I hinted a couple weeks ago at something pretty exciting. It made the front page of the July 9 Arizona Republic newspaper:
What the story didn't fully explain:
The Great State of Arizona accepted a federal grant under the Workforce Investment Act to open additional Access Points for the state's Workforce Connection program. I am going to be an Access Point Trainer.
Starting next Sunday afternoon, one of the big churches in my 'hood is opening an Access Point office, so anyone from the community, not just church members (and not even restricted to those of the Christian faith) can stop in for resume reviews, interviewing tips, and help in accessing job boards and filling out applications. Or, if they just need someone to vent to or to pray with, I can do that as well.
The staff at the Workforce Connection sites are all extremely competent and compassionate, but are overwhelmed; Arizona is still facing a $2Billion budget shortfall (they missed their June 30 deadline) so is making cuts across the board, many times resulting in cuts to programs and services that are most in demand. Access Points bring the services into more neighborhoods, and simply helps to spread the services across more people.
The Trainer position is volunteer for now; the grant money goes towards the material. Because it is under a federal grant, it is portable, so if I end up moving to Seattle or Minneapolis or wherever my next job will take me, I could conceivably volunteer in a new state. And, it is another bullet point on my resume.
I have said several times that, while I have no pleasure in being unemployed, I do find the process of looking for work to be fascinating. And, I've long held to the saying, "Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." I've wanted to find opportunities to teach / coach / train / mentor, and this seems like a pretty obvious convergence of desires, interests, and current situation. I'm pretty excited about it.
And I get my picture in the paper to boot!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Dress for Success, in job searching
A number of years ago, I had a debate with my high school civics teacher over the book, “Dress for Success.” I called it a debate; I’m sure Mr. Niemela called it something else. I just would not accept that anyone should be judged by anything other than his or her own merit. I believed that if you work hard and produce good work, then success will follow.
I still believe that. But, as I’ve gotten older and have spent a few years in the business world, I do understand that if you want anyone else to take your success seriously, they have to take you seriously as well.
When you’re out of work and looking for work, then your job is to find a job. Why, then, would you show up to networking meetings or employment seminars wearing gym shorts and flip flops and baseball caps?
And what is with the entitlement attitude exhibited by some of these people? Losing your job is traumatic, and being unemployed is stressful. You are not helping yourself at all, though, by arguing with presenters who are trying to share information, or Tsking when you don’t agree (just ask Mr. Niemela).
I’m sure these folks are not expecting an employer to shake their hands and offer them a position on the spot, but you never know. As I spend more time networking and meeting people, I am seeing more and more employers at these various events, and today, one was even pre-screening at an event I was at.
Even if there are no employers at some of these events, the other 9.5% unemployed workers are all potential resources, potential leads, or if nothing else, a sympathetic ear. I have to say this, though: My heart goes out to everyone who is currently looking for a job, and I am more than happy to pass along some helpful advice, or potential leads. But, I am more likely to want to help those who seem to be taking their job search seriously. And wearing your Kobe Bryant basketball jersey to a seminar does not scream to me that you are taking your job search seriously.
I think I just realized I’m turning into my dad.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Find my iPhone!
Find My iPhone Now Available!
So, if you ever lose your iPhone, you can go to the Web and do a satellite search.
Pretty cool! I just tried it, and it narrowed my phone down to somewhere in my apartment complex.
It eventually may have zoomed in closer, but you can set it up to make a sound, even in silent mode.
Those wacky guys at Apple, what will they think of next?
So, if you ever lose your iPhone, you can go to the Web and do a satellite search.
Pretty cool! I just tried it, and it narrowed my phone down to somewhere in my apartment complex.
It eventually may have zoomed in closer, but you can set it up to make a sound, even in silent mode.
Those wacky guys at Apple, what will they think of next?
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Stay in school, or leave early?
The NBA draft is coming up this week, and once again, the mock-draft boards by people who pay more attention than I do is littered with underclassmen. In fact, the 2008 Player of the Year, North Carolina senior Tyler Hansbrough, may not even be picked in the top 20.
On the one hand, I do not begrudge a youngster to strike while the iron is hot, to start making the big money now and bank it for the future. It's free-enterprise, capitalism, and the libertarian right to do what you please without regard to rules or naysayers (like me) telling you what to do.
On the other hand, I wonder how LeBron James feels now -- MVP season, a statistical career like few others have ever had, yet falling well short of his stated goal of a championship.
Now, there are millions of reasons to participate in sports besides winning championships. Lord knows I've never been close to one, and still enjoyed the thrill of participating. However, when you are being paid the amount of money they throw around in pro sports, there should be an expectation of production.
The worst things that have ever happened to the NBA are the unquestionably successful careers of Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Kevin Garnett -- all who skipped college entirely to jump to the NBA from high school. The unfortunate result is, any high school kid who wins a game of HORSE believes he has what it takes to make the jump as well. Yet for every Kobe or LeBron or KG, how many countless Kris Humphrey's or Rick Rickerts are there, players who believed their inflated hypes and the ill-advised recommendations of "friends" and made the jump prematurely, getting scant minutes in the NBA (Humphrey) or never making the NBA at all (Rickert)? Although, they do have Wiki pages, which I guess is pretty cool (I don't have one!).
The vast majority of underclassmen declaring for the NBA draft simply are not ready to play in the NBA. They are talented but have few skills (Humphrey led the Big 10 in points per game and rebounding, but averaged 0.3 assists per game; I suspect the ball was slapped from his hands and ended up with a teammate once every three games. The basic play was, throw the ball in to Humphrey and turn around and set up for defense because he didn't know how to pass it back). And weak skills are making the NBA weaker as a result.
Contrast that with University of Colorado track star Jenny Barringer, who while a senior, has one more semester to complete. With her performance at the 2009 Prefontaine Classic, Barringer became only the third American to break 4:00 for the 1,500 meters (and one of the other two is suspected of using performance enhancing drugs, though most likely later in her career). She is considered a near-lock to qualify for the US World Championship team next week, where she has here eyes set on a medal. She's never been hotter than she is right now, and a poor showing at US Nationals or the World Championships in August could conceivably cost her money. But, she wants to graduate, and she wants to have one more season with Colorado's Cross-Country team in order to win a collegiate national championship. Is she making a mistake? Maybe if your definition of success is money. However, I admire the hell out of her decision, and will be paying close attention to her this summer, and hopefully for may summers to come.
On the one hand, I do not begrudge a youngster to strike while the iron is hot, to start making the big money now and bank it for the future. It's free-enterprise, capitalism, and the libertarian right to do what you please without regard to rules or naysayers (like me) telling you what to do.
On the other hand, I wonder how LeBron James feels now -- MVP season, a statistical career like few others have ever had, yet falling well short of his stated goal of a championship.
Now, there are millions of reasons to participate in sports besides winning championships. Lord knows I've never been close to one, and still enjoyed the thrill of participating. However, when you are being paid the amount of money they throw around in pro sports, there should be an expectation of production.
The worst things that have ever happened to the NBA are the unquestionably successful careers of Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Kevin Garnett -- all who skipped college entirely to jump to the NBA from high school. The unfortunate result is, any high school kid who wins a game of HORSE believes he has what it takes to make the jump as well. Yet for every Kobe or LeBron or KG, how many countless Kris Humphrey's or Rick Rickerts are there, players who believed their inflated hypes and the ill-advised recommendations of "friends" and made the jump prematurely, getting scant minutes in the NBA (Humphrey) or never making the NBA at all (Rickert)? Although, they do have Wiki pages, which I guess is pretty cool (I don't have one!).
The vast majority of underclassmen declaring for the NBA draft simply are not ready to play in the NBA. They are talented but have few skills (Humphrey led the Big 10 in points per game and rebounding, but averaged 0.3 assists per game; I suspect the ball was slapped from his hands and ended up with a teammate once every three games. The basic play was, throw the ball in to Humphrey and turn around and set up for defense because he didn't know how to pass it back). And weak skills are making the NBA weaker as a result.
Contrast that with University of Colorado track star Jenny Barringer, who while a senior, has one more semester to complete. With her performance at the 2009 Prefontaine Classic, Barringer became only the third American to break 4:00 for the 1,500 meters (and one of the other two is suspected of using performance enhancing drugs, though most likely later in her career). She is considered a near-lock to qualify for the US World Championship team next week, where she has here eyes set on a medal. She's never been hotter than she is right now, and a poor showing at US Nationals or the World Championships in August could conceivably cost her money. But, she wants to graduate, and she wants to have one more season with Colorado's Cross-Country team in order to win a collegiate national championship. Is she making a mistake? Maybe if your definition of success is money. However, I admire the hell out of her decision, and will be paying close attention to her this summer, and hopefully for may summers to come.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
How to Anger a Snake
I’ve been a Tarzan fan for years, though truth be told, it’s been years since I’ve read any of the original Edgar Rice Burroughs’ books. At my suggestion, my Science Fiction book club recently read “Tarzan of the Apes”. Sadly, only I and one other member bothered to read it. Others were relying on memory (or the Weissmuller movies), or simply chose to not read at all.
All the pity, as TotA is a remarkably imaginative. Who couldn’t thrill to the possibilities! Running around the jungle, fighting jungle animals for survival, clad only in a loincloth and a hunting knife, a rope, and a bow and arrows – the way man was meant to live!
Maybe that’s the problem. Despite such strong role models as Sheena Queen of the Jungle, Jana Jungle Girl, and Leopard Woman, I know of no females who ever really found the appeal of the Tarzan stories.
Tarzan eventually married Jane and for a time lived in England, claiming his royal title as Lord Greystoke. They had a child, Jack. One day, while attending a zoo or a circus (it’s been 30 years and the details are a bit fuzzy), Tarzan and Jack see some of Tarzan’s former Great Ape playmates locked up in cages. Again I forget the exact details, but somehow this becomes the catalyst for young Jack to leave home and return with his new Great Ape friends to the jungles of Africa.
The Great Apes had trouble pronouncing the name “Jack,” so hence forward, Jack was known as Korak, Son of Tarzan. Even when Korak met with humans who presumably could have pronounced his name correctly, he introduced himself as Korak Son of Tarzan, always name-dropping his much more renowned father (who was, after all, Lord of the Jungle).
I always gravitated to Korak Son of Tarzan. I did not have the good fortune to be born in the jungle and raised by the Great Ape from infancy, but I could conceivably run off to the jungle now, by choice, and live out my adolescent fantasy.
Plus, according to the Gold Key comic book series, Korak Son of Tarzan had great hair.
REQUISITE SPOILER ALERT for those of you who plan to read this story yourself.
This particular story, published in June 1968, involves giant carnivorous frogs terrorizing an African village. Thanks to High School biology, I know frogs eat bugs, so if they grew to giant proportions, they would have the razor-sharp shark teeth as on the cover. Everything makes sense so far.
After a couple very exciting plot points, the villagers have gathered at the top of the falls to sacrifice a goat, hoping to appease the giant carnivorous frogs. Korak Son of Tarzan sneaks into the tent of the evil witch doctor, pulling a candle stub from his loin cloth for light (where else was he going to carry it? After all, he didn’t have a Batman utility belt.). He finds… a giant carnivorous frog costume! The evil witch doctor has used the real giant carnivorous frogs to camouflage his own nefarious schemes. When the evil witch doctor returns, Korak Son of Tarzan confronts him, and marches him out in front of the villagers. The evil witch doctor twists free, and flings an angry poisonous snake at Korak Son of Tarzan!
With his lightning-quick hands, Korak Son of Tarzan grabs the angry poisonous snake and wrings its life from it, while the evil witch doctor dives into the white frothing water, and does not bob to the surface. Did he perish on the jagged rocks, or did he escape to torment Korak Son of Tarzan another day?
Apparently, the evil witch doctor had been carrying the angry poisonous snake in his loincloth. I can’t really explain this. It does raise the question: did the evil witch doctor carry a poisonous snake in his loin cloth because he was evil, or was the evil witch doctor evil because he carried an angry poisonous snake in his loin cloth? Regardless, I have a pretty good idea why the snake was so angry.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Something to aspire to
Now that the daytime high temps in Phoenix are topping 100 degrees, I'm trying this new thing, where I get up at 5:30 AM in order to get my runs or hikes in early. So far, it's working reasonably well (thanks, alarm-clock-feature-on-my-iPhone!), except I haven't quite figured out that I should go to bed earlier as well. As it is, I've discovered the pure pleasure of the afternoon nap. But, things will work out soon.
I'm probably stressing about this too much. Last week was the Arizona High School Regional Track & Field meets, with the State Meets this week. Temps are over 100 degrees, with nary a tree in sight. Doesn't see to faze the kids, though. They just run or jump or throw. It's the parents who are the weenies, several of them hanging out in the relative shade below the bleachers, until their daughters or sons run.
Hiking in Phoenix means climbing barren rock trails straight up the sides of one of our several mountains. Rattlesnakes and things that look like mini-Komodo Dragons are not uncommon (seriously, what are those things with the yellow tail, orange body, and black heads; and should I be concerned when they bare their fangs and charge at me?). As opposed to, say, Minnesota, where hiking means strolling along worn dirt paths in a serenely wooded area, where you might run into a curious skunk or rabbit or two.
Not knocking Minnesota hikes. I love walking through woods, along rivers, around lakes. Just that hiking in Arizona is much more of a combination cardio and strength workout.
Or, at least it is for me. After scrambling up a particular section, CamelPak securely fastened to my back, I confess I have to stop and catch my breath. Only to see one (or more) of Phoenix's beautiful people strolling past me, carrying Starbucks cups and wearing flip-flops, the hot women in their jog bras and tight abs, the shirtless bohunk dudes who still have their hair, with geometric tattoos on their chests (shorts hanging off their buttocks, natch). Often, they'll reach the top, retrace their steps, and then do it all over again. No wonder they're beautiful.
I'm probably stressing about this too much. Last week was the Arizona High School Regional Track & Field meets, with the State Meets this week. Temps are over 100 degrees, with nary a tree in sight. Doesn't see to faze the kids, though. They just run or jump or throw. It's the parents who are the weenies, several of them hanging out in the relative shade below the bleachers, until their daughters or sons run.
Hiking in Phoenix means climbing barren rock trails straight up the sides of one of our several mountains. Rattlesnakes and things that look like mini-Komodo Dragons are not uncommon (seriously, what are those things with the yellow tail, orange body, and black heads; and should I be concerned when they bare their fangs and charge at me?). As opposed to, say, Minnesota, where hiking means strolling along worn dirt paths in a serenely wooded area, where you might run into a curious skunk or rabbit or two.
Not knocking Minnesota hikes. I love walking through woods, along rivers, around lakes. Just that hiking in Arizona is much more of a combination cardio and strength workout.
Or, at least it is for me. After scrambling up a particular section, CamelPak securely fastened to my back, I confess I have to stop and catch my breath. Only to see one (or more) of Phoenix's beautiful people strolling past me, carrying Starbucks cups and wearing flip-flops, the hot women in their jog bras and tight abs, the shirtless bohunk dudes who still have their hair, with geometric tattoos on their chests (shorts hanging off their buttocks, natch). Often, they'll reach the top, retrace their steps, and then do it all over again. No wonder they're beautiful.
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