negative reporting

Maybe it’s time all of us long term unemployed stop reading the “experts’” articles. They’re not helping. “Folks above the age of 15 will never work again.…if you’ve been out of the workforce longer than two weeks, your skills have slipped….you’re a fossil…you’re irrelevant.” And on and on they go. Today's article in the Star  is a prime example.
You can’t you won’t you never you shouldn’t you don’t.
I heard enough of that kind of talk when I was married. The negativity is toxic. It can work on you, if you let it.

And yes, for the record, I do think there is discrimination going on when an employer won’t even look at a candidate whose work history and skill set match the job opening in question.

Last week, I got the chance to prove the pundits all wrong.
Let me back up and just say that somehow, I became known as a solid troubleshooter of spreadsheets and data bases while working at my favorite job ever. I’ve also prepared more financial statements in my accounting career than I care to admit. The opportunity came via an operations director/MBA I’d had a phone interview with a few weeks back. Nice guy. Liked him a lot; we mentally track alike, and he didn’t sound like a plodding relic either. His company needed someone on site daily; we both concluded it was crazy for me to drive that far five days a week, and he’d asked if he could use me, contractually, for some “heavier” work, if needed. Sure. Absolutely.

So that call came last Thursday. Three year projections had been prepared in house, but something was wrong with them. Balance sheets didn’t balance. Cash flow statements showed negative millions. They needed a fresh set of eyes, and had a deadline. He emailed it all over.
Tabs upon tabs of data. I hadn’t seen spreadsheets this complex for several years. For a fleeting moment, I was worried. Then I jumped in. First, I isolated and corrected all the issues in the balance sheet, both data and formulas. After that, it was easy to locate the flaws in the premises for the projected growth. I was done and sent it back in three hours.

I love this stuff. I know, I know, it doesn’t sound creative or sexy, but you throw down a puzzle like this in front of me, and I can’t resist and I won’t quit until I figure it out. Go ahead and call me boring if you want, but it makes me glad I decided to become a CPA.

That’s what a potential employer would get from me. Does that sound alike a lazy, out of date fossil to you?

random bits

I have so many ideas swirling around my head for posts, yet not one of them will cooperate by solidifying into an entire story. If you could see them, they’d look like egg whites do when they first touch hot chicken stock and you begin to stir them in; making egg drop soup, they turn to floating free-form threads. There’s something in good there, you just have to look for it. So today, it’s a random day…

*I got so red-hot pissed a few days ago that I must’ve surely lost some brain cells due to the heat and smoke generated by all the illogical this-does-not-compute craziness. My poor little synapses are starting to mend now, I can tell. I have returned to speaking in complete sentences, have stopped meandering from room to room, and remembered to feed the dog. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t become a lawyer after all, though if this exchange had been in a courtroom setting, it would’ve been at least semi-civilized, subject to rules of order, and no extraneous irrelevant crap allowed. My attorney would’ve been jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box, objecting to every falsehood uttered by my accuser, and same-said accuser would’ve been reduced to mincemeat on cross-examination, because, of course, I would hire a brilliant attorney. Whew. I feel so much better now!

*It looks like I may not become the knitter I had hoped. Not yet, anyway. Yesterday I sat down with the pattern for a scarf MK brought over and a skein of gorgeous cream silk yarn. It’s delicate, fragile, scattered with beads. Stunning stuff. I’m working away, come to SSK, no problem. Come to the first SSSK, that’s a bit tougher. Come to the second of those, botch it, try to undo it. Screw that up. Say OK, I’ll just rip out this row back to the pearl row and try again. Do that. It’s a big confusing mess and my eyes cross. I rip it all out. It wasn’t like I had that many rows or hours in it but really, who likes to start over? Then I decide perhaps things would go better if I’d take the time to wind the yard. I begin that process, skein draped over a chair. Halfway through the process, it slips off the chair and into a jumbled heap. It took me about six hours to untangle it and as it is, I will probably have to cut out about two ruined yards. I may switch projects and start the snood instead. At least that’s your nice and safe k1p1.

*Have you ever looked into someone’s eyes, expecting to see brains or a rational thought process behind them, but gotten an eerie look you just can’t place instead? The person is just sure they’re right about something (though probably not sure why) and will not listen to reason. It’s like arguing with a goldfish. What’s in back of those eyes anyway, oatmeal?

* I have a phone interview coming up for another controller’s job. Not to get my hopes up (again), but the location couldn’t be better, the CEO is involved in his industry, and the company is dedicated to putting out a flawless product. For the love of Heaven, if you read this, please send out positive vibes.

*When did the word “hot” become the preferred adjective for flattery? What happened to “beautiful” or “stunning” or “gorgeous?” Just for the record, I was called this by an oh-so-much-younger man this week. No, it’s not gone to my head. I was surprised. Then I giggled. Good thing it came in text form, and far be it from me to dissuade him of his opinion or clue him in as to our age disparity.

Time for the fireplace and football. Maybe I’ll go make some egg drop soup. Go Colts!