The art of the Résumé

 September 17, 2020 – The art of the Résumé

 

         Today a longtime friend called me to update his résumé, so nice to be needed in such a personal way.  It’s nice to know that he feels I have stellar qualifications to do so still. 

          I may be retired, but there is lots of life left in me.  It’s a nice reminder that I am a wisdom keeper and if I actually had to go out to work – I have skills, marketable skills.

          Every few years as he climbs the corporate ladder or is entertaining new possibilities, he calls and we revise his résumé to keep it current.

          I have known him since college and when he was graduating from Appalachian State University I suggested he add a real estate license to his credentials to increase his skills package.  He did and I think it opened more doors for him that he wouldn’t have had without it.

          He is a banking professional and that industry sets targets to hit.

          He thrives on the carrot dangling on a stick in front of him – he knows the harder he works, the more money is in his pocket.  And, many times in his career he has blown right past the target and moved up quickly. Yes, it is always exciting to hear about his achievements climbing the ladder of success.

          He is a perfect example of free market system and capitalism and how it works in this day and age.  And, he started when we didn’t have the internet, we barely had mobile phones.  He easily embraced all the new technology as it came along. 

          He is a perfect example of embracing “change” in order to grow.

          You want to eat, you work; you want a nice condominium or house, you work; you want a BMW or a Jaguar, you work hard. 

          You want to go up the ladder you think outside the box and increase your value to the market place.  That phrase “value-added” includes new skills mixed with quality community activity.

          It has been an honor for me these last few decades to watch him ascend to new heights in his career. We've had countless discussions about business and careers and thinking outside the box.

          Another friend of mine went to a career seminar once and shared something with me about careers. 

If you are not moving up the corporate ladder,

maybe you just need to move the ladder.

         My banking friend knew this instinctively somehow, whereas I had to be told.

          There in is the lesson – current resume in hand – you can move your ladder anytime.

        

        

Poetry contest - took third place! STAFF MEETING

 September 16, 2020 – Poetry – took third place!

 

         For the last several years, every Spring I enter the Isothermal Community College poetry contest that is open to inhabitants of Rutherford County, North Carolina.  I sent in my poem in February and I was expecting to see a notice of the winners in May around graduation time in the local newspaper.

          I assumed I must have missed it and, didn’t think about it again.

          Yesterday I received a large envelope from the college  in the mail and at first blush I almost tossed it in the junk mail recycling, but then I hesitated and thought, maybe since I’d enrolled in previous writing classes, maybe they were drumming up students for a writing class and someone sent me a catalog.

          I opened it up and out spilled two Anuran 2020 literary magazines and a letter indicating that I had won third place in the poetry contest, along with a W-9  enclosed for me to sign and return in order to receive the prize money.

          Wow – Published and Paid!

          Without further ado – below is the poem – a personification poem where I assign human attributes to vultures.

 

STAFF MEETING

 

By Teri St. John

 

Vultures congregate in a

dead tree,

in somber suits of black

they settle into

their seats.

The meeting is called

to order.

Discussions open on the

economics of the next

free meal.

Review of profit and loss

statement –

times are tough.

Main livelihood is marginal

from interstate

road kill.

Department of agriculture reports

loss of farmland, acid rain,

feasibility of transfer

again?

Motion tabled for more

review.

Meeting adjourned.

They drop into flight

one by one

to get back to the

business of

picking bones.

 

 

“May the angels sleep on your pillow.”

 

September 15, 2020 – “May the angels sleep on your pillow.”

Left to right: Dr. Bruce, me, Father Gabriel

        Father Gabriel Meehan used to say that to me when I left his company after arranging flowers for the church on Saturday mornings, or when we talked by phone.

          Father Gabriel passed away on September 6, 2020.  He was a spiritual priest and a delightful man.

          I was honored with his presence at my table on many special holidays. He was a great conversationalist as well as a dear friend.

          Just being in his presence, made you more spiritual; he was the most “holy” man I had ever met. He alone, deepened my faith twelve fold.

          When I moved here in 1985, I began going to the small church across from Grindstaff’s on the main street of Forest City.  At that time, we would bust out the seams of the church on holy days.  A few years after his retirement, the Immaculate Conception Church dedicated a new church, 500 seats, the same year my Dad died, 2010. The small church we had then, we now call the Chapel.

          For many years, I would cut flowers from my garden, or use the flowers other gardeners had delivered to the kitchen of the church and make arrangements for the altar.  Father Gabriel loved fresh flowers and he let me “do my thing.” Many times, on my arrival, he’d call out of the front door of the rectory and ask, “Coffee?”  “Yes Father!”

         Moments later, we would drink coffee and chat while I arranged flowers.  I have fond memories of those magical stewardship moments. 

          I got a chance to ask all the questions I wanted to ask when I was in high school catechism and was afraid to ask. We covered daily life, spiritual life, and what was happening in the world.  I felt so comfortable with him.  He had a sort of twinkling eye, leprechaun effect on you.  He took me as I was, flaws an all, and I appreciated that.

          The first Fall, I had scant flowers in my garden so Father Gabriel helped me trim the blazing maples around the rectory with his trusty jack knife, and I arranged them in huge vases. 

          The next morning during Mass, an occasional bright maple leaf would plink down to the then blue carpet of the sanctuary.  The dropping of the fall leaves, one by one slowly as the temperature came up in the church during the hour or so long Mass caught everyone’s attention and Doctor Skudlarick mentioned after Mass how many he had counted.  It became a tradition, in the Fall once a year, Father Gabriel and I would do the blazing maple leaves.

          In a future blog, I will tell you the first time I invited Father Gabriel to my house one Fourth of July, when we were living in the big house. I made him his favorite, cucumbers in cream and served a whole poached salmon.  He brought along a friend, Doctor Bruce, pictured to the left of me in the photo above.

          And, a little bit of history – Father Gabriel gifted the magnificent Stations of the Cross that are between our beautiful stained glass windows in our 500 seat stone church.  We have Stations of the Cross every Friday night in Lent.  The public is welcome to attend.

God Rest your soul, Father Gabriel Joseph Meehan



July 19, 1931 - September 6, 2020

   

Bonjour

 September 14, 2020 – Bonjour!

 

         I have simply given up with the Robocalls.  They now have technology that will assign a local phone number to their calls.

          My phone of importance is in the writing room/computer room which is actually the formal living room in this house.  It is exactly a five-ring-step journey from the chair in the “day room” where I watch TV.

          Ring one is stand up, ring two, I take the turn around the corner at my husband’s chair and head toward the dining room.  Ring three I am coming out of the dining room and if I happen to be slow, I can’t catch it by Ring 4, if I want to sit down before I pick up the ringing phone. I can hardly grab the handset by ring five.

         Often, friends wonder why I say, “hello,” then say, “wait a moment,” and then come back on the line.  It is because I have answered the phone in a long arm reach and I can’t get around the desk edge with the stretched out cord in order to sit down to talk.

          And, I have discovered that the phone display no longer shows the number of the caller in the display by ring number five on my phone, which is upside down to me anyway.

          So, most of the time I rarely know who is calling and when I say, “Hello,” I get the Robocall’s “bonk” and or someone soliciting something useless on the line. 

          Several months ago I started to use the Spanish phrase, “Hola”, which is Hello, but that triggered the Robocall’s bonk just as easily as the English Hello.

          So, I switched to “Bonjour” and Robocalls don’t seem to recognize it as easily.  Good thing, sometimes I can just hang up when I hear the delayed “bonk”.

          My Dad used to have a Canadian French friend named Ollie who lived in Harvard, Massachusetts, and Dad used to call out to him in a jovial French phrase when he visited. 

          Us kids knew it was a man’s greeting and we now know that we don’t pronounce it correctly, but I use that phrase also.  It translates roughly to “How the hell are you.”  I use that one when I think of it, not caring if I offend anyone; who among my acquaintances actually knows French, even butchered pronunciation French?

          My brother, Ken, calls often and he volleys Bonjour or Dad’s familiar phrase back at me in. 

          It has been fun these last few weeks since I put “Bonjour” into practice. 

          The first time my oldest friend called and I answered Bonjour, she replied Bonjour and then I said it again and she said Bonjour with a giggle in her voice and I said, “Oh, it’s you Dorothea.”

          I was amazed I could tell it was her by just her giggle and by her pronunciation of Bonjour – because it is spot on correctly pronounced, unlike mine.

          The next time she called, I said Bonjour, and she answered in a string of French a few sentences long. I have no idea what she said, but it was delightful for me as well as her, as she hasn’t talked with her Canadian cousins in months and was getting rusty. 

          Her Dad is Canadian, and still has a charming accent, even though he has lived here in the United States for maybe 70 years or more.  My friend, Dorothea, learned enough Canadian French to converse with her cousins on their many visits to her Dad’s family.

          The Canadian accent is still prevalent in New England, where I am from.  The assimilation of the Canadians created many French words that were absorbed into the English language. Often I can tell a born New Englander by just those absorbed French words.  Sometimes it is my only clue and they are surprised when I ask them about their heritage – back to New England.

          When you call, expect the unexpected greeting. 

Bonjour!

Book rate please

 September 3, 2020 – “Book rate please,”  I asked.

 

     

    “Does this parcel contain anything fragile, liquid, perishable, or potentially hazardous like batteries or perfumes that are flammable?”

          “Not unless reading the books inflame one’s mind,” I answered with a big smile, behind my mask.  Maybe the postman could discern I had smiling eyes.

          He looked up and eyed me and said, “Good one,” and chuckled.

          Wow - the postal worker got my joke, and he even had time to chuckle. I get two points for that don’t I?

          I’m not clever verbally, very often and that just sort of popped out today – out of nowhere, even amusing myself. 

          Is that a sign? - A sign that I am getting used to this stay-at-home if you can situation, and run several errands in sequence for less of a footprint out in the public.

          I went grocery shopping last Friday mid-day and I had half a dozen things on my list I couldn’t get at the three stores I stopped at. I decided to make another stab at those today.

          Simple things that seem to be missing from the shelves, spice drop candy and ant spray for example.  I felt as if I struck gold when I found both, and my brand of cat food crunchies, as well. 

          It was a red-letter day until I got home and realized everything was crossed off my list, but I’d failed to write much needed coffee k-cups on that list.  I guess I will drink instant coffee to stretch what we have until I go grocery shopping next.  That is not roughing it too much, I trust I will survive.

          I feel invisible wearing a mask. Do you?  People seem ashamed to look at you as if they are hiding behind theirs.  They avoid looking at your eyes, they look down at the floor and scurry aside like mice when lights go on. 

          It is a shame no one knows if you are scowling behind your mask or smiling, a confident walk can only go so far.  A muffled “Have a great day!” seems to just be lost now in this masked situation. 

          Gosh, I used to toss them out to total strangers all the time, especially when gallant Southern men held doors open for me.  “Thank you so much, you are so gallant!”  It just doesn’t have the same ring when they can’t see your genuine smile because of a mask. I miss those halcyon days.

          At the next stop, I did the side step swish with an on-coming gal in a classy outfit who had a color-coordinated mask.  I tossed her a compliment,

          “You look nice!”

          She paused a millisecond and decided she didn’t know me, and swiftly moved on. I guess I shocked her – is there some rule that masked people aren’t supposed to be nice to the oncoming pedestrian traffic?

          I hope it improved the rest of her day. I hope she wondered later – “Who was that masked woman?”

          The best we can do in these Covid19 times is to be upbeat, and continue on as best we can.  I am trying to with as much levity and charm, as I can muster.

          Stay well everyone.