Proofing Posts, Whipping Out Logos

Rereading my last post, I realize I should proofread more carefully, especially when I'm typing passionately and the hour is late.

I've spent a fair amount of time this last week reviewing the logo I showed you last time and decided to dump it completely. The new logo, seen here, is much sharper and works well in the various incarnations it has as business card, stationery, etc. Also, it's a two-color design rather than a four-color, which will save money. It's actually based on the first full graphic design I ever did in college. It looked good back then, and it looks good here, I think.

On the job front, more positions have presented themselves on the job boards this week and I have dutifully applied to anything within a 35-mile radius. There's a company that manufactures quick-set concrete, a concern that imports decorative tofu candles from Viet Nam, a design firm in West L.A., Princess Cruises in Santa Clarita (direct marketing materials) and a quick-print shop in Encino (which has horrible reviews on the web). I have two resumes out now that I'm interested in which are hitting the two-week mark (when you start expecting you won't be getting a call); a page layout position with L.A. Weekly (union and only 30 hours a week, but with benefits) and a general design position at Claremont McKenna College.

The highlight of the job search this week is that the American Film Institute is again advertising a graphic design position with their Creative Services Department. The job description fits me to a tee, and I think I would be great at it. And I know I would really fit in, since I am such an aficionado of Hollywood and film history, and a card-carrying member of the organization, to boot. I'm going to drop an enthusiastic e-mail on top of submitting the resume, and I'm trying to get an ex-coworker from the Reporter (now at Variety) who knows the president of AFI to put in a good word. In any case, I'm going to do my level best to land this one. Best perk if I got the job: I would be able to take the light rail and subway to work, with no bus rides.

So I'm in a better mood this week. Upon reflection, I realize that some people, especially those who have never endured long unemployment, probably don't stop to think what it's like to be in that situation.

For your amusement, here is a shot of the glasses I was talking about in the last post: we have four of the old-fashioned glasses, and Steve's present means we now have four of the tumblers. They're really very handsome glasses, you see.

Also some good news this week: one of the owners in our condo complex (14 units) has put her place up for sale and is asking $349,000 for it. Whether it sells for that or not, I'm not sure, but the place is not nearly as well-appointed as our unit (which will be even more well-appointed once I'm back at work and we can update the kitchen and baths some), and ours is an end unit, which usually go for a bit more, since there's more windows and fewer shared walls.

So, once again, I realize that, financially, we're doing just fine. I have to take complete responsibility for my frustration and admit that I am really missing not having a professional place to which I can commit myself and my career. AFI would definitely leave me with an overflowing cup. Princess Cruises would be nice if we could get good deals on trips. Tofu candles I could live with, but I think that would be more of a job and less of a career.

Once again, at the end of a post without anything amazing (or even interesting) to report. But, one of these days; one of these days, I'll have amazing news. I just hope it happens sometime really soon.

Fumed Glass and Existence

I was really depressed earlier today. Now I'm starting to get pissed. And writing in public when you're pissed off is really now a wise thing to do. But here goes:

I'm really pissed off at people who call you in for an interview, spend over an hour talking to you, and then never contact you to let you know whether or not you've gotten the position. I'm especially pissed at people who, after I have left a voice mail or dropped an e-mail, cannot simply respond with "Someone else got the job."

Five MF'ing words: How much F'ing effort does that take, and how little respect are you showing to those who spent time and effort to meet with you, present their portfolios, discuss their backgrounds and hope, perhaps, that you liked what you saw and might hire them? If you rejected ten interviewees, that totals 50 words: you're either lazy or gutless and extremely rude.

I'm also really pissed off at people on Facebook who whine and whine and whine about how horrible their job is; what a rat race their lives are. Hey, sucker; give me the job. I'll swap whatever crap you're putting up with for two years of unemployment any day.

As you might have guessed, this last week have been very meager in the new job postings department. I think I sent out two resumes altogether. Also, you might have guessed that my unemployment runs out at the end of this month; then I'm on savings alone.

Speaking of spending money, Steve's birthday was June 9. I went to the store and got some really nice steaks. I was thinking of what to get him as a present when Seekers Glass Gallery in Cambria called me: the Esteban Prieto glasses I had requested last time we were up there had come in, and did I want them? The timing was too good, so I ordered two of them to complete our set and had them shipped to his office. Life can't be too bad, after all, if I can splurge on hand-blown, signed and dated tumblers for my honey. (I figure the money I saved by cooking a meal at home was offset by the shipping charges.)

So, the great teat of unemployment benefits is drying up, and I've decided that when I reach their end, if haven't gotten gainful employment, I am going to go ahead and file all the paperwork necessary to start a studio. I figure making some money on my own will at least slow down the consumption of the savings and, perhaps, get me going locally as a designer. It certainly beats sitting at home, sending out resumes, trying to find addresses and phone numbers where I can follow up with HR people when HR people are meticulous about isolating themselves absolutely from anyone remotely interested in earnest employment.

So here is a copy of the beta version of my business logo. See what you think of it.

With the "McD," I've tried to get as far away from golden arches as I possibly could. The name of the company is the same as my website: "Mark McD design," with the subtitle of "graphic communications design." I'm going to have to revamp my business website, since right now it's designed and geared toward employers to show off my work. Now I will have to focus on mercantile customers, emphasizing personal service and excellent pricing.

And, of course, just as soon as I've spent all the money on permits and fictitious business statements and business cards, et al., I will be offered full-time employment and take it. That's how my life seems to work these days: not tragically disastrous, just profoundly, thought-provoking irritating.

Job Posts and Celebrity Sightings

I haven't heard from the woman I interviewed with a week ago last Thursday, so I'm planning on calling her tomorrow to find out if she's just very busy or if they are not going to call me back for a second interview.

Last Friday was the two-year anniversary of my getting sacked at the Hollywood Reporter. Never, never, never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would spend two years out of work, unless of my own choice. I'm beginning to believe that no one wants to hire a designer who is over 40 unless they have an avid following (and if that's the case, "who the hell needs your stinking job anyway; I've got a fan base who'll keep me in work").

One of the things that really warms my heart is when someone I know sends me a link to a job posting they think would be a good fit for me: It reminds me that family and friends are thinking about me and my predicament. Devanie, a friend of mine in Chico (previously a coworker in Arroyo Grande back in the '90s) sent me a couple today.

One of them was for the House of Blues. I worked with them a few times when I was at the Reporter, so I'm thinking perhaps that will make a difference. It would be a great gig, since their offices are on Sunset, just two blocks from the Hollywood/Vine subway station, meaning I could return to taking mass transit to work.

One of the other jobs she referred me to was in Huntington Beach, which is a 45-mile freeway commute to the south. I really want to avoid becoming one of those Southern Californians who spend 15% of their day commuting and 20% of their take-home pay funding the oil companies with all the gas they use. But if the job is a good one and the pay is reasonable, I just might have to dive into that lifestyle. It would certainly be less stressful than not having a reason to get up in the morning (except to look for work). I really miss having a career.

So from the down of marking two years of unemployment, Steve and I went out to dinner on Saturday night, which is our weekly "date night." We went to the Panda Inn (which is owned by the same company that owns Panda Express — I have a resume in with them, too). The food is excellent, the service is really friendly, the ambiance is warm and comfortable and the prices very reasonable. As usual, the place was packed and, had we not had a reservation, it would have taken us 45 minutes to get a table.

We had crab wontons (a cream cheese crab filling inside fried wontons with a sweet-and-peppery sauce), upside-down noodles and honey-walnut shrimp. I ordered a drink called a Cherry Blossom which seemed to have no alcohol in it at all, but it packed quite a punch.

Just after we had ordered, I noticed a woman in the corner booth at the end of the room who looked uncannily like Tina Fey of Saturday Night Live/30 Rock fame. At first I wasn't sure, but the more I watched her, the more her gestures and laugh seemed to match. This was my view of her, so you can get an idea how far away I was.

As we were finishing up our meal, after an hour of on-and-off staring, I could swear it had to be her. She was with a man (husband?) two young girls in their early teens (daughters?) and a slightly younger woman (the nanny?). Their waiter (the head waiter, by the way) brought out a box of designer cupcakes and they sang "Happy Birthday" to the younger girl. After getting home, I enlarged and enhanced one of the photos to see if I could discern whether or not it is really her. Here it is; see if you think it looks like her.

I was hoping that their party would leave before we did so I could get a look at her walk. I thought about going up and asking whether she was Sarah Palin (ha ha; if it was her I bet no one's come up with that one yet), but didn't have the gall to disrupt what was obviously a lovely family dinner. So Steve and I left the restaurant not knowing whether I was correct in my suspicion or not.

So we went out to the parking lot and got into the car. As we pulled out of the darkened lot, I could have sworn I saw Bigfoot walking along the side of the parking lot just in front of the landscaping of the building next door. Not believing my eyes, I took a picture. I thought perhaps it was a big dog walking upright for some reason, but Steve said it was just the parking valet on his break. Then, of course, he didn't think Tina Fey looked like Tina Fey, either. But I don't know … what do you think?