When I was young and charming (well, younger than this but probably not as charming as I thought at the time) my mother had a long list of expressions which she used to guide us on the path, as it were. "If you want a thing done, do it yourself," was a biggie. Also, "Depend on yourself and you'll never be disappointed." There was a theme, now that I think of it. She often said, "Fruit is golden in the morning, silver at noon, and lead at night," which took me until I was about 17 to figure out. The subject of today's musing, however is, "Patient waiters get good tips."
I am not waiting patiently to hear about my job interviews. I don't actually wait patiently for much of anything. I want to know and I want to know NOW. When I was carrying my first child I remember buying orange juice in the supermarket and being amazed, AMAZED I tell you, that by the expiration date of that carton I would be a mother. That juice couldn't go bad fast enough for me! The weeks leading up to Christmas are always torture, of course. There is no snooping allowed, nor would I want to, because the surprise is always the best part. But it kills me. Bananas seldom reach full maturity in my house. So sitting here waiting for the phone to ring is not making me a happy camper. Realistically, I should be putting out new resumes and exploring new leads, and I have every intention of doing that, but as I type I look over my shoulder at the wall phone every third sentence or so, as if that might make it ring. Sometimes it does, but it's usually "Rachel" offering me a better rate on my credit card. I hang up. One does not waste time on recordings around here.
So I shall continue to wait, patiently or not, because really, what choice do we have here? But I do find myself thinking of the cartoon with the two vultures sitting in the tree and one vulture says to the other, "Patience my ass. I'm gonna kill something!"
I am not waiting patiently to hear about my job interviews. I don't actually wait patiently for much of anything. I want to know and I want to know NOW. When I was carrying my first child I remember buying orange juice in the supermarket and being amazed, AMAZED I tell you, that by the expiration date of that carton I would be a mother. That juice couldn't go bad fast enough for me! The weeks leading up to Christmas are always torture, of course. There is no snooping allowed, nor would I want to, because the surprise is always the best part. But it kills me. Bananas seldom reach full maturity in my house. So sitting here waiting for the phone to ring is not making me a happy camper. Realistically, I should be putting out new resumes and exploring new leads, and I have every intention of doing that, but as I type I look over my shoulder at the wall phone every third sentence or so, as if that might make it ring. Sometimes it does, but it's usually "Rachel" offering me a better rate on my credit card. I hang up. One does not waste time on recordings around here.
So I shall continue to wait, patiently or not, because really, what choice do we have here? But I do find myself thinking of the cartoon with the two vultures sitting in the tree and one vulture says to the other, "Patience my ass. I'm gonna kill something!"
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