Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

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If you read My own personal Jesus then you know I have been job hunting. After giving my resume a What Not to Wear style makeover, I reposted it on several websites and made it public. Suddenly, recruiters were emailing and phoning me. With the exception of one person, most of them were not that impressive. Here are five signs you should skip the job interview—the recruiter edition:

5. A recruiter calls you and denies being a recruiter. Under most circumstances, a recruiter makes money when you get the job; it’s a win-win situation. However, I swear there are some recruiters who are paid if you simply show up to the interview. Telltale signs of a recruiter include eagerness, enthusiasm, pushiness, and limited knowledge about the actual position. Oh and unlike many men, a recruiter will always return your phone calls.

4. The recruiter cannot give you a start date because the location is new. Run. As fast as you can.

3. The recruiter doesn’t know much about the company so he gives you its website address. You do research only to find that the website doesn’t exist or it doesn’t have any helpful information.

2. The recruiter cannot explain why you were matched to the job even when you say that you have no prior experience in that particular field. He just keeps insisting that the company wants “to bring you in.”

And the #1 reason you should skip the interview is when the recruiter tells you to wear business attire. If a recruiter needs to tell me how to dress for a job interview (in a corporate environment), I immediately wonder how many other people have shown up inappropriately dressed.

Though economic times are tough and jobs are scarce, remember your time is valuable. Don’t waste it going on an interview for a job that:

• May not start for months,
• May not be what you were told it was,
• May be below or beyond your skill set,
• May be boring, low paying, and/or cause you to be surrounded by poorly dressed idiots for 40+ hours a week.

Hang in there. The right or almost right job will come along. With or without a recruiter.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under General | 3 Comments »

Your own personal Jesus
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who cares

I love the Depeche Mode song Personal Jesus. No matter what your religious beliefs are or are not, I think we all need someone who cares, someone who’s there. However, when we choose to reach out and touch faith, our choice(s) should remain private.
Unfortunately, some organizations violate Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which “prohibits employers from discriminating against individuals because of their religion in hiring, firing, and other terms and conditions of employment.” Last week, I experienced a blatant example of this type of abuse, and I feel it necessary to share it with my readers.

Since I recently started applying for jobs, I am always browsing various sites such as Monster, CareerBuilder, Mediabistro, etc. At Indeed, I found a listing for a writer/editor in Azusa, California. When I clicked on the post, I was directed to the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities.* When I saw that the job was at Azusa Pacific University (APU), I wasn’t worried because the school has a fine reputation, it is less than 30 miles from our house, and I cannot afford to be too picky. Moreover, I have years of experience working for universities. I clicked the “Apply Online” button and spent the next 20 minutes creating a profile, uploading my resume, correcting the errors, and finally submitting for the job. When I was finished, I was sent to APU’s Office of Human Resources and that’s when things got interesting.

Apparently, I wasn’t done yet. I needed to download the APU Staff Application, fill it out, and fax all requested materials to HR. Great. Easily another 20 minutes. I sighed as I clicked on the pdf file. I grumbled when I opened it. I gasped when I scanned it. There on page 3 … Christian Faith … Briefly relate your personal relationship with Jesus Christ. What the hell? Thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, I scrolled down … Statement of Faith? My favorite line was, “We believe that there is one God, creator of heaven and earth, eternally existent in three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” How is this legal?

In American History classes, we learn about concepts such as freedom of religion and the separation of church and state; the ideas seem easy to implement. What our teachers don’t tell us is that the reality is much more complex, and it became a national disaster when President Bush established the Office of Faith-Based & Community Initiatives in 2001. By allowing religious organizations to compete for federal grants and contracts, the wall between church and state has crumbled, and in its debris we have seen our tax dollars supporting discrimination based on your own personal Jesus.

I am not saying that churches cannot create good social programs; however, our government should allow us to donate directly to those programs. While the faith-based initiative may be well intended, it has devastating consequences. I am thoroughly qualified for the writing position at APU, but I won’t even be considered because I refuse to fill out the religious portion of the application. What if you are religious, but not a Christian? Can you imagine what APU would think if a Muslim, Buddhist, or Jew applied? They wouldn’t recycle the paper application; they would shred it.

Out of curiosity, I started digging into APU’s financial records. On their FY 2010 taxes, they state their mission as, “An evangelical Christian community of disciples and scholars who seek to advance the work of God through academic excellence in liberal arts and professional programs of higher education that encourage development of a Christian perspective of truth and life.”

Since they are a university, they have to complete a “Schedule E Schools” form. In this section, APU claims that they are “in compliance with Titles VI and VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 … [it] does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, national origin, gender, age, disability, or status as a veteran in any of its policies, practices, or procedures.” Even though Title VII protects religion, APU does not list it. At least they are honest about their discriminatory practices. Non-Christians need not apply. By the way, APU received over a million dollars in government grants last year.

Lest you think that President Obama has corrected the situation, he has not. Last November, he signed an executive order that “makes improvements” but still allows federal funds (i.e., our tax dollars) to go toward faith-based organizations. The executive order does not end funding for groups who discriminate in their hiring.

As for the writing position at APU, I may have lost an opportunity, but I have gained insight into the way they operate, and there is no way I could work there. To be fair, APU is a private university upholding a specific mission; if the school did not accept any government funding then I would not condemn them. But when they accept our tax dollars to further their agenda, they should do the Christian thing and accept all viable candidates for job openings.

As for my own personal [relationship with] Jesus [Christ] … it’s none of your damn business.

AWW — XoXo

*APU has also listed this position under Christian Career Center, Higher Ed Jobs, and Southern California HERC.

Posted under General & Politics | 1 Comment »

Remember Lucy from Peanuts? I always related to her more than any other female character in that comic strip. She was tough, she had a younger brother, she loved a musician, and she picked on other boys. However, my favorite part about Lucy was her entrepreneurial streak. Instead of selling lemonade, she sold advice for 25 cents.

Even though I have made some horrible decisions in my life, people often ask my advice. Either they believe I am knowledgeable about the subject (e.g., teaching, writing) or they know I have had that specific life experience (e.g., dating brilliant assholes). I don’t even consider myself a good listener most of the time, but on one occasion, I gave the best advice ever.

Four years ago, I worked on a research study at UCLA. Due to having two titles (i.e., two jobs, one salary), I had two offices: one on the same floor as my boss Jan and the other in the building’s basement tucked away from the world. In my “private” office, I blasted music, as I audited the research data. Occasionally, I even danced around because there was so much space. I was bopping my head to the music from the Chicago soundtrack, singing the lyrics, my fingers flying across the keyboard when the phone rang. I looked over—it was my boss’s extension. Sighing, I walked to the stereo, turned down the music, and picked up the phone.

“Hi Jan.”

“Hi Andrea. Do you have a minute?” (I love when bosses ask this question as if their employees can say no.)

“Of course.”

“I wanted to ask your advice about something.” Jan paused. Her hesitation piqued my curiosity.

I replied, “Sure. Go ahead.” I could almost hear her foot tapping under her desk.

“Well, I thought … maybe since …” Each pause annoyed me. I wished she would just spit it out already.

“There’s a mother. Lydia. She has four children. She’s in group 2 on Saturdays.” I didn’t work on Saturdays so I had never met Lydia.

I responded, “Uh huh” as I picked at my cuticles and eyed the stack of paperwork that still needed to be processed.

“She left me a message. She hasn’t been feeling well lately. Horrible headaches, fatigue. Umm … She has an inoperable brain tumor. She has cancer. She is dying.”

My body froze even as my hand gripped the phone so tight that my veins popped out. Why was my boss telling me this? She knew what had happened. I didn’t want to hear the “c” word … oohhh … it’s because of my experience. Damn her.

Jan continued. “I thought … because of your sister … you would know what to say. If it’s okay that is … I wanted to know what you think I should say to Lydia.”

Me? My boss was asking me for my advice? About talking to a cancer patient? I should have been flattered, but instead I felt like actor on a stage with a spotlight shining on me as I searched my memory for my lines. I closed my eyes and thought of the stupid things well-intentioned people said to me when Adrienne was sick.

• “Have faith.” Faith in what and in whom?
• “Things will get better.” Really? Can you personally stop the tumors from multiplying? Because the chemo can’t.
• And my all-time favorite, “God only gives you what you can handle.” So my sister got cancer because she is a strong, vibrant person. Yeah, go sell that shit somewhere else.

“Andrea?” Jan almost whispered my name.

Knocked out of my reverie, I answered, “Tell me about Lydia.” Jan described Lydia’s devotion to her four children—her desire to provide them with a better life, to give them a good education, to allow them opportunities that she never had. I could tell by the tone in Jan’s voice that she admired Lydia. I wanted so desperately to say the perfect thing because I didn’t want Lydia to feel any anger, resentment, or disappointment toward Jan. If I were Lydia …

Taking a deep breath, I plunged forward hoping my bluntness wouldn’t get me fired.

“When you call her, the only thing you should say—that you can say—about her disease is ‘I’m sorry.’ Don’t say anything else. Start with ‘I’m sorry’ and move on. Focus on what you told me. Talk about her qualities as a mother. She respects your opinion. It will mean a lot to her knowing that you think so highly of her. And … tell her that her children will remember her—especially the older ones.”

Jan thanked me, said goodbye, and hung up the phone. I sat there listening to the dial tone wondering what just happened. Wondering how many people had already said the wrong things to Lydia. Wondering if she had her affairs in order. Wondering who would take care of her children. I finally put the phone down. I did not play music. I did not dance. I stared at the paperwork. Eventually, I started typing. The phone rang. I knew it was Jan.

“I just spoke to Lydia. Thank you, Andrea. Your advice—it was perfect. We had a lovely conversation. She thinks her older children will remember her, too.”

“Good. I’m glad … I mean, you’re welcome.” I controlled my sniffling but I couldn’t stop the one tear from falling down my cheek. Jan and I exchanged goodbyes and I hung up the phone for the second time in twenty minutes. Then I cried. I cried for Lydia because she would never see her children grow up. I cried for her children because they would lose their mother. I cried for Adrienne because I think she would have been proud of me.

With my eyes still swimming in water, I started laughing. I had just given the best advice I would probably ever give in my life, and it was to my boss. Not to my husband or a friend, but my boss. How absurd! Remembering the Chicago soundtrack, I walked over to the stereo. I pressed the PLAY button on the CD player.

Pop!
Six!
Squish!
Uh Uh
Cicero
Lipschitiz!

I smiled as the beginning sounds of the Cell Block Tango filled the room. I turned up the volume.

He had it coming
He had it coming
He only had himself to blame …

I sang. I danced. And I cried again.

AWW — XoXo

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I need to stop taking Facebook quizzes. I’ve cut way back on this addictive habit, but recently, I couldn’t resist finding out “What is your Spirit Animal?” My friend is an owl: analytical, keen, and perceptive. What a perfect fit I thought to myself, this quiz must be accurate. I had to take it.

I wanted to be a big cat such as a lion or a tiger. Strong, fast, beautiful. But no … my spirit animal is a Bear. I figured there was a mistake so I retook the quiz and received the same conclusion. I am a Bear. “You are happiest when you are leading the charge.” (In real life, who follows bears?) I sighed and kept reading. “Whenever something needs to get done you always find yourself in charge, either through your own will or through others seeking you out.”

A sick feeling crept into my stomach. I am always in charge of almost everything in my life. From being a teacher to organizing social events, I do try to “lead with courage and integrity” and my “confidence and charisma cause people to gravitate” toward me. Here’s the problem: I don’t want to be a bear anymore.

There was no one particular thing that made me feel like stepping down from leading others in my life. A series of events occurred that caused me to shout, “No more. I am done. Screw being a bear!”

I no longer want to teach, a shame since one of the reasons I obtained my master’s degree was to be able to teach college. However, after a student committed plagiarism twice in the same term in my freshman writing class, I resigned. Even though I proved the plagiarism, the student only received a slap on the wrist; the offense is not going on her permanent student record. I cannot put up with the politics that come with both private and public education at every level.

I no longer want to allow new people in my life. Although most of my close (aka speed-dial) friends live far away and I am very lonely these days, I cannot risk getting to know strangers. Despite my outgoing personality, I keep most people at a distance. (We bears may seem sociable, but we are “the most solitary of all carnivores.”) For example, if you ask me how I am doing and I change the subject, then I am severely depressed and/or I don’t trust you enough to reveal my inner demons. After losing numerous friends after my sister Adrienne died, I concluded that people prefer my alter ego—happy, confident, friendly, funny Andrea—the Lucille Ball of every gathering. When a friend dumped me this past April after three years of what I thought was a wonderful relationship, I decided the third pig had it right: forget straw and sticks, I am building a wall of bricks around my heart.

I no longer want to plan events—not that I do this occupation professionally, but I organized my 20-year high school reunion from 2,000 miles away. The reunion consisted of five classes since my high school was so small. I spent 11 months of my life on this project, and I don’t regret a minute of it.

However, when a friend of 24 years flaked on her duties as both the co-chair and her class representative without ever calling or emailing me to explain why, the disappointment gnawed at me throughout the reunion weekend. Taking over her responsibilities less than two months prior to the reunion was overwhelming, but she didn’t leave me a choice. I resent her for adding to my increasing workload and for not bothering to explain her actions.

I no longer want to speak to seriously ill people. As president of my nonprofit Blue Faery, I often receive emails and phone calls from liver cancer patients seeking information. I listen to their stories and guide them as best I can. I used to love to help people in this capacity until I became emotionally attached to a patient who died this past July after her second battle with liver cancer. Even though she survived much longer than my sister did, this patient’s death brought back painful memories of Adrienne’s last days of fighting for her life. How can I offer hope when there is still no cure for liver cancer? How can I comfort individuals who will most likely die?

I no longer want to live in Los Angeles. If you read my blog, my dislike of LA is well known. I have lived here 20 years, and I must leave this toxic environment. I have only stayed because my husband, who works in the entertainment industry, did not think he could find employment anywhere else … until he received a job offer in Detroit! So now he is there and I am here, and we are apart from each other. I considered moving to one of the “Most miserable cities in America” but we would end up back here anyway after his job ends.

After seeing me cry off and on for several hours last month, my wise owl friend said, “You give so much to everyone else that there’s nothing left for you.” Other people have said the same thing to me in different ways, but I didn’t hear it until my beautiful owl spoke the simple truth.

Now my least favorite word in the English language—no—is becoming my new mantra: “No, I cannot teach needy students, make new friends, plan any events, or hear sad stories.” Unfortunately, I am stuck in Los Angeles for the time being; however, I have an idea. Most bears hibernate, and the period of time depends on where they live. Considering I live in a warmer climate, I think I can get away with three months or so. Hopefully longer.

The quiz warns that, “A prideful bear is a lonely bear” and I am proud when my efforts at any endeavor garner favorable results. However, I would argue that I stepping back from responsibility requires a certain amount of concession of pride. After all, while I am in hibernation, I cannot predict what will happen, but I’m sure the world will get on just fine without me.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. After I wrote this blog, I discovered that my job assigned me five students to tutor this fall when I was only supposed to receive three. YIKES! My hibernation in this respect will be temporarily delayed.

UPDATE (9/17/10): After receiving valuable advice via blog comments, personal emails, telephone calls, and doctor’s orders, I decided to listen. I am no longer teaching; it is simply not in my best interest at this time.

Posted under General & People/Relationships | 4 Comments »