(no subject)
This writing job I'm applying for asked for a "creative cover letter," so I'm writing the script of an interview between "Lauren [Lastname], Job Seeker, and the Trix Bunny, Prospective Employer."
I wish I could make a career out of writing cover letters. Seriously, I love it. I drove to Kinko's in the rain tonight so that I could print out and fax this afternoon's two masterpieces of egotistical ad copy.
Today at the current job made me feel guilty about how much effort I've been putting into eventually leaving. It was the last day of the class session, and I went out to lunch with my morning class, as well as with Jacquie the Scheduling Goddess. Of the morning class, two people are shipping out of Hartsfield International tomorrow morning: B. is returning to Venezuela for a month before she comes back to Atlanta to prepare for grad school, and G. and his visiting girlfriend from Switzerland are going on a Western U.S. road trip. I'm sure I'll see both B. and G. again, but this was definitely the last time that the class, in its current permutation, would meet. We went to Ruby Tuesday, and G. called me the salad bar expert as he watched me pass over the iceberg lettuce and balance cherry tomatoes on top of mixed greens on top of romaine. B. took photos with her digital camera and proposed a "fondue floor party" in her new apartment after she gets back into town and before she buys any furniture. And, on the way out, MJ, from South Korea, said that he fully expected me to "make a million bucks teaching English to the Prince of Egypt or Bahrain or some place like that."
Jacquie smiled and said, "Aw, we don't want to lose her just yet."
In response to which, I thought, yeah, that's pleasant and easy to say when one has HEALTH INSURANCE and paid time off and sick days and a real SALARY and at least -- at least! -- a respectable workweek of forty hours, versus your teaching co-worker's measly THIRTEEN.
I imagine they have a hard time keeping teaching staff around. It's hard to find people who sincerely want only a few hours of work per week, with no benefits and very little chance for advancement within the company. I can't complain too much, though: nobody made me take this job, and nobody's making me keep it, and so if the higher-ups smile benignly at us teachers as though we have no concerns about needing more hours in order to pay bills and not feel bad about buying Whole Foods milk versus Publix milk, then it's probably because they have a precedent. I told them at the outset that I "enjoy writing," which apparently meant, to them at least, that I have a lucrative freelance writing career that takes up a whole lot of time. How I wish! I've been submitting some pieces lately, but it's nothing that I couldn't continue to do during a normal person's workweek. "Let us know if your teaching schedule begins to interfere with your writing," the director once said to me. Oy. If I thought being completely honest about my absolute lack of a freelance writing career would do any good, I'd say something about it. But there isn't much hope of getting twenty-plus hours a week of lessons unless there are enough students to fill up those lessons, and right now, there aren't. We have a Brazilian dude joining my TOEFL prep class next week, which I'm dreading, because he's apparently quite advanced, whereas MJ, my other TOEFL prep student, is not. I have no idea how to balance a two-person test prep class between two people of completely different skill levels. It'll be trial and error, I guess.
Maybe my Trix Bunny letter will get me somewhere.
For now: sleep.
I wish I could make a career out of writing cover letters. Seriously, I love it. I drove to Kinko's in the rain tonight so that I could print out and fax this afternoon's two masterpieces of egotistical ad copy.
Today at the current job made me feel guilty about how much effort I've been putting into eventually leaving. It was the last day of the class session, and I went out to lunch with my morning class, as well as with Jacquie the Scheduling Goddess. Of the morning class, two people are shipping out of Hartsfield International tomorrow morning: B. is returning to Venezuela for a month before she comes back to Atlanta to prepare for grad school, and G. and his visiting girlfriend from Switzerland are going on a Western U.S. road trip. I'm sure I'll see both B. and G. again, but this was definitely the last time that the class, in its current permutation, would meet. We went to Ruby Tuesday, and G. called me the salad bar expert as he watched me pass over the iceberg lettuce and balance cherry tomatoes on top of mixed greens on top of romaine. B. took photos with her digital camera and proposed a "fondue floor party" in her new apartment after she gets back into town and before she buys any furniture. And, on the way out, MJ, from South Korea, said that he fully expected me to "make a million bucks teaching English to the Prince of Egypt or Bahrain or some place like that."
Jacquie smiled and said, "Aw, we don't want to lose her just yet."
In response to which, I thought, yeah, that's pleasant and easy to say when one has HEALTH INSURANCE and paid time off and sick days and a real SALARY and at least -- at least! -- a respectable workweek of forty hours, versus your teaching co-worker's measly THIRTEEN.
I imagine they have a hard time keeping teaching staff around. It's hard to find people who sincerely want only a few hours of work per week, with no benefits and very little chance for advancement within the company. I can't complain too much, though: nobody made me take this job, and nobody's making me keep it, and so if the higher-ups smile benignly at us teachers as though we have no concerns about needing more hours in order to pay bills and not feel bad about buying Whole Foods milk versus Publix milk, then it's probably because they have a precedent. I told them at the outset that I "enjoy writing," which apparently meant, to them at least, that I have a lucrative freelance writing career that takes up a whole lot of time. How I wish! I've been submitting some pieces lately, but it's nothing that I couldn't continue to do during a normal person's workweek. "Let us know if your teaching schedule begins to interfere with your writing," the director once said to me. Oy. If I thought being completely honest about my absolute lack of a freelance writing career would do any good, I'd say something about it. But there isn't much hope of getting twenty-plus hours a week of lessons unless there are enough students to fill up those lessons, and right now, there aren't. We have a Brazilian dude joining my TOEFL prep class next week, which I'm dreading, because he's apparently quite advanced, whereas MJ, my other TOEFL prep student, is not. I have no idea how to balance a two-person test prep class between two people of completely different skill levels. It'll be trial and error, I guess.
Maybe my Trix Bunny letter will get me somewhere.
For now: sleep.