Hire me, I'm crazy.

July 22, 2012

Like many people, I get paid to do stuff. I wish I got paid to do nothing, like Paris Hilton, or a Montreal Police Officer, but until that dream comes true, I gotta work like a real live grown-up.

Last August, I lost a sweet gig when the company whose social media accounts I managed closed up shop. I need to make it clear that this had nothing to do with me, and I have witnesses who can verify. Not too long after that, I got very, very sick. One of the most common symptoms of a major depressive episode is poor concentration and spotty memory, which make things like typing and blinking somewhat more challenging.

I think it’s growing back…

Despite this, I was able to maintain another (really fun) gig and bring in a little money. More importantly, modest as it was, it made me feel productive, useful, and smart. It kept those synapses firing when I could barely spell my children’s names. It got me out of bed (if only for an hour) and even during the worst of The Dark, I had to be personable, social, and professional. Work, in many ways, was a tether to the real world.

Sadly, this delightful position also wrapped up recently. Such is the life of a freelancer, and the project ended with two new friends and a couple of kick ass LinkedIn recommendations. All in all, a pretty sweet ending. My ex-bosses have a new project in the works, and I wish them all the best (and if you ever need my services…).
Now that I’m on the El Camino to recovery, I hope to start working again. Not full time (not yet), but a commitment that expects something of me, and I of it. Paying, preferably. I’m still rehoning some old skills, like organization (of my desk, mostly), but I know I still rock the writing/editing thing and I’m a wiz with online communities.  I make your Twitter sing, baby. I give your company page a Facebook lift. I make your brand pique everyone’s Pinterest. Heck, I can even find the missing LinkedIn. Can you Digg it?

Barring that, I can:

• Garden (I am Integrated Pest Management certified AND a forklift driver, yo!).
• Walk dogs, cats, ferrets, chinchillas, children, stuffed animals, imaginary friends.
• Edit your status updates so you don’t make any Failbook worthy errors.
• Talk you out of having kids or eating that wafer-thin mint.
• Research any topic and give you kick ass links for your next online argument.
• Be your “big boned” friend that increases your chances of getting “default laid”.
• Remove hard to reach blackheads (but not from any sexy parts – gross).
• Be a gluten-free food tester. Dryer fluff has better taste and texture than some of that stuff.
• I have access to all Le Clown‘s personal info. His phone number to the highest bidder.

Does your nauseatingly cute friend need me?

So, if anyone needs anything done, let me know, and I’m open to requests that may or may not be related to anything I’ve listed (no sexy parts). Also, if you can come up with an interesting and truthful way to explain my gap in employment that is somewhat more elegant than “went Gary Busey”, fire away.

My people.

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