As I see it, I am the closest to landing a job since I first started looking in September.  I had my second interview with University of South Carolina today, and I think it went about as well as it could have. It was a rather interesting interview.  I met the woman I had my initial interview with and she drove me to the office where I was to meet the person who would be conducting my second interview.   It was a first for me, having someone drive me to another location.    It wasn’t very far.  We just had to drive a few blocks down the street.  Basically, she wanted this second person to talk to me and the other remaining candidate before she made her final decision.  We talked for about 50 or so minutes about my strengths, weaknesses, why I wanted the job, a little about my past jobs, a little about my China experience and a few other odds and ends.  He had me sign a few documents.  You know, the one that says if you get hired and we find out you lied, we’ll fire you, and we are going to do a background check on you, if you are hiding anything, we’ll found out about it!  Heh, I’ve got nothing to hide. I have a blog for crying out loud.  🙂

Yesterday, I went and had my interview at the Agape English Language Institute.  The guy is not even sure whether or not he will need someone, but if he does, he’ll find out in the beginning of March.  It would only be for 21 hours a week and he may be able to pay up to $15 an hour.  If you do the math, that would be $16,380 a year before taxes.  I just don’t know if this option is going to work out or not.  Plus, I don’t think there are any benefits.  If it was a full time position, it would be a completely different story.  Also, he asked me a question that I have never, ever been asked in an interview.  He asked me what my religion was.  I wanted to say, hey, that’s illegal, you can’t ask me that.  I really didn’t care though.  It didn’t offend me or anything.  I just thought it was a very awkward question.   I told him that I was raised Christian, and then he wanted to know what denomination I was.  I said that I was a Baptist and thought his religious questions were over, but no, he wanted to know if I had a church home in the area.  I was like, gees, do you want to know when I was baptized, too?  He was asking all of these questions because he wants all the students to be surrounded by people with good values and morals.  That’s understandable, but that question is still illegal!  Grr.

I haven’t heard back from any of the DSS locations or Blue Cross Blue Shields.  I guess I’ll hear from them one way or another soon.  I feel really good about the USC position though.  I haven’t felt this positive about a job yet, so maybe it’s a sign or something.  I’ll supposedly find out next week who they chose – me or the other girl.  I’m gonna attach my phone to my hip and jump each and every time that it rings.  If I get the job, I’ll start either February 1st or 15th.  Things are looking up, though, I guess.  Now, if only things will fall into place.

Well, sushi is calling, I better get going.  Thank you all for your words of encouragement and good wishes.  I appreciate it.  One of these days I’ll get a job, and I’ll be able to change the title of these posts to Update: Employed.  Heh.  That would be nice.

Name: Seth Aryln Cook

Born: 01-16-2008

Time: 2:41 am

Length: 22 inches

Weight: 9 lbs 5 oz

Seth dreaming of what it will be like to one day rule this blue planet .

Seth reminiscing good ole’ days in the womb.

“This is the cheek I want embossed on the coin you make in my honor,” Seth said. “Yes, I know I am beautiful, thank you.”

I usually leave links to blogs I like and visit over to the right, and let my visitors choose if they too want to take a gander. However, today I was perusing those blogs and came across a post that totally made my day. This could be because I can relate to it after my year and three day stint in China(I love saying that), but I think just about anyone can read it and laugh. If you have never been to China, this post paints a perfect picture of just how crazy China can get. And when I say crazy, I don’t mean a bad crazy. It’s the kind of crazy that makes you get up every day because you can never fully expect what the day has in store for you.

This particular post is about Emily having to return a breast pump back to Jusco, a high end retail food store chain in China. Emily is currently living in Qingdao, China with her husband, Joshua, and their baby, Artemis. As I have said many times on this blog, nothing in China is easy. Returning a breast pump, as you can imagine, is no exception. It is funny though. It’s one for the books, that’s for sure. I thank her for sharing.

Well, I don’t want to jibber jabber all day. I’ll let her post do all the talking. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Just follow the links below.

If you want to go directly to the post, click here.

Or if you want to go to the blog, click here. You should at least go to the blog and check it out.

Your eyes have not deceived you. You read the title of this post right. This Maniac is indeed going to start, or at least attempt to start her own cooking show. No, my unemployment has not made me go mad. I was mad way before I became jobless. : ) So, why you ask? Well, it’s simple. I’ve got this fancy new camera that I haven’t used at all lately, and a bunch of yummy recipes that I think people would like to munch on. Plus, Phil volunteered to be my camera man. Well, actually, I begged, and he finally agreed. So, if you throw all of those wonderful reasons together, you’ll get the same answer I did. Why not? That’s more of a question than an answer, but you understand.

I hope to film my very first episode this weekend after I help Phil move into his new apartment, but I am not going to promise anything. I think I will start with what I know best – cookies and other types of sweets. I’m a mean, green, baking machine, baby! If things go well, I may venture into dinners and what not. I guess only time will tell. So, stay tuned. Soon, I will be showing you all how to make one of my favorite quick treats – fudge cookies. My mouth is salivating just thinking about them. They are so good that they are impossible to keep in my house. My brother keeps eating them all.

Ok, lets see. What has happened since my last update?

Well, for one, I got a call from Blue Cross Blue Shields, and they wanted me to come in for a professional writing test. I applied for the position of Instructional Writer I some time ago, and I guess they just wanted to make sure I knew my stuff before they decided to even considered me for the position. Fair enough, I guess. The test wasn’t too bad. I had to write one business letter and a memo in a forty minute time frame. Since I have never really written a business letter or a memo in my entire life, I doubt I got points for structure. In the grammar and spelling department, I probably did pretty well. I may not be a perfect English major, but there are a few things I learned in college that refuse to leave me. If you have anything drilled into your brain for four years, it is hard to forget it.

Supposedly, I will hear from them in a week or so. That is when they will tell me whether or not I passed, passed with training, or out right failed. If I pass, I guess they’ll ask me in for an interview and then we will go from there. I think it would be funny if I ended up working for the same company as Phil. If they call me up and tell me I failed, I am going to cry myself into an eternal slumber. I mean, if I can’t pass a simple writing test . . . well, I’d rather not go there. Just keep your fingers crossed for me.

The day after my writing test, I had an interview with the Lexington DSS office. This one is much closer than the Eastover office – 28 miles closer – but the salary is much lower – $8,574 lower. I knew that before going, but I figured considering my current position, I should at least go and talk with them in order to keep my options open. It’s an entry level position, so at least there would be a ladder to climb. While I was there, I did take note of the bars at the reception desk and how every single one of the doors in the building were locked. All of the staff members have a key on this pull cord around their neck. One of the women I was sitting beside said, “I think someone went off.” I just nodded my head. Something must have happened. They should make a decision by the end of this week.

Last night, I got an email from a school called Agape English Language Institute. They are located right here in Columbia, and they teach English to foreign nationals. They are a pretty small school, but they finally may need a new teacher beginning in March. It sounds interesting. I’ve yet to actually sit down and talk to the guy who may or may not hire me, but at least now there is a possibility that I could end up teaching English again.

And lastly, I got a call just a few hours ago from the University of South Carolina. The woman wanted to let me know that I was in the top two for the position I had interviewed for before Thanksgiving. This is the Human Resources job if you are trying to keep up. She said she still had to contact my references and that another guy wanted to speak to me before she made her final decision. She said that she hopes to have the position filled by February first. Maybe she will make a decision sooner.

And that is pretty much it for now. All I got to say is that I never want to have to look for a job again. It is one big pain in the ass.

I went to the store yesterday to pick up an ingredient for my Mexican Fiesta dish that I had forgotten to get ealier. While I was going, my brother asked me to pick him up some nuts. He gave me five bucks in quarters, and off I went.

I found my ingredient rather quickly, but as I walked the aisles, I couldn’t find the section of nuts. I was about to ask someone to help me find them, but then I realized that there was no good way to say it.

Think about it. These are the questions I thought about asking one of the young men on duty, but thought it sounded perverted.
1. Excuse me, on which aisle can I find your nuts?

2. Could you please point me to your nuts?

3. Where do you keep your nuts?

4. Could you help me find your nuts?

See what I mean, there aren’t any good ways unless you say the specific nut you are looking for, like peanuts.

It would have been funny to see one of the young men’s face had I been brave enough to ask.

If you’ve read at least ten of my posts concerning my experiences in China, you should know that 1) crazy things happened and 2) nothing was, well, easy. My first trip to a Chinese hospital was no exception. It is probably the most insane, embarrassing experience I had during my year and three days in China and quite possibly my life. With that said, I want to let you know that what you are about to read is extremely personal. If you don’t want learn about my experience in the gynecology section of the Shenyang hospital that I visited one fair day in March, I suggest you exit your browser now and come back in a few days when I have written about another memorable experience. However, if you decide to read on, and some part of your soul wants to learn what it is like to be a woman in China when her womanhood goes wack, I promise I’ve tried to take as much of the graphic grossness out as possible. One last warning, if you are still reading this – this story is personal, it’s a tad bit icky, and it will probably make you go EWWWW.

If you are still with me, thanks. Now on with the story.

I actually thought I had written about this long before, but when I searched through all of my old posts, the only thing I came across was the mention of my visit, but none of the details. Knowing I had written my experience down somewhere, I finally found it in my email. I had written home about it, but I had never made it public. Thankfully, the day that I sent the email was the same as the day I went to the hospital. Therefore, everything you are about to read is very accurate. I’ve gone through it though and added or taken somethings out because it was written during the time that my English had gone to super crap, but not too much.

Before we jump into the email I sent my parents though, I should go a little into the back story. It’s half of the reason I had to go to the hospital in Shenyang in the first place. Grr.

While we were being held against our will in Beijing, I somehow managed to get a yeast infection. I wasn’t all that worried at the time. I had had one in Fuyang, too, but with the help of one of my fellow teachers, I was able to get some cheap medicine down at the local OTC(Over The Counter – Pharmacy). Within a few days, I was back to normal and all was well with the world again. I meant to save the package just in case I had ever had another one, but when we moved, I lost it somewhere. Well, anyway, in Beijing, I discovered that I had another yeast infection. I went to the school there and asked Mandy, one of the school aides, if she could help me get some medicine. I showed her the word in my dictionary, but she didn’t quiet understand what was wrong with me. Finally, after some research on the internet, she thought she figured out what to tell the pharmacists and off we went. I would have just used the medicine that my mother had sent me some months back, but I had sent it on to Shenyang with all the rest of our stuff.

We walked into the OTC and Mandy started talking to the pharmacist for me. The pharmacists asked Mandy some questions and then Mandy translated for me. I tried to answer them for her the best that I could so she could correctly tell the pharmacists what my symptoms were. I think the pharmacists got the gist of what was wrong with me. She ended up giving me these strange blackish herbal things that had a horrible smell. I was instructed to put them where they hurt. I was sad that they didn’t give me the same medicine I had gotten in Fuyang, and a little scared that these smelly round things were going somewhere I’d rather not send them. I didn’t have much of a choice though, so I took them and prayed for the best.

Three days later, we arrived in Shenyang. The medicine the woman had given had done absolutely nothing except possibly make me worse. I could barely walk. There are just not words to describe how it felt . . . down there. After I got all of my suitcases and boxes unpacked, I was able to use the medicine my mother had sent me, but I was so far gone at that point that it didn’t much matter. It was time to ask for some professional help. And that is how I ended up at the Shenyang hospital.

March 12th, 2007 – An email to my parents.

Well, I just got back from the hospital. My yeast infection was driving me mad, and even though I took the medicine mom sent me, I thought that it was a good idea to go and get checked out. I feel better than I did this morning, but I think that I will take the new medicine I got to make sure that it goes away. This has been the worst yeast infection I’ve ever had. I mean, it’s painful just walking around. I’ve never had a yeast infection make me feel like I’ve gone horseback riding for eight days straight.

Hrm . . . where do I start? Well, I guess the first thing is that Chinese hospitals are very unlike western hospitals. I wouldn’t say it was clean, at least in comparison to the hospitals I’ve been to back home. All the paint on the walls was peeling and the floor was discolored and brown. It didn’t even have the typical hospital disinfected smell. I’m sure you know what I mean. I think that it had something to do with the bathrooms, but who knows. There was just so much to take in as we walked around. You’d really have to visit one yourself to know what I mean, although, I wouldn’t recommend it. I had to go though and I’m glad I did, but man, it was an experience for sure. Since there was no way I’d be able to get there and explain to a doctor what was wrong with me, I had Alice, one of the two teacher aides, take me. Phil tagged along for support.

It took Alice a while to find the gynecology section of the hospital, but after asking a few people she got it all worked out. Once we got to the right department, she registered me, but since she didn’t know all of my information, she wrote down a made up birthday, a name and her phone number. I don’t know why she just didn’t ask me. I would have told her. We then went into an office where they asked me what was wrong. The doctor asked Alice questions in Chinese and then Alice asked me the same questions in English. I gave her answers in English and then she gave my answers to the doctor in Chinese. This went back and forth for a while until they knew all of my symptoms. They wrote them all down in a little blue booklet and handed it back to me. (I’ve still got it somewhere. If I find it, I’ll take pictures and post them for you). It was hard for Alice to translate everything, but she did a good job with the limited English that she knew. I understood most of what she was saying. Then we had to wait for a bit. We got called back to the room for more questions, and then we had to wait again. Alice kept disappearing as we waited, apparently paying for services as we went or before we had them done. I’m not sure which, I just know she kept coming back with receipts. The only thing I figured out was that I wasn’t going to be able to leave the hospital until my debt was paid. China in general is very disorganized, so I wasn’t all too surprised to find the hospital acting in the same fashion. It was all sorta frustrating. I just wanted someone to make me better, and quick. Some time later we were called back into the room. And this is where it gets strange.

The room that we had been going in this entire time didn’t have a door. All it had was a door frame and a sheet to act as a door. On the other side of the drape, there was a desk where two doctor-looking people sat. They were constantly taking forms from people, filling them out and typing something into the computers before them. To the left of them was a half wall with an opening into what appeared to be an examining room, but it didn’t have a door or a sheet.

When it was my turn to be inspected, Alice motioned for me to enter the room. Before me was the ever wonderful examining table that I’ve learned to file under the adjectives invasive and uncomfortable. I heard the doctor say something to Alice, but didn’t understand. I looked to Alice for guidance, even though I was pretty sure what was about to happen.

“She wants you to take off your pants and underwear,” Alice said handing me a blue paper-like blanket. “And put this over you.” Hey, at least they gave me a blanket.

I was pretty familiar with this part of the act. I’d done it before, but usually there was no one else in the room. I looked at the doctor and Alice for a second, thinking that they would disappear so that I could disrobe in private, but the two of them stood there staring at me, waiting. I took it as a clue, and off came my clothes. Neither one looked the other way. Eh, I thought, I’m never going to see these people again, well, except for Alice, that is. I just met this woman yesterday, so you can imagine the embarrassing moment I was going through. I seriously doubt this was in her job description. I jumped up onto the table and assumed the position.

My table didn’t look anything like this one,but it served its purpose just the same.

The doctor snapped on her gloves and didn’t waste a minute. She tapped the stirrups(the foot rests – see picture above) and I obliged. Alice is still standing there, staring at me, taking in all their is to see. I guess after an experience like this, I can say that we have bonded in the strangest of ways. Down below the blue paper-like blanket the doctors face went and almost immediately her face popped back up. The face of total disgust she gave me almost made me laugh and also made me worry – dear God, what is wrong with me?!!

The doctor started speaking to Alice, probably telling her that this was the nastiest white woman she’s ever seen, but I guess I’ll never know. After a short conversation, Alice looked to me and started translating, probably leaving out all the dirty things the doctor just told her about me. Although, if she did, he face never showed it. All of the questions she asked me were pretty normal. Does it hurt? How long have it been hurting? And a few other rather embarrassing questions I am sure you’d rather not read about. But it wasn’t until she started referring to the “land down under” as the “Secret Passage” that I just about lost it. By lost it, I mean laugh. Eternally, I was rolling, but it was really hard to keep a straight face. I don’t know if she was trying to be polite or if she just didn’t know the real English word for it. For those curious, vagina in Chinese is ??, or yi-n bù, just in case you ever need to know.

Who knows, it could be on Jeopardy one day when I am rich and famous. Answer: During her year and three day stint in China, author Gabrielle Cook went to a Chinese hospital to make sure this certain part or her body wasn’t about to die. Question: What is a yi-n bù?

Anyway . . . all the while, there are 2 or 3 Chinese woman peering around the wall at me. Maybe they had never seen a white woman before or perhaps they were just very concerned. I probably should have been mortified, but I think I took it all very well, considering.

This is pretty much exactly what it looked like, including the nosy peeps staring around the corner as though I was the first magical unicorn they had ever set eyes on. Yes, I just referred to myself as a magical unicorn. I’m that special!

The doctor took a sample and then I got up and put my pants on. The 2 or 3 nosy peeps’ eyes had not wavered from the corner of the wall. They wanted to catch the thrilling finale of this five star movie. We had to wait on the results for like an hour and a half. Finally, we got the medicine I had been dying to get all day – all 4 different types of them – diflucan(which was a shock – I never thought I would have found that medicine in China of all places), some more monistat like things, some other monistat like things, and then some wash. If this doesn’t cure me, I don’t know what will. And that was my experience of a Chinese hospital. Not as bad as I thought, but then again, this was the best one in Shenyang. All in all everything cost me 267 RMB – about 34 bucks. That includes exam, test, and medicine. If only it was that cheap in America.

End of Email

And now that I have written a freaking novel . . .

I will try and ransack my memory banks for some more interesting stories, but I’m not sure any of them will be as crazy as the one you just read. Hopefully, I didn’t gross you out too much. Just remember, I did try to warn you! 🙂

Well, I had my interview.

I’m not sure how I feel about it though. The interview itself went well, but it seemed rushed and unorganized. For instance, the woman I met while waiting in the reception room was supposed to have her interview at 9:00, but she didn’t get seen until about 10:00 or so. My interview was scheduled at 9:30, and I didn’t get called until shortly after she got ushered away. I was confused on why we were getting taken to two different rooms, but I soon figured it out. They were just trying to get the paper work part of the interview out of the way. The woman sat me down, told me to review my application, had me read the job description, and asked if $28,822 was good for me. I thought 28K floated my boat, so, I said, “Sure, 28K sounds delicious.” However, when I got done reading the job description, I asked if I could have a copy because I had never seen it before. It was a lot more detailed than the version I had seen on the State website. She looked at me very nicely and said, “No, we don’t give these out.” That really confused me, but I didn’t protest. She had me sign a few things, and then ushered me back out to the reception room. “We’ll be with you in a minute, Ms. Cook.”

Another applicant had shown up for her interview. I sat beside her and started up a conversation. I had to size up my competition, you know. Heh. She seemed interesting enough, but came off a bit stiff. After a lot of small talk, we concluded that this was a strange interview process. Through the walls we could almost hear the woman who went in before me being read her interview questions. A few questions later, the door opened and the girl left. The woman beside me said rather emphatically, “Are you kidding me? Only 4 questions?” I gave her my “I don’t know” face and shrugged my shoulders.

The woman who had politely refused to give me my job description stepped in the doorway and called my name. I walked in, sat down and we said our “how you dos”. There were two women. One was the reader and the other was the writer. Quite literally, the interview started out like this: “Number one, how do you feel . . .” I answered the question and the writer took note of the important things that I said. When I finished, the reader continued with: “Number two, how do you . . .” And that is how it went on for 17 questions. I was quite sad that they didn’t ask me the “where do you see yourself in five years” question. I like seeing the look on peoples faces when I tell them I see my self herding sheep in Ireland or whichever country I think of at the time.

I asked them a few questions, and then it was time for me to leave. If I get the job, the only bad thing will be the cost of gas to get me to and from work every week. It’s 40 miles away from where I live. That would be 400 miles a week and 20,000 miles a year. Ouch, man. That’s a lot of miles.

I guess the important question is whether or not I will get the job. If the two women that were interviewing me see race, I don’t think that I will. Eastover is predominantly a black community, and from what I saw, their office was, too. The two other applicants that I met were black as well. I mean, if the other 10 or so applicants are more qualified than me, I would want them to get the job before I did, even though I’m about as broke as a robbed bank. I guess we’ll see what happens in 2 to 4 weeks. That’s the time frame that they gave me.

I also gave USC another call. I’m sure that I’m like a gnat that just won’t stop buzzing in their ear, but if it gets me the job, I don’t care. They said that they should make a decision this week. I had my interview with them the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I would hope they’ve had enough time to figure out who they want for the job. I was thinking though, the other applicants have probably been as unemployed as long as I have. If that is the case, they may have already found jobs and they’ll have to choose me! Hey, I can dream.

Everyone keep their fingers crossed!

It’s a beautiful day outside. Blue skies. About 65 degrees. Couldn’t ask for much more on a late December day. I guess tonight, I am going to go over to Phil’s and watch the ball drop. He can’t come to my house because he’s allergic to my kitty, Morgan Rose Ireland Yvette DeWitter. He loves her, but she just makes him sneeze like mad. I’ve thought about buying stock in Kleenex – he goes through about a box a day. Poor, poor, Philby.

We haven’t bought any fireworks. Or any hard liquor. Not even streamers, poppers or hats. It’ll just be the two of us eating left over lamb as we watch the ball take its yearly plunge. We won’t have much of a party, I guess. Perhaps, we’re just getting too old for that stuff. Ha. Ha. Ha. Just as long as the cable works until midnight, everything will be okay.

Oh, and I have my interview for the Human Services position out in Eastover on the 3rd. Wish me luck. If I don’t get a job in the next few days, I’m going to have to sell my soul to the devil or something and I’d rather not.

I finally landed an interview with the State!

Yippy Skippy as Ms. Piggy would say.  My brother, Nathaniel, always hated when she said that for some reason.  As much as I am happy, I am a little sad.  The place that I will be interviewed and most likely work, if I even get the job, is 30 miles away from where I live.  My interview is at the Department of Social Services and the position title is Human Services Specialist II.  It’s located over in Eastover somewhere.  I’ve heard of Eastover, but I’ve never been there.  It’s one of those places you know exists, but if someone asked you how to get there, you’d wouldn’t know which direction to send them.  Since I don’t know the area at all, I looked up the address they gave me so I would have some idea of how to get there come January 3rd.  Well, I typed it into to Google, and hit the map button, and Google told me it didn’t exist.  If it doesn’t exist on Google, where does it?  Phil somehow was able to find the longitude and latitude and plugged that in, and finally was able to bring it up on Yahoo Maps. But goodness, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a flipping street.  Anyway, wish me luck because I really, really, need a job.

In other news, I think I found out one of the reasons why it has been difficult finding a job – read on.

SC unemployment rate rises for the 3rd straight month