Colorado, from a New Yorker's point of view

I spoke to an HR recruiter today.  It was an informal meeting.  I wasn’t so much looking for a job as I was looking for information about the job market.  After getting off the phone I realized ignorance is bliss.  When I quit my job and moved out here I assumed it would take me about 3-4 months to find employment.  Now I’m thinking it’s going to take a lot longer.

The recruiter I spoke to mentioned that for a recent Jr. level project manager position she received 500 applications and for a more senior role she recieved over 800 applications.  She stated that typically they receive twice the number of applications then they did a year or two ago.  I guess that explains why companies aren’t beating down my door.  Originally I wanted to find a job that was a little more advanced than what I had been doing.  I was also considering trying to move from finance into selling or marketing.  Based on the conversation with the recruiter I don’t think that will work.  With so many candidates companies truly have the upper hand.   You better meet everyone one of their requirements or you aren’t even going to get a phone call.

On the other hand if I apply for a job that I’m over-qualified for companies won’t hire me because they know that once the job market gets better I would probably leave.  This leaves me with having to apply for identical jobs to what I had, of course since it is Denver there will probably be a paycut involved.  Relocation packages and signing bonuses have also gone the way of the dodo.

What gets frustrating is that I have a few friends who never went to college, let alone grad school and yet they make fairly close to what I was making.  My SL600 worth  education is really only serving to make me more disillusioned.

Let’s hope something comes along before I resort to sucking dick for crack and then selling the crack.

Last Saturday there was a Zombie Crawl in Denver.  The objective, which I believe was achieved, was to set the Guinness Book of World Records for most zombies gathered in one place.  There were easily a couple thousand zombies roaming the streets of the 16th mall.  The costumes and make-up were outrageous.  I was slightly surprised to see so many young kids there.  I know I would have been scared by the costumes.

As the free mall shuttle bus drove by dozens of zombies started pounding on the sides of the bus screaming “brains, brains.”  Denver and maybe New Orleans have to be the only two cities in the country where the police would allow something like this to happen.  There was very little police presence.  They were actually more concerned with giving me a parking ticket.  Despite the lack of police the crowd was very well behaved.  I actually didn’t see anyone drinking, which is unusual for Denver and for zombie fans.

There were also some strange outfits.  I’m not sure what Mario from Mario Brothers, a Storm Trooper, Spiderman and the beast from Predator have to do with zombies but they were all there.  Enjoy the pictures.

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What’s with the guns?  I’m used to NY & NJ which have some of the strictest gun control laws in the nation.  Out here guns are much more prevalent.  I was out with a girl last night who can disassemble and reassemble an M16.  You don’t really meet women like that back in NY.

Growing up in NY my gun stories are rather limited.  I probably only have 3-4 gun stories.  I should really re-word that and say I have two gun stories and two gun sentences.  The sentences are pretty simple:  1) While underage I shot a round or two at the range.  2) I’ve shot a 22 at some cans in the woods.

At the time some of my gun stories occurred I didn’t even know they were about guns.  I remember being in college and driving around in a friend’s mom’s mini-van.  Wanting to be more clever than destructive we would steel lawn ornaments from one house and then set them up on lawn next door.  Occasionally we would swap lawn ornaments from house to house.  Then at the end of the night whatever was left over would end up on someone’s front lawn.  We figured it would be an awkward conversation for the homeowner.  “No I didn’t take your garden troll Harry….well yes it is on my lawn, but I don’t know how it got there.”  As a side note occasionally during the redecoration process a garbage can or two (and possibly a Porta-Potty or two) might have accidentally been knocked over or run over.  Mostly those stemmed from miss-communication issues.   For example, one of us would say “don’t hit the garbage can” but with the radio blasting it would get interpreted as “hit the garbage can.”

The morning after one particularly raucous evening my friend and I were getting back into said mini van, when his mother runs out of the house.  She stops us just as we were backing out of the driveway.  She opens the driver’s door and reaches behind the seat.  “Oh look what you boys were driving around with last night.  I forgot to get my stuff.” she said with a big chuckle as she pulls out her gun and an open bottle of Sambuca.    Thankfully we didn’t get pulled over.  “No really, officer I don’t where that came from.”  In case the Sambuca didn’t give it away my friend is of Italian descent.

My last gun story also dates back to college.  A friend was having some friends from home visit.  Home for them was a neighborhood suffering from ghettofication.  I’ll touch back on this point as the story continues.  We were pre-gaming before heading out to the bars, when one of the visitors commented that he needed to get something out of his car before we drove around in it all night.  He looks at me and asks if I could go to the back window, he had something to bring into the dorm and he didn’t want to go through the main entrance.  Moments later he appears at the back window carrying something under a flannel jacket.  As he hands it to me through the window I realize it feels like a rifle or some big type of gun.  Turns out it was a sawed off shot-gun.  I give the kid credit for recognizing that it would be a bad idea to go out drinking in a car that has a sawed off shot gun in the back hatch.  I was told the gun was for protection, because his neighborhood wasn’t as safe as it was years ago.  Being either Italian, wise or a good New Yorker I didn’t ask any questions that I didn’t want to know the answers to.  I put the gun in my friend’s closet and thought to myself, “not my gun , not my closet, not my problem, let’s go drinking.”  And yes, as a precautionary  measure I did wipe my prints off the gun.  Which in and of itself makes the story great.  I mean, how many other people can say they’ve wiped their fingerprints off a sawed off shotgun?

Those are my gun stories.  Actually I do have another gun story, this involves a former co-worker, one who’s neck was a little more cerise than mine.   We had made plans to go to happy hour after work one particular Friday.  We left work and while driving to happy hour my friend called me.  He proceeded to inform me that the next day was the start of small game hunting season and that he need to pick up his gun from the gun smith.  Thank god it wasn’t a date or I really would have felt crappy about myself.  I mean stood up for a gun?  Really? To each their own.

Flash forward to Colorado a state that still recognizes the 2nd amendment.  My landlord claims to be an excellent shot, with a shotgun and a very good shot with a pistol.  Just by making those claims I have to assume that she has fired more weapons than I have.  I do not know any other women on the east coast who brag about their abilities with a shotgun.

A friend of mine recently commented that the last two guys she’s met on-line both want to take her to the gun range.  At first I imagine some right wing southern extremist gun nut.  It’s scary enough for women to meet strangers they’ve met on-line.  But knowing the person is armed.  Initially that sounds really creepy.

However the more I think about it the more I realize it is a brilliant idea on so many levels.  You get to find out how adventurous the girl is.  You get to find out her political stance on the 2nd amendment.  It is slightly dangerous, you get a sense of power when you discharge a firearm.  You have an excuse to get close to her, after all you have to help her with learning proper form.  All of these are very positive things.  The other benefit is that in the event that she is an excellent, practiced marksmen you know never to piss her off.  And if she tells you her father taught her how to shoot you know to never break her heart.

Here are some pics of some animals I came across in Rocky Mountain National Park a few weeks ago.   I couldn’t really explore the park because the one main road has already been shutdown for the season.  I’m not sure what these things are, I guess they are Elk.  But what is the difference between Elk, Mouse, Reindeer, Caribou and large deer? 

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Have you ever started a conversation with someone in a bar and immediately wish you could flee.   I’ve had countless drunks approach me and start rambling conversations.   But until the other night I can’t recall approaching someone and almost immediately regretting it.

I saw this hottie the other night.   I walked over to her to say hello.   We talked for a minute or two.   She seemed normal.   Until she mentioned that she is 21 and has a 5 month old girl.   The father of her child is a 45 year old drug dealer / gangster.   He was a regular at the strip club where she danced.

She had a very nice body for someone who just gave birth.  Especially considering she ballooned to 198 pounds while she was pregnant.  She attributed the weight loss to a steady intake of coke.

As a man I don’t truly understand all the nuances of being a women.  However, I would like to assume that my powers of deductive reasoning would allow me to determine I was pregnant prior to the 4th month.  The missed periods, morning sickness and weight gain would all be signs.

As I was playing Doc Phil she explained that she was probably in denial about being pregnant.  Again using my deductive powers I was able to conclude that the prenatal care during those first four months probably included a lot of alcohol and Marlboro lights.

We chatted for about ten minutes.  I was completely fascinated by her lack of judgment.  She seemed grateful I was listening and that I didn’t flee right away.   As I left I felt it was my Dr. Phil duty to offer some fatherly advice.   I told her to check out the Nuva Ring but I wanted to tell her something more profound.   I didn’t want to be preachy, although the way the conversation was going she would have probably been cool with a sermon.

Instead I asked a simple question that at one time was asked to me.   I looked her in the eyes and said “After all this have you gotten your head out of your ass?”  She chuckled and said “I hope so.”

I hope so too.  In part for her kid, but in a larger part because I don’t want my tax dollars subsidizing her poor decision making.

First my disclaimer: I don’t advocate driving drunk.  If you are drunk you should not be behind the wheel.  This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to drink and drive.   If it is your first beer of the evening you should be allowed to consume it in the vehicle.  At the least your passengers should be allowed to drink.  If the driver is sober, who cares what the passengers do?  The driver is responsible for them.  If they distract the driver it is the driver’s problem.  Control you passengers.

That’s my tirade on drunk driving.  Tonight I was with someone.  We had a small glass of wine  at her house, then just before we get ready to leave she pours another glass of wine.  She then asks if I want to take it with me.  “Sure, I’m not driving” I think.  As I nod in agreement I ask if we are going to put the wine in plastic cup, a Gatorade bottle, a flask or something.

Nope, we take the wine with us in our glasses.  As we drive down the street, drinking boxed Franzia (that’s another story) she tells me about how she hit a pedestrian.  Hit as in, smasher her car into a jaywalker.  Hit, as in bounced a pedestrian off her windshield, then off the roof and onto the road.

At least she didn’t kill a passenger in her car.  That would have made me more nervous.

Speaking of jaywalkers.  People in Denver are very respectful of traffic signals.  If the light says don’t walk, they stay put.  Whereas as a New Yorker I always look both ways, even down a one way.  If nothing is coming I go.  Very simple.  No traffic, I walk.  If traffic is only going in one direction, I will walk half-way out into the intersection.   It saves time, it keeps the flow of people and cars moving.

The majority of people in Denver don’t do that.  If I walk upon an intersection with a bunch of people waiting for the “walk signal” I have to weave in and out and occasionally push someone until I get to the front.  When I get to the front I look left, then right and if nothing is coming I walk.  Occasionally someone will follow my lead.  I’ll be half-way through an intersection and I’ll notice that one or two other people are proceeding cautiously behind me.

There are some other people like me.  I assume those are fellow NY transplants.  At least Denver is not as bad as California.  You can set foot in the intersection without people stopping for you.  I made that mistake in So Cal once.  I took one step into an intersection, and immediately cars on both sides came to a screeching halt.  The loud brake noise captured everybody’s attention.  I soon had a whole block of pedestrians and drivers staring at me with the expression of “WTF are you doing?  Jackass, why are you in the intersection?”

Now when I am at an intersection in California I stand backwards.  I lift one leg and slowly and deliberately I take a step backwards into the intersection.  Drivers seem to love it.

… that I should use more humor when I write.  I tend to agree.  I’ve been so busy trying to learn how to get this site up and running that I have not allowed the humor, which is typical of my writing, to come through.

I’ve also been hesitant to post certain things.  I’ve know that sooner or later I’m going to upset someone.  At first I figured it would be a friend from back home.  I figured I’d tell some embarrassing story from someone’s past.  But the longer I am here the more I realize I’m going to piss off someone in Denver first.  Mostly I don’t want to upset an RA (reasonably attractive women)  and blow my chances for any potential extracurricular activities that might occur.

I realize that to make this site interesting I need to be honest.  I was also taught that if something seems to good it probably is.  Therefore I don’t want to post about the potential for something to happen until it actually happens.  Which is why I will ignore the back story and say this:  I met an alleged professional dominatrix tonight and by playing rude and hard to get she is completely in to me.  Being aloof is like fishing with dynamite.  I have a week to get tested which means she is responsible, serious and willing to show me her own stamp of approval.  She also claims she is going to “break me.”

Have I mentioned I love Denver?

A bunch of friends have asked that I show off pictures of where I live.   Those pictures will follow shortly.  In the mean time I will describe my place.

My place is perfect if I was trying to attract and appeal to teenage runaways.  Okay maybe I am being hard on myself.  My place might be cool for Colorado college girls as well.  I’m going to make the generalization that Colorado college girls are a little more granola and less stuck up than East Coast college girls.  Therefore they probably wouldn’t mind sleeping on an air mattress and hanging out on lawn furniture surrounded by boxes.

Unfortunately I am not running a home for wayward girls and co-eds are not as exciting or thrilling as they once were.  (Attn. attractive co-eds feel free to prove me wrong on that point)  I’m just happy to be living in Denver, and being unemployed I like my cheap rent.

Air mattress & the wall street journal.  I have to be in the very small demographic of people who read the Wall Street Journal and sleep on an air mattress.  Seriously, how many of us can there be in the world?

Luckily I have some furniture being shipped out to me.  I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for it to get shipped here.  Having a job would really help in this regard.  Right now I am embarrassed to even considering bringing anyone back to my place.  At least in a month I’ll have a decently decorated basement space.  Over sized king bed, lawn chairs, leather sectional, picnic table desk, Kef speakers, cardboard boxes.

It will have to do.

I just got a voice mail from an HR rep at a company I recently applied to.  The message said “…we have a lot of great opportunities in the Denver area.  I want to talk to you about them, please call me back as soon as you can.”

Wow, sweet.  I assume this means I have at least earned an interview.  They probably want to talk to me in person to see exactly how wonderful and qualified I am.  Before calling the women back I hit refresh on my email.

“Oh look an email from the same company.  They must really be trying to get a hold of me.” I  thought to myself.  I clicked the email and read “Thanks but we’re not interested in hiring you.  You suck and go fuck yourself.”

Okay, maybe the email was written slightly differently.  But the message was still “Fuck you for having the audacity to even think we would hire you.  Go fuck yourself.”

Of course now I’m wondering why the women called me.  Was it to tell me off in person?

This actually happened to me once before.  I was working for this company and I applied for an internal position.  I thought my interview went well.  Weeks and weeks went by and I didn’t hear a thing.  Finally, after spending an entire Friday morning in meetings I got back to my desk and checked my voice mail.  There were two urgent messages from the HR rep, pleading with me to call her back immediately.

I was slightly shocked, because I assumed after not hearing anything for so long that the position was going to someone else.  But no, they must want me.  Why else would they leave me these urgent  messages telling me to call them?  I eagerly called the HR rep.  She then told me “Thanks for calling back.  We’ve made a decision about the position and we want to announce it today.  Before it becomes public we just want to let you know you didn’t get the job.”

The fact that I interviewed two months ago and never heard anything told me I wasn’t getting the job.  But thanks for leaving those “urgent” messages.  Way to get my hopes up.

A similar thing happened earlier in my career with the same company.  When I was first hired I was brought in by my manager.  I mostly bypassed the whole HR process.  I was working for about two weeks when I got a letter in the mail.  “Thanks for your interest in working for said company.  At the present time we have no openings that match your skills and experience.  We’ll keep your resume on file for the next 90 days.  You suck and go fuck yourself.”

I actually kept that letter hanging in my cube for a few years as a testament to the cluelessness of the HR department.

I’m slightly shocked at the arrogance of some women.  If we’ve never met and you cancel plans with me during the week what makes you assume you are entitled to any of my weekend real estate?  Granted when you are unemployed everyday is a weekend.  But my weekends are for friends and people I’ve met before.  I would add in family, but they are 1,800 miles away.  There are only 55 hours between 5pm on Friday and midnight Sunday.  I’m not giving those hours up that easily.

I understand things come up during the week and you may get stuck having to work late.  It happened to me on a fairly regular basis.  But don’t expect to reschedule our first meeting on a Saturday.  We were meeting on a Tuesday night for a reason.  Maybe Saturday afternoon could work, but a Saturday night…for someone who has already canceled plans once?  Forget it.