Tuesday, November 24, 2009

My Card



One of the first things I figured on doing as I jumped back into the freelance pool was getting some business cards going. So I was glad to hear, in the career counseling orientation session, that the experts agreed with me.

"You really should get business cards as soon as possible," the orientation facilitator said. Then, she held up examples of the cards you can get on line for free (VistaPrint.com). She highlighted two cards, one cute and colorful, the other resembling the paper version of a gray flannel suit. Of the colorful one she said, "This card shows that I'm somebody's mom." Then she recommended the other one.

From this, I surmised that I should go for the gray flannel, especially since, I am nobody's mom. And so I did, creating a business card that gave all the contact info you would ever need and then some, making my new calling card as safe, non-threatening, and friendly to conservative hiring managers as possible.

My wife helpfully added a little typewriter graphic to give it a little pizzaz. The typewriter had all the pizzaz.

I gave a couple out, but never really felt that good about the new card. I tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. "One has to grow up sometime, doesn't one?" I would say to myself in a little British school boy voice for no particular reason. "You have to put on the suit. You have to be the suit. Your card has to be the suit," I would say in the voice of that guy from that movie.

A little voice in my head, which sounded a great deal like the career counseling seminar girl, said, "Your card needs to say, 'Hello there. I'm trustworthy and predictable. Not threatening. I have no ideas that you won't like. I am prepared to be only as creative as you want me to be."

Somehow, there was another little voice in my head that wasn't buying it. But he's less sure of himself than he used to be.

Then a few days later I met with my personal career coach, a great guy named Larry, who is full of great advice. I decided to show Larry my new card. His brow furrowed. "Kinda busy," he said. I translated that, "Kinda busy and not in a good way." That was the last nail in the new card's coffin.

So, I went back to my old card, which is on this page. As you can see, it's still busy. It's colorful. It's probably just a little unorthodox by some measures, crazy by others. But it's creative, it's bold, it's comprehensive, it's a bit edgy. It's risky. It's not dull. It's a lot more me.

I hope the new card doesn't scare off potential employers. But if it does, I probably don't need to be working for them anyway.



Friday, November 20, 2009

There's an App for You, Buddy


I was conversing with the rather brilliant editor and former girl detective Amy Bickers, when she revealed a great idea: Someone should build an iPhone app for detecting lies. If they can't build one that works on everybody, they should at least build one that works on people who want to service your car.


She envisions a world where you can go up to Joe-The-Mechanic-You-Don't-Really-Know-But-Would-ReallyLike-To-Trust and say something like, "Please speak into the screen of my trend-forward mobile device exactly what you think is wrong with my car."


Then, you could look at the screen, and say, something like, "Are you sure? Because, my phone, here, doesn't seem to believe you."


Brilliant idea, which is why, apparently, a few other clever individuals have also come up with it.


Of course, in the real world, such a device would lead to much longer conversations with Joe, who might not take kindly to the suggestion that your phone doesn't believe him:


Joe: "Are you sure your phone has a full charge? 'Cause I don't think it's playing with a full battery."


You: "Oh, it's charged, buddy. And it's on to you."


Joe: "Who you gonna believe? Me or your stupid phone, which, by the way, doesn't even have the best coverage. Talk about lying..."


You: "How dare you insult my state-of-the-art device! Why, I'm the envy of all my neighbors who don't have iPhones, as proven by this Who's Envying U App --"


Joe: "Get outta my shop and take your hipster techno-bling with you."


You: "I still need to know what's wrong with my car."


Joe: "Maybe there's an app for that."


Joe's got a point. That would be cool, an app that diagnoses what's actually wrong with your car. Or an app that tells you which car not to buy in the first place. Or an app that explains how Joe got such a long last name. Or...


Clearly, things could get out of hand if we start depending on our mobile devices too much, if we turn to our little mechanical boxes instead of using our own intuition and judgement. No, it's much better to just trust Joe, who will figure out what's wrong with your car by using his experience, laying his hands upon your vehicle, and hooking it up to a diagnostic computer. That's better, because his mechanical box is bigger than yours.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Getting My Hands Dirty


Now that I'm looking for work, the question inevitably comes, "What are you gonna do?"
Truth be told, I'm not exactly sure what I will do to make a living. That depends on a lot of factors. But one thing I can say (after mentioning freelance media work --to make sure people don't think I've completely forgotten what I do), is that I figure on doing some carpentry. Building some furniture and trying to convince people to give me money for it.

That's a head scratcher for some folks, since, as a desk jockey, it may seem incongruous that I would want to get my hands dirty. But I love building things. Even when I'm in over my head, even when my project goes through what I like to call "the ugly period" -- a term I developed when I was painting, to describe that stretch where I want to throw the canvas out the window - even then, I love building things. I love it so much that no matter what else I do, I plan to keep taking lumber and trying to make it into something useful, lasting, and if possible, nice to look at.

It's not about perfect classical form, exactly, although I try to learn from what's always worked for the experts, the master furniture makers, the pros. For me, it's form-follows-function. I want it to work first and foremost. If it's a chair, I want it to be comfortable and not fall apart when you sit in it. If it's a table, I want it to be level, to hold your food or your lovely beverage, or your computer, or sewing machine, or computer, or whatever. THEN I want it to look nice. Not cookie-cutter, franchise-showroom-nice, but distressed-Restoration-Hardwaresque-for-less-nice. Like it was built by hand. Which it was.

It would be great if I can move some tables or cabinets or chairs. I won't be able to afford to build many if I don't. But even if not, I'd still have to do it. I feel compelled.

This is now what passes for art for me. But it's work, fulfilling work, and work that serves a purpose. It makes me happy that I can build a table. Putting food on it is another matter. But I figure that will come.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

How Ironic!

This is what I get for trying to be clever.

I named my blog "IroNick" as a play on the word, "ironic," which, sometimes, I am. I thought it would be kind of witty, like when I called my old newspaper column "No Kidding," even though, most of the time, I was. Kidding, that is.

So, imagine my surprise to find that some people were reading the title as "IRON Nick," conjuring up images of me in a pose like a bodybuilder, or holding up a torch or spear like Birmingham's oldest resident pagan idol.

Ha, ha, Mr. Cleverpants. Bet you wish you had opted for clear, now, don't you?

Actually, the whole misunderstanding reminds me of the movie, That Thing You Do! In it, the insufferable lead singer names the band, "The Oneders," as a punny homonym on "The Wonders," which simultaneously points out the band's uniqueness. All it did was lead people to call the band "The O-Needers," until Tom Hanks insisted they change the spelling to "The Wonders."

I however, haven't seen Tom Hanks around here. So I will not be changing the blog's name, especially since the misunderstood pronunciation of "IroNick" leads people to an image of me as being strong, resilient, tough. That seems kind of nice, and complimentary, especially these days.

So that's what I get for trying to be clever.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Will Write For Food

For the first time in nearly 30 years, I don't have a job. Actually, I still have a job, but not for long, having been caught up in the latest wave of layoffs in my little corner of the publishing world. That's the magazine corner, the corner where little ones keep walking up and bigger ones keep falling down.

So what do I do with my writing now? A reformed columnist, more cranky than snarky these days, can I hang with the blogosphere? Can blogging really be both creative and lucrative as my buddy Wade maintains? Won't I just be contributing to the critical mass of public self-indulgence?

As a young newspaper columnist it seemed okay somehow to write endlessly about the minute details of my life and opinion. That was like being part of a club - elitist, now that I think about it - of those privileged to foist their random thoughts on readers. Now that the bulk of the written word seems to be shifting to cyberia, you don't even need a newspaper to have a column. Everybody can get into the club, because everybody can have a blog.

So should I? With or without immediate remuneration? Based on the fact that I'm writing this, it seems the die is cast.