Over the course of the last couple of months, I've decided that publishing and I are going our separate ways.
There's no excuse at all for the chaos the industry is experiencing.
Once upon a time, maybe ten years ago, the Old Guard began moving out. The gentlemen and ladies of the age of A Gentleman's Pastime retired to their summer homes. In the meantime, the up and comers were people who could afford to live in New York City on $20,000 a year because they had their trust funds to make up the difference.
The industry was repeatedly stabbing itself in the gut and wondered at the same time where all the blood was coming from.
I began seeing the problem with publishing over thirty years ago, when I worked for a small magazine.
But ten years ago, there wasn't just one problem. There were many, many, many problems. And now when S&S cry and mourn loudly about a lousy year, I have no sympathy.
A friend of mine bought a Rocket reader and I thought, this is a new beginning and I don't think that many people are paying attention.
I went to industry conferences and soaked up every word. What the leaders in publishing didn't realize was that they were running on the same track and due to have a head-on collision with technology. The few that came to their senses made feeble attempts at correcting them.
One thing that I heard and shuddered at was "We've made books too precious. People don't want to throw them away." Now the industry is making certain books entirely too precious. The Kindle is a wonderful thing to behold, but could I loan a friend of mine a book that she just has to read? I somehow doubt it.
Five years ago, I heard one of the head honchos at SanDisk talk about putting a year's worth of school books on one thumb drive. It only made sense. But nothing was done with it.
Publishing has ignored technology at its peril. Technology will kill the publishing industry as it exists today. This was something I said at Unnamed Co. over and over again. I was smiled at politely and told to run away now, dear.
Oh, and the Big Idea that won me my "prize" at Unnamed Co.? Barnes and Noble has it and anyone with a smart phone can download the app. Unnamed Co. is still off wandering in the woods.
Publishing is going to be forced to change. The people coming to the fore now grew up with technology and expect nothing less in their workaday lives and in the products they offer.
I realize that there's a great deal about publishing that I was never savvy about.
For the first few months after I was laid off from Unnamed Co., I faithfully followed the comings and goings, I read PW Daily, I checked it out at the library.
Changing publishing is like trying to stop a train with one hand. You'll just be - briefly - an ugly blot on the landscape but you won't slow the train for one second.
I give. Not that anyone would notice.
Showing posts with label Unnamed Co. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unnamed Co. Show all posts
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Saturday, January 12, 2008
In Which I Want to Kick Fireman Fred's Flat Ass
Since the middle of December, I've known that I'm getting a big raise and a new title/position at Unnamed Co. Le Grand Fromage had only to sign the paperwork and it would be done. Well, Grand as Le Fromage is, he was not easy to get hold of for the past month. He has a three week trip to Hong Kong, the Christmas holidays, and then the sales conference in Cancun. But lo! A miracle occurred and he signed the paperwork.
I'd been working on a new project and was getting ready to give a presentation on it to the folks in FF's group. Knowing that I have recently developed a 'deer in the headlights' response at random moments, I was sitting in my cube, getting ready to go over my notes and arrange the meeting in my head. But FF showed up and said, "Let's go over your presentation." WTF? So for that vital half-hour, I was in his office, justifying every slide and the contents of every slide and the design of every slide.
Half an hour before the meeting, he changed nearly all of them.
Two minutes later, the meeting began. Of course it was a disaster. What else could you expect?
I walked out of the meeting feeling downright pissed off. He called me into his office again, rolled his eyes and said, "Well!" I didn't lose it. What I said was, "You threw me off my game." I was civil, but when I walked out of his office, I was fuming and this time, was not so politic as to not let it show. Not that there was anyone else around to see me fume, but still.
I sat at my desk, trying to compose myself and get myself together enough to finish up the day. I was slightly amazed and gratified that I did not want to kill myself. Believe it or not, this is progress.
By four o'clock, I was ready to call it a day. I started to clear off my desk and get my things together. And once again, he called me into his office.
He motioned for me to close his door. In his hand was the final official piece of paper with Le Grand Fromage's signature on it. Done. Signed, sealed, delivered. I am now an Analyst Wallah.
You would expect this to be a moment for hearty congratulations. It wasn't. I looked at the piece of paper. I saw a new title, a pleasing number written down as my salary, but the little box for "Promotion" was not checked. Hm.
"Sit, sit," Fred said and I did.
He took a deep breath and I thought at once, uh-oh and WTF?
"You know, this is a big, big deal. I want you to understand and appreciate what a big deal it is." I'm thinking - why? Why is it a big deal? He never elaborated. I should have asked. But he went on.
"Going over the job description, you see that it calls for the ability to lead meetings. Now what are we going to do about that?" Uh, you kiss my abundant white ass and apologize for hijacking my meeting?
Well, he be preachin right now, you see the Spee-rut got him and be talkin through him.
"I know you can do this. I know you can fly - I've seen it. But for some reason, you always - I guess return to the nest."
I have heard about birds who, once launched, never rest again until they nest to hatch the next generation but that story always struck me as horribly sad. I don't want to be one of those birds. By now, my shoulders sagged and I was thinking, are you sure you want me for this job? Am I sure with all this management support that I want this job?
"And this job calls for the person to work with minimal supervision. You know I've been coaching you and you've responded well to that." I threw up just a little. "But you have to...." blah blah blah.
I walked out of his office with the piece of paper in my hand, looking at it, thinking of what he had just said to me and thinking, what the ... ?
This should have been the happiest day I've had in about eight years so far as my job goes, but Fireman Fred took that joy, effectively gutted it, threw the guts on the ground, pissed on them, then poured lighter fluid on them, set them ablaze, and watched them burn while expecting me to sing "Kumbaya" in the cheery glow of the campfire.
There was no joy. Instead, he managed to scare me, sadden me, and piss me off at the same time.
Still, I tried to work myself into being happy about it. I wasn't, very, but I wasn't going to let the day go by without some observation. So I called E and we met for dinner, where I treated us both to a very nice meal.
This morning, I thought about what FF did to me yesterday. And I would really, really, really like to kick his flat ass with my size 9 1/2s.
Oh - and I did get a call back about the mammogram. I did freak out a little bit, but mostly it just added a drop more to my sadness. Making me want to kick FF again.
Times like this, I wish I knew some kind of martial art where I could go to a gym / dojo / whatever and kick somebody's ass, but most likely would end up with my own ass getting kicked instead.
Crap.
I'd been working on a new project and was getting ready to give a presentation on it to the folks in FF's group. Knowing that I have recently developed a 'deer in the headlights' response at random moments, I was sitting in my cube, getting ready to go over my notes and arrange the meeting in my head. But FF showed up and said, "Let's go over your presentation." WTF? So for that vital half-hour, I was in his office, justifying every slide and the contents of every slide and the design of every slide.
Half an hour before the meeting, he changed nearly all of them.
Two minutes later, the meeting began. Of course it was a disaster. What else could you expect?
I walked out of the meeting feeling downright pissed off. He called me into his office again, rolled his eyes and said, "Well!" I didn't lose it. What I said was, "You threw me off my game." I was civil, but when I walked out of his office, I was fuming and this time, was not so politic as to not let it show. Not that there was anyone else around to see me fume, but still.
I sat at my desk, trying to compose myself and get myself together enough to finish up the day. I was slightly amazed and gratified that I did not want to kill myself. Believe it or not, this is progress.
By four o'clock, I was ready to call it a day. I started to clear off my desk and get my things together. And once again, he called me into his office.
He motioned for me to close his door. In his hand was the final official piece of paper with Le Grand Fromage's signature on it. Done. Signed, sealed, delivered. I am now an Analyst Wallah.
You would expect this to be a moment for hearty congratulations. It wasn't. I looked at the piece of paper. I saw a new title, a pleasing number written down as my salary, but the little box for "Promotion" was not checked. Hm.
"Sit, sit," Fred said and I did.
He took a deep breath and I thought at once, uh-oh and WTF?
"You know, this is a big, big deal. I want you to understand and appreciate what a big deal it is." I'm thinking - why? Why is it a big deal? He never elaborated. I should have asked. But he went on.
"Going over the job description, you see that it calls for the ability to lead meetings. Now what are we going to do about that?" Uh, you kiss my abundant white ass and apologize for hijacking my meeting?
Well, he be preachin right now, you see the Spee-rut got him and be talkin through him.
"I know you can do this. I know you can fly - I've seen it. But for some reason, you always - I guess return to the nest."
I have heard about birds who, once launched, never rest again until they nest to hatch the next generation but that story always struck me as horribly sad. I don't want to be one of those birds. By now, my shoulders sagged and I was thinking, are you sure you want me for this job? Am I sure with all this management support that I want this job?
"And this job calls for the person to work with minimal supervision. You know I've been coaching you and you've responded well to that." I threw up just a little. "But you have to...." blah blah blah.
I walked out of his office with the piece of paper in my hand, looking at it, thinking of what he had just said to me and thinking, what the ... ?
This should have been the happiest day I've had in about eight years so far as my job goes, but Fireman Fred took that joy, effectively gutted it, threw the guts on the ground, pissed on them, then poured lighter fluid on them, set them ablaze, and watched them burn while expecting me to sing "Kumbaya" in the cheery glow of the campfire.
There was no joy. Instead, he managed to scare me, sadden me, and piss me off at the same time.
Still, I tried to work myself into being happy about it. I wasn't, very, but I wasn't going to let the day go by without some observation. So I called E and we met for dinner, where I treated us both to a very nice meal.
This morning, I thought about what FF did to me yesterday. And I would really, really, really like to kick his flat ass with my size 9 1/2s.
Oh - and I did get a call back about the mammogram. I did freak out a little bit, but mostly it just added a drop more to my sadness. Making me want to kick FF again.
Times like this, I wish I knew some kind of martial art where I could go to a gym / dojo / whatever and kick somebody's ass, but most likely would end up with my own ass getting kicked instead.
Crap.
Friday, February 23, 2007
In Brief
- Unnamed CO should be looking for someone with vast experience in this area.
- They should require a certain industry credential AND an MBA.
- They should pay this worthy somewhere between $80K - $100K. A look at some similar job postings show the range to be $100 - $150K.
- They will likely be unwilling to pony up more than $80K.
- They will likely get few responses once the money is mentioned.
- Their gimlet eye will descend on me.
- True Boss will be asked to release me from his service.
- Unless forced by a "C" level executive, I doubt he will.
- If I apply and am not chosen, will I live out my life there in ignominy?
Of course, this may all be moot. True Boss issued a job req for an assistant project manager, no, wait, a requirements writer. No, wait, a marketing manager. No, wait, a graphic designer. Who knows what this director thing will morph into.
Early days yet.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wha - what??
To further confuse things...
I came out of Boy Wonder's office this afternoon and Joe BigDog, our CIO, motioned at me, that kind of "pssst, c'mere" gesture to go into an empty office. (Actually, I myself want this office. I have for some time now.)
Let me explain about Joe BigDog. He was one of the many people who interviewed me when I was applying at Unnamed Co. He was the last one. It was late in the day. I was exhausted and when he asked me some questions, I saw a grimace of unhappiness cross his face. My interview with him convinced me that I would not get the job at Unnamed Co.
I have since learned that he pretty much treats everybody this way. I have also learned that he's kind of running out the clock, that he's waiting for the day when he and Mrs. BD can pack up for Florida with their full-size French poodles and do nothing but sail all day.
When I first came to Unnamed Co., I sat in on his weekly meeting and did not grow wan or faint of heart when I realized I was the only woman in the meeting and there was a lot of testosterone-charged posturing and f-word-using. I didn't flinch or object. I've been here before.
I think Joe BigDog regarded me as a nuisance and a token. I didn't care. I still asked him things I needed to know, badgered him until I got an answer, then went on my way.
Joe BigDog has a new thing. His latest crusade is to take a completely chaotic development environment and get it up to CMM Level 2. You don't need to know what it is. It's just a Herculean effort for a company so mired in chaos. He's been bringing in trainers and consultants to help the organization at least get itself to Level 1. After the first go round of meetings about this, I went up to Joe.
I had some experience from this from the days of Evil Empire Consulting and I told him as much. "If I can do anything," I said, "to support you and the organization going forward in this, let me know." I meant it sincerely then and I mean it now.
So now Unnamed Co is setting up a specific office to get these standards in place. The person heading that will be at a director level.
That was why Joe was giving me the high sign this afternoon. He said, "I wanted to tell you this position will be posted soon. Talk to the Susan, the director of HR about this if you're interested. I think you should apply." He was smiling at me. This kind of creeped me out, because Joe never smiles at anybody. Then hastily, he said, "This isn't a slam dunk. We're interviewing other people from outside."
Which is wise since I have so little experience at this that it's just ridiculous that they would do more than give me a cursory look. Still, I was dumbfounded. I thanked him, then trotted off to see Susan.
Susan said, "Oh, I'm glad you came by. Now you do understand, this is all very new. I don't have a job description or salary range yet, that's how new it is. And please don't mention this just yet to Boy Wonder or True Boss. They both love you and I don't want to upset them."
What? They love me? Boy Wonder? True Boss? What?
This must just be the HR equivalent of a pity f*ck.
I spent lunch alternately sleeping and crying in my car and I come back to this? What?
Oh man. I am so tired. And I'm having all of these wild little spurts of fantasy, thinking about the extra money (which would be hard-earned), thinking about actually being at director level. I don't know what to think.
I think... I think I need to have some dinner.
Of course, this is all really about letting me know the position would be opening up. I think it was a courtesy. And I have no doubt that some very qualified soul will come along. The real issue will then be about whether or not Unnamed Co can pony up the very considerable bucks they should be paying this person.
I came out of Boy Wonder's office this afternoon and Joe BigDog, our CIO, motioned at me, that kind of "pssst, c'mere" gesture to go into an empty office. (Actually, I myself want this office. I have for some time now.)
Let me explain about Joe BigDog. He was one of the many people who interviewed me when I was applying at Unnamed Co. He was the last one. It was late in the day. I was exhausted and when he asked me some questions, I saw a grimace of unhappiness cross his face. My interview with him convinced me that I would not get the job at Unnamed Co.
I have since learned that he pretty much treats everybody this way. I have also learned that he's kind of running out the clock, that he's waiting for the day when he and Mrs. BD can pack up for Florida with their full-size French poodles and do nothing but sail all day.
When I first came to Unnamed Co., I sat in on his weekly meeting and did not grow wan or faint of heart when I realized I was the only woman in the meeting and there was a lot of testosterone-charged posturing and f-word-using. I didn't flinch or object. I've been here before.
I think Joe BigDog regarded me as a nuisance and a token. I didn't care. I still asked him things I needed to know, badgered him until I got an answer, then went on my way.
Joe BigDog has a new thing. His latest crusade is to take a completely chaotic development environment and get it up to CMM Level 2. You don't need to know what it is. It's just a Herculean effort for a company so mired in chaos. He's been bringing in trainers and consultants to help the organization at least get itself to Level 1. After the first go round of meetings about this, I went up to Joe.
I had some experience from this from the days of Evil Empire Consulting and I told him as much. "If I can do anything," I said, "to support you and the organization going forward in this, let me know." I meant it sincerely then and I mean it now.
So now Unnamed Co is setting up a specific office to get these standards in place. The person heading that will be at a director level.
That was why Joe was giving me the high sign this afternoon. He said, "I wanted to tell you this position will be posted soon. Talk to the Susan, the director of HR about this if you're interested. I think you should apply." He was smiling at me. This kind of creeped me out, because Joe never smiles at anybody. Then hastily, he said, "This isn't a slam dunk. We're interviewing other people from outside."
Which is wise since I have so little experience at this that it's just ridiculous that they would do more than give me a cursory look. Still, I was dumbfounded. I thanked him, then trotted off to see Susan.
Susan said, "Oh, I'm glad you came by. Now you do understand, this is all very new. I don't have a job description or salary range yet, that's how new it is. And please don't mention this just yet to Boy Wonder or True Boss. They both love you and I don't want to upset them."
What? They love me? Boy Wonder? True Boss? What?
This must just be the HR equivalent of a pity f*ck.
I spent lunch alternately sleeping and crying in my car and I come back to this? What?
Oh man. I am so tired. And I'm having all of these wild little spurts of fantasy, thinking about the extra money (which would be hard-earned), thinking about actually being at director level. I don't know what to think.
I think... I think I need to have some dinner.
Of course, this is all really about letting me know the position would be opening up. I think it was a courtesy. And I have no doubt that some very qualified soul will come along. The real issue will then be about whether or not Unnamed Co can pony up the very considerable bucks they should be paying this person.
Safety Dance
Still crying but in little drips and not so often.
RCW has a point, as she always does.
But it isn't just this. There was something else at work and I really don't want to go into it. I call my own foul.
I had hoped that Unnamed Co. would be the place where I once again knew what being safe felt like. I think I hallucinated the past three months of it. Even freakier, I can't really remember much of anything past last September.
Well, the simple truth for me is that there is no such thing as safety.
Oddly, I'm in a more precarious position now than I was six months ago when I started working at Unnamed Co. I have a new car and new debt along with it. Other than my 401ks, I basically have nothing in savings and Ma Maisonette gently crumbling around my ears. And absolutely no leeway in my budget.
Will I look for another roomie? I don't know. Pickings are very slim and given my past experience, I don't want anyone other than a female grad student from Nearby U.
Will I go back into petsitting as a parttime gig? This is tempting. Unfortunately, the liability insurance is $400/yr, which I don't have right now.
Will I try to get some freelance writing gigs on eLance? Hm. I'll look.
Will I sell stuff on eBay? Yes. That's a start in the right direction.
Maybe I'll be moving south a lot sooner than I thought.
Maybe when I go in today, Boy Wonder might have thought about what he did to me yesterday. I don't think he was expecting the reaction of utter devastation that he got. Could there be a conscience lurking beneath that Machiavellian exterior? I'm not counting on it.
But what it amounts to is that yes, I will go to work today. But my heart is gone for it. I think I'm going to look around for another job, anyway, most likely as a contractor. Obviously I can't hold a job for more than six months. Maybe I should find an environment where that's not just the norm, but it's expected.
RCW is right that I'm too fast off the mark. But better to leave before you're asked to leave.
Oops. Crying again.
RCW has a point, as she always does.
But it isn't just this. There was something else at work and I really don't want to go into it. I call my own foul.
I had hoped that Unnamed Co. would be the place where I once again knew what being safe felt like. I think I hallucinated the past three months of it. Even freakier, I can't really remember much of anything past last September.
Well, the simple truth for me is that there is no such thing as safety.
Oddly, I'm in a more precarious position now than I was six months ago when I started working at Unnamed Co. I have a new car and new debt along with it. Other than my 401ks, I basically have nothing in savings and Ma Maisonette gently crumbling around my ears. And absolutely no leeway in my budget.
Will I look for another roomie? I don't know. Pickings are very slim and given my past experience, I don't want anyone other than a female grad student from Nearby U.
Will I go back into petsitting as a parttime gig? This is tempting. Unfortunately, the liability insurance is $400/yr, which I don't have right now.
Will I try to get some freelance writing gigs on eLance? Hm. I'll look.
Will I sell stuff on eBay? Yes. That's a start in the right direction.
Maybe I'll be moving south a lot sooner than I thought.
Maybe when I go in today, Boy Wonder might have thought about what he did to me yesterday. I don't think he was expecting the reaction of utter devastation that he got. Could there be a conscience lurking beneath that Machiavellian exterior? I'm not counting on it.
But what it amounts to is that yes, I will go to work today. But my heart is gone for it. I think I'm going to look around for another job, anyway, most likely as a contractor. Obviously I can't hold a job for more than six months. Maybe I should find an environment where that's not just the norm, but it's expected.
RCW is right that I'm too fast off the mark. But better to leave before you're asked to leave.
Oops. Crying again.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Job Wars: Return of the Applicant
In a blog long ago and far away, I chronicled my attempt to get a job with Very Old Co.
It did not go well. It was one of those days when you wake up and you know you should optimally just stay in bed with the covers over your head. You'll be lucky to get out the door without spilling raspberry jam all over your only clean white blouse, falling down the stairs and breaking an ankle, and missing the last train that would get you to the interview on time.
Unhappily, I went for an interview at VOCo. This happened quite some time ago, before Unnamed Co and I hooked up.
The building was gorgeous - brand new waterfront, offices with breathtaking views, and books, books, books everywhere. It was love at first sight, even though it had taken me ninety minutes on the train.
From the moment I stepped into the HR chick's office, I knew it was doomed to failure. You know how there are times you can tell? This was one of them. Still, she passed me along to next interviewer and no matter how hard I tried to salvage it, after awhile, I just gave up.
I came home feeling very, very blue. I went straight to bed. I got the "no thank you" letter the very next day. Why didn't they just give it to me when they put me on the elevator?
I tried not to buy any of VOCo's products but the simple fact is, they put out great books.
I went back today. This time with Boy Wonder and Howling John Bull. I sat in a conference room. I answered questions and talked about my product and how it could make life so much better at VOCo.
At lunch, we took a break and I walked over to the windows with the breathtaking view of all of Manhattan. One of the secretaries said, "How about that view, huh? Have you ever seen anything like it?"
It was, in fact, on this floor where my failed interview took place.
"Hm," I said noncommittally. "It's beautiful." I smiled at her. "I hope I'll get to see it again someday."
We'll be back. Oh yes, we will be back.
It did not go well. It was one of those days when you wake up and you know you should optimally just stay in bed with the covers over your head. You'll be lucky to get out the door without spilling raspberry jam all over your only clean white blouse, falling down the stairs and breaking an ankle, and missing the last train that would get you to the interview on time.
Unhappily, I went for an interview at VOCo. This happened quite some time ago, before Unnamed Co and I hooked up.
The building was gorgeous - brand new waterfront, offices with breathtaking views, and books, books, books everywhere. It was love at first sight, even though it had taken me ninety minutes on the train.
From the moment I stepped into the HR chick's office, I knew it was doomed to failure. You know how there are times you can tell? This was one of them. Still, she passed me along to next interviewer and no matter how hard I tried to salvage it, after awhile, I just gave up.
I came home feeling very, very blue. I went straight to bed. I got the "no thank you" letter the very next day. Why didn't they just give it to me when they put me on the elevator?
I tried not to buy any of VOCo's products but the simple fact is, they put out great books.
I went back today. This time with Boy Wonder and Howling John Bull. I sat in a conference room. I answered questions and talked about my product and how it could make life so much better at VOCo.
At lunch, we took a break and I walked over to the windows with the breathtaking view of all of Manhattan. One of the secretaries said, "How about that view, huh? Have you ever seen anything like it?"
It was, in fact, on this floor where my failed interview took place.
"Hm," I said noncommittally. "It's beautiful." I smiled at her. "I hope I'll get to see it again someday."
We'll be back. Oh yes, we will be back.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Get Me, I'm a Godsend
Yesterday at Unnamed Co., I was interviewing a would-be junior me. The young woman in question seemed enthusiastic and smart and ballsy in a New York kind of way. (Resume indicated a stint as a lifeguard on Jones Beach, which conjures up in my mind a kind of toughness I will never know.)
Boy Wonder had interviewed her first. Unnamed Co. does this, sending you through a gauntlet of interviews the first time around. If you pass muster, you get to interview with True Boss who essentially presses his imprimatur into your forehead and there you go.
This was my first 'real' interview. I had interviewed a couple of people at Mighty Citadel but I was so rushed and focused that I narrowed down my questions specifically to software usage. And I knew I didn't have to live with the results, but my reputation would have suffered if I had really screwed up.
I probably wandered all over the place. I went from the traditional interview to the 'situational' interview to a profiling kind of interview. Once or twice, I could see her brassy New York confidence shaken a bit. It wasn't intentional.
I told her a bit about Unnamed Co. and the team. I said that Boy Wonder was amazing, that I liked working with him and learned something from him every day. Which is true. He's young enough to be my son, but his savvy in the business world takes my breath away.
She laughed and said, "He just said the same thing about you. He said you were a godsend."
Jeez, that's nice, I thought. And then we talked about what she liked to read. Stephen King and Anne Rule. Eerily close to my guilty pleasures. But not enough to hire her on. Time will tell.
In the meantime... get me. I'm a godsend.
....
In other news - still going round and round in the car circle game. Weasel Boy car salesman wants me to bring in the Faithful Camry for vetting. I am seriously close to just getting FC worked on and limping through another year. The idea of taking on that much new debt scares the heck outta me. Even if I am a godsend.
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