First of all, it is the anniversary of when I started work with my current employer. It has been six years. I can’t remember if I ever shared the story of how I came to work there (oh, I made a long story short on my one year work anniversary post), so let me share it with some more detail. One good thing that came out of my tumultuous university career (another blog entry that needs to be written, “for posterity” as they say) is that I realized during the process of working in the lab for my fourth year project and thesis that I did not enjoy lab work. I disliked the rush to discover something, and the lack of time to enjoy the discovery before it was off to discover the next thing. And the pressure to publish is not something that appealed to me.

This discovery didn’t stop me from applying to lab jobs after I graduated in 2004, because I wanted to start earning the money I was told I’d earn with a degree. I got a job working for an hourly wage with a Psychologist who needed a writer and research/administrative assistant, and while I was working there in early 2005, my dad asked me if I had heard of a particular job search engine. I had and I was using it (rather passively), but I decided to check it out that day. I saw the ad for a scientific writer position with my current employer and hemmed and hawed about applying, since they were seeking someone with a Masters in science. My good old pops of course had to encourage me that having two Bachelors degrees, one in science and one in arts, could be an asset. So I got my writing samples together and hand delivered my application. The receptionist was nice enough but I thought she’d toss my application because I was submitting it on the last day (not because I was procrastinating; it was just the timing of when I saw the ad).

Well she didn’t toss application and I was called in for an interview. I was nervous (I’m always nervous, even now), but I thought it was a good interview. The office manager at the time was not pleased by the fact that I had a part time job (the clothing store), and I got the feeling that I had answered her question regarding what I would do about my part time job if I got this job incorrectly (I had said I’d keep the job since I didn’t see a conflict between them). I didn’t get the job.

But then about six months later I got a call from the organization asking if I’d like a one year position to cover a maternity leave. They stroked my ego by telling me I was their second choice (I’ll never know the truth: maybe all their other applicants had found better jobs by then!).

(It looks like I documented my third year work anniversary and wrote a snippet about work in my entry about three years ago.)

Less than six months after I began work there, a permanent position was created and my boss pushed me to apply for it. Again I didn’t think I had a chance because I didn’t feel I was qualified but things worked out well (I was still nervous at the interview; my boss said something like “Jummy, you know us!”). Since then the position has morphed a bit and the title has changed, but I feel very, very blessed. I have made friends on the job and I’ve learned a lot too. My writing has improved as well. Six years later, I’ve gotten a little sloppy, and I plan to change that. I have become comfortable, possibly too comfortable, and I need to regain that old fear from my early days where I felt that I’d be axed if I did something wrong. It might be a weird thing to want but I think someone out there might know what I mean.

I’m celebrating my six-year anniversary by taking the day off! Maybe I should go to work but um, it’s almost 4am!

***

The other significant thing about November 14 is it’s World Diabetes Day. Four years ago, that motivated me to rulk (that’s run/walk) to raise money for the Canadian Diabetes Association. The reason that diabetes means something to me is because my mom is diabetic.

Since 2008 I haven’t done anything else for the cause, except sign some online petitions. I actually tried to sign up to run/walk this year but it was sold out very early (I may have breathed an inward sigh of relief but I was also disappointed at the time). I may have agreed to do try the 5K race in 2012 with my friend Allison, but I can also see myself trying to get out of it. The thought of running 5 kilometres fills me with dread for many reasons, but hey if there’s one thing I got out of Oprah’s Lifeclasses it’s if running that race is a dream of mine, it is achievable.

And another bit of good news: it appears that reruns of the five weeks of Lifeclasses begins today, which is yet another reason to appreciate November 14.

In 2007, my father learned that the department that he has worked for for 20ish years was moving to a new city. All the employees were offered a chance to visit the new city over a weekend and I remember my dad’s emphatic declaration that he didn’t like the city and he couldn’t see himself there when he and my mom returned from the weekend away. By deciding not to move, my dad was deciding to switch careers because he works for the government and his department was the the only one doing that kind of work in our city. My dad eventually came to terms with changing careers and was looking forward to it by the middle of last year. The deal for those who decided not to move was that their employer would help them find another job. My dad decided to improve his chances of finding new employment by applying for an opportunity to receive French language training, which he began in October 2010. Our city is the nation’s capital and being bilingual gives you a definite advantage.

In December last year, my dad received notice that all attempts to find him a job in the city were unsuccessful. By sheer coincidence, his job was still available, in the city six hours away if he wanted it. If he didn’t want the job, he could ask his employer to continue the job hunt for him with the caveat that the job search would be opened up to all of Canada (and not just our city). If they found him a job across the country, he’d be expected to apply and if and he got it, his employer’s obligation would be over. If my dad decided not to take the job, he’d be on his own and no longer an employee of the federal government. When you consider that, going with the devil he knew and taking the job six hours away made sense. My dad doesn’t believe in leaving anything on the table, and given his age and where he is in his life (mortgage to pay off, dreams of retiring in about 10 years since he still has at least that many years left on his mortgage), and the fact that in our city the government is considered a decent employer, he decided it was worth staying with them.

He didn’t want my mom to move with him because he has decided to look at this move as a one year thing. He will continue to look for other government jobs in our city while he’s away and we’re praying that something will come up. If the job hunt doesn’t go as planned then he and my mother will think carefully about what they want to do (though my understanding is that they want to retire in this city, eventually).

Early in May, my parents spent a week in the new city, apartment hunting and buying a few things that could be kept in storage along with the things they brought with them. We ended up spending less than 24 hours in my dad’s new apartment, helping him clean the place (while exclaiming at how gross apartments are in general; snobs that we are), move some of the things he had in storage up to his apartment, and trying to make him comfortable. My dad regularly tells us that we, his family, are his only treasure, so we knew the move would be hard on him. It was easier on us because we’re all still in the same city; he’s the one who has to deal with a new place that is missing the people that make it a home. There were intermittent tears during the weekend; I love that my dad is in touch with his emotions.

Some good things are my dad’s office is only about 10 minutes’ walk from his apartment, which I know will be good for his health and well-being because he does not enjoy driving to work and although he’s quite used to taking the bus, a commute this short means he’ll save some money (important since he’s now paying rent and a mortgage!). He can get a little exercise and he can even go home for lunch! I’m hoping the time away will be good for his ever-present migraines, which were probably not helped by the constant fights among my siblings (and I, when I’m there), the mess of our house despite his best attempts to introduce order, and just his tendency to worry about us (though I’m not sure if he worries more or less, now that he’s apart from us).

So that’s the big news in our family. We’re adjusting and still working on the frequency of visits. He was here for my birthday and for Father’s Day this past weekend, which was great, and we already know he’ll be back for mid-July, and maybe even before, for Canada Day weekend. Given the situation, it’s the most ideal outcome and with some work on all our parts, we will make the best of it.

Ok, I’ve finally found a solution to my desire to share some tales about the fella I fancy but not on this blog. I have sent the link to a brand new blog to readers who have expressed interest in knowing more. If you would like to have a link to this blog, let me know in the comments and I’ll send you the link. To those who got to read one lonely entry back in January and then didn’t hear anything more, I would like you to know that I spent the afternoon and some of the evening preparing scheduled entries that will appear once a week starting this coming Monday (at 8:00am EST, Monday mornings) up to and including May 2, 2011.

Ahhh.

I’m going to be quite busy in April, May, June and July. One of my blog projects, the Nigerian Blog Awards, will be entering its second year at the end of May and there is quite a bit of setup required. I already know I will be using one or two work days to handle the administrative aspects of running the blog and crying myself to sleep at the mean comments some yokels who’ve never tried to manage such a thing will leave on the blog. Thankfully I have four weeks of vacation this year, and so far none of those weeks are going to be sucked up with a trip to Nigeria.

Speaking of work, I celebrated five years of employment in November, but received my award for the years of service last week. The award night fell on the same night as the surprise retirement party for a colleague who has been employed for what will be 39 years this December. As another colleague mentioned it kind of makes my five years of service look puny! But I was part of the committee that organized the party and my colleagues have been so gracious in commending us for the work we did. It was a great evening, though the lead-up to the event was slightly stressful (you know what group work is like!).

I started swimming lessons last week! After years and years of saying I wanted to learn to swim, one of my best friends and I signed up for lessons together. And I also signed up for Zumba, which is a workout and a half so far…my body ached for days after my first class and I felt completely uncoordinated and inept. Thank God for spring and a desire to move my body…I can assure you I would not have been tempted to move four months ago.

I fell asleep crafting my April Fools’ blog entry, but here it is. I could save it for next year but I’ll probably forget if I try that:

Three long years ago, I ran but mostly walked a 5km, inspired to raise money for the Canadian Diabetes Association, an organization that is close to my heart. This year I decided to sign up for the same race, but it and the 10km were sold out. As a result I’ve signed up to walk and run the half marathon for the same cause, and I have eight weeks to train for this.

Scarier than the training is the $2,500 that I will have to raise. Sure, they give you until the end of July to raise the funds but that is a large chunk of change. I’m hoping I can count on your very generous support. Please click here to support me. Any amount will help!

So, that’s what’s up with me…what’s up with you?

I love writing to express myself. The older I get the more apparent it is that I am a terrible oral communicator. My thoughts are all over the place; writing allows me to throw said words on a page, then rearrange them until they reflect what I mean to communicate. In my work environment, I’m a flubbler and while some may find it charming, she who flubs the words does not a promotion get. Worse than the flubblering though is accidentally spitting at those I’m talking to.

It is not 100% my fault: I have the world’s largest GAP between my two front teeth and when I speak, especially excitedly, I give those listening to me a light shower. I need to switch my iron pills to a brand with the side effect of causing dry mouth. I could also take a deep breath and think before speaking, which would cause my speech to come out in a modulated tone and result in less flubblering and probably less spitting.

Another thing I’ve been reflecting on lately is how little I care about my appearance. My hair is uninspiring but I have completely given up on it: rarely do I give it a good combing or brushing: I just throw it up in a bun and get on with my life. Even more rarely do I apply a flat iron to it. I don’t make time to find bobby pins to pin up the shorter bits so that it looks at least a bit professional. I have worn mascara once this year. My only nod to my appearance is wearing lipbalm. My skin looks awful: I’m currently experiencing the worst pimples I’ve had in a long while and I’ve been dealing with cold sores since I got back from Nigeria. I am a sight and I dread the day someone will mistaken me for a homeless person (at least from the neck up) and offer me a sandwich (hard to know if I dread the sandwich or being thought of as homeless more!).

I don’t make time for my appearance because I don’t expect to be noticed or liked based on my looks. Sadly, for all my self-help book reading, I haven’t mastered the art of looking good for me and only me. You’ll like the fact that I’m a nice person who isn’t mean-spirited (though I am not immune to having malicious thoughts). You’ll admit I’ve made you laugh once or twice. You may find me helpful. But if someone were to ask you to discuss my attractiveness, you’d hem and haw and change the subject. I get that. I just need to not feel bad about it, especially since I’m doing nothing to show myself in the best possible light physically. True to my habit of taking baby steps, I have started buying smaller sizes of clothes at my favourite clothing store instead of reaching for the largest size (don’t worry, the larger size was never huuuuuge on me, it was just a bit loose). Now I’m buying a size smaller and even I can see that it looks better.

This isn’t meant to be a sad, “poor me” entry, but one where I acknowledge that I look really awful lately and I need to make time to look better, even though I’m exhausted at the thought and even if I won’t be seeing another living being that day. How do I learn to care about my appearance?

I currently use post it notes and make daily to do lists to keep me on track but you only have to take one look at my largely incomplete 30 by 30 list to know that lists don’t work well for me. I wish someone could observe my work habits for a day (unbeknownst to me) and from those observations, tell me where I can improve.

My personal life has been suffering a bit: I am not seeing some of my friends as regularly as I used to, nor are we communicating by phone or email regularly. I’ve written before about not enjoying talking on the phone anymore; this feeling continues. I would rather send a quick text message or email than make conversation on the phone. I don’t know what this is about but it needs to change. I hate that whenever I say several times over the course of a week that I need to call someone, they end up calling me. Of course the solution to that is to just call them when the thought comes to mind.

After I finally quit my part time gig at the clothing store (I don’t think I ever blogged about crossing that item off my 30 by 30 list..boo!), I pondered working at the local St@rbucks, more for the socializing aspect and the discount on slices of lemon poppyseed loaf than anything. Lately I’ve been so tired that the thought of doing anything more strenuous than pouring myself a glass of water and sitting on my couch exhausts me. I can’t imagine working a second job…well, if I could create a lucrative blogging gig for myself that would bring in some money, I’d like that.

And finally, I haven’t cooked an entire meal from scratch for most of the summer. I want to perfect my ability to prepare Nigerian food, but my aversion to exerting myself means that I can’t say I can cook a single thing that I couldn’t cook a year and a half ago. That’s sad!

My working personality is one that I don’t like at all: I get comfortable and I plod along, doing the same thing. I lack confidence in myself and make no attempts to make myself shine, even though I see others around me doing it and getting recognition for it. They’re no smarter than I am; they just know how to play up their strengths and minimize their weaknesses. My attention to detail is one of my greatest strengths but you’d never know it. I’m a very helpful person and often put aside my own work to help others and lose track of the time, while they seem to know when to be helpful and when to step back, and how to avoid staying late at work catching up. My welcoming nature makes my office one of the more popular ones for people who want to talk to someone who is interested and who will become engaged in the conversation, but at the end of a 15 or 20 minute conversation, I’m left with nothing more than a closer bond to a colleague (which I love) and a backlog of work to do (which I of course detest).

When I come up with good ideas that are put into place and prove effective, I don’t make a record of it. I don’t devise ways of measuring the success of my initiatives so that these can be used to bolster my salary during my appraisals (not that I have ever requested a salary boost, mind you!). I do so many things half way, not taking full advantage of opportunities, and definitely leaving a lot on the table.

Far too often I simply do what I’m told and let others draw out the path of my career. Much like I am when it comes to things where I feel I’m not an expert, I let someone else steer my career. Others use me as a resource to help them get where they are going (and there’s nothing wrong with that), but I don’t end up doing the same. And as I see others moving ahead, I realize that I have to step up my game and make sure I have something to show for my time at this place, especially as my five-year anniversary approaches.

In the last year there have been some changes to my position, and these need to be fully digested and recorded, especially some unclear elements. Why haven’t I done it yet??? Can you believe that I haven’t updated my resume in four years? Of course you can; my reputation for procrastination is hardly a secret. I don’t even know where the last resume I updated back in 2006 is, while some people I know keep their resume so up-to-date that they would be able to print off a copy and hand it to a potential employer within a minute.

This entry was supposed to go in a completely different direction: I wanted to talk about how I need structure and try to get structure in many areas of my life, including my job, yet I have trouble maintaining it; I guess I’ll save that for another entry.

Where do you see your career going? Are you in the career or job you intend to still be in in the next five years?

Ads are also blocked from most websites that we can see, as are flickr pics on blogs that I can still access. For some of the blogs I read, reading the entry without the pictures is not quite the same experience, and those huge gaps where the images should appear are very distressing (what am I not seeing? Is it a picture of a dog? A piece of luggage? A fossilized piece of dung?!!???). Sites that are religious or political in nature remain blocked, and I noticed that all blogs with a wordpress.com extension are now off limits to me (like Sizzle’s blog).

But worse than all of these is the fact that I can’t access this blog from work any longer! This means if the site is messed up or if I have late-breaking house-related news, or if I meet the man I’m going to marry during my workday, I’ll have to wait until I get home to share this news. This is terrible because what if I’ve moved out of the house or married by the time I’m able to come and blog it? Then what? In fact, can my life actually progress if I’m not able to blog each experience as it happens? I guess we’ll see.

Tomorrow I’m going to check the reason given for blocking access to this blog. I’m hoping it’ll be something innocuous like “Advertising”, and not something damning like “Site spends entirely too much time talking about not working while at work. The site author (who we believe desperately needs to remain employed in order to make her mortgage payments) would be best served by working, and should not try to find alternate means of regaining access to this site.”

Fingers crossed.

Well, I guess I would hesitate, actually, but only because of my brother. I was telling him how I want to move to the UK so I can be halfway between Canada and Nigeria and he reminded me that um, I bought a house here. That was quite sobering. I forgot that I loved living here for a moment. I guess I’ll have to go back to praying the Atlantic Ocean shrinks and the continents move closer together.

All last week, I woke up between 3 and 4 in the morning and usually spent an hour or two online before returning to bed and then waking up — sans alarm, shockingly— with plenty of time to get ready for work. I was early for work every day last week. The last time that happened was three years ago, when I first started working there.

And if that isn’t the perfect segue, I don’t know what is. Things I missed while I was away, in no particular order are:

My Three Year Anniversary (at my place of work)
The middle of November marked three years since I got the phone message* that changed my career. You see, I had interviewed for the job in January 2005 but they chose a more qualified candidate over me. But then, the qualified candidate decided to start a family and she went on maternity leave and it just so happened that I was the first runner up that they called on when the winner was unable to do her duties. And somehow my one year stint became a permanent position. I am so blessed.

(*I’m not sure if I should admit this but I saved that message. Hear me out though: I have 40 messages on my voicemail that I just keep re-saving over and over again. They date back to 2003 and include gems like my youngest brother singing happy birthday to me, my mom apologizing for driving home and forgetting to take me with her (she sounds so contrite), to a friend congratulating me on the completion of my Biochemistry degree. I’m a packrat in all aspects of my life; what can I say?)

NaBloPoMo
If I had been here for the month of November, this would have been my third year in a row pledging to post every day for the month and hopefully I would have made it again. Now that NaBloPoMo is a year long thing, I’m going to do it for the month of December, which to me is the easiest month to mess up because it’s just so busy. Especially when you haven’t started brainstorming gift ideas, talk less entering a shopping mall and attempting to shop.

An Indian Wedding
Indian weddings are such a treat for the eyes because they are so colourful. I have never been to one. One of my friends got married the weekend we left so I missed out on their wedding. I haven’t even had an opportunity to ask anyone how it was, nor have I seen any pictures. I’m sure it was gorgeous though.

What I didn’t miss: the cold weather. In fact I’m partly convinced it’s the jarring difference in temperature that’s responsible for my body’s inability to get used to being back. This may also be why I haven’t called any friends to let them know I’m back (I did send a few emails, text messages and facebook messages), and I haven’t seen anyone (though it’s been a week). I need to shake this vacation brain of mine.

I become timid when I have to speak French with fluent French speakers, but only if I know their English is better than my French. If I think my attempts to speak French will be less difficult and allow us both to understand one another, then I will stammer out my few phrases. If, however, I think hearing me speak French will cause the other person to cringe inwardly at every misstep, I’d rather they speak English.

I have had two classes so far. They are private lessons, which is really great: I have the teacher’s attention for the whole hour and he can correct my many errors (and I make so many!). He asked me what I enjoy doing as a hobby and I told him I have a website that I update and after avoiding giving him the link during the first lesson I gave it to him and he says he will check out the blog and be able to gear our discussions towards things that interest me and concern my life because apparently it will be easier for me to have conversations about things that I am familiar with.

Let’s hope he won’t become dismayed when he brings up house hunting or my single status and I burst into tears.

My father is my educational inspiration, and really he deserves his own entry but for some background I’ll share his part of the story:

• He finished highschool in Nigeria but could not afford to go to University despite his great love of education (sometimes love just ain’t enough!). His father was not a wealthy man (he was a farmer) and therefore could not help him.
• Undeterred, my pops worked for six years to make money to help support his family (his parents and siblings), all the while doing what he could to make sure he didn’t lose his any of the knowledge he obtained in school. During this time he also applied for full scholarships to finance his education.
• Finally, he got a full scholarship to study in the USA, and that’s where he got his Bachelors and Masters degrees. He had decided my mom was the woman for him prior to his leaving Nigeria for school, so after he had been in the States for a little while, she went to join him. My sister and I were born there.

Back to my mom:

While in the USA, my mom got her Associates degree in Accounting a month before I was born. In fact there is a picture of her from her graduation, in a royal blue graduation gown, large with child, beaming and holding her diploma.

When I was three, we moved to Nigeria, where we lived for three years. My mom worked in accounting while we lived in Nigeria.

When I was six, we moved to Canada; it was my dad’s fault: he received a full scholarship to obtain a PhD. While he studied, my mom took care of my sister and I and worked in jobs that would allow her the flexibility of being at home for us children after school. She worked in restaurants, fast food and otherwise, doing food prep most of the time. She also cleaned houses. My brother was born a year after we moved to Canada; and my second brother followed two years later. While the boys were growing up, my mom was home when we came back from school. She baked yummy treats for us and we always had home cooked meals (we rarely ordered out in our early years in Canada). My dad received his PhD a year after the baby of the family was born.

My father found work in another province in Canada, so we moved across the country to our current city. I remember having a paper route, and delivering the fat Saturday edition of the local paper with my mom. My mom sold Avon as a way to make some money while working fulltime as a stay at home mom.

Then, four years after moving here, she started working part time at a department store, in the shoe department. Given her long break from the working world, and the fact that she could only work part time because she wanted to be at home when her baby arrived home from school, it was the best choice for her at the time. It was a good fit too: her love of people and amazing customer service skills (and a flair for makeup application) soon took her from shoes to the beauty department, and full time work, and that is where she works today. She continues to provide amazing customer service, and has no qualms spending an hour with one customer, showing her how to apply makeup to suit her face, even if it means missing out on a number of quicker sales. She truly has a passion for helping people.

I don’t know a person with a better work ethic: she’s honest, believes in not breaking the rules, won’t call in sick unless she’s sick (and often doesn’t call in even though she is sick), she doesn’t take extended breaks, she won’t lie and tell a customer that a certain shade of lipstick looks good on her if it doesn’t, even if it means losing a sale that has been hard to come by. She has helped the store catch shoplifters on more than one occasion, and has testified in court against a shoplifter before .

(Do you get the feeling that I sort of adore this woman?)

Anyways, that is her story, and that has been her story for the past 14 years. But the job is wearying. She’s in her mid-50s and she deserves (and needs) a job where she can:

• sit down once in a while, and not just during her breaks
• have Saturdays and Sundays off (as it is, she works three out of four Saturdays, sometimes until 9:30pm, and she works one or two Sundays a month)
• avoid the stress of what has to be one of the most poisonous work environments I know. Remember how I said she’d rather spend one hour with a customer than ring in quick sales? Well, her colleagues who have no qualms with ringing in six sales all in a row have a big problem when one of my mom’s one-hour sessions turns into a huge sale. They get catty and go and tell coworkers that my mom “stole” the customer away from them, or that she forces customers to buy things they don’t want (a claim easily disproved by the low return rate she has), not remembering the number of times my mom has customers who thank her for the lovely makeover and don’t buy a thing, or the sales that they took instead of sitting down with the more needy customer.

(I’m biased, of course, but I also work in retail too so I know how it is.)

My mom has some health problems and I would love it if she could have a job where she didn’t have to also worry about the mental stress of a job where she has to deal with jealousy, backstabbing, and two-facedness. Her heart is too soft and although she can bite your head off one minute, and comes across as very gregarious, she’s also very sensitive (I am totally my mother’s child) and has a hard time dealing with people not liking her when she’s done nothing wrong. She can’t just brush it off as the other person’s problem. As you can imagine, her attempts to have a good relationship with all her coworkers have led to more pain than anything. My sister and I constantly tell her to go to work and not give a darn who talks to her or not, who goes off to whisper to other colleagues about her, that she should just ignore them. However, the truth is that it’s hard to work in that sort of environment.

Very often in the last few years, I have this lovely daydream where I make enough money that my mom doesn’t have to work. Instead, she stays home and spends time on her passion, cooking, and I call her from work and force her to go for a walk. The whites of her eyes turn bright white again, and lose their tired look, I no longer hear stories of work that she claims she’s telling me just so I know, and not because she was hurt by the incident (liar). So my motives are selfish then: I absorb her pain and take it as my own, and I can already feel its toll on me, and I’d like it to stop.

As long as my parents’ health remains ok, they will continue to work. They entered the home owners game late compared to the majority of their home-owning Canadian-born counterparts, and they entered the “saving for retirement” game late too because of their circumstances. This means that my mom’s income is needed, and just not working isn’t an option. So, because of that, we’ve been thinking of some career options that would take advantage of her skills and abilities, give her the hours she wants, and remove the coworker-induced stress in her life (or lessen it; I know all workplaces have their issues). Two of the ideas that have come up are freelance makeup artist, which would be so awesome (but it won’t give her weekends and nights off as I bet her easiest area to break into would be doing wedding makeup and weddings tend to be on the weekend), and Nigerian food caterer, but that’s another job that occupies your weekends. And she’s definitely at the age where having a health plan at work is sort of important, so this may rule out working for herself entirely.

My mom is open to retraining, and is actually dying to learn how to use computers, but she also thinks that at her age alone, no matter what qualifications she has, will cause employers to avoid hiring her. She doesn’t look her age, so unless she tells her potential employers, I think she wouldn’t have trouble getting a job, as long as she has the right qualifications she needs.

So, I’ve made myself my mom’s job search agent, and I figure that’s only fair since it was my dad who led me to the website that my job was posted on, one day before the due date for applications. If you have any ideas or suggestions that take into account her particular situation, they would be much appreciated.