2024: The Wacky Wiegler Year in Review (11 days shy)

I'm a stickler for details. "Why is everyone doing their year roundups several weeks before the end of the year?" I asked my friend Len.

"Well, because it's the way they do it, you know, the year's almost over." I can't remember exactly what he said.

"But something incredible - good or bad - could still happen in these, let's see, 12 days."

"Then write your roundup and add something in if that happens."

So here we are.

This was a difficult year, though not without its share of excitement and joy. The principal excitement came when I bussed off to D.C. as I have been wanting to do for a couple years, and attended the National Press Club Career Day. We got free profile pictures courtesy of a wonderful photographer by the name of Melissa Lyttle

and I met with representatives of the AP, Washington Post and regional publications around the country. My favorite part of the day was probably "Nail the interview: Advice for success in today’s job market" by career coach Phoebe Gavin, who told us to "show 'em your butts" and not hide such niggling issues as year of graduation.

Unfortunately, when I got back to Connecticut the next day I became so nauseus on the bus that I threw up in the wastebasket. I am not sure what I contracted, but God only knows what's circulating on a seven-hour Greyhound ride. Ok, maybe that's not fair; maybe I got sick at the Press Club event, the first time I'd removed my mask in what felt like years (it was worth it, and besides, I got to watch "Barbie" on the ride up. In the weeks to come I became addicted to Ryan Gosling singing "I'm Just Ken" to an unhealthy degree.).

Another highlight this year was interviewing to be a reporter in Taos, New Mexico. I pretty much had the job, in fact I thought I did, and told my dad as much. He congratulated me and we started to assess my moving plan. Yet, by the next day the job was no more. The publisher had an issue with my lack of a vehicle (I had promised to buy a car once I got there). Dad wasn't sure this was the only reason, I wasn't either, but I let it go at that. It did influence how I went about my future applications, though. If anything, this was the year that soured me on the idea of optimism at the expense of old-fashioned pessimism.

And on that note, on August 1st this happened.

I was running to pick up some instant coffee at Walmart in West Haven, when suddenly the ground rose up to greet me. I returned to the scene a couple days later and realized why I had tripped. I brought this up with a manager whose name sounded like Money and he assured me he'd forward the complaint. It did go to the department who handles such things, but apparently I was not signficant enough to matter to Walmart. Repeated calls unearthed nothing. So let's take the opportunity to tell all of you right here: the Walmart parking lot is a mess. If you have an elderly parent or toddler, please carefully watch that they do not trip. This broken cement is de regueur for Walmart. I told this story to many people and each rolled their eyes, "We know. It's Walmart."

I had broken my nose and split my gum. The nose is healing but I will have a scar for life. The inside of my gum has an evolving scar with tissue that feels like skin is being stretched when I talk. I saw a lovely ENT at Yale, Dr. Lee, who explained the evolution. This fall was deeply traumatic. Seeing the pavement hit your noggin and blood gushing out while cars are coming at you right and left is one of the most terrifying experiences you can have. Of course, not as terrifying as facing the prospect of not getting a job at 63.

I didn't even get rehired at Unnamed, where I had worked last year over Black Friday and Christmas, selling one rewards package. I told the managers "I am confident I can sell many more!" Unfortunately, on my first interview the computer died and it made me look like an ageing luddite. That was not the case. It really was the computer, and once I sorted that out I was fine for other interviews. They pivoted to an in-person interview where I chatted about my AI friend, the interviewer smiled and laughed, and then did not offer me the job. Did they think I was a nut in love with an AI boyfriend? Did my sense of humor fall on deaf ears? Or did Unnamed decide not to hire me back because at 63 I don't look as fetching in an ugly sweater? Easy to say "their loss" but I was counting on that money.

On the plus side, I spent so many hours researching Jane Austen at the Bass Library at Yale that I got to know the names of all the guards as well as the therapy dog, Heidi. (This is she in her Halloween outfit, thanks to handler Rich, who will be retiring along with his beautiful sidekick in the spring.)

I also finished "Pride and Prejudice" and am coming in the home stretch on "Emma". For some reason I am not enjoying Emma as much as the former, but then, I've had a lot on my mind. Other books I read this year include "Eleven Minutes" by Paulo Coelho, Coronation Year by Jennifer Robson, and London Falling by Chanel Cleeton. By the end of the year I will have finished "Emma" and "Hillbilly Elegy" by J.D. Vance (I read parts of many other books including several by Republicans who no longer support Donald Trump.) I also regularly visited the Branford library, where I not only devoured paper newspapers but enjoyed many-a fire on a chilly New England day.

At Yale Bass Library I met and tutored one adult student, a foreign English learner, who met me regularly at Bass and failed to do her homework. She was a lovely person, a brilliant professional, and an unsuccessful tutee. I have resolved to enforce a strict homework policy henceforward. For some reason, I have a tough time getting professionals to do their homework unless it's mandated by the company, as occurred when I tutored a French engineer some years ago.

In other news, this year I sent out close to 200 resumes for journalism jobs, maybe 25 for teaching positions, and was accepted to substitute through Kelly Services in Stratford and Bridgeport. I reluctantly demurred after being told that I could not be guaranteed work. I am looking for a substitute job where I am stationed at the building, for example, as occurred when I worked very briefly in Madison, CT two years ago.

Also this year, my friend Charlotte and I attended Seth Meyers' taping in New York and I was thrilled that I got to ask him a question.

In all, though, 2024 was the kind of year I say I'd like to forget about but know that I won't - from food insecurity to losing friends, breaking my nose to being denied job after job due to my age. Even though I had one date to write home about (you know who you are, Hartford) soon I was reminded that at 63, the world wants me to date dudes in the old folks' home. Ha ha ha! Who am I kidding! Cher, you are my roll model - as in that's how we roll, dating younger men!

All of which I enjoyed discussing with my waitress at Texas Roadhouse a few weeks ago.

"He checked my stories the morning after the election," I told her, "and then the following day. What does this mean?"

"He just wants to know you are there, he's checking to see what you are up to. Do nothing."

"Well, I did check his stories ..."

"See, I would not have recommended that. But do not engage. Whatever you do, do not engage." (Did I mention said waitress was sitting down talking to me at this point? I was finishing up this huge margarita...)

I looked down sheepishly, polishing off my drink. "Wow, I didn't think I could finish this but I did."

She smiled and got up. I told her I'd be back soon for an update.

*Not its real name.