Amy Middleton Loves New York

I’m looking around at houses which it turns out I can’t buy unless I have a W2 job. That’s one thing I wish I’d known before I moved to California. Sorry freelance life. Till we meet again.

But I still need a house so that I can have chickens. And I need chickens so I can feel like my life has meaning. You can see where this is going. I was chatting with Matt Cope the other day about house hunting and he told me:

Houses are like marriage. Don’t settle. The commitment is long, the price can be high. But if you love it (him) you will love every minute of it. And if you don’t the opposite happens.

Funny comparison to give to a girl who said goodbye to her twenties and is still single. I’m kind of the queen of not settling. I’m quite good at not committing; my problem is rarely that I don’t look before I leap. It’s that I look too long.

The beauty part about the internet is it makes it even easier to look. I can search a real estate site and quickly get the MLS or address of a property. Plug it into google, zoom in on the satellite map view, and a house that looked interesting is often removed from the list in the time it takes to see the actual size of the backyard.

Same story with my hunt for a W2 job.

Dear “fast growing retail company”:
You may be looking for an “energetic, proactive Web and Marketing Director who can make a positive impact,” but I just googled you and you don’t even have a website, and your average customer rating on city search is one star. I’m not going to pretend that anything I’d do for your marketing could save you from your lousy fulfillment and customer service. Good luck with that.

I appreciate being able to avoid rat holes by not committing to the “wrong” one, but I wonder if my reluctance to leap is getting me any farther. In my current frame of mind, I can see passing on life in its entirety: “The idea of choices and experience sounds good, but I looked into it and I’m not convinced it’s for me. I’m going to search for something that won’t involve dental work, msn adcenter, or Rod Stewart.”

There’s a lot of goodness in life and experiences that are missed if we insist on turning everything into a Dealbreakers Game, which I often do. And I realize that in the choices I’m trying to make right now, the stakes may be too high, but I wonder if it’s time to do the dumb things I gotta do. Touch the puppet head. And run with the consequences.

Dear Time Warner Cable,

I’m sure you consider “customer loyalty” to be an oxymoron at the TWC headquarters. Not only do you basically have a monopoly (at least in NYC) of internet service, but the quality of your service is–shall we say–lacking, causing many of us to shake our fists at you.

Naturally, you get your share of complaints and rude remarks. I’m pretty sure you don’t listen to any of it. The fact that you have a twitter account with hundreds of followers and no updates is another good indication that you sometimes pretend to care but aren’t really interested in helping people. However, even if you were to tap into all the “time warner sucks!” and “#twcfail” comments and conversations, you may be left just as clueless as how to improve. So please read and learn from the source of my frustration today when I tried to cancel my account.

I’ve canceled an account before with you, so I know that I need to return some equipment to 23rd street. But I remember it being a big process, and waiting in that giant line without a required item would be terribly inconvenient for me. Plus I didn’t remember if an appointment was required. So I decided to look up this basic, general information. Here was my process

1. I pulled up my last email statement, in which you advised me: “You can access your statement, change your payment options, add services, and more at http://www.timewarnercable.com/nynj/services/default.html“
2. On website, there are about 50 things I can do. Cancelling is not one of them.
3. I used the Search function to run a query on “cancel.” There are several results, most dealing with cancelling a TWC Navigator program. I don’t even know what that means, but I know it’s not what I’m looking for.
4. I logged into my account, which required a new password to be generated. Not your fault that I forgot it, just an extra step here.
5. From my Online Account Manager, I’m told I can View, pay, and manage my account. I would think managing would include cancelling the service if I choose. I can update my payment options very easily (thanks, giant orange button) but I can’t change my services.
6. A visit to the FAQ section tells me how to transfer my service if I’m moving, or transfer the account holder to a roommate. Am I really supposed to believe that no one has ever asked how to simply cancel the service? How on earth is that not an FAQ?

Now I’m frustrated. It didn’t have to be like this. You could have made it easy, but you obviously VERY INTENTIONALLY made it difficult to cancel, perhaps hoping that inertia and lack of info will lead to customers keeping their service a few months longer. Of course, this means that probably everyone who calls you will already be angry before they even speak to anyone. Is that really what you’d like to use your customer service department for? Handling irate customers who, as a direct and intentional result of the online experience you’ve crafted, already feel frustrated and powerless?

7. In order to remain a bit more neutral (phones are not my preferred communication method), I try to chat with an online rep. This requires not only my full address, phone number, and account number (even though I’m already logged in), but my social security number and a PIN.
8. I resort to the phone.
9. The menu offers “downgrade or discontinue service” as an option. Nice job guys!
10. I talked to a VERY nice customer service rep who provided me with this VERY BASIC information I was looking for without too much problem. When I asked her how to find that information online, she put me on hold, and confirmed that there is no explanation of how to disconnect on the website. She pointed out that the “contact us” section should help resolve that.

So, Time Warner Cable, all I need to do is bring my modem and its power cable to your location (the first date for a technician to come pick it up is after I’ll have moved). If that is seriously the entire process, WHY did you choose to make it so difficult? Do you really make so much money from people not getting around to returning your equipment that it is worth having everyone hate you? I guess if you’re a monopoly, it might be. Might as well ride that wave until you get beat out by smaller, better, customer-centric service providers. Maybe if you refuse to adapt you’ll even get a bailout. Or maybe, just maybe, you could improve your service, respond to feedback, and not have to deal with your entire customer base hating you.

Just received this email:

Amy, if you need someone to give a testimonial to your method, let me know! I just used your method today for a coverletter, and got asked back for an interview within three hours of sending it! …All I did was very blatantly use their requirements and show how my experience met them. It’s a _really_ great system and it works! Just wanted to send you a success story. I’ve told everyone I know who is looking for a job to go to your seminar.

My seminar? Why, yes. This Wednesday, July 15, I’ll be giving a presentation on cover letters. It will NOT be the same slideshow that is available online. I’ve created a new presentation just for this event, and I think it’s actually more helpful than the slideshare.

First and Third Wednesday Networking Group
Wednesday, July 15, 2009 - 5:30 PM to 7 PM
LDS Employment Resource Center: 144 West 15th Street, New York, NY 10011
Pre-registration is required by calling 212-255-0579 or sending an email to wel-ec-newyork@ldschurch.org

My presentation will be the last half hour- before that there will be a video and some group networking.
If you have questions, please let me know: orangewalk at gmail dot com
Hope to see you there!

I don’t have a bucket list for leaving NYC. My fake answer is “the last seven years are my bucket list.” In truth, there is no way for me to be done with the city and feel totally ready to move on. But with my mom and aunt visiting over the last few days, I’ve come a little closer to being ready to say goodbye. Here’s what we’ve done. My initial list had links but I can’t seem to get them to copy over, so if any of this is intriguing, google it or ask me about it:

wednesday
Jamaican patty stop
Fairway
Riverside Park to watch the Hudson
Subway to Chelsea. The Highline.
Tasti D-lite and Papaya Drinks
FIT Museum
Macy’s, pretzel, and chess, Herald Square
Penn Station, West 4th
Bleeker Street, Five Guys
Washington Square Park

thursday
Imagine Circle and Strawberry Fields
Alice’s Teacup
Manhattan Temple
Duane Reade and Columbus Circle
Brooklyn Botanical Gardens
Grimaldi’s
Raising Arizona at the Brooklyn Bridge Park

friday
food and Bryant Park
NYPL Main Branch Library
Grand Central Station
Union Square
Max Brenner
Dylan’s Candy Bar
MoMA
Times Square and t-shirts
In the Heights
pizza and Duane Reade

saturday
South Ferry, quick view of Battery Park
Governor’s Island
GW Bridge
7-eleven
tour of Washington Heights
Malecon

sunday
church
Conservatory Gardens
subway, airtrain, JFK

A few years ago I was at work and having intense chocolate cravings. After a while I realized my status message just happened to read: “Count Choculitis.” I changed it to something banana-related and had no problems the rest of the day (I had bananas with me). I’m that easily influenced.

Or maybe I should say, I’m that easily tempted by something already inline with my values. I’m not so willing to change my values by the power of suggestion; a thousand steak ads would not get me to consider abandoning my vegetarian ways. Maybe this is why most of us think we are immune to the effects of advertising–we don’t pay explicit attention to it and are unwilling to change our minds, values, or behavior to conform to ad messages.

I was disturbed to realize yesterday that even if advertising doesn’t change my values, it changes my perception of what society finds acceptable. For instance, because of ads that hawk them, I believe that most parents think it’s ok to give their kids ridiculous wrongly colored squirty fruit gusher processed snacks. I’ve never EVER talked to parents of grade school children about this, I just assume, based on the existence of the product and its advertising budget, that the message is accepted in our culture.

So if this personal discovery is at all reflective of how other people feel–if we collectively assume things about our culture based on the ads we see–then we really have to divorce ourselves from society in order to stand a chance of being immune to advertising’s influence. This whole time I’ve been thinking advertising doesn’t really change me, but it turns out it changes what I think about you, which is a more powerful influence than this Marketing Communications major had ever given thought to.

Thanks to the magic of the wayback machine, I found this page (titled “why am i so depressed?”) from the 2002 archives of a site I no longer maintain, written a few months after a completely unexpected move to the Bay Area. If it comes across as though I was not grateful for the leads and support I was getting, I’m sure that’s not the case. But you know how it feels when you have a real, complex problem and someone gives you flippant “worked for me” advice? That’s the scenario at play:

sample conversation of my life

part one
(you are any random person)

you: what sort of work are you looking for?

me: well i studied advertising, but i haven’t found anything up here. it’s a tough market right now, so i’m doing admin work until i can find something i enjoy.

you: you just have to know the right people. here’s someone you should call….

part two
(you are a friend of random person)

you: why did you come to Northern Cal? this is the last place anyone should come.

me: yeah, i’ve been discovering that.

you: seriously, why are you here? there are no jobs here. San Francisco is the worst place in the world for you to be. call me before you pack your bags. oh, and by the way, did you know your degree is worthless?

me: yes i did.

you: okay, as long as you knew.

me: um, okay, thanks for your time.

you: good luck.

I’m no good with checks. I’ve had the same bank-issued checkbooks for four years at least, using them mostly for church tithing and rent, and not even rent these days thanks to roommate’s paypal acceptance. I’m also no good with depositing checks, much to the annoyance of my grandma, whose birthday thoughtfulness sits in a paper shortstack on my dresser for months every year.

I think what I’m worst at is the check memo. I converted stacks of bank statements (aka “list of subway sandwich purchases”) into shredded paper today, and noted with amusement and horror the things I write when I write checks to people. Among them:

• gymnastic lessons and paper
• bruised apples
• boyfriend allowance
• glasgow miracle #7
• twelve thousand pennies
• keeping quiet about “that thing”

Maybe if I treated a checkbook as a financial tool, and not a 5 year old’s scribble pad, I would be in better shape. Then again, maybe if my church accepted paypal, I could forget about the whole thing.

Update Turns out I also saved physical checks that were returned to me (my bank must have stopped doing that in 2004), but here are a few more from that pile:

• Bands beginning with “R”
• wounded bird session #7
• Ethan’s Mullet Fund
• being completely awesome
• defeating Trogdor

In 2002 I took a few web classes at a community college in the bay area. I dropped the design class, being too busy to handle everything, and knowing enough of standards to realize what we were being taught violated the way the web was meant to be used. I later dropped the flash course, convinced I would never learn such a complicated and technical program, and having a new scheduling conflict that kept me from regularly attending the weekly class.

The courses I didn’t drop were online classes dealing with HTML and JavaScript, back when JavaScript (as I understood it) was superfluous trickery. HTML, though, was solid. I was just cleaning out some files, and I found the assignment timeline for the course. Here are some highlights:

Assignment Description
During the next 8 weeks you will create your own “Web Site” by creating a number of pages, linked together to a “Home Page”…

Week 3: Tables
Start a new homepage called “altindex.htm” that uses a table to align the title, graphic, text, and menu…

Week 5: Images Maps
Use Paintbrush to create a simple site map graphic. Use the graphic to create an image on a new page…

Week 6: Frames
(Do I even need a follow up to this one?)

Week 7: Forms
…Your form should ask for things like name, address, interests, comments…

Given that this is the most successful academic experience I’ve had with the world wide web, is it any wonder that I’ve since shied away from pursuing formal web design education?

But here we are seven glorious years later, and web design has advanced at a much more maddening pace than my skills have. I feel like an SVA billboard, which I hate on so many levels, and salivating over brilliant web design while occasionally dipping a toe into css doesn’t narrow the gap between current ability and mastery. I need to take a class. Perhaps several. And they need to not cover frames.

I’m a fan of David Silverman and about a third of the way through his book “Typo: The Last American Typesetter or How I Made and Lost 4 Million Dollars. His most recent article on HarvardBusiness.org is about cover letters–how they’re not important, and how the only time it’s worth the effort to write one is if you’ve been personally referred or know something about the job requirement.

First of all, why wouldn’t know know something about the job requirement if you are APPLYING for the job? Secondly, here is, word for word, his example of the best cover letter he’s received:

Dear David:

I am writing in response to the opening for xxxx, which I believe may report to you.

I can offer you seven years of experience managing communications for top-tier xxxx firms, excellent project-management skills, and a great eye for detail, all of which should make me an ideal candidate for this opening.

I have attached my résumé for your review and would welcome the chance to speak with you sometime.

Best regards,

Xxxx Xxxx

Not that there’s anything glaringly wrong with that example, but I’m surprised something so generic would stand out from the pack. The fact that it does is a bit disheartening.

I haven’t been able to post a comment to the article discussion, so I will say it here. If the scenario he mentions is reflective of what other hiring managers are dealing with–if all the cover letters they see are recaps, form letters, or just crazy emails–then your goal as a job seeker shouldn’t be to “not bother” writing a relevant cover letter, it should be to do even better, since it obviously won’t take much to set you apart from everyone else.

I tried writing the title as <media>ting, but it’s hard to tell what that word is, right? Anyway, I don’t know how this existed for so long and it’s the first time I’ve seen it, but here is Michael Wesch’s amazing, visual, engaging explanation of Web2.0: (”The Machine is Us/ing Us (Final Version)”)