Thursday, November 29, 2012

Wrong Names, Job Hunting and Food

So, the last time I posted, there was a firetruck pulling up to our building.  Since I am sending out another blog, you know that we escaped homelessness.  This time.  Turns out, just minutes later, an ambulance showed was a medical emergency.  "Phew" for us and tenants, worry for the person who left in the ambulance.  Who is hopefully fine.  Remember I said I was going to watch the lobby on TV?  Not only were there a fair few hot firefighters and ambulance attendants, but the individual for whom (awesome grammar alert) the ambulance arrived, walked out and climbed into the ambulance herself.  Ah, been there, done that, sister!  Don't know that tenant but hope she is back and doing well.

On the job-search-related front, I have been attending weekly meetings with other folks who were "impacted by restructuring".  (The fancy term for "I got laid-off and now I'm drawin' pogey".)  This group is actually a great platform for sharing ideas, networking, giving each other feedback, and so on.  I love going.  

Three of us decided to attend a job fair together at a local IT company.  We exchanged numbers so we could text each other.  One gal sent me a text, addressing me as "Amanda".  I really need to go back to introducing myself as Andi.  When I do, folks either get it right or don't remember at all.  With introducing myself as Andrea, some people get it right, some people forget it, some call me Amanda, some call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of wait, that's not right, what?  I also get Ange, Angela, AdriENNE (only certain people have the privilege of calling me that and they know who they are and that it has to be said a la Rocky Balboa!), Adriana and Audrey.  Or worse, pronounced andRAYa or ondRAYa.  Ugh.  At the job fair, we all got lovely little name stickers and since the three of us mostly stuck together (due to solidarity, not stickers), I am hoping she read it at one point and will try a different name for me next time.  (As an aside, I bet that Lauren shares my pain.)

That job fair was quite the event!  It was scheduled to open at 6pm.  In our eagerness to get there, we arrived around 5:35pm.  Good thing we did!  They opened the doors a bit before 6.  With the amount of people in the lobby at this point, it was eerily a little reminiscent of American Black Friday footage.  Fortunately, despite the fact we were all there to compete for something far more important in life than cheap cell phones (it's called a job - you know, that thing that helps keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.), everyone was very friendly and no one shoved anyone out of the way trying to get to the free food table.

What I was afraid of
What it actually was like

I will always go early to a job fair from now on.  When we entered the room, we were among the first few, so found it relatively easy to talk to people from different departments.  By the time we were done, it was so crowded in there, I felt like the lights should have been lower, there should have been house music, a fog machine and drunk people everywhere!  We could hardly get through the crowd to get back out.  It was pretty scary to have a concrete visual of the massive mobs of other people are vying for the same few jobs you are looking for.  

After that, I headed over to University of Waterloo for my last Japanese class.  Well, sort of a class.  Classes actually wrapped up last week and this session was a sushi party for all three levels together.  We made makizushi.  I thought it was weird that I had never made it, but then remembered that since I always bought it already made at the grocery store in Japan, why would I?  Here, that is a different story.  Hard to find and not that good when I can find it.


That's what I'm talking about

The party was fun.  We had to introduce ourselves, one by one, in Japanese.  Shigeki came to the party too.  When I started my introduction, I could see Shigeki was just finishing up rolling a makizushi.  Much to my satisfaction, he nearly jumped and his head snapped up in shock when I did my bit in Japanese.  He was deeply impressed; he told me so afterward, although the fact that his attention was taken sharply away from the focus he had on food, spoke volumes (those who know Shigeki and food, know what I mean).  One thing we had to say in our introduction, was our favorite Japanese word.  Everyone else went with cute little flowery words that produced rainbow coloured fireworks over their heads, like  "oishi" (yummy, delicious), or "gambatte" (fight for it, you can do it, etc.).  Not me.  Nope, I marched right up there, introduced myself and proudly declared that my favorite Japanese word was "nomihoudai" (all you can drink).  Like a boss. price, many many drinking

The party was somewhat potluck and I did attempt to make renkon chips earlier in the day.  The making was successful, but the amount cooked didn't look nearly at all like the amount before cooking. The amount was so small, that it would have been embarrassing to take them to the party.  So....we ate them.

I had other cooking adventures this past week, including the successful making, by hand, of arancini.  Or rice balls.  Or rice croquettes.  Whatever you call them, wherever you are from.  But if you are reading this paragraph, you have done well.  You have read lots and I will now free you from this form of procrastination so that you may now go, fly and do some work.  Or find other ways to procrastinate.

Mmm...the taste of success

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