Okay, so my last entry was a wee bit depressing. I get that way sometimes. What can I say? I'm over it. Nothing more to see here, people, move along, move along. Let us all forage ahead into this (new and much less emoish and/or low-on-meds) (but high on parentheses) post. I'll hold your hand, I promise.
Did you know that I'm a dog trainer? No? I am forced to point out that you must have been remiss in reading my profile. Go ahead, go check it out. I'll wait.
Yeah, it's short. I'm not one for going on and on when a few succinct sentences will do, as I'm sure you can tell by my concise, to-the-point, no frills previous entries.
Anyway, I fell into dog training when I needed a p/t job that would allow me to work around my husband's (then normal) working hours. My dilemma came in the fact that I'd rather clean all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with my tongue* than work in customer service, yet I also keenly felt the need to avoid living in a cardboard box, screening my cell phone calls for creditors and my mother-in-law.
Being left with few options, I jumped on the opportunity to apply for the dog training position open at my local PetSmart. The minor detail that I'd never owned a dog didn't slow me down in the slightest. After all, how hard could it be? I lied my way through the interview and Voilà! A new job was all mine.
Two years later, I left PetSmart as quote "the best trainer they'd ever had" unquote (thank you Manager Joe, you are obviously a man of keen and savvy business sense) to become the head trainer at my local humane society. Not only the head trainer, but also the program creator and curriculum writer. People, they *headhunted* me. I'm, like, all in charge and stuff. SO. RAD.
I no longer have to lie about my experience. Well, not much. There is still that bit about how I got started in the dog training world. Seriously, you expect me to tell clients I learned from PetSmart? Ha. Dream on.
The coolest thing is I *love* training. I dream of making training my full-time job, which due to the low pay for all non-Totally-Overboard-Dog-Whisperers and/or non-English-Dominatrix-But-Somehow-Still-Cute people such as myself, will not happen until my husband is recognized for the genius he is and given an approximately 92.8% raise. For now, I toil away the days as an Executive Secretary (impressive, no?) and spend my (precious little) spare time working hard as a free-lance trainer.
>>Note: You know that saying "choose a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life"? Two words: totalcompleteabsoluteutter bullshit. Missed the mark on that one, Confucius, my friend. Reeaaalllly missed the mark.<<
I've begun branching out to working with private clients and teaching things like agility and therapy training. Of course, I still have my classes at the humane society; my little program has taken off and is doing quite well for itself. Clients love me and are recommending me left and right. Well, maybe just left. ANYWAY. Point being, I'm making a (small, inconsequential) name for myself in my little town. Yee haw!
(If you ever tell anyone I said yee haw, I'll hunt you down and teach your dog to pee on your leg.)
(Don't doubt me. I have the power**.)
This past weekend, due to the (spectacular) behavior of dog that I (spectacularly) trained, I interviewed with a local vet who wants to be able to recommend a (spectacular) trainer to her clients in need. As a result of said interview, I now have a vet pimping my services. *And* she wants to me to run classes at her clinic.
I so rock.
I made business cards (which I would love to share with y'all because I worked really hard on them and they look freaking awesome and professional and not homemade at all but seeing as how they have my phone number on them I think I'll take Paranoid Interweb Guidelines and Why You Should Never Post Personal Info for $1000, Alex) and I am working on a tri-fold flyer (flier?) showcasing all my (spectacular) training services. I need to come up with hourly prices and packages and shiny pictures and a website and reference quotes from previous clients and OH MY GOD I'M A REAL PROFESSIONAL NOW.
I must needs go locate a mop, as my head has just exploded.
*gold star if you can name that one
**gold star and a cherry on top for that one