Hello, I’m Heba. I have sent you this link because I REALLY want to work at your organization because I think your company is pretty awesome– I wouldn’t have sent this link to you otherwise. Below, you will find a list of the reasons I would make a great employee and creative partner. I hope by the end of this post you will learn more about me and give me a chance.
Here it goes:
1. I have a BA in Journalism from Penn State, an MA from Dartmouth College in Liberal Studies and an MA in Middle East and Islamic Studies from the University of Exeter.
2. I’m a fast learner.
I’m very much a hands on learner and I hit the ground running. As well as learning quickly, I’m always looking and finding ways to make work tasks more time efficient.
3. I’m dedicated and focused.
Once I set my mind on a goal, I put my all into achieving it. In 2006, after a mere month of fundraising, I was able to raise almost $1 million in medical supplies for war torn regions. How many other people can say that?
4. I have strong writing and editing skills.
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. In addition to my BA in Journalism, in which I had a 3.67 GPA in my major, I had a focus in Creative Writing during my first MA at Dartmouth College.
5. I’m willing to move.
I have lived in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C., California, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Ohio, Switzerland, the U.K., Jordan, Palestine and Israel. I’m a professional at packing and moving. I’m more than willing to move for the right opportunity.
6. I can roll with the punches.
I consider myself a perfectionist, but I understand that things can’t be perfect all the time. Sometimes, you have to do the best you can with what you have. I can handle all sorts of circumstances that come my way. Kind of like when I can’t find Collection or Gabrini eyeliner anywhere and I have to make due with Almay.
7. I’m organized.
Really, I am. I even won an MVP award from my time working at the GAP because I was the most organized employee.
8. I can stay calm in a crisis.
Accidents happen and sometimes they’re unavoidable. Someone misses a deadline, a package wasn’t delivered on time, products break, people get hurt– Life happens. Working with kids between the ages of 5-17 has taught me to stay calm in all sorts of crazy scenarios. And if you’ve ever worked with kids, you know how crazy things can get.
9. I love to laugh.
Laughing and making others laugh is a great talent of mine. I’m not signing up for any open mic nights or doing any stand-up comedy acts, but I can find the funny in the ordinary.
10. I like to read.
In elementary school, I set the record for the most books read during National Reading Month. You can always find me with a book in hand or an article on screen.
11. I live online and stay on top of all the new trends.
Most of my day is spent online digging through the mountains of information, videos, photos and such. I’m always on the lookout for the next big thing and am always the first one of my friends to identify viral material and trends.
12. The world inspires me.
Everywhere I look, everyone I see, inspires me in some sort of way. Everyone I meet and encounter leaves a mark on me and inspires me to make the world a better place.
13. I’m well-versed in social media.
Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Snapchat, Periscope, Instagram, Pinterest– I love it all.
14. I’m a realistic optimist.
I try to see the best in everyone and in every situation, but my expectations are always realistic. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
15. I can work with a team, as well as on my own.
Being a journalist, I’ve learned to work as part of a team. Especially when working as an editor, much of the position is dependent on working with others. Working in groups is great because everyone brings a different perspective to the project at hand. But, I have also been a teacher and have had to take responsibility for creating curriculums all on my own. Working on my own is also great because I get to see how far I can push myself.
16. I have experience managing volunteers.
Remember that huge fundraiser I talked about earlier? Well, I had recruited and managed the efforts of more than 50 volunteers in under a week’s time. I was responsible for training the volunteers, managing their schedules, communicating their needs and supervising their delegated responsibilities.
17. I’m an email wizard.
Any of my former students can tell you that I respond to emails as soon as I possibly can, sometimes within minutes.
18. I’m creative.
I dabble in the arts and always have new and innovative ideas running through my head.
19. I have lots of interests.
I like fashion, desserts, poems, coffee, bright colors, food, photography, art, literature, movies, music, naps, decorating, calligraphy, libraries and spending time with my friends.
20. I’m great at conflict resolution.
I’m an American-Palestinian-Arab-Muslim-woman with Israeli citizenship. If that doesn’t make me an expert problem solver, I don’t know what does.
21. I’m good at stuff.
I’m a good listener and a good friend. Some other things I’m good at include, but are not limited to: eyeliner application, fashion styling, tea brewing and reality check administrating. I’m also a pretty great actress in life more so than in art.
22. I have experience writing blogs, fiction, nonfiction, research papers, listicles, essays, executive reports, newsletters and more.
I can do it all because I have done it all. Writing, of all sorts, is what I do and it is what makes me happy.
23. I’m confident in my abilities to speak and relate to different types of communicators.
Not everyone communicates in the same way. I have learned to adjust my tone, vocabulary and methods to fit the person I am speaking to.
24. I’m proficient in Word and other software.
Word, Adobe, ProTools, PCs, Macs, FinalCut and so much more.
25. I’m pretty good at evaluating situations.
I’ve always been good at reading a situation. I’m pretty observant and I can usually tell when someone is sad, happy, irritated, excited or any other range of emotion.
26. My creative writing pieces have been published in several magazines.
You can check out my published writing by clicking on the Portfolio link at the top of the page.
27. I’m always looking to improve.
Whether it’s getting a new haircut or trying to learn a new language, I’m always trying to improve myself, both inside and out.
28. I can dish it and I can take it… In a respectful manner, of course.
As a writer, criticism can be tough. I put my heart and soul into my work and I know how disheartening harsh criticism can be. I’ve grown a thick skin over the years and can take criticism pretty well. I believe that criticism should always be constructive and when I give constructive criticism to an employee, I am always respectful and appreciative for their hard work. Constructive criticism should always help the other person improve their work and boost their self-confidence.
29. I take pride in my work.
But just the right amount of pride. I’m not cocky, I promise.
30. I want to plant some roots.
I’ve moved around a lot and I’ve had a lot of different type of jobs. Now, I’m ready to settle down and really grow within a company.
31. I’m a coordination queen.
That goes for both my outfits and my workload. I’m all about the time management skills.
32. I’m passionate about human rights, education, social justice, prison reform, women’s health, politics and life.
33. I’m always prepared.
I watch a lot of scary movies. As a result, I’m now prepared for any and all scenarios, at all times. If the zombie apocalypse ever happens, come with me because I have a plan.
34. I like to bake.
I love baking and all things sweet. I also believe that sharing is caring, so, if you hire me you will be sure to have a taste of the sweet life.
35. I smell nice.
I wear perfume even when I don’t leave the house, because I deserve to smell nice. I’m also super hygienic and carry around hand-sanitizer that doubles as lotion. It’s kind of my thing.
36. I love animals.
Well, most animals. I have a fear of geese and swans, but other than that, I love animals. One of my dreams is to open up an animal sanctuary so I can love and hang out with my animal friends all day.
37. I’m a feminist.
I believe everyone should be a feminist and we should all be working towards equality and justice for women.
38. I make 11:11 wishes for good measure.
It can’t hurt, right? I’ll make a wish for you too.
39. My life is a meme.
Anyone who knows me, knows that if there is a one in a million chance of something strange happening to someone, it’s going to be me. And most days people get a kick out of it. Me included.
40. I want to work and have fun doing it.
I want my work to be meaningful and I want to enjoy doing it. I’m not looking to clock in and clock out. I want to make a difference and improve people’s lives. I may not be able to change the world, but I certainly can change a tiny corner of it– even if it is one person.
It’s like they [Confucius] say: Choose a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.
MY GRANDMOTHER COMES into the room I once used to share with my fifty-year-old unmarried aunt, but has now become home to luggage waiting to be packed and clothes scattered about. My grandmother holds in her hands yet another gift for me to pack in my bags and take home to my family. “Here, take this jar of Labne. Your brother loves Labne,” she says to me as she puts the giant jar full of Labne Imkaabeli and olive oil in my face. “But Sitti, we have Labne in America,” I reply, while I sit on the floor and start to rearrange my clothes to find room for this jar. “Wait! I have some Khubayzee in the freezer. Let me get that and it is tiny, so you have to take it,” her voice thins as her round plump body wobbles out of the room with more excitement than when I first arrived. She suddenly reappears and hands me the Khubayzee to pack.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be the wind.
I thought what was this beautiful being that was so strongly able to be felt, but never seen.
She traveled countries, knew nothing of borders, blockades, visas.
She saw all the wonders of the world, carried smiling faces, cries of newborn babies, joy,
happiness, childish giggles and jokes.
She attended everyone’s weddings and tasted every pie on every counter top.
She delivered the kisses of loved ones and the dreams of all.
Happy Reading. Hope you enjoy.
Ding, the elevator doors open and I’m met by a woman in her fifties with frizzy brown hair and a shopping cart full of food. Still unable to get out of this elevator due to this Frizzhead’s assertion to maintain her position, I finally push against her cart, signalling her black and white, striped shirt, wearing self that she must allow me to get out before she can get into the elevator. She doesn’t move her cart, but I move it for her, she’s aware of my existence, but doesn’t blink her grey eyes, hiding behind her thin-framed glasses.
I walked passed Frizzhead and followed my aunt out of the elevator, watching her wobble her rotund way to the empty shopping cart area. The grey-haired security guard, wearing a neon-yellow vest, stared at my aunt with a look of disgust. My aunt paid no mind, but I stared at him until he finally stopped staring at my aunt. His eyes met mine, as I boiled with fury, and he immediately looked away. He didn’t search us, he didn’t speak to us, but it was the look. I knew he thought less of us, I knew he wanted us gone.
My aunt continued to walk back and forth looking for an empty shopping cart to claim, with no luck, and the security guard’s eyes followed my aunt with suspicion. ‘Just check our bags and get it over with,’ I thought, frustrated and willing to do anything to keep his prying, hateful, blue eyes away from my aunt. Away from us. But he didn’t search our bags, instead he stared at us, sneered at us, huffed at us. He stood there, arms crossed, and ground his teeth. Oh how I wish his teeth cracked open in excruciating pain– what beautiful karma that would be.
My aunt finally accepts that there are no empty carts and she says, “We’ll just get one or two things.” She heads towards the vegetable section and mumbles, “Over there’s the organic vegetables, but organic is all a joke.” I say nothing. I stay silent. I speak when I’m spoken to and only when I’m asked a yes or no question. Not because I don’t want to speak or because I can’t speak, but the scenes before me leave me speechless.
To my right is a man using his hand as shovel, scooping up olives to shove in his greedy mouth. Before me is a line of women at the cheese counter, yelling at each other and at the counter lady in Hebrew. Behind me is a woman in her sixties, incapable of accepting her true age, wearing short-shorts and a tight black, low-cut top, her wrinkly boobs peeking from the top. Her eyes are lined with messy black eyeshadow and her face resembles that of a heroine addiction warning pamphlet. She bosses about her male companion, who is wearing black slacks, a white button down top, with the top FIVE buttons undone, showcasing his full chest of hair. He begrudgingly caters to her every beckon and whim, handing her coffee packets and sugar. Two women push each other at the cold-cuts counter and another woman eyes the vegetable bags and stuffs them in her purse. To my left, a grocery store employee sneezes into his hands and handles the watermelons. Two aisles over I can hear a family of adults and children yelling at one another.
My aunt makes her way to the butcher’s counter and I tail behind, taking in the sight, the chaos. How was it that Haifa became filled with ill-mannered people. How could such a beautiful city be so ugly?
At the butcher’s counter, my aunt takes notice of the chicken cutlets, but there is no one behind the counter to take her order. She waits patiently, as I find a corner to back myself into. I felt angry and I wanted a nice dose of Karma to find these people and a supernanny to slap some manners into them. They don’t know how lucky they are to be in Haifa and they take advantage of it and abuse it.
A crowd begins to form at the butcher counter and the crowd begins to argue about who came first, my aunt tries to stick up for herself, but they yell over her. Out came the butcher and he ignores my aunt and begins to take an order from the Israeli customers. My aunt interrupts in Hebrew and demands her first place in line. After a minute of arguing with the crowd and the butcher, they give in and allow my aunt to go first, but no one seemed satisfied with that outcome, rolling their eyes and huffing in her direction.
My aunt collects the chicken and walks over to me, smiling awkwardly. This was her normal.
I kept my silence, fearing speaking would cause my anger to bubble up and result in tears. I grinned back at her and followed her through the supermarket to our next grocery challenge. She went to the bread aisle, stood herself in front of the bread shelf and began to use the tongs provided to collect bread and put it into a plastic bag she had just picked up, when a tall thin Israeli man wearing jeans and a blue polo, wedged his way between my aunt and the bread shelf. My aunt swiftly steps away from his closeness, accepting her fate. She tried to continue to reach for the bread, but the man kept changing his positioning to block my aunt out. We waited as he got his pick of the best loaves and left, looking back on us and giving us the up-and-down. My aunt said nothing and spoke nothing of the man’s behaviour. She took the last left-over loaf of bread–hard as a rock and says, “Yalla,” as she signals with a nod of her head that we keep walking on.
We then made our way to the cashier. Again we are met with the unwelcoming eyes of the security guard, staring at us, disgusted by the sight of us, clenching his fists, wishing he could be rid of us. I wanted so badly for the earth to devour this man and his foul intentions.
I glared at him, locking my sights on him until he could no longer take it, until he caved and began to pace in a hunched over position. My aunt, tired, decides to claim an empty shopping cart that has magically appeared beside the security guard. We piled our few items into the shopping cart and walked passed the security guard, his eyes fixed on our grocery items, analysing our purchases. He hissed at us like an angry goose.
Moments later, we make our way into a packed elevator to put our groceries in the car. Walking through the parking lot and navigating through all the abandoned shopping carts, on the way to our car, we hear a familiar sound– Arabic. For the first time during this trip, we heard and saw people we had never met before, but felt a comradely compulsion to greet them and wish them a goodnight.
Silently, we approached the white car, littered in scratch marks, and my aunt smiled. The same awkward and accepting smile she regularly wore in public.
Moments after unloading the groceries into the trunk of my aunt’s car, my aunt says, “Let’s go return the shopping cart, we don’t want anyone thinking we’re messy people.” Here we are, having to prove ourselves to people who had disrespected us, fought us, pushed us, hissed at us and were less-mannered than us.
We made our way back to the elevator, got in and went up to the first floor of the grocery store, where the carts were to be returned. As the door opened, the security guard, this glorified shopping cart attendant, took a step towards us, reached his left hand out to signal ‘stop.’ He pulled the shopping cart towards himself with his right hand and signalled with his left for us to shoo.