By Daniel B. Kline
While I'm not a fan of President Barack Obama, I salute him for actually doing something about health care. It seems absurd that Republicans would attempt to repeal those efforts before we actually see whether they work.
I could understand if the Republicans in Congress had their own health care plan to offer. Instead, they seem more than willing to return the nation to the previous failed system that benefits nobody except the health insurance companies.
My health insurance has a $1,500 overall deductible and a $45 co-pay anytime I need to go to a doctor for anything other than a routine physical. Theoretically I have prescription drug coverage, but I have yet to receive a prescription that the plan actually “fully” (minus my co-pay) covers. Instead, it's more like I get a discount on prescription drugs – a discount which changes randomly and has no particular logic.
For the privilege of having this crummy coverage, I pay just under $250 a month. That number would be reasonable if my health insurance actually, you know, insured my health, but I'm most certainly not getting what I'm paying for. Under the current system, health insurance companies dictate pretty much everything and there seems to be no rules governing what they must cover and what they can exclude.
I don't get to take the stomach medicine that actually sort of works for my stomach ailments. Instead, I get to take the really popular one with the big marketing budget that has a deal with my health insurance company. I also can't go to any sort of alternative medicine practitioner even though a naturopathic doctor correctly diagnosed my wheat allergy which my traditional doctors had overlooked for years.
That picture get slightly better when the healthcare coverage from my new job kicks in, but while the deductible will go away, the the co-pays will remain high and the exclusions remain random. Clearly, this system does not work and as a nation we need something better.
Unfortunately, improving healthcare has become a political minefield. Republicans can't support Obama's plan, not necessarily because it's wrong, but because the president is a Democrat. I'm not sure anyone on either the right or the left actually knows what the president's healthcare plan actually entails.
Instead, Republicans are only interested in branding it as “Obamacare” and painting dire pictures of big brother deciding to pull the plug because you have the flu. Democrats are no better as they seem mostly interested in the idea that everyone should have healthcare not the actuality of paying for it.
Clearly our healthcare system needs a major overhaul. Obama's plan may not solve all the ills, but it seems absurd to condemn it before any of it has actually taken effect.
A responsible Congress would work with the president to make sure we have the best possible system where more people are covered and those of us with coverage, actually get what we pay for. Healthcare is not the place for politics. Frankly, I don't care which party gets to claim victory, I just want to go to the doctor without it costing me $45 on top of what I'm already paying.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The best gifts are the unexpected ones
By Daniel B. Kline
It was a love affair from the moment I saw her and she slept with me on the first night.
With my wife upstairs, we shared the bedroom in the basement and though she was a little noisy, I'm pretty sure we didn't disturb anyone upstairs. Alternating between cuddly and eager to bite me, she left scratch marks on my legs and gouged a little hole in my arm.
A little gassy due to a bout with intestinal worms, she spent a fair a mount of time licking my eyes, but mostly she wanted to stretch out next to me, with her head burrowed into my shoulder. She was a little scared having spent the last few weeks in a cage, but eventually she settled down and went to sleep between my legs, purring contentedly.
White with spots of gray and some hints of brown, she's a tiny thing who entered my life most unexpectedly. My wife, not normally one for surprises had told me when we were out for dinner one Saturday night that, since we had driven separately, that if I was to arrive home first she wanted for me to wait for her before going in.
This struck me as a little odd, so she explained that she had obtained my Christmas present and it wasn't something that could wait until Christmas. I argued a bit, along the lines that Christmas was a pretty miserable day and I wanted to at least break up the boredom with a present.
She insisted, however, so I waited for her in the driveway and, upon walking into the house was escorted into the basement where we have a spare bedroom. The upstairs bedroom door was closed as I was brought downstairs and I had absolutely no idea what my wife planned.
I was taken aback a bit when upon entering the basement bedroom I was greeted by my mother-in-law and my son. My wife, who I assumed would leave to head into the closed upstairs bedroom to prepare the present simply sat down next to me.
Not wanting to be rude in the face of a present, I sat quietly making idle chitchat with my mother-in-law while my wife kept glancing at my son. Finally, my wife asked my son if he had left something under the couch.
In that moment, I put it together. “You got me a cat?” I said, shocked because when our beloved, elderly calico had passed away, my wife had insisted that our remaining cat was the last pet she would ever have.
At that moment, a scared, tiny head poked from the couch and promptly buried herself next to me under the blankets on the queen-sized bed with no frame that I was sitting on. “Her name is Caroline” my wife said, which had apparently come from my son. He explained that it was because she had caramel-colored spots (she doesn't) and that his original choice had been “Supercat,” which my wife had rejected.
Of course, from that instant, I've thought of her as Supercat and an instant love affair was born. On the list of presents I've ever received she easily tops the LEGO castle as the best gift ever and as someone who does not like being surprised, I'm more than happy at this particular surprise even if she does occasionally leave scratches on me while I'm sleeping.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
It was a love affair from the moment I saw her and she slept with me on the first night.
With my wife upstairs, we shared the bedroom in the basement and though she was a little noisy, I'm pretty sure we didn't disturb anyone upstairs. Alternating between cuddly and eager to bite me, she left scratch marks on my legs and gouged a little hole in my arm.
A little gassy due to a bout with intestinal worms, she spent a fair a mount of time licking my eyes, but mostly she wanted to stretch out next to me, with her head burrowed into my shoulder. She was a little scared having spent the last few weeks in a cage, but eventually she settled down and went to sleep between my legs, purring contentedly.
White with spots of gray and some hints of brown, she's a tiny thing who entered my life most unexpectedly. My wife, not normally one for surprises had told me when we were out for dinner one Saturday night that, since we had driven separately, that if I was to arrive home first she wanted for me to wait for her before going in.
This struck me as a little odd, so she explained that she had obtained my Christmas present and it wasn't something that could wait until Christmas. I argued a bit, along the lines that Christmas was a pretty miserable day and I wanted to at least break up the boredom with a present.
She insisted, however, so I waited for her in the driveway and, upon walking into the house was escorted into the basement where we have a spare bedroom. The upstairs bedroom door was closed as I was brought downstairs and I had absolutely no idea what my wife planned.
I was taken aback a bit when upon entering the basement bedroom I was greeted by my mother-in-law and my son. My wife, who I assumed would leave to head into the closed upstairs bedroom to prepare the present simply sat down next to me.
Not wanting to be rude in the face of a present, I sat quietly making idle chitchat with my mother-in-law while my wife kept glancing at my son. Finally, my wife asked my son if he had left something under the couch.
In that moment, I put it together. “You got me a cat?” I said, shocked because when our beloved, elderly calico had passed away, my wife had insisted that our remaining cat was the last pet she would ever have.
At that moment, a scared, tiny head poked from the couch and promptly buried herself next to me under the blankets on the queen-sized bed with no frame that I was sitting on. “Her name is Caroline” my wife said, which had apparently come from my son. He explained that it was because she had caramel-colored spots (she doesn't) and that his original choice had been “Supercat,” which my wife had rejected.
Of course, from that instant, I've thought of her as Supercat and an instant love affair was born. On the list of presents I've ever received she easily tops the LEGO castle as the best gift ever and as someone who does not like being surprised, I'm more than happy at this particular surprise even if she does occasionally leave scratches on me while I'm sleeping.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Some customers are smarter than the average bear
By Daniel B. Kline
Under no circumstances did my son and I need to see “Yogi Bear” in 3D. Though Yogi might be smarter than the average bear (he can talk, so I'd say way smarter) none of the hijinks in this movie required an added dimension. More importantly, nothing in the film justified the ridiculous up-charge that theaters charge for 3D films.
I'm a huge fan of movie theaters and going out to the movies. In general, I don't mind paying $10-11 for a ticket to a show and under most circumstances I consider it money well spent. From high school through the birth of my child, I often saw multiple movies a week and sometimes multiple movies in a day.
Whereas many of my friends prefer the much cheaper option of waiting until movies come out on DVD, OnDemand or cable, I still like going out to the movies. Though I rarely have the opportunity to do so with my wife, I take my son to pretty much every appropriate film and occasionally sneak out during the day with friends to see movies that I know my wife won't want to see later.
In recent years, however, movie theater owners have tried the patience of even the most loyal theater-goers. First, it was the slowly rising ticket prices, then it was the addition of commercials (not film trailers) airing before the movies, but the 3D price gouge has to be the worst insult yet.
Normally, my six-year-old son and I go to the movies at the earliest show on a Saturday or a Sunday. These matinee showings cost less and, for a normal movie it costs us between $12-$15 for two tickets depending upon which local theater we choose. Add in some popcorn and a bottle of water and we're around $20 for two hours of entertainment – a fair value comparable to going bowling or mini-golfing.
For 3D “Yogi Bear,” however, our two tickets cost $23 for an early afternoon “matinee” showing. Add in the fact that this particular theater only sold water in the convenient one liter size and our afternoon of entertainment featuring talking bears, a shared pack of Sour Patch Kids and a very large water, cost nearly $35.
In addition to too much water, our money also bought us a chance to wear the uncomfortable, one-size-fits-all 3D glasses. Too big for my son and too small to fit over my regular glasses, these necessary appliances pretty much guarantee anyone needing real glasses a headache.
Still, my son enjoyed the movie despite its rather absurd premise The plot was of the typical “we have to save Jellystone” variety, which they did (spoiler alert) due to the presence of an endangered turtle. Never mind the two talking bears, it took a rare turtle to save the park and end the 3D nonsense.
I love the movies and enjoy going out to the theater. That said, I can promise I will never go see a non-epic or sci-fi film in the format. That means, that if studios insist on releasing kids' movies in 3D and reducing the number of screens showing these movies in 2D than my son will have to wait for video.
I'm fine with you mildly taking advantage of me ($4.50 for Junior Mints) but at some point you're just taking advantage of a loyal customer. My TV has about five ways I can watch movies on it and none of them cost more than $4.99 for a film. Plus, at my house, the popcorn's cheaper and water is free.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
Under no circumstances did my son and I need to see “Yogi Bear” in 3D. Though Yogi might be smarter than the average bear (he can talk, so I'd say way smarter) none of the hijinks in this movie required an added dimension. More importantly, nothing in the film justified the ridiculous up-charge that theaters charge for 3D films.
I'm a huge fan of movie theaters and going out to the movies. In general, I don't mind paying $10-11 for a ticket to a show and under most circumstances I consider it money well spent. From high school through the birth of my child, I often saw multiple movies a week and sometimes multiple movies in a day.
Whereas many of my friends prefer the much cheaper option of waiting until movies come out on DVD, OnDemand or cable, I still like going out to the movies. Though I rarely have the opportunity to do so with my wife, I take my son to pretty much every appropriate film and occasionally sneak out during the day with friends to see movies that I know my wife won't want to see later.
In recent years, however, movie theater owners have tried the patience of even the most loyal theater-goers. First, it was the slowly rising ticket prices, then it was the addition of commercials (not film trailers) airing before the movies, but the 3D price gouge has to be the worst insult yet.
Normally, my six-year-old son and I go to the movies at the earliest show on a Saturday or a Sunday. These matinee showings cost less and, for a normal movie it costs us between $12-$15 for two tickets depending upon which local theater we choose. Add in some popcorn and a bottle of water and we're around $20 for two hours of entertainment – a fair value comparable to going bowling or mini-golfing.
For 3D “Yogi Bear,” however, our two tickets cost $23 for an early afternoon “matinee” showing. Add in the fact that this particular theater only sold water in the convenient one liter size and our afternoon of entertainment featuring talking bears, a shared pack of Sour Patch Kids and a very large water, cost nearly $35.
In addition to too much water, our money also bought us a chance to wear the uncomfortable, one-size-fits-all 3D glasses. Too big for my son and too small to fit over my regular glasses, these necessary appliances pretty much guarantee anyone needing real glasses a headache.
Still, my son enjoyed the movie despite its rather absurd premise The plot was of the typical “we have to save Jellystone” variety, which they did (spoiler alert) due to the presence of an endangered turtle. Never mind the two talking bears, it took a rare turtle to save the park and end the 3D nonsense.
I love the movies and enjoy going out to the theater. That said, I can promise I will never go see a non-epic or sci-fi film in the format. That means, that if studios insist on releasing kids' movies in 3D and reducing the number of screens showing these movies in 2D than my son will have to wait for video.
I'm fine with you mildly taking advantage of me ($4.50 for Junior Mints) but at some point you're just taking advantage of a loyal customer. My TV has about five ways I can watch movies on it and none of them cost more than $4.99 for a film. Plus, at my house, the popcorn's cheaper and water is free.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Closing the book on reading in 2010
By Daniel B. Kline
As we struggle through such scintillating titles as “Big and Little,” which includes gripping chapters like “a kitten is little, a cat is big,” I hope fervently that my nearly seven-year-old son inherits my love of reading. After an encouraging start when he uttered his first word, “book,” we've hit a few roadblocks as the actual act of reading seems well below playing, watching TV and chasing the cat on his list.
Still, we soldier on each night before bed with him reading something to me before I read something to him, all in the hope that someday I will happen upon my son knowingly picking up a book without pictures for pleasure. I'm not foolish enough to believe that having parents who love books automatically results in a child feeling the same way, but since my son copies all of my negative behaviors, I'm hoping one of my few positive features rubs off on him as well.
Though I was a lazy student, who never saw any reason to do what the teacher asked, as I most certainly already knew all the answers, I always read. While other kids actually listened to what the teacher said, I spent most of my classroom time from elementary school through high school reading as unobtrusively as I could. Sometimes I read ahead in the text book, sometimes I read novels and in one history class in high school, I methodically worked my way through the teacher's personal library.
As a child, I got up early to read the newspaper over breakfast (which occasionally featured Pac-Man Cereal) before moving to whatever novel I was reading while waiting for my friend Matt to make his way up my parents' hill. I read at night when I should have been doing homework and in front of the television while I should have been watching “The A-Team.”
Rarely without a book in hand, I decided last year that I would keep track of every book I read in 2010. To accomplish this I obtained a bookcase which I setup outside my office door, where I would deposit every book I finished. This plan went well until October, when my mother bought me a Kindle for my birthday.
Though I still love the physical concept of books, the Kindle not only allowed me to read faster as not having to turn pages dramatically speeds things up, it also eliminated one of my greatest fears – not having “the next book.” Throughout life I had always worried about being caught without something to read and this led to my often buying books I wasn't all that excited about, just to have something.
The Kindle ended this fear as I'm no longer dependent on getting to a bookstore to have a book. Because of this convenience, whereas I thought I would mix electronic books and real ones, I have almost exclusively read e-books. That foiled my plan for having an impressive bookshelf, but it did lead to me reading even more books this year.
In adding my actual books to my electronic books, I read 123 books and 12 novellas. These included novels, non-fiction and three biographies of various members of Guns and Roses, a band I'm not a fan of.
I read literature. I read crap. I read a few things that were a struggle to get through, but mostly I just read.
Reading can entertain you. It can enrich you and it can make life wonderfully more exciting. I'm hoping that my efforts to share this with my child succeed and though I don't imagine he'll ever own many actual books, I'm hoping he fills up his electronic library and that it someday compares to my actual library.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
As we struggle through such scintillating titles as “Big and Little,” which includes gripping chapters like “a kitten is little, a cat is big,” I hope fervently that my nearly seven-year-old son inherits my love of reading. After an encouraging start when he uttered his first word, “book,” we've hit a few roadblocks as the actual act of reading seems well below playing, watching TV and chasing the cat on his list.
Still, we soldier on each night before bed with him reading something to me before I read something to him, all in the hope that someday I will happen upon my son knowingly picking up a book without pictures for pleasure. I'm not foolish enough to believe that having parents who love books automatically results in a child feeling the same way, but since my son copies all of my negative behaviors, I'm hoping one of my few positive features rubs off on him as well.
Though I was a lazy student, who never saw any reason to do what the teacher asked, as I most certainly already knew all the answers, I always read. While other kids actually listened to what the teacher said, I spent most of my classroom time from elementary school through high school reading as unobtrusively as I could. Sometimes I read ahead in the text book, sometimes I read novels and in one history class in high school, I methodically worked my way through the teacher's personal library.
As a child, I got up early to read the newspaper over breakfast (which occasionally featured Pac-Man Cereal) before moving to whatever novel I was reading while waiting for my friend Matt to make his way up my parents' hill. I read at night when I should have been doing homework and in front of the television while I should have been watching “The A-Team.”
Rarely without a book in hand, I decided last year that I would keep track of every book I read in 2010. To accomplish this I obtained a bookcase which I setup outside my office door, where I would deposit every book I finished. This plan went well until October, when my mother bought me a Kindle for my birthday.
Though I still love the physical concept of books, the Kindle not only allowed me to read faster as not having to turn pages dramatically speeds things up, it also eliminated one of my greatest fears – not having “the next book.” Throughout life I had always worried about being caught without something to read and this led to my often buying books I wasn't all that excited about, just to have something.
The Kindle ended this fear as I'm no longer dependent on getting to a bookstore to have a book. Because of this convenience, whereas I thought I would mix electronic books and real ones, I have almost exclusively read e-books. That foiled my plan for having an impressive bookshelf, but it did lead to me reading even more books this year.
In adding my actual books to my electronic books, I read 123 books and 12 novellas. These included novels, non-fiction and three biographies of various members of Guns and Roses, a band I'm not a fan of.
I read literature. I read crap. I read a few things that were a struggle to get through, but mostly I just read.
Reading can entertain you. It can enrich you and it can make life wonderfully more exciting. I'm hoping that my efforts to share this with my child succeed and though I don't imagine he'll ever own many actual books, I'm hoping he fills up his electronic library and that it someday compares to my actual library.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
You'll know when you get there
By Daniel B. Kline
Last year, as 2009 came to a close, the world appeared to be falling apart. The economy was spiraling downward, people were losing their jobs and optimism remained in short supply.
As the United States sank further into economic misery and uncertainty, I, of course, quit my enjoyable and stable job. While people around me were pushed out of work, I jumped with both feet and my eyes wide open.
This might have made sense if I had a plan. Were I going back to school or determined to make it in some specific field, my timing might have been poor, but my choice would have been defendable. Instead, I walked out the door armed only with a vague sense of wanting something more and my own completely unwarranted sense of optimism.
On the surface I'm a pessimist who tends to see the worst in everything. Internally, though, down somewhere deep, I strongly believe that everything will work out. Even when the facts say otherwise, I'm confident that somehow I will find an answer and that ultimately I will find what I'm looking for.
The last year, however, tested that resolve. I still knew I was going to get where I wanted to go, but as the months moved on, I remained less and less sure of where that was.
Upon leaving my job, I started to piece together a patchwork of freelance assignments to make ends meet. I did public relations, consulted on Web sites, did some writing and generally sold myself as a Web 2.0 expert who could help companies get more attention.
For a while, this seemed like the path I would follow. The work came fairly easily and as my client list grew I rented an office with the idea that perhaps I would become some sort of media consulting firm.
The work was easy. The money was good and the schedule was phenomenal. I was working about half as much as I had been sometimes out of my nearby tiny office, often at Starbucks and sometimes on my couch. Other than back pain from the hard wooden chairs at Starbucks I had it pretty good and nearly anyone would be happy with his lot.
I, however, was bored and still missing that elusive “something” I was looking for. Still, though, I can be foolish and make abrupt decisions, I'm not a total idiot, so while I had a relatively easy gig with no boss, no set hours and limited stress, I continued to keep my eyes open.
My career has largely been a series of dream jobs mixed up with periods of working for myself. I've had an array of positions that any 8-year-old boy would put on his wish list. I've run a toy store, edited a newspaper, written trivia and ran editorial operations for a Web site that featured photo shoots with naked women.
None of these jobs were part of any plan or on any sort of list I had, but I fell into each one and was never disappointed by the experience. This time, I only looked for those sorts of jobs. If someone wanted me to run a store, I wasn't interested. If they wanted me to run a circus, well, maybe we could talk.
The problem with dream jobs, of course, is that everyone wants them and most everyone seems to have if not a better resume than mine, at least a more logical one. That's why, when I found the job I wanted I was not overly confident that I had a real chance at landing it.
The first interview went well and I learned that I would be getting a second one, but since those interviews took place two months apart, I had more than enough time to convince myself I was only a fallback candidate. Even after having a positive second interview, I fully believed that the week the interviewers (the company's owners) waited to let me know (the exact amount of time they said it would take) meant that I had lost out to someone else.
My short-term pessimism, though it kept me up at night for weeks, ultimately was defeated by my innate optimism. On January 17 I begin as Executive Director for DayJams, a nationwide group of day camps for kids 8-15 who want to be in rock bands.
I didn't know where I was going, but I was quite certain when I got there.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
Last year, as 2009 came to a close, the world appeared to be falling apart. The economy was spiraling downward, people were losing their jobs and optimism remained in short supply.
As the United States sank further into economic misery and uncertainty, I, of course, quit my enjoyable and stable job. While people around me were pushed out of work, I jumped with both feet and my eyes wide open.
This might have made sense if I had a plan. Were I going back to school or determined to make it in some specific field, my timing might have been poor, but my choice would have been defendable. Instead, I walked out the door armed only with a vague sense of wanting something more and my own completely unwarranted sense of optimism.
On the surface I'm a pessimist who tends to see the worst in everything. Internally, though, down somewhere deep, I strongly believe that everything will work out. Even when the facts say otherwise, I'm confident that somehow I will find an answer and that ultimately I will find what I'm looking for.
The last year, however, tested that resolve. I still knew I was going to get where I wanted to go, but as the months moved on, I remained less and less sure of where that was.
Upon leaving my job, I started to piece together a patchwork of freelance assignments to make ends meet. I did public relations, consulted on Web sites, did some writing and generally sold myself as a Web 2.0 expert who could help companies get more attention.
For a while, this seemed like the path I would follow. The work came fairly easily and as my client list grew I rented an office with the idea that perhaps I would become some sort of media consulting firm.
The work was easy. The money was good and the schedule was phenomenal. I was working about half as much as I had been sometimes out of my nearby tiny office, often at Starbucks and sometimes on my couch. Other than back pain from the hard wooden chairs at Starbucks I had it pretty good and nearly anyone would be happy with his lot.
I, however, was bored and still missing that elusive “something” I was looking for. Still, though, I can be foolish and make abrupt decisions, I'm not a total idiot, so while I had a relatively easy gig with no boss, no set hours and limited stress, I continued to keep my eyes open.
My career has largely been a series of dream jobs mixed up with periods of working for myself. I've had an array of positions that any 8-year-old boy would put on his wish list. I've run a toy store, edited a newspaper, written trivia and ran editorial operations for a Web site that featured photo shoots with naked women.
None of these jobs were part of any plan or on any sort of list I had, but I fell into each one and was never disappointed by the experience. This time, I only looked for those sorts of jobs. If someone wanted me to run a store, I wasn't interested. If they wanted me to run a circus, well, maybe we could talk.
The problem with dream jobs, of course, is that everyone wants them and most everyone seems to have if not a better resume than mine, at least a more logical one. That's why, when I found the job I wanted I was not overly confident that I had a real chance at landing it.
The first interview went well and I learned that I would be getting a second one, but since those interviews took place two months apart, I had more than enough time to convince myself I was only a fallback candidate. Even after having a positive second interview, I fully believed that the week the interviewers (the company's owners) waited to let me know (the exact amount of time they said it would take) meant that I had lost out to someone else.
My short-term pessimism, though it kept me up at night for weeks, ultimately was defeated by my innate optimism. On January 17 I begin as Executive Director for DayJams, a nationwide group of day camps for kids 8-15 who want to be in rock bands.
I didn't know where I was going, but I was quite certain when I got there.
Daniel B. Kline's work appears in over 100 papers weekly. He can be reached at dan@notastep.com or you can see his archive at dbkline.com. You can listen to his podcast or buy his upcoming book, Worst Ideas Ever, at Worstideasever.com.
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