Screwing the Little (Wo)Man

I got this email the other day from a supervising manager. Basically, it suggested Logos move me to a freelance capacity rather than my contract capacity. Reasoning wasn't given, and the only thing which would change, the manager said, would be my method of reporting completed projects. The manager went on to say that I was not in trouble and that I couldn't call until two days later.

In my work as a manager and sub-manager, and this was one of the worst combinations of polite wording I've seen. Never mention anyone is EVER is trouble, even if they are. This isn't preschool. Unless we're talking theft from the company or sexual harassment, the only "trouble" one can be in is in terms of less productivity or worker interaction. Those aren't trouble issues: those are communication issues. You can't solve them with email.

Second, don't treat your worker like an idiot. If you're not mentioning the reason for the change in contract, it's clear you don't want a record because something uncomfortable is involved. Moreover, anyone who knows anything about freelancing knows that it carries a 25% tax rate. I'd consider that more of an inconvenience than how the work is reported. It's why I ask for a higher rate of pay when I freelance.

I called the manager today. I was told 1) that work on the project was winding down, and she wasn't sure there was enough work for me to do my forty hours anymore; 2) that she had noticed I had been doing less work of late; 3) that my freelancing was more convenient for them.

The last statement was undoubtedly true: Logos employs innumerable writers and editors as "freelancers," which is another way of saying, "poorly-paid university students with no benefits." I have virtually no loyalty to this company, being a project-only editor myself, so mentioning that it benefits the company only increased my perception that it was screwing me for their bottom line. The first statement was either a lie or sign of a misinformed manager. I know that the editor directly above me has had no shortage of work to give me. The second statement I cleared by telling her I was sick last week, as I emailed her, and that I've never had less than a forty-hour week since I was hired, even doing unpaid overtime to meet deadlines. I also told her that I would prefer to quit than have the inconvenience of a 25% tax rate for the mere three weeks left in my contract.

She got quiet. She said she'd talk to my superior editor. And (no surprise), she wrote back saying that my contract would remain the same for as long as there was work of the current level on the project.

I've a distinct feeling they tried to pull one over on me.

Thoughts of a Pawn

There's a glass chess set in the break-room which no one uses. I'm not sure why it is there--possibly because it looks like intelligent people would use it. It sits in the middle of a table stacked with businesslike magazines, never dusty, its pieces haphazardly jumbled. I often amuse myself with taking a turn or two on amongst the improbable arrangement of pieces; originally, this was to see if anyone else felt like playing tag chess, but now it is just because I am sorry for the neglected board. Today, I was surprised to see that my carefully randomized board game had been "fixed." All of the pieces were in their rows on the far sides of the board. Clear glass was on one side; clouded glass on the other. Except the pieces were not in the right places! Some well-meaning organizer had simply put them into neat little rows. The queen was on one end in the pawns' row, and two rooks stood side by side next to her. A pawn stood where the king ought to have been. I felt like crying. It symbolizes, in many ways, all I have learned about the textbook/course production industry since I joined Logos. We're very good at producing neat little packages which look intellectual: in some cases, they actually are. But with the outsourcing of writing, editors without content expertise, and managers intent to organize without understanding the material, there is little here of pedagogy. Anything I write will be hacked to bits; any historical content I advise can be bludgeoned. I am expected to list historical resources, but they are not reviewed. Time and workflow and organization: these are tantamount. This is a business. What else should I have expected?


I put the chess pieces back in their proper places.

Riboflavin's Complaint

Riboflavin recently complained that I don't blog enough. Always quick to self-justify, I looked back over the blog, and behold! Not a single entry since I started working at Logos. So here, in a nutshell, is what has been eating my life:

First: I have had two colds, each lasting for over a week. Minimal functioning.
Second: Editing deadlines. They eat your soul.
Third: Childcare, shared with the adoring Sparrow and on the weekends, with my parental units. Thorn is a genius, but a demanding genius.
Fourth: Spare time spent freaking out about the cold and knitting scarves for babies. Also editing various writings by Sparrow and Aunt Violet.
Fifth: D&D some weekends, but a lot of travel otherwise. Went to Colonial Williamsburg with Sparrow for our tenth year together.
Sixth: I learned everything there is to know about assessment writing, DOK levels, and multiple-choice options, and wrote "the guide" on the matter for Logos freelancers.
Seventh: Art history, as per my editing deadlines. As far as writing and editing (re-writing) goes, I started with Antiquity and have gotten up to the Quattrocento thus far. Major stops included Mesoamerican archaeology (of course), Byzantium, Gothic illuminations, tempera techniques, 15th century Italian painting from Masaccio to Mantegna, and (currently) 15th century art of France, Germany, and Spain. All of which are fascinating to me. Like the Ghent Altarpiece's Virgin, my twin. Or the perfect breast spheres of Fouquet's Madonna. Dürer's beguiling self-portrait. Masaccio's intense Expulsion. Mantegna's Dead Christ--aaagh, it gives me goosebumps!

The best thing about all this art history is that it has forced me to read a lot of books in order to get my source material. Which means that I'm only two books shy of my 50-books-a-year goal. Once I've gotten to fifty, I promise I'll post the list and my thoughts. After which I can read The Lord of the Rings again without guilt!

Oh, and if you wondered, the election didn't make me bat an eyelash. Lack of a landline and no television made my November wonderfully free of political advertisements. Americans have given no mandate to anyone. They want jobs, and if you start with that racist immigration crap again, Republicans, you will see one of your biggest fans give you the finger. Just balance the budget like good small-government types, pat-pat.

Happy now, Riboflavin?

Job Updates

Logos has offered me a contract position for ninety days as a writer/editor for an art history course -- the same one I edited as a sample earlier this summer. It's at a lower wage than I normally get for contract editing: with the higher taxes of the self-employed, it'll virtually be minimum wage. But I'll get to use my Mesoamerican history, which is a bonus. It's also superior in its very impermanence: Thorn won't need daycare, I'll still have writing and gym time, and we'll be moveable pending Sparrow's jobhunt next summer. A surprising ending, really, as the second interviewer has still failed to contact me. I can't say I'm impressed with their handling of the interview process, but I'm sure the company will improve upon closer aquaintance. Anyway, that's an end to it.

In other news, I got my first rejection as a writer. The rejection wasn't for "A Judge of Her People," which is still in consideration, but for a second story, "Raj," which was a glorified writing exercise I sent out on a lark. It was a lovely rejection: my wee tale was "beautifully written and has great voice," but was more of a vignette than a story in itself. And I'd totally agree. Overall, it was more of a success than a failure. My next sci-fi, "Commencement," will be sent out sometime this week or next, pending good reviews from my readers. So the pen flows.

The Wait

A yes or no, Logos, would be sufficient. Particularly after keeping me on the hook all summer, past the registration times of some daycares, making me go to multiple interviews, and getting free editing from me. It's not like you're a top secret organization. Put me in a cubicle and let me get to WORK.

Fox Update

A wise and companionable friend asked why I don't write in this blog often enough. I didn't have a good answer for her, so this means I must write in the blog. And give her an appropriate pseudonym. Shall we call her Riboflavin? Excellent.

Summer has been a busy blooming time for this 'ere rose: I've worked-out, interviewed, and -- most importantly -- written. Physical therapy for Achilles tendonitis just ended: it really worked this time, and I'm keeping up the foot exercises, weight-lifting, and pilates religiously at my gym. In a year, I will have gone from a hobble to running up stairs. Nothing short of a miracle after three years of chronic pain. It also doesn't hurt that all this working out has slimmed me down a bit, too. A bit lower in the poundage, and I think I'll get myself a blue silk sari.

The interviewing I mentioned has all been with the same company, which I'll name Logos to keep it private. I've had two interviews and one editing test so far -- the process has dragged all summer. I can well believe it when economists state that companies are taking their time with new hires. My first interview went swimmingly, but I'm a bit anxious about how the second went. Sure, it was a success in any case because my clothes were made of flaming red womanpower, but in the broader scheme of things, I'm not sure I sold myself particularly well. The woman behind the desk had interviewed several just before me, and she was clearly pressed for time. I may not have sounded it, but I felt like I was screaming, "I'm a people person!" à la Office Space. Oh well. I'll find out next week as to whether I've got a cubicle at Logos, or a dismissive pat on the rump.

At least my real words are working for me. This has been the writing summer of wonder. In just two months, one short story is awaiting acceptance or rejection at a random webzine, one short story is being read by some of my readers, another chapter has been written, and several short stories are emerging from their beginning phase. Creative words clutter my notebooks, my voice recorder, my waking and dreaming thought. I've even revived the old writing group and spread my fire, putting up word exercises and reading others' submissions, not to mention finally tackled the three novels my Aunt Violet sent to me some time ago. A lot of word confidence is spinning around my head, and I want to use it to its fullest before I get my first rejection.

Looking back, I can understand why "beginning phase" sounds rather pathetic. "So what if short stories are in a beginning phase?" you might ask. "That's what, a paragraph?" So let me explain my phases to you. Being the lunatic organizer I am, I have a master list of all stories in progress, color-coded according to phase of writing. The last three phases have to do with publication. There are also the writing and review phases, two and three, respectively. The beginning phase includes early research, which can be enormous, particularly for the science-fiction. It also includes character and world creation. Most importantly, it encompasses only one form of writing: the first sentence. Anything beyond the first sentence --even the title -- is second phase, since a short story tends to flow well for me after that. There's so much pressure to produce a good first sentence that I've had stories sit that way for weeks after everything else is done, waiting for the right set of words to blast it off. So much of writing is sheer work, not inspiration, but that first sentence has to be dynamine. It has to appeal to the curious, suggest questions. It's what makes an editor keep reading. Thus, I'm willing to wait for inspiration. I just got the first sentence to one of the phase-one stories and I'm very excited to finally begin. Onward with the words!

Hierarchies

There are many days when being a graduate student feels just like being a member of the faculty. You teach classes. You grade students. You go to meetings. You sit on committees. You research. You write. You meet with colleagues. In each of these ways there is no discernible difference between the one life and the other, save that faculty get paid considerably more. Inevitably, however, someone or something returns you to reality, you are dashed out of your happy illusion, and you run smack into the existence of the hierarchy. This happened to me today, and in order to have catharsis, I intend to write about it.

Gilman Hall is the center piece of Hopkins' Homewood campus. It is the heart of the Krieger School of Arts and Sciences, though there are never any sciences present in Gilman. No, that lovely building serves as the home of the school's various humanities departments. In the new Gilman, that is the Gilman post-70 million dollar renovation, three of those departments share space. Specifically, the graduate students of the three departments share a lounge and a workspace room. While seated in the lounge this afternoon, I overheard a conversation between a member of our faculty and an administrator from another department. You see, the issue at hand was the large and lovely pantry (complete with fridge, cabinets, microwave, and sink station), which is a wonderful feature of the new Gilman. Alas, I heard, and had later confirmed, that this lovely space was for faculty and staff only. Graduate students were forbidden to use it. The tone of voice of the speaker made it incredibly clear that a hierarchy did exist, and we didn't measure up to the ability to use the "big people" pantry. Instead we have a destitute little unit of our own.

Ah, graduate life. The sooner you are over, the better.

Time to research.