I'm ususally on the asking end of references. As in, I'm usually the one asking others to write me references. Today, I was on the asked end.
A friend, nay more of an acquaintance, asked me to write him a peer recommendation for his business school application (why would they want a peer recommendation?) While I was very flattered, I am at a bit of a loss regarding this. I don't know him all that well. I want to be able to be honest and spectacular in any recommendation I write him because I like him, and I think he is a nice guy, but I just don't know him all that well.
One question that I am supposed to answer in my recommendation letter is "How is the candidate's impact on your organization different from that of other well-qualified individuals in similar roles?" We are both a part of a regional board for our college's alumni club, the only organization we've ever been in together, but I am still confused.
I am not all that active of a member. I rarely actually attend board meetings where most of the "working together" and discussions take place, and I haven't directly worked with him on any project. So really, not only do I not know him well as a friend, I hardly know him at all as a colleague. Why wouldn't he have asked the club president to write the recommendation? Or asked a co-worker? Or better yet, a friend from one of his college activities?
Another question I am to answer is "Please describe the most constructive feedback you have given the candidate. Please also detail the circumstance that caused you to give the feedback."
I'm not sure I have ever given this guy any feedback, constructively negative or positive, or not constructive at all. Maybe he remembers a specific instance that he considers most telling about his character, and that is why he is asking me to be his reference.
But honestly, I just don't remember anything. And how would I even go about finding out if this is what he has in mind without making it obvious that I don't remember (need I be discreet?)
Perhaps "Is there any particular experience you want me to mention/talk about in your recommendation?"
He mentioned he had several reasons for asking me, but that those are better explained over the phone (he asked me in an email). So he is supposed to call me soon to explain ... I don't even know if I should say yes or no. Would he be offended if I honestly told him I didn't know enough about him to write him the good recommendation that he deserves?
On a (un)related note about myself, I recently applied for job. I know. I am shocked myself. I didn't think I would ever get myself around to applying for another job.
But, I didn't get the job. I just found out this afternoon.
I didn't even make it to the final "short list" of candidates, which I really thought I would. There were three steps (interview rounds) in the process, and I got cut after the second set of interviews. The frustrating part is that I know where I screwed up, and if I had a second chance at the interview, I am 100% sure it would have gone differently and I wouldn't have screwed up so badly.
You see, I screwed up on the first of my three interviews, right at the very beginning. My phone went off right after the interview started ... my face turned so red, and I was completely frazzled for the rest of the interview. My mind drew complete blanks every step of the way. My answers were long rambles, and I had trouble focusing on what the interviewer was saying. It literally felt like I was watching his mouth move yet not hearing any sounds.
I tried to put that behind me and actually had two fantastic interviews afterwards. But I guess they weren't fantastic enough to counter the extremely bad first one (or maybe the last two really weren't that great). I am just frustrated because it's my own damn fault that my phone went off in the middle of the interview, and I feel that I would have made the cut if I could have been "just average" on the first interview instead of "royal screwup".
Oh well. They can't possibly judge on how well I could have done. They can only judge me on how well I did.
But at least I broke the seal of job searches. Maybe I'll apply for a few more. I just have to find listings for jobs that I think I would want.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
petty things
A friend is having a birthday party tonight. At a bar.
Normally, it's not a big deal. A bar is nice. You can invite a lot of people to a bar. If not a whole lot of people show up, the bar is still full from other going-outers. Even a fancy bar is fine. I used to do the fancy bar/club scene not so long ago. I remember liking it.
There's even a guestlist to give us all discounts on cover.
I'm a little peeved because the discounted cover is still $20. I just think that's a bit inconsiderate and presumptuous--to have a birthday celebration at a bar with a $20 cover, after guestlist discount. Who knows what the regular cover is.
Maybe I'm cheap. Maybe this is normal for a big city New York. I don't know. We're not in New York.
When I had my birthday at a fancy bar two years ago, I made sure to get a place where I could negotiate complimentary admissions for all of my guests (all 50 or so). The normal cover at that place was $20 on a Saturday night. I even got drink tickets and handed them out as people came so their first couple of drinks would be on me. I felt that was the least I could do since in the end, I was the one asking them to come out to celebrate my birthday.
Some say I went overboard, that I didn't have to give out drink tickets. Whatever. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I probably wouldn't buy that many drink tickets if I were to do it over again, but I would definitely still make sure I could have a guestlist of at least 50 people who wouldn't have to pay cover.
I hate the idea of making my friends choose between coming out to celebrate my birthday or saving up their money so they don't starve by the end of the month.
Like I feel now. Tonight, I feel obligated to go help a friend celebrate her birthday. But I really don't have the expendable income cushion at the end of a very expensive summer (New York wedding, bridesmaids expenses, expensive Montreal trip, eating out twice a week after frisbee, organizing and splitting costs for friends' going-away parties) to feel comfortable blowing $20 just on bar cover.
I can guarantee that I won't have a single drink once I'm inside the bar tonight.
This summer, for the first time, I've sincerely wished that I had a better-paying job. It would be nice to have a job where I don't have to think as much about budgeting. No matter how much I make, I hope that I will always still budget and save, but I want to be able to celebrate things and go out without feeling uncomfortably reluctant.
I don't remember feeling like this before. I'd always said I feel comfortable with how much money I have. I don't need much, and what I make meets my lifestyle needs.
Either I've gotten cheaper this year or my lifestyle has drastically changed.
Normally, it's not a big deal. A bar is nice. You can invite a lot of people to a bar. If not a whole lot of people show up, the bar is still full from other going-outers. Even a fancy bar is fine. I used to do the fancy bar/club scene not so long ago. I remember liking it.
There's even a guestlist to give us all discounts on cover.
I'm a little peeved because the discounted cover is still $20. I just think that's a bit inconsiderate and presumptuous--to have a birthday celebration at a bar with a $20 cover, after guestlist discount. Who knows what the regular cover is.
Maybe I'm cheap. Maybe this is normal for a big city New York. I don't know. We're not in New York.
When I had my birthday at a fancy bar two years ago, I made sure to get a place where I could negotiate complimentary admissions for all of my guests (all 50 or so). The normal cover at that place was $20 on a Saturday night. I even got drink tickets and handed them out as people came so their first couple of drinks would be on me. I felt that was the least I could do since in the end, I was the one asking them to come out to celebrate my birthday.
Some say I went overboard, that I didn't have to give out drink tickets. Whatever. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I probably wouldn't buy that many drink tickets if I were to do it over again, but I would definitely still make sure I could have a guestlist of at least 50 people who wouldn't have to pay cover.
I hate the idea of making my friends choose between coming out to celebrate my birthday or saving up their money so they don't starve by the end of the month.
Like I feel now. Tonight, I feel obligated to go help a friend celebrate her birthday. But I really don't have the expendable income cushion at the end of a very expensive summer (New York wedding, bridesmaids expenses, expensive Montreal trip, eating out twice a week after frisbee, organizing and splitting costs for friends' going-away parties) to feel comfortable blowing $20 just on bar cover.
I can guarantee that I won't have a single drink once I'm inside the bar tonight.
This summer, for the first time, I've sincerely wished that I had a better-paying job. It would be nice to have a job where I don't have to think as much about budgeting. No matter how much I make, I hope that I will always still budget and save, but I want to be able to celebrate things and go out without feeling uncomfortably reluctant.
I don't remember feeling like this before. I'd always said I feel comfortable with how much money I have. I don't need much, and what I make meets my lifestyle needs.
Either I've gotten cheaper this year or my lifestyle has drastically changed.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
*sigh*
The distraction brought on by NBB the past couple of weeks started me on an agonizing path of questioning my relationship with Broadway. Every. Single. Day.
The first real question came when I tried imagining the rest of my life with Broadway. In my mind, that thought was followed by silence, then the question: “Really? Isn't that settling?" My thoughts then wandered to kids, and I just couldn’t see myself having kids with him. I felt that I would be having kids for the sake of having kids, and not because I so very much love the man such that I would want to have something that we would share and create together.
I should be with someone with whom I’m excited to spend the rest of my life, and with whom I want to see as the father of my children, right?
A few days ago, I saw Broadway’s frame walking away from me, with his usual slumped shoulders and slightly scrawny frame that I have always liked and found endearing. As I watched him walk away, I almost broke out in tears. All I could think about was how Broadway is a good, good man. He wants good for the world. He wants good for the people he loves. And he wants good for me. And what do I do? I agonize over and over about whether or not we should be together. And he has no idea.
We do argue. A lot. He’s even walked out sometimes completely angry, swearing that he’s had enough of my temper. I keep telling him that my temper is part of who I am, so he responds by saying he just doesn't want to deal with it anymore. When he does this, I let him leave. Once he came back so upset that I would let him leave in that state, that I wouldn't even try to stop him or to salvage our relationship.
Yes, I feel guilty that I don't try to stop him. I just never feel the panic that I think I ought to feel when faced with a great big breakup. My thoughts jump to, “Well, I guess that’s it. Back to being single.” No emotions, no hysterics. I can't help feeling that I must harbor some secret hope that he would just call it quits on me once and for all.
Something’s wrong with that reaction. If I really valued this relationship, if I really valued being with him, I would be much more emotional on the verge of a breakup, right?
We hardly ever have real serious conversations about us without it being at the tail end of a fight, but we did on Saturday.
I’m not sure how it started, but I ended up playing the victim. I told him how the things that he despises (suburban America, middle class life, regular routines, etc. etc.) were the very things that I was brought up to value. Evolving my views toward his, and he knows I have, has created a growing gap between my opinions and those of my parents. Not to say we should hold on to what our parents tell us our whole lives, but I shouldn’t have to feel this guilt I’ve felt recently that I’m somehow betraying them, leaving them in the dust. All they wanted as immigrants was to give me a good life, raise me in that good life, that good middle class life. Who am I to now reject that, knowing that they sacrificed everything they had to raise me in a middle class American way? Who am I to say that’s trite and unoriginal? Who is he to impose these opinions on me and make me feel silly and inadequate for having other opinions?
He admitted that he has a lot of idealistic views about the world and that he is also quite hypocritical in that he often does exactly what his ideals dictate he shouldn’t do. He actually said “In that sense, I guess I’m pretty close-minded.”
A small celebration went off in my head when he said that. It's exactly what I'd thought. I’d always thought him to be hypocritically close-minded (and unreasonably liberal and paranoid, paranoidedly liberal). On the occasions that I'd told him so, he always would get defensive right away (insecurity with the truth of what I was saying?), and we end up fighting.
Broadway was pouring his heart out to me Saturday, and I couldn’t think of anything to say back. Some character flaw of my own to share, perhaps? Or reassurance that he really isn’t all that close-minded? Anything would have been good. Instead, I had nothing to say. I was too busy celebrating what he had just admitted to.
We are very different people, and he acknowledged that. We have different views on the purpose of our lives, of what we want to get out of our social interactions with others, on what would make us happy. All of these are fundamental differences. During that conversation, I felt that the elephant in the room that neither one of us wanted to be the first to acknowledge was the fact that we’re just too different to be together.
Turns out, only I thought that.
He didn’t want to give up trying. He tentatively asked me, “Do you?”
I could only say “No, I don’t want to give up either.”
He admitted that he’s had some tough times lately. He’s depressed. He’s thinking about going to see a doctor. He’s often unhappy. “But please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me.”
“No, Broadway, I won’t leave you.”
“You make me so happy. You pulled me through some of my worst times. I was in bad shape right when we started dating. I know you get frustrated that I don’t share your happiness about the world, but your happiness gives me happiness. With you, I’m only unhappy some of the time. Without you, I would be unhappy all of the time. So unhappy. Please don’t leave me.”
His earnest eyes looked at me, and he buried his head in my shoulders. I felt tears welting up into my eyes. He is such a good man to me. He would do anything for me. He has done so much for me already. I've put him through so much. Who am I to judge his worth now? Who am I to tear his world apart and throw him back into a horrible horrible place?
“I love you Seine. You love me too, right?”
“I love you.”
The first real question came when I tried imagining the rest of my life with Broadway. In my mind, that thought was followed by silence, then the question: “Really? Isn't that settling?" My thoughts then wandered to kids, and I just couldn’t see myself having kids with him. I felt that I would be having kids for the sake of having kids, and not because I so very much love the man such that I would want to have something that we would share and create together.
I should be with someone with whom I’m excited to spend the rest of my life, and with whom I want to see as the father of my children, right?
A few days ago, I saw Broadway’s frame walking away from me, with his usual slumped shoulders and slightly scrawny frame that I have always liked and found endearing. As I watched him walk away, I almost broke out in tears. All I could think about was how Broadway is a good, good man. He wants good for the world. He wants good for the people he loves. And he wants good for me. And what do I do? I agonize over and over about whether or not we should be together. And he has no idea.
We do argue. A lot. He’s even walked out sometimes completely angry, swearing that he’s had enough of my temper. I keep telling him that my temper is part of who I am, so he responds by saying he just doesn't want to deal with it anymore. When he does this, I let him leave. Once he came back so upset that I would let him leave in that state, that I wouldn't even try to stop him or to salvage our relationship.
Yes, I feel guilty that I don't try to stop him. I just never feel the panic that I think I ought to feel when faced with a great big breakup. My thoughts jump to, “Well, I guess that’s it. Back to being single.” No emotions, no hysterics. I can't help feeling that I must harbor some secret hope that he would just call it quits on me once and for all.
Something’s wrong with that reaction. If I really valued this relationship, if I really valued being with him, I would be much more emotional on the verge of a breakup, right?
We hardly ever have real serious conversations about us without it being at the tail end of a fight, but we did on Saturday.
I’m not sure how it started, but I ended up playing the victim. I told him how the things that he despises (suburban America, middle class life, regular routines, etc. etc.) were the very things that I was brought up to value. Evolving my views toward his, and he knows I have, has created a growing gap between my opinions and those of my parents. Not to say we should hold on to what our parents tell us our whole lives, but I shouldn’t have to feel this guilt I’ve felt recently that I’m somehow betraying them, leaving them in the dust. All they wanted as immigrants was to give me a good life, raise me in that good life, that good middle class life. Who am I to now reject that, knowing that they sacrificed everything they had to raise me in a middle class American way? Who am I to say that’s trite and unoriginal? Who is he to impose these opinions on me and make me feel silly and inadequate for having other opinions?
He admitted that he has a lot of idealistic views about the world and that he is also quite hypocritical in that he often does exactly what his ideals dictate he shouldn’t do. He actually said “In that sense, I guess I’m pretty close-minded.”
A small celebration went off in my head when he said that. It's exactly what I'd thought. I’d always thought him to be hypocritically close-minded (and unreasonably liberal and paranoid, paranoidedly liberal). On the occasions that I'd told him so, he always would get defensive right away (insecurity with the truth of what I was saying?), and we end up fighting.
Broadway was pouring his heart out to me Saturday, and I couldn’t think of anything to say back. Some character flaw of my own to share, perhaps? Or reassurance that he really isn’t all that close-minded? Anything would have been good. Instead, I had nothing to say. I was too busy celebrating what he had just admitted to.
We are very different people, and he acknowledged that. We have different views on the purpose of our lives, of what we want to get out of our social interactions with others, on what would make us happy. All of these are fundamental differences. During that conversation, I felt that the elephant in the room that neither one of us wanted to be the first to acknowledge was the fact that we’re just too different to be together.
Turns out, only I thought that.
He didn’t want to give up trying. He tentatively asked me, “Do you?”
I could only say “No, I don’t want to give up either.”
He admitted that he’s had some tough times lately. He’s depressed. He’s thinking about going to see a doctor. He’s often unhappy. “But please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me.”
“No, Broadway, I won’t leave you.”
“You make me so happy. You pulled me through some of my worst times. I was in bad shape right when we started dating. I know you get frustrated that I don’t share your happiness about the world, but your happiness gives me happiness. With you, I’m only unhappy some of the time. Without you, I would be unhappy all of the time. So unhappy. Please don’t leave me.”
His earnest eyes looked at me, and he buried his head in my shoulders. I felt tears welting up into my eyes. He is such a good man to me. He would do anything for me. He has done so much for me already. I've put him through so much. Who am I to judge his worth now? Who am I to tear his world apart and throw him back into a horrible horrible place?
“I love you Seine. You love me too, right?”
“I love you.”
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