I'm feeling a bit cranky this morning. Not that cranky is an unusual feeling for me. But I'm extra cranky, and that only occurs when I'm filled with (un)righteous indignation.
So here's the immediate situation: I have only rarely signed on a model for a photo shoot. Most models aren't interested in what I'm going to do to them in a painting--putting them on a poisonous mushroom, turn them into dancing fairies, and the like. And I'm fine with that. But what goads me is when I have a model signed up for a shoot, she checks on Saturday to make sure we're on for Monday, 8 AM. I spend all of Sunday afternoon setting up my photo studio, putting batteries in flashes, reorganizing the room from painting studio to photo studio, double checking the camera, renting a lens for a chunk of change, sit waiting for her to come, and she doesn't show. Not a bloody peep. It is now 9:12 AM. She has not contacted me, not a peep not a pip.
This reflects a larger social problem for this generation, I think. Yah yah yah. Old man talking about young generation. Shut up, beloveds, and listen. This is a twist in social graces. It was unheard of in my day (I said shut up for a minute and listen, Jeremy), to apply for a job, to send off a letter asking a question, to make an appointment, whatever, and not to hear a peep from the other side.
This is now a problem in applying for jobs as well. People spend a lot of time, often money, cooking up and submitting a resume, only to hear what? NADA. Nuttin. Not one damn thing. My personal encounter with this new anti-ethic was when we moved to New York several years ago, anticipating that we would spend the rest of our lives with the madd(en)ing crowd. And so I thought it might be nice, experienced academic and university administrator that I was, to apply for a job or two. Of the two dozen or more letters I sent out, I got one postcard from one university I'd never heard of asking me to check one of boxes:
My gender
Male
Female
My race
Caucasian
Hispanic
Black
Other
I knew this was a death knell. I understood that the university was obliged to verify in some way my race and gender, but after I sent the card back, not a peep. Not a whisper. Not a pssst. Sorry Bud.
Eventually in New York I did land a job. As a real estate agent. Yes. I got a New York State Realtor's License after taking several weeks of classes and acing an exam. I got multiple offers. Know why they
wanted me? The wanted an older, well-dressed gentleman, who had an air of credibility (yes, Mimi, that's me) to sell high end real estate. So how did I fare? I saw a lot of goodies and dumpies in New York, then the economic crisis of 2008 hit. I quit, and we went home to Utah.
It is now 9:24 AM. The model is one hour and 24 minutes late. She can forget it. Scoot, Shoo. Scram.
Jeremy and Mimi, by the way, are fictional creations. Don't worry, you Jeremys and Mimis, I'm not sore at you. Not that it matters.
I was at a conference for accounting students where an accounting manager explained why we would never be late for a job interview. Anything that is a reasonable excuse for being late (car accident, death in the family, illness, etc.) is a reason why you will not make it at all. Just call up immediately and say you have to reschedule. Do not show up late. Of course, depending on the person affected by above disasters, your model might not be able to call at all.
ReplyDeleteAs long as we're being cranky, could someone explain to me why the "Sign out" button is right at the bottom of the comment box? More than once I have clicked it instead of "Publish." It's a stupid place for a "Sign out" button.
ReplyDeleteAfter living in Sweden for two years I visited my homestate of California and was so annoyed by everyone arriving all willy nilly. I realized though that since I am dependent on a bus if I have to be somewhere at 5 I am going to be at least a few minutes early due to the busses schedule but with everyone driving they just leave whenever the please and are never on time and drive me crazy!
ReplyDeleteThis all stems from a parenting philosophy where children had feelings and needed to be empowered. Where we didn't want competition in soccer games and stopped taking scores. Where we asked a three old to make a choice (yes go ahead with the green and blue cup choice but...). There have always been generational divides. I don't know how the offspring of the tardy inconsiderate model will behave. Maybe it will come around full circle?
ReplyDeleteAs for the model: I have not heard a word from her. And while I would be tempting to criticize her for being irresponsible, which she most likely was, I can't ignore the possibility of serious accident or illness. I have also considered the possibility that she didn't want to come to my home for the photo shoot. She might have expressed that, however, since Louise was here the whole time. Frankly, however, I think that social graces are disappearing. I think the causes are complex and deep rooted. What I see on the surface is a kind of disregard for the situation of others and focusing instead on one's own desires.
DeleteI don't remember my parents sitting down and formally teaching me manners ever, but I absolutely insist my boys will learn some respect if it kills me. I struggle with the lack of common courtesy today. Tragic!
ReplyDeleteTom, we have seen this same thing over and over again. When my husband was applying for jobs he waited in the dark for a response but never got one. All he hoped for was something like, "We received your application," or, "Thank you for applying but we are looking for different qualities right now," or, "We'll let you know if something else opens up." Now that he works finding others jobs we have seen a whole new level of flakiness we never imagined with potential employees missing interviews he sets up for them (with no explanation at all), not coming to their first day of work, setting up appointments with him to discuss their future and then calling an hour late to say they won't make it, etc... Quite disappointing all around, from the employers and the potential employees.
ReplyDelete