1. Thou shalt not add friends unless they are, in fact, your friends.
2. Thou shalt not use a grossly outdated profile picture, regardless of how good you looked back then.
3. Thou shalt not abandon your e-mail account and use facebook exclusively.
4. Thou shalt not have more applications than friends
5. Thou shalt not embellish your profile with not-quite-accurate descriptions/stories/statistics. You're not fooling anyone.
6. Thou's profile picture shalt not display you in a bikini. Unless you are a professional underwear model or prostitute, of course.
7. Thou shalt not include your home address in your profile, dumb ass.
8. Thou shalt not post pictures that make your friends look awful. That's bad e-karma.
9. Thou shalt not be surprised if your employer discovers your profile — or that you've been updating it at work. Don't be stupid; they're not.
10. Thou shalt not post every unfocussed, self-shot pic you took of the same people during your latest alcohol-infused adventure. One or two is more than enough.
Thursday
Selling homes: image doesn't matter, apparently
Image matters in this day and age, whether we want to admit it or not.
Or so we've been told.
For most of us, our personal image is not all that crucial to our professional success, but for people like real estate agents — people who put their faces on signs in effort to attract business — you'd think they'd try a little harder than the rest of us schlubs. But no, they don't seem to.
As I casually trolled the local real estate market yesterday, I was astonished by the lack of professional-looking agents there were. So much for image being everything in this judgemental, materialistic society of ours.
If these people are still able to make a living while looking so foolish, I think the whole idea of self-presentation is a sham (and if that's the case, I'm changing back into my sweatpants, folks!)
Really, now. They can't be serious. I mean, would you buy a house from this guy?
.... he looks like a Latin dance instructor, soap opera villain, or professional hustler. Or maybe all three. He doesn't look like a respectable real estate agent.
And what about this woman?
... she's not even interested enough to make eye contact. Her portrait gives the impression that she's unmotivated and avoids confrontation; anything but outgoing. The lack of effort she's put into her hairstyle also doesn't help matters... aren't real estate agents supposed to exude professionalism, trust, and confidence? The poor woman is the opposite; she's more like the poster girl for a crisis help line.
Moving right along, there's this lady:
Is she a church lady, a school bus driver, or the chain smoking bingo-playing lady from down the street? I'm not sure, but either way, I would never buy a house from her. Or a low-cost condo, for that matter.
Lastly, we have this guy, who, despite his mismatched eyebrows, appears to be one of the more prominent agents in the area:
He seems to have photoshoped himself off of another other person who originally appeared next to him in the photo — a former partner? ex-wife? we'll never know — and it adds to the intrigue.
In the end, it (like image, apparently) doesn't matter. He's still smiling, despite whatever might lie in his salty past. And you know what? Good on 'em.
Now if you'll excuse me, my sweatpants are calling my name...
Or so we've been told.
For most of us, our personal image is not all that crucial to our professional success, but for people like real estate agents — people who put their faces on signs in effort to attract business — you'd think they'd try a little harder than the rest of us schlubs. But no, they don't seem to.
As I casually trolled the local real estate market yesterday, I was astonished by the lack of professional-looking agents there were. So much for image being everything in this judgemental, materialistic society of ours.
If these people are still able to make a living while looking so foolish, I think the whole idea of self-presentation is a sham (and if that's the case, I'm changing back into my sweatpants, folks!)
Really, now. They can't be serious. I mean, would you buy a house from this guy?
.... he looks like a Latin dance instructor, soap opera villain, or professional hustler. Or maybe all three. He doesn't look like a respectable real estate agent.
And what about this woman?
... she's not even interested enough to make eye contact. Her portrait gives the impression that she's unmotivated and avoids confrontation; anything but outgoing. The lack of effort she's put into her hairstyle also doesn't help matters... aren't real estate agents supposed to exude professionalism, trust, and confidence? The poor woman is the opposite; she's more like the poster girl for a crisis help line.
Moving right along, there's this lady:
Is she a church lady, a school bus driver, or the chain smoking bingo-playing lady from down the street? I'm not sure, but either way, I would never buy a house from her. Or a low-cost condo, for that matter.
Lastly, we have this guy, who, despite his mismatched eyebrows, appears to be one of the more prominent agents in the area:
He seems to have photoshoped himself off of another other person who originally appeared next to him in the photo — a former partner? ex-wife? we'll never know — and it adds to the intrigue.
In the end, it (like image, apparently) doesn't matter. He's still smiling, despite whatever might lie in his salty past. And you know what? Good on 'em.
Now if you'll excuse me, my sweatpants are calling my name...
Sunday
To those who deserve it, happy Mother's Day
It's Mother's Day, a day for us to honour the women who gave us life
and thank them for all they've done.
As much as I appreciate my mom, I won't be rushing out to buy her a
sappy card or a bouquet of overpriced flowers this Sunday. It's not
the commercialism of the holiday that deters me - I just don't think
cards or flowers do the woman justice.
And that $35 brunch won't cut it, either - if I took her to one of
those things, she'd probably lecture me about spending money
foolishly. (After all, she can make delicate eggs benedict, bake
scrumptious scones, and whip up waffles like nobody's business - and
hers taste better than the restaurant's, of course.)
For me, Mother's Day is a special day to look back and acknowledge
all that my mom has done for me - and what I put her through as a
teenager, as well. The exercise reminds me why mothers get a day to
themselves: they really deserve it.
Older and slightly wiser, I can now look back and see what a pain in
the ass I was as a child. It gives me a renewed sense of respect for
mothers like mine who do their jobs so well.
To be a true parent is a terribly unpopular job. Befriending
teenaged offspring and being "the cool mom" is a much easier and
tempting option - but my mom never took the bait.
And in the end, I'm glad I had that I the mom I did instead of
someone like Stiffler's famous party-hardy mom. (But just for the
record, mom, all of my guy friends used to tell me how "hot" you were
- some of them still do - so I guess you must share some attributes
with the renowned M.I.L.F.)
So mom, this Mother's Day, I want to say thank you. Again. In case
you forgot since the last time I told you, I am sincerely grateful for
all you've done for me over the years.
Not that I've always been particularly appreciative.
I still remember how mad I was when you refused to extend my curfew
past 12:30 a.m. I was always the first one to leave the party, but in
retrospect, you did the right thing. Sure, the early cut-off had me
resenting you for the majority of my high school years, but you were
right: not much good ever happens after midnight.
And thanks for taking the time to follow-up with my friends' parents
to make sure my alibis always checked out, too. Granted, they usually
did - but only because I knew you'd find out if I fibbed. It kept me
fuming, but honest.
When I acted like an irresponsible child, you somehow managed to
treat me like an adult. You were usually far more rational than I was,
though at the time I was convinced of the opposite.
Being my mother was anything but easy. I was a grumpy, self-absorbed
and rude teenager. Anyone who lived under the same roof as my
adolescent self deserves a medal - but you rarely let my unpredictable
mood swings stop you from anything. Through it all, you demonstrated
the truth that is behind the philosophy, "a mother's love is
unconditional." Though I don't know how you did it, you never lost
faith in me. Thanks, ma.
I used to think you just didn't get me, but now I realize you always
got me, totally and completely. That's why I couldn't stand you - 90%
of the time, you knew what I was thinking and were able to stop my
trouble-making before I had a chance to get started. You busted me for
things I didn't even do, which I still find incredibly impressive. Way
to nip those problems in the bud.
You were never afraid to be the bad guy, to put your foot down, or to
teach me a hard lesson. Having such a strong mother was terribly
frustrating at times, but it also was exactly what I needed. I think
the world could use more moms like you.
Despite all of our blow-outs, my mother is now one of my closest
friends. She is an incredible source of support that is always there
for me. My mom's my rock, and always has been. It just took me a while
to realize it.
Thanks for everything, mom. Happy Mother's Day.
and thank them for all they've done.
As much as I appreciate my mom, I won't be rushing out to buy her a
sappy card or a bouquet of overpriced flowers this Sunday. It's not
the commercialism of the holiday that deters me - I just don't think
cards or flowers do the woman justice.
And that $35 brunch won't cut it, either - if I took her to one of
those things, she'd probably lecture me about spending money
foolishly. (After all, she can make delicate eggs benedict, bake
scrumptious scones, and whip up waffles like nobody's business - and
hers taste better than the restaurant's, of course.)
For me, Mother's Day is a special day to look back and acknowledge
all that my mom has done for me - and what I put her through as a
teenager, as well. The exercise reminds me why mothers get a day to
themselves: they really deserve it.
Older and slightly wiser, I can now look back and see what a pain in
the ass I was as a child. It gives me a renewed sense of respect for
mothers like mine who do their jobs so well.
To be a true parent is a terribly unpopular job. Befriending
teenaged offspring and being "the cool mom" is a much easier and
tempting option - but my mom never took the bait.
And in the end, I'm glad I had that I the mom I did instead of
someone like Stiffler's famous party-hardy mom. (But just for the
record, mom, all of my guy friends used to tell me how "hot" you were
- some of them still do - so I guess you must share some attributes
with the renowned M.I.L.F.)
So mom, this Mother's Day, I want to say thank you. Again. In case
you forgot since the last time I told you, I am sincerely grateful for
all you've done for me over the years.
Not that I've always been particularly appreciative.
I still remember how mad I was when you refused to extend my curfew
past 12:30 a.m. I was always the first one to leave the party, but in
retrospect, you did the right thing. Sure, the early cut-off had me
resenting you for the majority of my high school years, but you were
right: not much good ever happens after midnight.
And thanks for taking the time to follow-up with my friends' parents
to make sure my alibis always checked out, too. Granted, they usually
did - but only because I knew you'd find out if I fibbed. It kept me
fuming, but honest.
When I acted like an irresponsible child, you somehow managed to
treat me like an adult. You were usually far more rational than I was,
though at the time I was convinced of the opposite.
Being my mother was anything but easy. I was a grumpy, self-absorbed
and rude teenager. Anyone who lived under the same roof as my
adolescent self deserves a medal - but you rarely let my unpredictable
mood swings stop you from anything. Through it all, you demonstrated
the truth that is behind the philosophy, "a mother's love is
unconditional." Though I don't know how you did it, you never lost
faith in me. Thanks, ma.
I used to think you just didn't get me, but now I realize you always
got me, totally and completely. That's why I couldn't stand you - 90%
of the time, you knew what I was thinking and were able to stop my
trouble-making before I had a chance to get started. You busted me for
things I didn't even do, which I still find incredibly impressive. Way
to nip those problems in the bud.
You were never afraid to be the bad guy, to put your foot down, or to
teach me a hard lesson. Having such a strong mother was terribly
frustrating at times, but it also was exactly what I needed. I think
the world could use more moms like you.
Despite all of our blow-outs, my mother is now one of my closest
friends. She is an incredible source of support that is always there
for me. My mom's my rock, and always has been. It just took me a while
to realize it.
Thanks for everything, mom. Happy Mother's Day.
Saturday
Man, I wish I could get fired like these guys...
There's not much to encourage high-ranking managers and CEOs to work hard these days. Really, it's enough to make me want to give up journalism and become a failed executive...
The Man gets paid very well for his work. And when a big dog gets the boot or just chooses to abandon his post, the will still cash-in.
Some examples: Hydro One paid its outgoing CEO $3-million; the former boss of OC Transpo, Alain Carle, received about $130,000 after being fired after just six months on the job; when Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation chief executive, Duncan Brown, stepped-down in March, he pocketed nearly three-quarters of a million dollars on his way out the door. And the list goes on.
My question: will someone pay me $720,000 to get lost? How 'bout if I volunteer to disappear?
(It's tough to be hard on Greg Geddes, who worked for the city for 23 years and was fired last month during a shake-up at city hall. The job he had for the past three years was deemed no longer needed, so he was given to golden heave-ho to the tune of $270,000. But still... )
The Man gets paid very well for his work. And when a big dog gets the boot or just chooses to abandon his post, the will still cash-in.
Some examples: Hydro One paid its outgoing CEO $3-million; the former boss of OC Transpo, Alain Carle, received about $130,000 after being fired after just six months on the job; when Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation chief executive, Duncan Brown, stepped-down in March, he pocketed nearly three-quarters of a million dollars on his way out the door. And the list goes on.
My question: will someone pay me $720,000 to get lost? How 'bout if I volunteer to disappear?
(It's tough to be hard on Greg Geddes, who worked for the city for 23 years and was fired last month during a shake-up at city hall. The job he had for the past three years was deemed no longer needed, so he was given to golden heave-ho to the tune of $270,000. But still... )
Clash of the tree-hugging titans
The environment is a mess, we all know that. (Some are still in denial, sure, but deep down they've got to have an ounce of smarts somewhere.)
Yet today's question is not who is right or who is wrong. It is not which party has the best environmental record, or whose carbon footprint is bigger than whose.
What I want to know is this:
Who would win the battle for environmental supremacy, if it was fought in a WWE freestyle match: John Baird or Al Gore?
I can see it now:
"Ladies and Gentlemen! In this corner, wearing the blue shorts, standing 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 190 pounds, all the way from the wilds of Nepean, John "the hammer" Baird! ... And in the other corner, also wearing blue shorts, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighing in at 205 pounds, the man who conveniently brought us the inconvenient truth, Al Gore!"
"Now... Let's get it on!" *DING DING!*
Naturally, David Suzuki (wearing green shorts woven from all-natural fibres, standing 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighing in at 145 pounds) would take on the winner of the first match. My prediction: if he takes on Baird, he'd pull out some crazy judo moves and surprise us all (make sure to put down a few dollars on that match-up; I'm sure the odds would pay handsomely). But if Gore won round 1, he and Suzuki wouldn't settle their battle royale in the ring. They'd be more likely to decide the winner through a tree hug-off...
A brief background:
Just days after John Baird announced the Tories' plan to cut greenhouse gas emissions, former U.S. vice-president Al Gore dismissed it as "a complete and total fraud." Environment Minister Baird countered, saying, " It is difficult to accept criticism from someone who preaches about climate change, but who never submitted the Kyoto Protocol to a vote in the United States Senate, who never did as much as Canada is now doing to fight climate change during eight years in office..."
Mr. Baird seemed to forget his government has done sweet F-A to help the environment, despite being more than a year into its 4-year term — and that it was his party's nemesis, now-Liberal leader Stéphane Dion (who was the Liberal 's Minister of Environment at the time) who pushed to commit Canada to Kyoto. Mr. Baird also failed to recall how the day before, he called for the nation to pull-out of the agreement and not look back. (such minor details, yes, I know... how silly of me to dwell on them — sorry, folks.)
Environmentalist and former Nature of Things host David Suzuki also pooh-poohed Mr. Baird's "plan" — which, in case you're wondering, is a watered down environmental strategy that would see Canada abandon its Kyoto Accord commitments. It calls for air pollution to be cut in half by 2015, and for greenhouse gases to be reduced to levels five per cent above 1990 levels over the next 13 years. Yawn. Or should I say, wheeze and hack...
Somehow, PM Harper managed to keep a straight face while defending his party's, as he put it, "tough" new plan.
Yet today's question is not who is right or who is wrong. It is not which party has the best environmental record, or whose carbon footprint is bigger than whose.
What I want to know is this:
Who would win the battle for environmental supremacy, if it was fought in a WWE freestyle match: John Baird or Al Gore?
I can see it now:
"Ladies and Gentlemen! In this corner, wearing the blue shorts, standing 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 190 pounds, all the way from the wilds of Nepean, John "the hammer" Baird! ... And in the other corner, also wearing blue shorts, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighing in at 205 pounds, the man who conveniently brought us the inconvenient truth, Al Gore!"
"Now... Let's get it on!" *DING DING!*
Naturally, David Suzuki (wearing green shorts woven from all-natural fibres, standing 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighing in at 145 pounds) would take on the winner of the first match. My prediction: if he takes on Baird, he'd pull out some crazy judo moves and surprise us all (make sure to put down a few dollars on that match-up; I'm sure the odds would pay handsomely). But if Gore won round 1, he and Suzuki wouldn't settle their battle royale in the ring. They'd be more likely to decide the winner through a tree hug-off...
A brief background:
Just days after John Baird announced the Tories' plan to cut greenhouse gas emissions, former U.S. vice-president Al Gore dismissed it as "a complete and total fraud." Environment Minister Baird countered, saying, " It is difficult to accept criticism from someone who preaches about climate change, but who never submitted the Kyoto Protocol to a vote in the United States Senate, who never did as much as Canada is now doing to fight climate change during eight years in office..."
Mr. Baird seemed to forget his government has done sweet F-A to help the environment, despite being more than a year into its 4-year term — and that it was his party's nemesis, now-Liberal leader Stéphane Dion (who was the Liberal 's Minister of Environment at the time) who pushed to commit Canada to Kyoto. Mr. Baird also failed to recall how the day before, he called for the nation to pull-out of the agreement and not look back. (such minor details, yes, I know... how silly of me to dwell on them — sorry, folks.)
Environmentalist and former Nature of Things host David Suzuki also pooh-poohed Mr. Baird's "plan" — which, in case you're wondering, is a watered down environmental strategy that would see Canada abandon its Kyoto Accord commitments. It calls for air pollution to be cut in half by 2015, and for greenhouse gases to be reduced to levels five per cent above 1990 levels over the next 13 years. Yawn. Or should I say, wheeze and hack...
Somehow, PM Harper managed to keep a straight face while defending his party's, as he put it, "tough" new plan.
Wednesday
THIS is why you won't see me wearing a baby Bjorn for another decade or two:
Canadians aren’t having enough babies, according to Stats Canada. We need to rely on an eager immigration program to keep our numbers up.
Not all Canadians are abstaining from child-raising — statistics indicate lower income families (and the poorest single women) are in fact reproducing at a more than sufficient pace. But when it comes to the people the government and economists say should be encouraged to have kids — educated, financially stable and working Canadians — the figures show a decline.
If this trend continues, we’ll have more poor and fewer wealthy to support them. This, my friends, is not a good forecast. Something needs to change — but that something is a complex issue, and not one I imagine will budge unless serious and drastic steps are taken.
There was a good and thought-provoking editorial in the Ottawa Citizen a few months back that dealt with the issue of Canadian birth rates. The more productive, prosperous Canadians aren’t reproducing nearly enough, the columnist explained, while the poorest Canadians are increasing in numbers like nobody’s business. How they (or social services) will support these children is another issue — one the column didn’t really address. (and that very worthwhile and controversial rant is one for another day.)
This afternoon, I want to focus on the former issue, that of the career-minded, professional Canadian women and her lack of baby making.
This issue is a hot-button issue, and no matter how hard one might try, it’s impossible to discuss it effectively without crossing the politically correct line a time or two. But as a 20-something female of this great country, I am hereby authorizing myself to cross it.
See, I am one of those educated and increasingly financially-stable, working Canadian women who *should* be getting ready to have a baby in a few years. But sorry, Mom, it ain’t gonna happen. For several reasons. And for once, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in my thinking.
First, there’s money. It costs money to buy diapers, feed extra mouths, and finance all the other stuff parents need to finance. In this materialistic and costly world we live in, it isn’t easy for people in their 20s to comfortably state “yes, I have enough money to finance a life.” Personally, I feel the need to buy a house and make some payments before taking that step. And then there’s the issue of work: will my employer finance maternity leave? I’m on a contract, so no way. And while my partner is full time and working on a federal government project, he doesn’t get any real benefits to speak of. If we were to become pregnant, we’d be in trouble.
Second reason babies are not the best idea that has crossed my mind in recent days is the simple fact that motherhood can sabotage an otherwise promising career. As a fairly recent grad, I am still at the bottom of the corporate totem pole. I have a ways left to climb, and if I were to suddenly find myself up the duff, I’d likely find myself back at square one in 9 months time.
In many industries, child bearing can nullify years spent climbing the corporate ladder. If you’re in a high-power role, you can’t just disappear for a year or two to pop jr. out — your company will notice you’re gone. Temporary replacement? Sure — but that costs the company both time and money. Suddenly the decision to hire a female sales VP doesn’t look like such a great idea. Female employees become more expensive, and less desirable.
A friend of mine has a toddler and admits she will have a second sometime soon — but that soon is going to have to wait. Why? Her employer just spent $7000 to train her, and she feels obligated to complete the term she’s committed to (two years) before announcing her need for time off to become a mummy a second time.
And you know what? I don’t think she made the wrong decision. In the grand scheme of things, it is the responsible choice: if she were to “accidentally” find herself pregnant a year into her two-year contract, how pleased would her employer be? And more importantly, how likely would they be to give the position to a women a second time? Like it or not, the reality would be the memory of “said-she-would-but-ditched-half-way-through” would be fresh in the minds of whoever was hiring for the position during round two.
Women have a responsibility to one another to not exploit our gender. In the same way we don’t call in sick every month citing “cramps,” we have to hold our own. My friend knows this. Add to it that she works in a male-dominated industry, and the pressure to succeed and prove herself (and her fellow female colleagues) as worthy and very-worthwhile employees becomes even more present.
Should she have to choose between work and her family? Of course not. But as she told me herself, “It isn’t fair, but we don’t live in a fair world.” She has accepted the situation for what it is, and has acted accordingly.
Will her fertility hold out? Who knows. Hopefully. But that magic number— 35 — will be in the rear view mirror after the two-year term is complete. Despite the popular proclamation that “35 is the new 25,” fertility doesn’t listen to societal trends. But it’s a risk my friend is willing to take — but the possibility of fertility or other problems must linger somewhere in the back of her mind.
This woman is a shining example of balance, having been able to, along with her husband, successfully negotiate the scale between work and raising a family. But others aren’t so lucky.
Some women have made the decision not to have children. And that’s totally fine — there are fewer more personal decisions one can make (and respect). But why all of a sudden do we not want kids?
The simplified answer is we’re selfish: we want to live a social life, the ability to travel to exotic locales, and to not have to commit to much. Freedom is big right now — financial freedom, personal freedom, whatever. But beyond these lifestyle choices, women are also putting work before family, figuring kids simply are not a desirable option — and if that option is exercised, life (and work) will become significantly more difficult.
I asked the columnist who wrote the Citizen editorial about birthrates what he thought about the issue, and he told me an interesting story. He said when he went to his university reunion, of all his graduating class — which enjoyed a 50/50 male/female split — only 2 or 3 of the women had started a family. The other women just didn’t want children, he said.
That made me think.
Did they not want kids, or did they just know they couldn’t; that it would be self-inflicted professional sabotage, so they subconsciously removed kids from the list of possibilities?
I don’t know for sure, and there’s no real way to know. I’m not a psychologist, sociologist, or any sort of statistical magician. But the fact that a lot of smart women are choosing not to have kids is not a coincidence —and unless we figure out a way to encourage working moms to be just that (without causing massive economic slowdowns or industry backlash) the trend will continue.
Not all Canadians are abstaining from child-raising — statistics indicate lower income families (and the poorest single women) are in fact reproducing at a more than sufficient pace. But when it comes to the people the government and economists say should be encouraged to have kids — educated, financially stable and working Canadians — the figures show a decline.
If this trend continues, we’ll have more poor and fewer wealthy to support them. This, my friends, is not a good forecast. Something needs to change — but that something is a complex issue, and not one I imagine will budge unless serious and drastic steps are taken.
There was a good and thought-provoking editorial in the Ottawa Citizen a few months back that dealt with the issue of Canadian birth rates. The more productive, prosperous Canadians aren’t reproducing nearly enough, the columnist explained, while the poorest Canadians are increasing in numbers like nobody’s business. How they (or social services) will support these children is another issue — one the column didn’t really address. (and that very worthwhile and controversial rant is one for another day.)
This afternoon, I want to focus on the former issue, that of the career-minded, professional Canadian women and her lack of baby making.
This issue is a hot-button issue, and no matter how hard one might try, it’s impossible to discuss it effectively without crossing the politically correct line a time or two. But as a 20-something female of this great country, I am hereby authorizing myself to cross it.
See, I am one of those educated and increasingly financially-stable, working Canadian women who *should* be getting ready to have a baby in a few years. But sorry, Mom, it ain’t gonna happen. For several reasons. And for once, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in my thinking.
First, there’s money. It costs money to buy diapers, feed extra mouths, and finance all the other stuff parents need to finance. In this materialistic and costly world we live in, it isn’t easy for people in their 20s to comfortably state “yes, I have enough money to finance a life.” Personally, I feel the need to buy a house and make some payments before taking that step. And then there’s the issue of work: will my employer finance maternity leave? I’m on a contract, so no way. And while my partner is full time and working on a federal government project, he doesn’t get any real benefits to speak of. If we were to become pregnant, we’d be in trouble.
Second reason babies are not the best idea that has crossed my mind in recent days is the simple fact that motherhood can sabotage an otherwise promising career. As a fairly recent grad, I am still at the bottom of the corporate totem pole. I have a ways left to climb, and if I were to suddenly find myself up the duff, I’d likely find myself back at square one in 9 months time.
In many industries, child bearing can nullify years spent climbing the corporate ladder. If you’re in a high-power role, you can’t just disappear for a year or two to pop jr. out — your company will notice you’re gone. Temporary replacement? Sure — but that costs the company both time and money. Suddenly the decision to hire a female sales VP doesn’t look like such a great idea. Female employees become more expensive, and less desirable.
A friend of mine has a toddler and admits she will have a second sometime soon — but that soon is going to have to wait. Why? Her employer just spent $7000 to train her, and she feels obligated to complete the term she’s committed to (two years) before announcing her need for time off to become a mummy a second time.
And you know what? I don’t think she made the wrong decision. In the grand scheme of things, it is the responsible choice: if she were to “accidentally” find herself pregnant a year into her two-year contract, how pleased would her employer be? And more importantly, how likely would they be to give the position to a women a second time? Like it or not, the reality would be the memory of “said-she-would-but-ditched-half-way-through” would be fresh in the minds of whoever was hiring for the position during round two.
Women have a responsibility to one another to not exploit our gender. In the same way we don’t call in sick every month citing “cramps,” we have to hold our own. My friend knows this. Add to it that she works in a male-dominated industry, and the pressure to succeed and prove herself (and her fellow female colleagues) as worthy and very-worthwhile employees becomes even more present.
Should she have to choose between work and her family? Of course not. But as she told me herself, “It isn’t fair, but we don’t live in a fair world.” She has accepted the situation for what it is, and has acted accordingly.
Will her fertility hold out? Who knows. Hopefully. But that magic number— 35 — will be in the rear view mirror after the two-year term is complete. Despite the popular proclamation that “35 is the new 25,” fertility doesn’t listen to societal trends. But it’s a risk my friend is willing to take — but the possibility of fertility or other problems must linger somewhere in the back of her mind.
This woman is a shining example of balance, having been able to, along with her husband, successfully negotiate the scale between work and raising a family. But others aren’t so lucky.
Some women have made the decision not to have children. And that’s totally fine — there are fewer more personal decisions one can make (and respect). But why all of a sudden do we not want kids?
The simplified answer is we’re selfish: we want to live a social life, the ability to travel to exotic locales, and to not have to commit to much. Freedom is big right now — financial freedom, personal freedom, whatever. But beyond these lifestyle choices, women are also putting work before family, figuring kids simply are not a desirable option — and if that option is exercised, life (and work) will become significantly more difficult.
I asked the columnist who wrote the Citizen editorial about birthrates what he thought about the issue, and he told me an interesting story. He said when he went to his university reunion, of all his graduating class — which enjoyed a 50/50 male/female split — only 2 or 3 of the women had started a family. The other women just didn’t want children, he said.
That made me think.
Did they not want kids, or did they just know they couldn’t; that it would be self-inflicted professional sabotage, so they subconsciously removed kids from the list of possibilities?
I don’t know for sure, and there’s no real way to know. I’m not a psychologist, sociologist, or any sort of statistical magician. But the fact that a lot of smart women are choosing not to have kids is not a coincidence —and unless we figure out a way to encourage working moms to be just that (without causing massive economic slowdowns or industry backlash) the trend will continue.
Monday
Not coming down for a while, apparently...
So lesson #76 for the year 2007: nearly two months after giving up tea and still living the coffee-free life means that one cannot drink the better part of a 2L cola and expect to go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Work in the morning does not matter, nor do the things you planned on doing before heading to the office.
Instead, you will find yourself rediscovering former co-workers you forgot you once had on facebook at 2 a.m.
Not that I'd know or anything...
Work in the morning does not matter, nor do the things you planned on doing before heading to the office.
Instead, you will find yourself rediscovering former co-workers you forgot you once had on facebook at 2 a.m.
Not that I'd know or anything...
Sunday
Raw food = Slow food
I admit, I love to cook. I am kind of obsessed with food and yes, I’ve been called a restaurant snob. I try to eat well, but I admit, I’m not always that exciting. I tend to eat the same things again and again, day in and day out. The work lunch is very predictable: homemade soup, carrots, an apple, and some crackers or yogurt. 4 days out of 5, it’s the same soup. But there’s a reason: it’s tasty.
Keeping this in mind, I’ve recently been taking steps to change. I’ve gone though my cookbooks and made a collection of recipes I want to try. And yes, I’ve tried a lot of them already. Some have flopped and others were great and will be revisited. New cookbooks are currently en route from India, too (I wanted some good, authentic Indian recipes; none of this North Americanized, watered down curry BS). Another thing I’ve been doing: trying the recipes from the paper’s food section.
One of these sections a few weeks back was on a new movement called Raw Food. Raw foodies are extreme vegans. Now, granted vegans are pretty extreme on their own, but these raw food vegans take the extremism to a whole new level. Vegans don’t eat any meat or fish, and won’t touch anything that comes from an animal in it: no milk or eggs or cheese, and nothing with any animal byproducts in it. The next level, the raw level, is no cooking.
Cooking destroys many of the vitamins and nutrients in food, this is a fact. It’s no secret that microwaving essentially obliterates the goodness of veggies and ther foods, but cooking — on a stove or in an oven — also weakens the nutritional punch of foods.
So raw foodies don’t cook anything. That’s why it’s called raw, genius.
The raw food movement here in Ottawa is being led by a woman whose name escapes me right now, but it doesn’t matter. She runs simplyraw.ca and gives cooking (um, vegetable slicing, pureeing, and chopping?) classes/detox workshops as well.
Those who prescribe to the raw food regime dehydrate some things, including their pancakes, which take 8 hours to make (nothing like getting up at 3 a.m. to start breakfast). But even when dehydrating isn’t necessary, raw food can take a long time.
A lot of the recipes I use (the ones that require traditional cooking) take a while. And I’m patient, since I love cooking and know the time is well-invested. But the raw meal I made tonight was just silly.
I made “living lasagna.” I used my fancy new mandoline slicer to trim zucchini into lasagna noodle-thin noodles (you can’t use regular noodles in raw food: they’ve been processed, and require, um, cooking) and made my tomato sauce from scratch using my hand blender to puree everything.
Since raw foodies are vegan and therefore don’t eat cheese, I followed the instructions to make a ricotta substitute out of cashews and pine nuts. The nuts had to soak for 2-4 hours before being pureed along with salt, some oil, and lemon juice into a ricotta-like paste.
I also chopped mushrooms and peppers, and minced leaves of fresh spinach and basil into a beautiful and fragrant mélange.
The reason I tried this recipe was three fold: I wanted to try something new, I like vegetables and healthy eating, and the regime came highly recommended from both a cousin of mine who took a raw food workshop a few months ago and the paper’s food critic.
I started soaking the nuts at 2 p.m. The sundried tomatoes started their bath at four. And at six, I started getting ready to put it all together. To be fair, let’s say I started at 6:30. Two hours of chopping, mincing, slicing, and pureeing later, I had my lasagna. I couldn’t believe it took that long to put the damn thing together — and I made a half recipe! That’s just crazy. I’d hate to think how long it’d take if I had to cook it, too.
I guess this fast paced life of mine has made me impatient. I like to have my meals quick. 30 minutes? Perfect. And hour? Hmm, ok, if I didn’t have to work late. But two hours for a cold meal? Come on.
I didn’t bother eating it. I put it in the fridge to sit and marinate and hopefully become tasty overnight. I wanted a hot dinner, so I boiled some veggie dogs, which were just fine. Not “bright” tasting (as the previously mentioned food critic sang as he praised the raw food) but they hit the spot.
I’ll let you know if the living lasagna turned out to be a disaster. But I doubt it will. I’ve already tried the “rawsome apple crumble” (which was so-so, but I didn’t use dates, as it suggested, and I think that’s why) and am totally sold on the marinated kale salad (massaged with salt and lemon juice to make it wilt and become easy to eat), which is great with diced yellow peppers, cherry tomatoes, and its dressing of avocado, celery, soy sauce and lemon juice).
I honestly wish I had more time to dedicate to nutrition. There is so much to research and explore… so many recipes waiting to be discoveres, so many tastes just waiting to be experienced. I think I could easily become obese in a very short time if I didn’t have a day job to distract me from this part-time obsession of mine.
Mind you, if all recipes took as long as the living lasagna, I’d be dead before I got through all of them. But then again, maybe not. Healthy eating (and moderate, not over-eating) leads to longevity, they say. Perhaps those crazy raw vegans are onto something.
Keeping this in mind, I’ve recently been taking steps to change. I’ve gone though my cookbooks and made a collection of recipes I want to try. And yes, I’ve tried a lot of them already. Some have flopped and others were great and will be revisited. New cookbooks are currently en route from India, too (I wanted some good, authentic Indian recipes; none of this North Americanized, watered down curry BS). Another thing I’ve been doing: trying the recipes from the paper’s food section.
One of these sections a few weeks back was on a new movement called Raw Food. Raw foodies are extreme vegans. Now, granted vegans are pretty extreme on their own, but these raw food vegans take the extremism to a whole new level. Vegans don’t eat any meat or fish, and won’t touch anything that comes from an animal in it: no milk or eggs or cheese, and nothing with any animal byproducts in it. The next level, the raw level, is no cooking.
Cooking destroys many of the vitamins and nutrients in food, this is a fact. It’s no secret that microwaving essentially obliterates the goodness of veggies and ther foods, but cooking — on a stove or in an oven — also weakens the nutritional punch of foods.
So raw foodies don’t cook anything. That’s why it’s called raw, genius.
The raw food movement here in Ottawa is being led by a woman whose name escapes me right now, but it doesn’t matter. She runs simplyraw.ca and gives cooking (um, vegetable slicing, pureeing, and chopping?) classes/detox workshops as well.
Those who prescribe to the raw food regime dehydrate some things, including their pancakes, which take 8 hours to make (nothing like getting up at 3 a.m. to start breakfast). But even when dehydrating isn’t necessary, raw food can take a long time.
A lot of the recipes I use (the ones that require traditional cooking) take a while. And I’m patient, since I love cooking and know the time is well-invested. But the raw meal I made tonight was just silly.
I made “living lasagna.” I used my fancy new mandoline slicer to trim zucchini into lasagna noodle-thin noodles (you can’t use regular noodles in raw food: they’ve been processed, and require, um, cooking) and made my tomato sauce from scratch using my hand blender to puree everything.
Since raw foodies are vegan and therefore don’t eat cheese, I followed the instructions to make a ricotta substitute out of cashews and pine nuts. The nuts had to soak for 2-4 hours before being pureed along with salt, some oil, and lemon juice into a ricotta-like paste.
I also chopped mushrooms and peppers, and minced leaves of fresh spinach and basil into a beautiful and fragrant mélange.
The reason I tried this recipe was three fold: I wanted to try something new, I like vegetables and healthy eating, and the regime came highly recommended from both a cousin of mine who took a raw food workshop a few months ago and the paper’s food critic.
I started soaking the nuts at 2 p.m. The sundried tomatoes started their bath at four. And at six, I started getting ready to put it all together. To be fair, let’s say I started at 6:30. Two hours of chopping, mincing, slicing, and pureeing later, I had my lasagna. I couldn’t believe it took that long to put the damn thing together — and I made a half recipe! That’s just crazy. I’d hate to think how long it’d take if I had to cook it, too.
I guess this fast paced life of mine has made me impatient. I like to have my meals quick. 30 minutes? Perfect. And hour? Hmm, ok, if I didn’t have to work late. But two hours for a cold meal? Come on.
I didn’t bother eating it. I put it in the fridge to sit and marinate and hopefully become tasty overnight. I wanted a hot dinner, so I boiled some veggie dogs, which were just fine. Not “bright” tasting (as the previously mentioned food critic sang as he praised the raw food) but they hit the spot.
I’ll let you know if the living lasagna turned out to be a disaster. But I doubt it will. I’ve already tried the “rawsome apple crumble” (which was so-so, but I didn’t use dates, as it suggested, and I think that’s why) and am totally sold on the marinated kale salad (massaged with salt and lemon juice to make it wilt and become easy to eat), which is great with diced yellow peppers, cherry tomatoes, and its dressing of avocado, celery, soy sauce and lemon juice).
I honestly wish I had more time to dedicate to nutrition. There is so much to research and explore… so many recipes waiting to be discoveres, so many tastes just waiting to be experienced. I think I could easily become obese in a very short time if I didn’t have a day job to distract me from this part-time obsession of mine.
Mind you, if all recipes took as long as the living lasagna, I’d be dead before I got through all of them. But then again, maybe not. Healthy eating (and moderate, not over-eating) leads to longevity, they say. Perhaps those crazy raw vegans are onto something.
What the country really needs: A Canadian Correspondents’ Dinner
Ah, the annual correspondents’ dinner. How I would love to one day attend. Each year we hear the awkward details and try to imagine what it must have been like. The president cracks jokes at his own expense and rubs shoulders with some of his fiercest critics: the media. But they share a meal and at the end of the evening, everyone is left with a warm fuzzy feeling inside (ok, several cocktails help being on this feeling… but who cares how we get there, as long as we get there).
So why doesn’t Canada have one of these babies? I think we could really use an event like the correspondents’ dinner in Ottawa. I think the city — nation, even — would be a better place for it.
Now I know this will never happen, as long as Stephen Harper is at 24 Sussex. After all, he and his administration has shut more doors to reporters than any other PM’s office that any reporter on the hill can remember.
Still, I think it would do wonders for his public image. Right now the PM is more like an angry dad than a confident leader of a democratic country. He’s grouchy and yells all the time, and when someone asks a tough question (dad, can I have $20 to go to the movies?) he disappears. (go ask your mother? Who’s that? Equally PMS-y John Baird? Or is mum the far more feminine but still confusing and rife with mixed messages Stéphane Dion?).
How would Stephen act in a correspondents’ dinner-like setting? It would be interesting. He’s got a great team of speech writers so I’m sure they could work out an agreeable routine. This year President Bush cracked a good one about the dinner from the year before, when his approval rating was at 30% and his vice president had just shot someone. Those we the good old days, he quipped.
Harper wouldn’t be able to do that, because if he would acknowledge that he’s been in office for over a year, he’d have to stop referring to his team as “Canada’s new government” (scroll down to see my previous rant on the overuse of that phrase) and might realize that after more than a year’s time in office, he really can’t keep blaming the Liberals for everything.
Still, I think a Canadian correspondents’ dinner would be a good move for Harper. And if he doesn’t surprise me and start throwing a good party, maybe the next administration will. Sadly, I’m not going to hold my breath or bet on it. I think our country’s political leaders are so paranoid and stale, it just won’t happen. Unless the country goes to hell and Belinda Stronach somehow winds up PM. Lord knows she loves the spotlight, and sure can throw a party.
So why doesn’t Canada have one of these babies? I think we could really use an event like the correspondents’ dinner in Ottawa. I think the city — nation, even — would be a better place for it.
Now I know this will never happen, as long as Stephen Harper is at 24 Sussex. After all, he and his administration has shut more doors to reporters than any other PM’s office that any reporter on the hill can remember.
Still, I think it would do wonders for his public image. Right now the PM is more like an angry dad than a confident leader of a democratic country. He’s grouchy and yells all the time, and when someone asks a tough question (dad, can I have $20 to go to the movies?) he disappears. (go ask your mother? Who’s that? Equally PMS-y John Baird? Or is mum the far more feminine but still confusing and rife with mixed messages Stéphane Dion?).
How would Stephen act in a correspondents’ dinner-like setting? It would be interesting. He’s got a great team of speech writers so I’m sure they could work out an agreeable routine. This year President Bush cracked a good one about the dinner from the year before, when his approval rating was at 30% and his vice president had just shot someone. Those we the good old days, he quipped.
Harper wouldn’t be able to do that, because if he would acknowledge that he’s been in office for over a year, he’d have to stop referring to his team as “Canada’s new government” (scroll down to see my previous rant on the overuse of that phrase) and might realize that after more than a year’s time in office, he really can’t keep blaming the Liberals for everything.
Still, I think a Canadian correspondents’ dinner would be a good move for Harper. And if he doesn’t surprise me and start throwing a good party, maybe the next administration will. Sadly, I’m not going to hold my breath or bet on it. I think our country’s political leaders are so paranoid and stale, it just won’t happen. Unless the country goes to hell and Belinda Stronach somehow winds up PM. Lord knows she loves the spotlight, and sure can throw a party.
Honk if you`re...
If you’re female, you know the scenario. You’re walking down the sidewalk and a vehicle drives by and honks. What the hell, you wonder. Was it a friend of mine? Was it some desperate guy who liked what he saw? Or was the driver so paranoid that they thought they’d honk, just to make sure I didn’t leap off the sidewalk and onto the roadway as they passed? Do I look suicidal?
I just don’t get it. If you know me, stop and say hi, or call me later.
And if you’re one of those lonely guys, get a life. And by get a life, I don’t mean honk at random women. Trust me, you won’t meet your soul mate during a 65 Kmph drive-by.
I am genuinely confused. What are these men thinking? Girls will excitedly catapult their phone numbers into the flatbed of their pick-up truck as it zooms off? Flash them as they drive off into the distance? Get real.
And don’t worry, grandpa, I’m not a jumper. But if you’re really and truly concerned, slow down a little.
My first experience with this phenomenon was back in my teens. Remember, I grew up in a small town so when people drove by and honked, you knew them, so it wasn’t the same.
Oh, the joys of big city living. Or just visiting. At first I thought it was a genuine compliment from a shy admirer. But no, I was wrong. Then I went to Calgary, home of the lonliest and easiest to please men on the planet, apparently. I swear to gawd, every third truck honks in that town. It got real old real fast.
I have a girlfriend who really enjoys the attention. She yells at the drivers as they speed off, and I kind of want to jump into the bushes and hide when she does. No wonder they never turn back; if anything, I think any driver notices her reaction would be smart to gun it.
Perhaps a honker will read this and be able to shed some light on this subject for me. Apparently, it is just too bizarre a concept for me to understand.
I just don’t get it. If you know me, stop and say hi, or call me later.
And if you’re one of those lonely guys, get a life. And by get a life, I don’t mean honk at random women. Trust me, you won’t meet your soul mate during a 65 Kmph drive-by.
I am genuinely confused. What are these men thinking? Girls will excitedly catapult their phone numbers into the flatbed of their pick-up truck as it zooms off? Flash them as they drive off into the distance? Get real.
And don’t worry, grandpa, I’m not a jumper. But if you’re really and truly concerned, slow down a little.
My first experience with this phenomenon was back in my teens. Remember, I grew up in a small town so when people drove by and honked, you knew them, so it wasn’t the same.
Oh, the joys of big city living. Or just visiting. At first I thought it was a genuine compliment from a shy admirer. But no, I was wrong. Then I went to Calgary, home of the lonliest and easiest to please men on the planet, apparently. I swear to gawd, every third truck honks in that town. It got real old real fast.
I have a girlfriend who really enjoys the attention. She yells at the drivers as they speed off, and I kind of want to jump into the bushes and hide when she does. No wonder they never turn back; if anything, I think any driver notices her reaction would be smart to gun it.
Perhaps a honker will read this and be able to shed some light on this subject for me. Apparently, it is just too bizarre a concept for me to understand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)