Carrie’s Ramblings

The true meaning of Christmas0
Carrie posted in Rants on November 30th, 2009

I would like to take a moment to let you all know how many of your Yukon tax dollars have been spent on The True Meaning of Christmas thus far.

It started with an email from a representative of the Social Planning committee here at Environment Yukon.  It rather innocently stated,[subject title] Christmas Gift Exchange, “We are trying to bring back this fun, inexpensive way for staff to get together and just enjoy so…that being said, please keep your gifts under $15.  Be creative - there are a lot of interesting and cool gifts out there for this price range.”

Now my position on this email was to ignore it.  I’m not going to be there, I’m heading home, you can exchange to your heart’s content. So I didn’t give it another thought, until this happened:

Bob emails back, “Call me a Scrooge but my feeling is that we could spend $1500.00 in a much better way that would embody the true spirit of Christmas by actually helping someone in need…” Then he went on to say that our social get together could involve some meaningful discussions on how we spend this money to help people in dire need.  He provided some links to great organisations etc etc etc.

My reaction this time was to think, I guess that’s true because you usually end with a candle and some chocolates that someone bought at the last minute because it’s generic and anyone could like it, blah blah blah. And to ignore it.  I’m not going to be there, you can NOT exchange to your heart’s content, I don’t care.
But then Billy, Suzie, Joey, Michelle and whoever else piped in with their support comments that were variations of this phrase, “Great idea Bob! Thanks for reminding us about the true meaning of Christmas…it’s about helping others in need/it’s about getting together and sharing/it’s about finding what really matters/it’s about thinking about others/blah blah blah.”  You get the picture.  Lots of people being reminded about the “TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS.”

Thing is, all these people think that everyone is in agreement, so they REPLY ALL to everyone in Environment Yukon.

But from where I sit, and I sit in a pretty central (read: gossipy/water-cooler-like) location, I’ve been hearing differently.

The people who don’t agree are grumbling to themselves.  They are whispering in the hallways about so-and-so’s comment and what Whosit had to say.  With malice in their voices they are gossiping to each about how they don’t want to give to a charity they just want to have a social party with their friends, and Bob is only saying this because last year he got stuck with the pink fuzzy handcuffs and couldn’t take a joke.  None of these people are emailing “REPLY ALL” though, but instead just bitching to each other, so those on the fence are now thinking, “Well I guess everyone must want to give to a charity,” and a serious case of Groupthink settles in.

Now I’m a big cheerleader for good communication and saying what you mean or else shut up about it, but I understand why these rebels won’t Reply All.  Because who’s going to stand up and say, “Actually, in this festive season I would not like to give to charity and instead contribute to our meaningless consumer driven lives by buying cheap Chinese junk and getting drunk with friends/colleagues”?  No one is going to actually confess to that! But lots of people are thinking it.

So now there are bitter whisperings about ‘The True meaning of Christmas.’  People are saying “It’s about helping others,” others are saying, “It’s about getting together with friends and being merry.”  Oh there is a whole range of responses to this question and meanwhile I’m trying to get work done because I’m getting OUT OF HERE for Christmas (that’s what the true meaning of Christmas is to me) but my Inbox is being flooded by all of these people TELLING me what the true spirit of Christmas is all about.

But I’m still reading all this and keeping my mouth shut. For a change. But here are my thoughts (you know I have them):

#1)  It is true that Christmas is WAY too consumer driven.  While I’m a fan of Chinese Gift Exchanges because they’re usually pretty hysterical, I agree that more often than not you end up with some ridiculously useless stuff. And $15 is a lot of money for useless stuff.  It can’t be specific really to a person because anybody could end up with it, and so what are you going to get?  Which is why I support the Christmas List.  Though selfish and greedy in appearance, I believe that properly utilised this service actually benefits “The Christmas Spirit”.   A) You get the person something they actually want/need/value.  B) You don’t have to buy random junk and hope that you can pretend you actually know them well enough to know what they’d like.  C) You don’t have to spend as much time shopping for random things but instead can shop with purpose, thus freeing time for other Christmas activities such as criticising family haircuts, consuming copious amounts of Egg Nog, and working overtime to pay for your ridiculously high electric bill for all the extra Christmas lights. But I’m off topic now.  Point #1 is, I see where the Charity-Hippies are coming from I don’t really feel like shopping for junk either.

HOWEVER, here is thought #2)

How dare you make me feel like less of a decent human being because I want to get together with my friends/colleagues and exchange some gifts? Because that’s totally the way ALL of those emails came across.  “Thanks for reminding us about the true meaning of Christmas”?  Is that a jab?  What are you saying exactly?  What was at first worth ignoring only, was now getting me riled up.  Suddenly all of those emails translated into, “We are superior beings because we refuse to participate in the Capitalist Christmas Craze and you lowly people are so petty.”  Which may or may not have been the intent but that’s what happens when you REPLY ALL.  I swear that  button should not exist on Government emails.

Thought #3)  I don’t care, I’m not going to be here anyway.  Do whatever you want.

But what really irritated me more than anything were all the people telling me what “The true meaning of Christmas is all about.” That just irked me.  You can’t define what “Christmas is all about” to other people.  In this day when Jews are putting up Hannuka bushes and people are wishing each other “Seasons Greetings” for fear of insulting one another, there is no set definition on the “Spirit of Christmas”.

So I can hardly bite my tongue anymore.  But you’ll be comforted to know that while Bruce and I are trouble makers in the department, real rebels, we did have better sense than to actually say what I’m about to say.  Instead we laughed long and hard about all the ways we could stir the pot, and then actually spent time DOING OUR JOBS.  As opposed to Replying All.  But I thought of replying 2 things:

#1)  I’m Jewish.

or

#2) [picture my young, innocent face, amongst all the hippies that work for YG and old cronies that are just biding their time ’til retirement] “I thought the true meaning of Christmas was about Jesus the Messiah being sent to Earth by God to save us all from sin?  I’ll pray for your souls tonight.”

Just imagine the reaction.  Or lack thereof.  Who’s going to actually write something down and Reply All arguing against that?  Because, technically, I mean technically, I’m right.  And technically, if you argue against me, I could claim discrimination based on religious beliefs or something ridiculous like that. So by saying that, my real goal, other than conversion of all the sinners in the world, is to shut-people-up.  MY GOD!  Move on people!

I can just picture my fellow Environment Yukon hippies being afraid to walk by the Bible-Thumper’s office.  No one would come and bug me with Make-Work-Projects.  I would always get what I wanted from people because they would be afraid of the wrath of God I could bring with me.  I could get out of doing work by saying I have to go to church.  It would be great.

It could also be career-limiting.  So Bruce and I laughed long and hard about it, then moved on. I figured it would be hypocritical to try and tell other people about the True Meaning of Christmas.

Hunting for the rare and elusive Job0
Carrie posted in Rants on October 21st, 2008

Job hunting has become annoying at best. Frustrating and annoying. Frustration because of complicating systems that are incredibly difficult to break into, and annoying because of the number of people who say to me “How can you be unemployed in this city?” To the latter comment I reply, “Because I don’t want to be a check-out girl, a coffee barista, or sales person at Shopper’s Drugmart.” As Ryan put it, there’s lots of work just not a lot of jobs.
The other problem is that many of the job postings right now are for senior level positions. Managers, supervisors, directors etc, all of whom want applicants to have at least X number of years of experience in that field. Without many junior level positions, internships, assistant-whatever position it’s hard to break into a field with just an education and no field experience. And so I’ve resorted to applying for administrative assistant positions and student works possibilities just to get a foot in the door. Then I’m faced with a similar problem as the managerial positions, “You have a Master’s degree and you’re applying to be a secretary?”
It’s like I’m stuck in the no man’s land of eligibility. Over-qualified for helper positions and yet with inadequate experience to step into management jobs. They sure don’t cover this stage in those stupid high school “Careers” courses.
The final and most unpenetrable blockage on my road to successful career building is the bizarre systems set up by the governments to provide equitable employment opportunities yet still be able to narrow down the field. For example, I had an interview with YTG last week in which I had one hour to prepare a written response on the computer to an essay questions regarding “What I would do if…” then 15 minutes to read over 7 standard questions that they ask all candidates. I figured they would use the questions as a base and then spread out from there asking me a bit more about my experience and qualifications etc. Nope. Two women came in and read the questions word-for-word then put their heads down and copied out everything I said. They could have saved a lot of time if I had just continued to answer these questions when I was at the computer writing my essay. They didn’t look at me, ask further questions, or even nod disagreement or encouragement. It was like an oral exam!
The federal government is not much better though I haven’t even gotten as far as an interview. You have to fill out all these online forms regarding your background, education, transcripts, etc and then click match and the system tries to line you up with different available positions. I could tell that this worked really well when nursing jobs continued to come up as matching my qualifications. That was sarcasm in case you couldn’t pick it out against the whining tone of this entry. If and when you are matched to a job that is remotely related to your interests/qualifications then you still have to go through these online forms “Do you have experience working with data processing systems? If yes, describe using concrete examples.” Followed by the next question “Do you have experience working systems such as Excel? If yes, describe using concrete examples.” And there are half a dozen more questions just like that nearly asking the same thing, only not. If you have the patience and resolution to actually fill out these questions and make it to the next stage you have to register for these random intelligence tests at the nearest major city centre. I don’t know what’s after that because I’m so annoyed and tired of the whole process I’ve given up. To effort required to break into the government jobs is just one more reason that you don’t want to work for the government.
My job hunt has turned from a carefree wander, casually looking here and there for different possibilities and turning my nose up at retail and waitressing jobs, to a silent resolution and defeatist approach to whatever possibilities are remotely close to my interests.
I’m not saying I’m prepared to do anything at this point but this housewife thing is getting old. The question is, how desperate am I? Is it time to put my 3 university degrees to good use in a seriously awesome moccachino? Or do I exercise some more patience and wait for something golden. The only question then is, how long?

Fine then4
Carrie posted in Rants on September 12th, 2007

Yeah I’m ticked. You could say that. Upset. Angry. Actually, at this moment sulking would be a more accurate adjective. It’s about Grad Office space.

Now I don’t want another office. I have an apartment to myself which isn’t roomy but it’s mine and I can organise it how I feel. (And organise I do!) Why would I want to spread my mess (though an organised mess) out in another space? Just another place for me to lose things. Plus the office space they’re offering me is approximately 20 metres away from my apartment in Kenora House here in Bartley Residence. (It’s been converted to office space, yet we were turning students away from Res because we’re full…don’t ask me, I just work here). So I’m like, Why bother? So our coordinator asks us to email him and let him know if we’re not going to be using it. So I did. And he emails back and says, “But you’re a GA! You’re entitled to that space and where are you going to meet students and such?”

I had an office in that House all last year and never set foot in it. I never even went in to have a look around. It wasn’t a problem. If I need to meet with my students then finding space is not difficult plus if I have Master keys anyway so I’ll just go and use it. And it’s not like I’m going to hold office hours there because the main door is always locked so students can’t just walk in anyway without an appointment. So no great loss there. Here’s the kicker though. There are 9 of us who are supposed to share 4 desks in that room. I shouldn’t complain, the Economics department has 12 on their list. When you need to use the room, you go to Front Desk during working hours (how many Grad students do you think actually do most of their work during working hours?) and sign out a key. There are 4 keys. First come, first serve. If you’re number 5, you’re SOL.

But, I suppose you’re wondering why this is even an issue since I’m not planning on using the room? Because the part that gets me mad isn’t even about office space. Lack of office space is not the department’s fault. It’s not even the fault of Grad Studies. We just don’t have enough space and complaining about it is not going to get us more space. There physically is not enough space. Instead of building office space on campus they built a Bike Shack. A fancy bike castle. So that the people who ride their bikes to school in the winter won’t have to store their bikes in the harsh -30C weather. IF YOU RODE YOUR BIKE TO SCHOOL IN THAT WEATHER I THINK IT’LL SURVIVE SITTING OUTSIDE IN THE SNOW FOR A COUPLE OF HOURS!

My beef is with the Research Centre. We have this reasonably spacious room, right in the Rec Hall (downtown Recerville) that we had used as our “Club room” last year. “We” being Grad students. We worked there but called it the Club room because we spent a good percentage of our time gossiping and venting. But we still got our work done. We’re big kids, we can handle it. We can also deal with the consequences of not getting our work done. It’s called Not-being-in-Grade-4-anymore. The room has 5 computers (4 of which are MACs), 2 nice big tables with chairs around them, and lots of cupboard space for storage of surveys or interviews or what have you. It’s called the Centre for Parks, Recreation and Tourism Research. Well I’m doing Park, Recreation, and Tourism research so why is it that I’m not allowed to use the room anymore?

Three students have been assigned that room as their Grad office. Three Grad students have been assigned the windowless sessional office at the other end of the hall as their Grad office(it could fit at least 4, if not more). The remaining 9 ORPT Grad students have to queue up to fight it out for a corner of a Bartley Dorm room. On the other side of campus. Far away from the Rec Hall and the profs and students who need to talk to us, and to whom we need to talk. Three students for that whole room! And it’s clearly not going to be like last year where we just went there and hung out anyway. Because at the end of the email is this nice comment, “The Research centre is NOT to be used as a place to congregate as it was last year.” Wow, that was subtle. What was the big deal with us in there anyway? So we chatted a bit, but it was a good working atmosphere and we could use each other as a resources and ask questions and do group projects and chill out a bit! Profs knew where to find us and they would ask if so-and-so was coming in that day and if not someone could MSN them and be like, “Come in today because Dr. X is looking for you” and you’d answer, “Okay, I’m on my way.” Students could ask us questions instead of bothering the profs. Jamie regularly made cookies as a form of procrastination and brought them in because she couldn’t eat them herself. Even Profs can’t argue with cookies. It was a good system.

So yeah, I’m bitter. I’m not even mad though. But I’m bitter. Fine then, I’m not welcome in the Rec Hall anymore.

AND HERE’S ANOTHER THING ABOUT GRAD SCHOOL! I met with my committee yesterday who all inhaled deeply and raised their eyebrows when I answered that I was planning on graduating in May. May would be the end of the term. May 2008 would the end of my 2-year Grad school programme. IT SHOULD NOT BE HARD TO GRADUATE AT THE END OF YOUR 2-YEAR PROGRAMME. This should not be unreasonable! It’s a 2-year programme; in May, it will have been 2 years. And I’m WAY ahead of my classmates. They haven’t even collected their data yet and I’m analysing it already. If it’s so impossible to finish ORPT Grad school in 2 years, THEN MAYBE IT SHOULDN’T BE A 2-YEAR PROGRAMME. I’ve been here for 6 years. I love Thunder Bay, but it’s time for the real world. Two years is enough for me.

But it’s alright, I’m not even mad. Now I’m going to finish in two years just to spite them. Because they thought it couldn’t done. Without office space. Take that. Fine then.

Messengers from God6
Carrie posted in Rants, Fan favourites on June 21st, 2007

Today I was pulling weeds from the front garden and setting sprinklers on the parched lawn when two guys in suits called out to me. I had seen them earlier going up to a house down the street and thought it must another prom night. Though, I also considered Wednesday to be a strange night for a prom.
“Are you enjoying your gardening, ma’am?” they asked.
Weird.
I considered the question: I’m pulling up mutant Dandelions from rock hard soil in someone else’s garden with a slot screw-driver because it was all I could find and wasting water while watering a lawn in a semi-arid climate (a no-win situation you understand) because the lawns on either side look like putting greens and I’m embarrassed.
“Yes I am! Quite a bit, actually!” I answered. However, I grimaced as soon as they asked me the Million Dollar question:
“Have you heard of the prophet who walks the Earth among us today?”
Oh god. Literally. Evangelists of some flavour. There is a Church of Jesus of Latter Day Saints in town but the accent was a dead give away. American evangelists.
“You mean recently?” I asked, glancing up from my gardening which is suddenly very important.
“Yes, as the Lord said, he speaks to us through his messengers, his angels and his prophets and he has blessed us with his words in a modern day prophet who teaches us his ways and in whom we can find comfort.” Now you have to understand the context of this rehearsed speech. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon (though god’s bowling alley does seem to be moving up from down valley) and they are in 3-piece suits, polished shoes and spending their afternoon wandering around spreading The Word to 99% of the people who don’t want to hear it. And these boys are young! I thought they were going to a prom or maybe even junior semi-formal!
I pause from ripping up god’s weeds in my garden and look at the boys. One then the other. These guys are for real!
“Uh-huh,” I articulate and then go back to the patch of soil and weeds barely classified as a garden. “And what does this prophet have to say?”
“He brings the word of God to the people teaching us to know God through the Lord Jesus Christ which is the only way any of us will meet our Lord once again,” proclaimed the preacher. “This prophet has come to Earth to do the Lord’s work.”
“Aren’t we all supposed to be doing the Lord’s work? I only mean, it’s not the sole responsibility of the prophets and we shouldn’t have to wait for instructions.”
“Well prophets help us to know God by providing a direct connection and proof of God’s love for us,” the boy replied.
“Proof?” I asked. “Why do we need proof? Isn’t that why they call it faith? Because you have to believe in something without any proof? Why do there always need to be answers to everything?”
“I don’t pretend to have the answers to everything–”
“And I’m not saying you do! But I’m not sure that people need the words of a ‘prophet’ to tell them how to be closer to god.” At this point gardening has taken on new meaning for me. I pulled up more weeds during our 37 second conversation then I did for the whole 10 minutes before. I humour them, “And what makes this prophet so important?”
It’s rather amazing what you’ll put up with when you’re pulling up someone else’s weeds with no music and the deepest conversation you’ve had in 2 days has been a monologue with the dog on the intricacies of baking a quiche with no recipe. Very one-sided. Normally I don’t have the patience to listen to other people tell me how I’m going to know god. I’m not really captivated by gardening though. The dog and I waited for the answer.
“Well this prophet helps us to understand and combat the problems facing the world today. Things like polygamy,” (isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black I thought), “abortion, homosexuality, climate change, war…” and he went about a bunch of stuff that I’m not sure the lord had anything to do with and I’m fairly certain are a direct result of humans being stupid. “…in the end, prophets help us to do good work in the Lord’s name–”

That’s it. That was the line.

“The lord’s name!?!?” I cut him off. “Don’t you think that the majority of the problems in this world are CAUSED by people ‘doing work in the Lord’s name?’ I mean, Jesus Christ, Allah, Yahweh, Buddha, Gaia, Shiva, Zeus, Ra, take your pick! But there are more problems on this Earth from people doing work in the Lord’s name then I think the lord really wants to take credit for!” Ohmigod I just ended a sentence with a preposition. I plow on regardless. “I think your prophet would have a lot less to talk about if people would just STOP doing things in the Lord’s name.” I’m not shouting, but I am emphasizing my point clearly. I hope the fetus you save is gay. Take that non-prochoice homophobes.
He hesitates, “Well I would have to agree with you there.”
I turn to his ‘companion’, Boy Number Two, and ask, “How about you? Why do you think this prophet is go great?”
“I find great comfort in his words and teachings as well,” he mumbles. Sigh. Poor guys, more than they bargained for here. No one spoon feeds me information without question. Except Gwynn Dyer. But even then I’m learning to doubt his commandments.
“Well thank you very much for sharing with me the news of this new prophet. Good luck in your travels.”
“Don’t you want to hear more about the prophet?” asks messenger Number One.
I pause for the second time only. Either the prophet or the dog. I’m not going anywhere, so why not? Let’s hear more about the prophet! “What’s the prophet’s name?”
“Gordon B. Hinckley.”
“Gordon B. Hinckley! I’m going to learn more about god through a prophet named Gordon B. Hinckley!” I already pity the Hinckleites of 2000 years from now, sitting in their churches laughing at us pagans for not recognising the prophet that walked among us. I feel bad because they’re called ‘Hinckleites’. At least ‘Christian’ doesn’t sound as dorky. “Alright, where is the prophet Gordon B. Hinckley now?”
I love weeds. How there are so many of them and how I don’t have to look these young lads in the eye as I mock their devotion.
“He’s in Utah.”
Handy. I’ll give you a minute to settle your bets.
“Ah, aha. Now I get it,” I smile. “Are you from Utah?”
Boy Number One answers first, “I’m actually from California.” Boy Number Two quietly says, “I’m from Utah.” I’m trying to think of what I know about Utah. I think there’s good rock climbing in Utah. And Mormons. Lots of Mormons. Apparently they’re running out of space in Utah. Also, I noticed a lot of Utah licence plates in Skagway. This seemed reasonable when I found out that Holland-America (the cruise ship/tour company that literally owns Skagway) has it’s head office in Utah. A cruise ship company has it’s head office in Utah…hm. Anyway, they hire Mormons to be their bus drivers on the overland tours because they know that they’ll be good honest workers, who don’t drink or party or cause trouble. So that’s why there are so many Utah licence plates in Skagway.
“You guys came all the way up here to tell people about a Gordon B. Hinckley in Utah? Did you volunteer for that?” Maybe spreading the word of the lord could be considered outdoor recreation. My next research subjects?
“Yes. Well, we paid to do it.” Boys, you’re getting hosed.
“How long will you be here?”
“About 6 weeks. You never know when you’ll get the call to move on to another place in need of God.” No, god’s very unpredictable that way.
“Well I thank you very much for letting me know about Gordon B. Hinckley but god and I are on pretty good terms right now. Thank you anyway for the information though. I guess that’s all you can do, eh? Just share the information and let other people make up their own minds about it all.”
“Yeah, see a lot of people think we’re trying to force our religion on others but that’s not it. We’re just spreading the word of God to people who may not have heard it before.” Uhuh. That’s what Jim Jones said. Boy Number One is not letting this go. Boy Number Two looks somewhere between mortified and bored. He throws a ball for the dog.
“Well your language choice is rather intimidating,” I say frankly. “The only reason it didn’t bother me is because I’m pretty confident with my own beliefs and don’t feel threatened by those of others. Do you guys want a glass of water before you continue your work? It’s warm out here today.” By warm I mean it finally broke 20 degrees for at least an hour.
“I’m okay but I think my companion would really appreciate it.” Is Boy Number One the designated spokesman? Maybe Boy Number Two is slow. Maybe Boy Number One drew the short straw. Do they take turns? Boy Number Two could be an apprentice. That’s how young they are.
I get him a glass of water. I can’t be mean to them. They must get doors slammed in their faces all the time. At least here they had someone with the courtesy to listen to what they have to say and THEN disagree.
“Isn’t there a big Mormon university in Utah?” I asked when I return with the water.
Boy Number Two perks up. “Yeah it’s called BYU.”
“Yeah I had a friend who went there. Don’t they have a good basketball team or something?” I continue.
Boy Number Two grimmaces, “Well, it comes and goes.”
“Don’t they all. I wouldn’t know though, it’s just what I heard. I don’t follow basketball. Hockey is my sport.”
“Oh yeah? Which team?” Boy Number Two is all chatty now.
“The Leafs. I’m from Toronto, it’s kind of a pre-requisite.”
“My brother-in-law cheers for the Leafs. He lives in Oshawa.” There are Mormons in Oshawa? Now that’s a funny mix. Maybe he said that he’s FROM Oshawa…maybe he was saved and now he lives in Utah and drives a bus for Holland-America.
I don’t really know how it ended but Boy Number Two finished his water and they thanked me for my time. I think they realised that I wasn’t about to be saved anytime soon. I’m pretty much doomed. I wished them good luck and hoped they enjoy their stay in the Yukon. I wave as they drive away but all I can think about is, ‘in the Lord’s name.’ As god is my witness I will never do anything in the lord’s name.

Then god went bowling and the heaven’s poured down on my freshly watered lawn. Good thing I took the time to set the sprinklers out. Maybe it was a sign in the lord’s name…