cup of tea."