I curse my life and I curse my poverty
The company I work for has decided, rather abruptly, that they will only use the part-time drivers they have when it is absolutely necessary, and considering they use outside vendors in addition to the full-time drivers, it essentially confirms my belief that my work schedule is based on how expensive I am. The bad news is that I almost certainly will not be back on the schedule unless I decide to go full-time or a full-time driver takes an extended break. The good news is that this does allow me to focus a bit more on beginning my writing career, or at least landing a job at a periodical or a library or something along those lines. In case you happen to know about anything. (**ahem**)
Speaking of which, there was a position in the classified this past Thursday that ran through Sunday calling for a "skilled writer" to "prepare nomination reports on historic homes to be placed on [the] national register." It's full- or part-time, and mentions a "$1,000 fee per report". I've answered scam ads before, and it is kind of weird that someone would pay a thousand bucks for a report unless it's about the size of a thesis paper. It's even stranger the $1,000 is called a "fee" and not a payment or something else but a fee. It sounds a bit sketchy to me (and it likely goes against my political leaning), but I might check it out anyway. I'm going to wait a few days to get my portfolio and resume in order, then I'll see if it's worth anything.
Hopefully, I can look back on this time and say this is where I began a path to success. Maybe I'll even catch up to this guy. :-P
In other news, I've had varying aches and pains over the course of the past few months: my hip, my knee, my foot. (Curiously, I didn't have any of these things a few years ago, and I was forty to fifty pounds heavier then.) Right now, my ring finger on my right hand feels like it's sprained, but I never remember injuring it in the first place. I'm beginning to think somebody has a voodoo doll.
If so, please stop it, Karen. I'm sorry.
Speaking of which, there was a position in the classified this past Thursday that ran through Sunday calling for a "skilled writer" to "prepare nomination reports on historic homes to be placed on [the] national register." It's full- or part-time, and mentions a "$1,000 fee per report". I've answered scam ads before, and it is kind of weird that someone would pay a thousand bucks for a report unless it's about the size of a thesis paper. It's even stranger the $1,000 is called a "fee" and not a payment or something else but a fee. It sounds a bit sketchy to me (and it likely goes against my political leaning), but I might check it out anyway. I'm going to wait a few days to get my portfolio and resume in order, then I'll see if it's worth anything.
Hopefully, I can look back on this time and say this is where I began a path to success. Maybe I'll even catch up to this guy. :-P
In other news, I've had varying aches and pains over the course of the past few months: my hip, my knee, my foot. (Curiously, I didn't have any of these things a few years ago, and I was forty to fifty pounds heavier then.) Right now, my ring finger on my right hand feels like it's sprained, but I never remember injuring it in the first place. I'm beginning to think somebody has a voodoo doll.
If so, please stop it, Karen. I'm sorry.