Anatomy of a Scam Email

I get a few of these a year. 

Scam emails are an inevitable hazard if you do business on the Internet. 

They tend to be more subtle than your typical personal scam letters, which usually appeal to greed. "Hi, can you help me get money I'm not supposed to have. I'll give you a huge cut." OR "There's a pile of money here that you know really doesn't belong to you. But if you give me your banking information (and everything else I need to steal your identity) I'll make you rich!"

Scam letters aimed at your business tend to look like more legitimate queries. But if you look at them carefully, you can see the telltale signs that they mean trouble. 

There are a lot of hints to indicate that you're dealing with a scam email. Among them, vague references to your services and location without showing that they have ever read your website. Often the recipient's name or the name of his/her business is not even used.

Typically these scams include an offer to send you a check in excess for your fee, which you're supposed to either distribute among other vendors or refund the difference.  The scammers' goal is for you to deposit the check so they can somehow cancel it and suck the funds from your account.

This isn't just for wedding professionals. Anyone with a business could be targeted. Here's an email I received recently. Hopefully this will help you avoid a scam.

Bouncing Back

It's been a very rough few weeks here. It began with our Biggles passing away. We had been hoping for more time with him and his presence is so sorely missed. I still have not been able to write about it, though I will eventually post a tribute to him, like I did for Frankie.

A week to the day later, we found out that someone had cloned one of our bank cards and drained one of our checking accounts. And then, because we weren't having enough fun, a week and a few days after that, I lost my job.

Losing my job came as a complete shock. I was in the middle of several ongoing projects. Everyone was happy with my work—and said so. To the best of my knowledge, my contract was going to be renewed and paperwork was underway.

It was the Tuesday following Labor Day. I was in up to my ears and having a very productive day when the phone rang. It was the consulting agency that signed my checks and my rep with the agency said, "we've just received a very strange email from the client. Today is your last day."

I'm in my forties. I've had my fair share of jobs. I've never lost a job like that. No warning. No explanation. It was three-thirty in the afternoon and in less than two hours, I was going to be unemployed.

To say I was in shock doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling. I had no idea what we were going to do. I didn't even have a final week's worth of pay to look forward to, just my earnings for that Tuesday, minus the usual taxes and the cost of health insurance for two. (It didn't amount to much.)

It angered me to be dismissed with so little care—to know that my work could be deemed unnecessary and unwanted by someone I'd never met. I'm not surprised though. It's the way companies operate these days the people who do the work don't matter. (Job-providers my ass!)

Wookie and I thought this job was a new beginning for us. We were hoping to finally get climbing out of the morass of debt that my little family has been trapped in. It's amazing how quickly that hope was extinguished.

After the initial shock started to wear off I had another battle to fight. I could feel Depression looming. Suddenly, for the first time in many years, I was hitting the old lows that dominated my twenties. It wasn't just the emotional lows—being sad is a perfectly justifiable reaction to getting fired. Suddenly, I was saddled with the physical side of Depression. The aches and heaviness I had not felt in years.

I fought Depression in college and throughout my twenties. I know Depression lies. But it this time I had something tangible pushing me into the darkness. It did not help that when I applied for unemployment, I had to watch a video about resources "to help me find a job and and keep it." Insult added to injury because I had done nothing to earn my dismissal.

The ache of depression pushed my shoulders down and made my joints hurt. I steeled myself for battle. There was too much to do and I could not afford to be in that pit again. I had obligations to meet. While the day-job was over, I still had other work to do and more than that, I had Wookie.

In my darkest moments, Wookie was there. He brought me roses and told me how much he loves me and needs me. Wookie reminded me of the difference I make—Wookie, who has also been struggling to find work, but still gives back. He trains a search and rescue squad to help others in times of crisis and has never hesitated to help someone else in need. If giving back could pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads, we'd be set.—Wookie reminded me of the lives I touch as a Celebrant and teacher. Loss of the day-job had not changed that.

The Social Media course I teach my fellow Celebrants every summer was due to start that Thursday night. I had to pull myself together. I also had several weddings coming up that needed to be revised, written or officiated. My other professional life was still intact and this work—while it usually has to take the back-burner to the higher-pay and health insurance of the day job—was important.

The first session of my social media class was just one hour, but I felt immeasurably better afterwards. The heaviness and pains of Depression had faded. Was I still sad? Sure. Was I still afraid of what the future would bring? Absolutely! But I was reminded that I still had work with a purpose.

People tie so much of their identities to work. Take that away and you can hurt someone on more than a financial level. I think there are two kinds of work. The kind you do for the paycheck and the kind you do to make a contribution. If you're lucky, you get to do both at once. Sadly, I think many people don't ever look past the paycheck. Maybe they don't think they can.

My day job as a technical writer was a paycheck job. I enjoyed the people I worked with. I enjoyed the challenge and always worked to exceed expectations. I even enjoyed the products I was working on. But at the end of the day, I don't believe lives were touched or improved by what I worked on for 40-hours a week. When I walked away at the end of the day, I had money but little else. The same can be said for most of the 9-5 jobs I've had.

I believe my work as a Life-Cycle Celebrant® makes the world a better place. It glorifies Love. It honors the individuals, couples, and families I serve. I tell their stories, because they are important enough to be heard. I respect and honor their wishes and help I them celebrate in ways that are unique, because each person's experience of life is unique.

When I walk away after a ceremony, I feel satisfied. I know I've made a difference. This may sound like just so much fluff, but I've been the client and I know how it touched my life to be heard and have my wishes honored. I've also had the honor of hearing from clients and their friends and family about what their ceremonies meant to them.

When I teach my fellow Celebrants, I know more lives will be touched by what they carry forward. It all ripples out like rings from a stone tossed in the water.

So here I am looking for a new day job and I know that there may come another day when an employer decides that my contribution is unimportant and lets me go.  Luckily for me, I know that my work as a Celebrant is important and always will be.

I'm never going to get rich as a Celebrant, though my hope remains to eventually make a full-time career of it. But for now, as some parts of our world come crashing in on us, I know that no matter where Wookie and I end up, we will always have each other and I will always have Celebrancy as away to contribute to the world. What I get back from Wookie and Celebrancy is a wealth that can't be measured.

A Single Shade of Grey: Sometimes a Thank You Means No Thank You

A few months ago I found myself in an unexpected position. I had to say no thank you without actually saying it.


After a very long dry spell I finally had a job interview. I prepared for days—researching the company, scraping together money to print new business cards and gathering appropriate writing samples. I had not been on a job interview in years and so I read all I could on questions to ask and answers to have. I prepared to present myself as exactly what they needed me to be.

Things were going very well. On paper, I was a great match for the position. My writing samples were a near perfect match for their own documentation. The people were nice and friendly. It wasn't going to be interesting work, but it was work I am good at and the company appeared to value the contributions of its writing staff.

I was getting ready to ramp up the charm for the final push. I had researched the company, I had my mental checklist of questions to ask about the position, and answers to questions like "where do you see yourself in five years?" It wasn't my ideal job, they were not big on telecommuting, but my little family needed the paycheck and I could make this work.

I had one more person to meet with and I was asked if I wanted a look around to see the workspace. I am so glad I said yes because that is when they lost me.

It was as if the office had been designed around my own personal list of depression triggers. High-walled grey cubes, the color of a rainy day in winter, sat in a field of matching grey carpet in a windowless area. The few people that were there were working in complete silence and, as I was taken through the office, I didn't see one personal item in any of the workspaces. It was sterile, uninspiring, and stifling.

I had already met with two people and those potential co-workers I had spoken with had been enthusiastic about the company but had described a typical work day as "heads down" and the office itself was in the middle of nowhere. So I could see there would be little in the way of conversation during the day and nowhere to escape to for lunch. I imagined what it would be like to work there in the winter, to go from the grey of early morning to 8 or 9 hours of silent grey on grey to the gloom of a commute that would have me home well after dark. It was not a good picture.

Between the dull work, the commute cutting into my time with Wookie and my Celebrant work (the two things that keep me sane and centered), and the incredibly dreary work environment, I realized that the worst case scenario would be if they offered me the job.

I'm sure this may sound ridiculous to a lot of people. I know some would say I should have sucked it up—that work is work—but having a job wasn't going to do me and Wookie any good if it pushed into the deep grey funk of Depression. I've been there and done that—I have no desire to go back if I can help it.

So I became a bit of a cold fish for the rest of the interview. I am sure the lead interviewer noted a drop in my enthusiasm even if she didn't know why. I wasn't in a position to refuse a job if it was offered to me, but I knew this job would not be good for me.

We entered the "Do you have any questions?" phase of the interview. I simply responded (repeatedly) that they had given me a lot to think about.

When I talked with Wookie after the interview, he was supportive. We discussed the possible ramifications on my unemployment should I actually be offered the position and then turn it down. We agreed that, while we needed the money, it would do us little good if my mental health wound up in the toilet as a result.

That was when the world's most non-committal thank you letter was born.

 Dear [People I Interviewed With]: 

Thank you for taking the time to meet with me yesterday about the [writer] position at Company X. I appreciate the opportunity to learn more about Company X and its [writing] department and to see your workspace. 

I was impressed with what I learned about the company and how it operates. I was also pleased to see that its [writing] staff is a valued part of the organization. It’s nice to see how much you all enjoy working there. 

I am pleased to know that my past experience and writing samples are similar to what you already have in place. If you have any more questions about my experience or skills, please let me know. 

Sincerely, 

Me 

I never heard back from them.

While there was never a guarantee I'd get that job anyway, I'm glad I acted against getting it. A short while later I was hired for a better job, one where the work is interesting and I can telecommute.

It's the next best thing to being able to work solely for myself. I'm more productive on my own and I don't bother anyone with my need to read things aloud to work out just the right wording. My home office is full of the things that inspire me. My commute is a walk down the hall. When I'm done with the day job, I can take care of Celebrant business without dealing with an hour plus of traffic first and when I need a bit of conversation, there's always a Wookie or a cat to talk to.

Ending Radio Silence

I haven't written in a while. The last few weeks have been a roller coaster and I have been stuck about how to write about it and how much to say. I've also been very busy living it.

I had one great week where I booked several weddings for 2012. It was an amazing week and I was giddy with success.

The next week we found out that we don't qualify for refinance. While there are some things left to be done—so we don't have a time frame yet—we know we're losing the house. So that really killed the mood.

The first thing I did was send an email to immediate family. It was an announcement and a request. I listed things that would be helpful to hear and things we didn't need to hear. After that, I spread the word on Facebook and via email to more friends. It's nerve-wracking to admit to the world that you're in trouble—that your best efforts to keep your head above water have not been enough. Having got the word out and received a response, I can say that while we face some uncertainty, we have a lot of support.

Over the next two weeks, I was called about three potential jobs.  I had two interviews for one, but have not been called back. That's alright though, I don't think we're a great match.

All of this lead me to some reflection. Wookie and I talked about success and failure. I've never measured success in terms of money. Losing my full-time job last year didn't impact my self-image that much because it was just what I did for money.  Don't get me wrong, I take pride in my work as an editor and technical writer. I do a fantastic job for my business writing clients* and they have always been happy with my work.  But my real calling will always be Celebrancy and teaching. The business writing doesn't touch lives the way Celebrancy and teaching my Celebrant students does.  

*I consider full-time employers clients too.

The knowledge that we will be losing the house though, caused me to call some things into question. I know we're not alone. There are people who are much worse off than us. But I found myself in a dark moment where I had to wonder if my definition of success could handle the material realities of what many would define as failure.

I have to say I am definitely married to the right man for me. Wookie defines success as I do—in lives touched. While we've both struggled to make a living in this economy, he's never stopped helping people. Right now he's the training officer for a volunteer search and rescue dive squad, and while he looks for a job as an EMT, he keeps taking courses, training, learning more. We've both lost count of the number of people he's helped along the way.

Wookie reminded me that we share the same view of what's important. He told me about his Dad and his uncles–how he learned from them the value of making an impact on someone's life and how there is more to the world than one's net worth.–We especially talked about his uncle Des, who I had the pleasure to meet on just a few occasions and who was, maybe one of the sweetest people ever.

Last week Des passed away. We knew it was coming, he'd been ill for some time, but it's still sad. Here was a man whose love for his wife Margaret will always be a model for me. Even as Alzheimer's stripped the world away one memory at a time he held on to her. What an amazing love.

And so, I have perspective again. It may seem that the world is crashing down on our ears. I look at our not very neat house and try to wrap my head around packing while Wookie looks for a place for us and the cats to live. I worry about the practical things and getting it all done while tending to my Celebrant students, and my clients, and everything else. But at the end of the day, wherever we wind up, I know we'll be together, doing what we do. And that's what really matters.

On Throwing in the Towel…Or Not

I think of 2011 as my crash and burn year. I lost my job and my momentum. Our house flooded...twice! After several years of go go go. I burned out. It was also a year of amazing adventures and success (just not financial success). I spoke at the Celebrant’s Collective Wisdom Conference and drove to Arizona, I tried my hand at pottery, became serious about blogging, and started taking my photography more seriously.

This has been a year of cognitive dissonance. The highs and lows of 2011 have been a roller coaster and I often felt as if I was leading two distinct lives with no middle ground. I need a change--actually Wookie and I both do.

I’ve started the last two years with resolutions and plans and failed miserably on most counts.

I’m taking a new tact this year and switching to hopes and goals. I feel that the looser frame actually leaves more room to define success and since we are in a bad place financially—and that does make for a lot of uncertainty, maybe we need to be open to an unexpected future.

After all, I never expected to be married, or a Life-Cycle Celebrant®, or a blogger. In fact, the biggest mistakes I’ve made in life have all revolved around giving up hope of something better and feeling resigned to life as it was at that moment.

I firmly believe that it’s best to always act as though what you want is possible—then you pay attention and prepare for that future. Giving up leads to stagnation and when opportunity presents itself, you’re unprepared. I admit I’ve lost sight of this ideal often enough as things have gotten harder and harder for us—but I have nothing to lose in choosing conscious optimism and plenty to lose by giving up.

So here I sit, nervous about the changes that I am sure 2012 is likely to bring, but hopeful that we will land on our feet, find a way to dig our way out of debt, and get back to a place of some security.

With that in mind, here are my personal hopes and goals for 2012:

• I hope Wookie and I find work.
  
  It may seem picky to also hope that we can do work we love, or that I find another job that lets me work from home, but I do hold those hopes as well.
  
  Wookie would love to get a [paying] job as an EMT and has been loading up on advanced courses since he completed his EMT-B. He also volunteers as the training officer for a SCUBA search and rescue squad. Everything he does is focused on teaching others or helping them in some way. For all he gives, I hope this year rewards him with the satisfaction of a steady paycheck.
  
  As for me, if I could work from home, it would leave more time for my Celebrant work—and that would mean more money to throw at our debt. I can do a lot with the time I would not be commuting. (My average commute over the years has been two to three hours a day—that’s a third of a work-day!) I also work better without the distractions of an office environment.
  
  
• My goal is to expand my Celebrancy practice. I started my zazzle shop in hopes of bringing in money for advertising. I will be updating my website as well. Realistically speaking, I will probably never be able to afford to retire outright. But I can be a Celebrant no matter what my age.
  
  
• My goal is also to market myself better for freelance work and full-time work. I’ve gained some new experience this year that can take me in new directions. I also need to remember that the work I was doing is valuable—people need the service I provide. With technology touching every aspect of our lives, people need help guides and instruction manuals. I just need to sell my service better.
  
  
• I hope we can keep our home—but if we can’t, I hope we land somewhere safe and comfortable. As long as we’re together and can take care of the cats, we’ll be fine.
  
  
• My goal is to get us better organized in terms of our home and our finances. I confess that things are a mess but if we work together we can figure it out. I just have to remember that if there are things we have to give up, we will be making room for the things we need and want.
  
  
• I still hope for us to have kids. I’m 41 and I have my fingers crossed that we still have time to make that happen.

• My goal is to take better care of myself and encourage Wookie to do the same. We’ve gotten caught up in our troubles and that makes it hard to focus on eating well and getting exercise. Wookie’s in better shape than I am, but we could both use some tuning up.

Of course, these are all personal goals revolving around my family.  I have wider hopes for the new year as well. So many of the people we love have had their lives touched by loss and illness. I hope for a year of good health and healing. And I know that there are people worse off financially than Wookie and I—I really hope the world gets its act together—that people start to see that focusing on the common good benefits them more in the long run than greed will.  (Okay, that may fall more into the category of dreams, but I can still hope for change.)

So as this year rolls out, I’ll open my heart and my arms in hopes for a better future for all of us. I try to remember that life is an adventure and that rather than throwing in the towel it’s better to always know where your towel is, because it might come in handy.

An all too Brief Hiatus and the Return of my Smile

Well, after a long week of mourning, jury duty, client meetings, a very cool social media conference, and some social media tutoring, I think it’s safe to say that I hit the wall.

For the last two days, I’ve not been able to accomplish anything.  I haven’t slept well. I’ve been feeling “off.” So, contrary to my usually push-through-till-it-gets-done philosophy, I took off yesterday and today.  I have a ceremony to write tomorrow, a house to clean, and emails to catch up on. But nothing I would have done for my clients this week would have been my best effort. So while this probably wasn’t as long of a break as I need, it’s been better than pushing through.

Scattered through my week were street fairs. Wookie was working a booth for his part-time job and I tagged along. (After losing Frankie we felt the need to stick together.)  By yesterday, I had found my smile again.

There’s something about a neighborhood street fair—that sense of community that envelops you, even if you’re not a part of that community.

The first fair was Wednesday night several towns away. It was a more professional affair with carnival games and rides. Eventually, it was called on account of rain, but I had a chance to take a few pictures before we had to pack up.

©Cristina Kollet 2011

©Cristina Kollet 2011

©Cristina Kollet 2011

©Cristina Kollet 2011

Saturday and Sunday we were at a smaller, neighborhood fair. This was a true community event. There were rides for the tiniest kids. Local women were selling delicious Spanish food to benefit the local church. 

©Cristina Kollet 2011

©Cristina Kollet 2011

 The entertainment was a mix of professional salsa bands, lip-syncing women in festive dress, and local teen talent. People cheered the performers—all of them with great enthusiasm. They brought chairs out from their homes to watch. All afternoon I saw hugs exchanged as friends found each other and people stayed and talked even when it rained.

©Cristina Kollet 2011

And there was dancing in the streets.

©Cristina Kollet 2011

I think that after this week—and after losing Frankie after such a long journey with her—this is what brought the smile back to me face. 

Timing is Everything

Today was one of my busier Saturdays. It began with a long drive to Hamilton, NJ for a baby blessing ceremony. I had been anticipating the same kind of cold, damp, dreary weather we’ve been living with for the last week, but it turned out to be a lovely, sunny day. Good weather, as it turned out to find myself running back and forth across the Garden State Parkway.

Now, I don’t know why this is, but in five years of being a Life-Cycle Celebrant®, I have yet to have a ceremony start on time. Today’s ceremony was about an hour late. As I am currently not in the habit of double booking myself, this was okay. My only concerns for the rest of the day were for getting to the pet store before it closed.

[Addendum: I did also stop on the way to take a picture.]

It was my need for cat food that led me to get off the Turnpike on the way home in favor of the GSP—a more familiar road for me and one I consider easier when I have to go to the pet store.

And because of the cats and the late ceremony, I once again found myself the first responder at an accident. I didn’t see today’s accident happen. It must have occurred a few miles and minutes ahead of me. But when traffic backs up, I start looking and when I saw the first of the three vehicles involved had it’s airbags deployed it was time to pull over and call 911.

Let me take this opportunity to say—and I can’t emphasize this enough—always wear your seat belt. There were three families in three cars involved in this accident and I have no doubt that seatbelts and child safety seats saved their lives. The front of one vehicle was gone. The car it hit was pushed to collide with another car so those people felt the force of impact from the front and the rear. The car the middle car hit was impacted so hard the back windshield shattered. While multiple ambulances were called to the scene, I am sure it would have been worse without seatbelts.

After I made the 911 call I spent my time running back and forth between the three vehicles checking on the passengers, making sure everyone was breathing, and encouraging everyone to stay put. As none of the vehicles were smoking or on fire, the best place for the passengers was in their cars both to avoid getting hit by oncoming traffic and to prevent moving something they might not realize had been injured.

I am very grateful to the corrections officer who also stopped to assist at the scene. With one car on the right side of the road and two in the left lane, it was good to have someone with the passengers of the third car. They had already exited the vehicle when I stopped, their car was full of glass. He was able to alert the EMTs of the need for another ambulance when one of the passengers of the third car complained of back pain.

©Cristina Kollet 2010

On the flip side, I am annoyed with the other motorists. At first everyone was driving past slowly. But eventually traffic began to resume a more normal pace and that was dangerous—first for those who’d been in the accident, then for me and the corrections officer, and finally for the EMTs and police who responded.

Complain as we might about rubber-neckers it is good that people slow down when passing an accident. You don’t know if someone might suddenly exit a vehicle either because they are in shock and don’t know what they’re doing or because the vehicle has caught fire. It’s also safer for rescuers. EMTs, police, and fire personnel who may have to cross traffic either in their vehicles or on foot. No matter what you’re rushing to, it’s not worth hitting rescuer to be on time.

I’m going to close this post with my hope that the people involved in the accident (six adults and five children) are all safe and well. I know this was a scary day for them.

The Beginners Guide to Self Promotion

Last weekend I watched the class of 2011 graduate from the Celebrant Foundation & Institute.  106 students and alumni received certificates and began their Life-Cycle Celebrancy practices with specialized training, a wealth of resources and a strong desire to bring their skills and talents to the world.

But how to get started? Many of us are hesitant to talk about the things we’re passionate about. We’re afraid of appearing pushy or that people may not want what we have to offer. Of course we have websites and ads and social media to get the word out, but nothing replaces face-to-face interactions—especially if your business can benefit from word-of-mouth recommendations.

This is true, not just of Celebrancy but many, if not all small businesses. So here are my tips for self-promotion.

1. Get comfortable with the idea that you have something to offer that people want and need.   If you encountered someone with a flat tire and you had a jack in your car would you say “I’m not a mechanic.” Or would you say, “I have a tool you can use to fix your tire.”

Whether you’ve been trained in your field or built up real-life experience—if you can honestly say that you have something to offer, get comfortable saying so.

Start with telling friends and family what you want to do. It will get it out in the open, make it real, and help you develop the words you’ll use when talking to strangers.

2. Talk about it to everyone. “What do you do?” is one of the most common questions people ask to get to know each other.  Don’t fall back on answering with the day job if that’s not where your heart is. Talk about what you really are. “I’m a Life-Cycle Celebrant®/artist/singer.” “I act in our local theatre.”

Remember the power of word-of-mouth. Then next person you speak to may not need you but may recommend you to someone next week or next month.

3. Get business cards and keep them with you at all times. If you don’t feel you’re ready for “business cards” print up calling cards. What you want to do is make your contact information available to people you meet and leave them with a reminder of who you are and what you spoke about.

Everyone gets my business card. I’ve given them to restaurant managers, doctors, nurses, dental hygienists, my mechanic, people on jury duty. I’ve left them on bulletin boards in bagel shops--and gotten clients that way!

Business cards are cheap, portable, and easily replenished. Use them up and order more.

4. Carry and pen and paper with you at all times. Yes, we all have smart phones now but in the time it takes to boot up the right app you could have lost the attention of the person you’re talking to. A small notepad and pen or even just a piece of paper and a golf pencil are indispensable tools. When you give someone your cards, see if you can get the person’s email address in return. That way you can send them more information later and they can view it on their time. (This is why I specify email address rather than phone number. It’s less intrusive. If they want you have their number, they will take the opportunity to give it to you.

Lesson of the Week--Knowing my Limits

I do plan on getting back to blogging about my San Francisco vacation. I have more memories and pictures to share about that amazing trip. But it's been a whirlwind since I got back and so I thought it a good idea to write about a lesson I learned this week — basically that sometimes, something's got to give.

There are two things I have learned from SCUBA diving and my first aid training (also related to diving) that I try to carry into every day life:

• A diver can cancel on a dive for any reason and it's fine.
• The first rule of rescue is that the rescuer take care of herself.

Both lessons came into play this week.

I came back from vacation to a series of deadlines at the day job, numerous wedding ceremonies to write/update/officiate, a social media course to update and teach again and EMT-B training. Believe it or not, the EMT-B training was to my recreational activity. It's not that I wasn't going to take it seriously--I take it very seriously and I was thrilled for a chance to expand on the skills I have acquired as an Emergency First Responder and EFR Instructor.

But the EMT-B course was also to be something I would do with my husband. We tend to spend all summer running around in opposite directions--he to his SCUBA students and me to my ceremonies. It's good to have some scheduled time where we're both engaged in something that gives us new things to talk about. EMT-B was going to be it for me. (For the Wookie, it's his first step to his goal of becoming a Hyperbaric EMT.)

I'll be the first to admit that I didn't know what the course would entail. I had the schedule. 2 nights a week from 6:45 to 10:00 PM. and some weekend days (either Saturday or Sunday) from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM.  Magically the weekend dates fit into my schedule, as did all but one class and I could make that up by attending a later section. Perfect.

What I didn't anticipate working into my schedule were these.