Posts Tagged ‘work’

I volunteer at a cat adoption center. Though non-paying, the job has its perks (paid in otherwise non-adoptable cats) and satisfactions (The stitches from Freddie’s bite came out yesterday and the wound is no longer infected.)

I truly enjoy helping people find the perfect cat. “No, Freddie does not normally bite – he’s the sweetest kitty ever – but he lost it when we shoved him into a cage.” One thing though never ceases to bug me. It’s those clueless people who come looking for a cat that does not shed.

Well, people, cat hair comes with the cat. Usually attached, but often (daily) detached (for evolutionary reasons that I can’t fathom). So you either forget about a cat or get a cat and get over it. Every day is a bad hair day when you share your home with a cat (or a dog, or your children – they all shed!). That’s what vacuuming is for. Bear in mind that some (most) cat hair adheres with tenacity stronger than super glue, in which case vacuuming is counter productive. And unless your income is in the top 5% of US households, forget hair rollers, as you need three per day (with one cat) to maintain your home in it’s pre-cat hairless condition.

So if you’re interviewing for a job, it’s a must to keep a separate pristine set of clothes at your friend’s – I mean the friend who does not own a cat or a dog, or any other hair-shedding living thing. I’m giving you this advice from experience. Once a friend of mine went on a job interview for which she was eminently qualified – and this is a real story with sobering consequences. She was confident the job was hers because, well, she was the only candidate.

She didn’t get the job! We did a lengthy, tearful, post-mortem. Was it her curly hair (not professional)? Maybe the skirt was too short? Or – the unthinkable – her typing at 120 WPM too slow?

No, it was conspicuous cat hair on her black suit.

Moral of the story: (a) If you want a job at a law firm, you need to look dignified, and (b) if you’re going to a job interview in a black suit, you’d better own a black cat.

Final note, if you need that job real bad, Cat Adoption Team of Wilmington has plenty of black cats for adoption at PetSmart. Adoption hours: daily 5:00-7:00 PM and all day Saturday and Sunday.


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So you have a home office – and that is your only office. And you commute regularly from your bedroom to the aforementioned office. You don’t even need to get dressed until 8:00 PM when you remember that you haven’t had breakfast yet (not to mention lunch and dinner) and when you open the refrigerator, you’re looking at an expanse of glass shelves covered by hints of meals past but nothing indicating possibilities for breakfast, lunch or dinner now.

You finally cast off what you slept in (was this also what I wore to the office yesterday?), throw on something to cover the lower half and something else to cover the top half of your body, hoping the two parts make a coherent assemblage, or at least meet in the middle to cover your midriff, which used to be presentable several decades ago, but at this hour of the night you’d rather not scare the college kids you’ll encounter at the supermarket purchasing their daily quota of alcohol, because what your midriff is saying is “this is what happens after 44,000 snacks,” since while you tend to forget about breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner, snacks are entirely a different matter.

To make a short story long, one day I realized that I had spent the last six months circling between the bedroom, office, and kitchen and other than talking on the phone to disembodied voices, I was chatting face-to-face only with my cats. My extended trips were to the supermarket and to the pet store. Didn’t even get near the mall, because who needs clothes when you commute from one room to another?

Clearly it was time to take a trip. I mean a real trip, to Laos, Vietnam, or Alaska. I settled on Amsterdam, where my cousin had an apartment I could use for a whole week while he was away. The only stipulation was that I look after his precious cat Zelda. He said Zelda should never go out. He failed to mention that Zelda didn’t know that and the first thing that Zelda did when I opened the door was dart out. I spent my first five days in Amsterdam searching for the cat. Got to know that little suburb of Amsterdam quite well, including backyards and the pet store where I bought lots of smelly canned cat food at exorbitant prices. Had some explaining to do to the police called by suspicious neighbors who saw me prowling among the bushes at night. But in the end I did spend two wonderful days exploring Amsterdam. And those last two nights I also had a good face-to-face chat with my cousin’s cat.

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