Lunchtime Ramblings on a Wednesday

Ever have one of those moments when you're doing something totally random and your mind goes back to something in the past and you end up having one of those "ah ha" moments?

Yeah?
No?

Well I did. And it went a little something like this...

As I'm sitting in my kitchen (my work spot for the day because sometimes you need a change of scenery) eating my salad for lunch (OK, let's be realistic, it was a bowl of lettuce and shredded cheese with ranch dressing) my mind drifted back to the 2011 Disney Social Media Moms.

At the conference we had the pleasure of hearing from Rene Syler and what she said changed the way I thought about my job at the time and made me really think about what I wanted to do with my professional life.

So as I'm noshing on my "salad" I remembered Rene telling us about how after suffering a lot of personal and professional challenges, she was eating $2 Lean Cuisine lunches in her "office closet" and realized she was happy. In fact, at the time, she had never been happier.

And I thought to myself - I think I'm finally at that point. I'm eating a bowl of lettuce with ranch dressing, wearing no makeup, hair is a hot mess, and I'm surrounded by to-do lists and story ideas for my job (a job that I L.O.V.E.) and holy crap....I. AM. HAPPY.

I think back to where I was when I attended that conference - working for a Bully, hating my job, feeling lost and miserable, feeling like nothing I did at work was good enough - and then I think about where I am right now.

I am doing what I love to do - writing - every single day. I work for someone who respects me and the other people who work for her. And I finally feel good great about the words I type every day.

And that my friends is a wonderful thing. As a writer I hated feeling like my words weren't good enough.

This lunchtime epiphany might not seem Earth-shattering to some, but it was kind of epic for me. It took me a long time to get over what happened to me. Being a victim is not a role I was meant to play and it took a toll on me. I doubted my talent, my abilities, my writing. I doubted myself.

But now, nearly three years later it's safe to say that the doubt is finally, really, totally gone. And I'm a much happier person than I was back then.

So there you have it.

This lunchtime ah-ha moment brought to you by a bowl of salad.

Funny how things work out, isn't it?

Let's Talk About Our Jobs

Today I'm feeling a bit "venty" - not like "venti" from Starbucks, but more like I want to vent about something because I have a bee in my bonnet that won't stop buzzing.

I'd like to talk about jobs. Work. What we do for a living.

When I graduated from college way back when the only email you had was AOL and everyone was on dialup Internet access and "social media" meant an AOL chatroom, I thought "having a job" meant going to an office (or in my case, a newsroom) for 40+ hours a week.

And that's what I did. I took the first job I was offered at a small town newspaper in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. And I hated it. Let me rephrase that: I loved that I was getting paid to write. I hated where I worked. My boss was the devil's right hand man.

Then, when I was in law school (yeah, I have a law degree too) I thought I wanted to be a lawyer because it would be like Ally McBeal and it would be fun.

And then I realized that was crazy talk.
Plus, I failed the bar exam.
A lot.

So, I started working at an 8-to-5 job as an association executive and I had the chance to use the undergraduate journalism degree, but only because I sort of forced them to let me do communications work. (And because my boss was a sexist pig who didn't think a woman could handle contract negotiations with union construction workers but could totally handle marketing issues).

That 40-hour-a-week gig was not so great. Strike one for the "office job."

In the years since then I've had some other "office" jobs too - like the time I worked as an editor in a marketing department at a university and loved it, or the time I worked as a communications manager for the Green Polyester Trolls and hated every minute of it. (That particular job would count as strike two AND three for "office jobs").

And then last year I started working from home.
As in, my office is AT HOME in our fourth bedroom.
And I am a writer.

Hi. My name is Traci and I'm a writer. 
I work at home and eat cereal for lunch.

And no, I don't mean that I "like to write" and have this blog and therefore I think I'm a writer. I mean my job that pays me a salary is that of a writer. I write at least 25 articles every single week. From home. Hell, check out my LinkedIn profile if you want further proof.

But apparently some people think this means I don't have a "real job" because I'm not going into an office every day so I can sit at a desk for nine hours. That my friends in INSANE. You don't need an office in a building to have a real job. My sister is a (damn fine) hairstylist and she has a real job. She sets her own hours and pays for her "office space" (her booth) and yeah, that's a real job.

My point in all this rambling is this - don't assume that just because someone doesn't work AT an office every day means they don't have a "real" job. In this day and age, you can work from just about anywhere. And yeah, I might joke about my work clothes being yoga pants and I might even work in my pajamas on some days, but I do have a real job.

I am a writer.
And I work from home.
And I love every minute of it.

Frustration on Friday

Earlier this week I was doing a little happy dance because I had been offered a job. A really good job that was doing something I love - writing - and working from home (added bonus) and was full time.

I even told my current job that I was leaving.

UPS delivered my "welcome packet" yesterday for the new job.

And I read a document that stopped me in my tracks.

This company has a policy "prohibiting [my] engagement in outside journalism, editing, writing, and publishing activities...including but not limited to books, magazines, newsletters, websites, blogs, user groups and forums, whether paid or unpaid..."

Hold. The. Phone.

I can't blog anymore if I sign this piece of paper.

Yeah. You read that right. For the duration of my employment with the company I would be prohibited from blogging, online forums, managing blogs, etc., UNLESS they give me permission to do so.

Yes. I said permission. I would have to ask their permission to get their OK to continue my blog after they review it.

I have a real issue with this. I have worked so hard and so long on this blog and to now be faced with the reality that if I take this job they could tell me I can't blog anymore...I just can't even wrap my head around it.

Once in a lifetime day

11-11-11 ... a date that only happens every 100 years.
That's pretty cool, in my humble opinion.

So, my head is clear ... more so than yesterday.
I cried all the tears I could muster.

Yes, I didn't get the dream job I've wanted for 10 years.
I see that as their loss.
They have no idea what they are missing by not hiring me.
And someone else will be lucky enough to add me to their staff.

As for the other bad news yesterday, I have this to say:
I will prevail.
You lied.
Again.
Liars don't win.
Karma will find you.
And Karma doesn't like liars.

The truth always prevails.
And I'm nothing if not brutally honest.

Today is a new day.
A 'once in a lifetime' kind of day.
And I'm running with that.
Good news might not happen today, but I'm not giving up hope.

11-11-11.
Here's to hope and luck and truth.

Terrible Thursday

Remember on Monday when I wrote about "potentially" good news?

Yeah, well it wasn't good news.

I just got rejected for a job that I've wanted for more than a decade.
They "really liked me" but "were fortunate enough to have a very talented pool" from which to choose.

They liked me enough to call all my references last week.
Guess that wasn't enough.

Oh, and then I got more bad news.

And I'm sure my former employer - the devil and her minions - are celebrating today.
That celebration will be short lived however, because unlike THEM, I intend to tell the truth.
And the truth will win in the end.

Today has been one of the worst days I've had in a very, very long time.
I don't think I've cried this much in YEARS.
I feel completely defeated.

So I guess this must be what rock bottom feels like.

When I grow up, I want to be....

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

This is a common question that we start asking kids right about the time they start kindergarten (or so it seems). On any given day you'll hear things like "teacher," "astronaut," "president," "football player," or "actress." All nice professions within reach of most kids (well, OK...maybe a professional athlete or actress is a stretch for "within reach" but let the kids dream, right?)

When I ask my daughters what they want to be when they grow up my oldest says a teacher and the youngest just looks at me as if I'm crazy. Perhaps I am.

But enough about the kids.
Ask yourself the same question: What do YOU want to be when you "grow up?"

Yes, I do realize that we are all "adults" and therefore have "grown up" for all intents and purposes. But, it's still a valid question. What do you want to be?

When I was growing up I wanted to be (in no particular order): an archaeologist, an actress, a television news anchor, a writer, a lawyer, a professional figure skater, and a newspaper reporter. The most logical choice in that list - and the one I enjoyed most - was writer/newspaper reporter and so, I majored in journalism in college.

Then, I hated the newspaper I worked for after graduating college. So I quit that job and moved home and decided I wanted to be a lawyer. The bar exam had other plans for me, and well... after thinking about it, I didn't really want to be a lawyer.

So then I wore many hats in many different jobs. But still I didn't have a "career."

I had an inner struggle a couple years ago when I lost a job that I truly enjoyed. I struggled a lot with the demise of my job, not only because I had to wallow in the sorrow of it for SIX very long months from the time they told me until the day the job was gone, but also because I felt like a failure. I even blogged about it - how I was 36 years old (at the time) with no CAREER. Not just a woman without a job, but a woman without a career.

At the time, that seemed important.
To have a career.
To be on some fast track to something.
But in the last couple of years I've had a change of heart.
Maybe that word "career" isn't so important in the grand scheme of things.

In my lifetime I've been a newspaper reporter, a civil rights intern, an association executive, a college instructor, an editor, and a communications manager. It's a lot of jobs and a lot of titles, but none of them made a "career."

And you know what?
I'm OK with that.

You want to know why?
Because I know what I want to be when I grow up.
I want to be what I am right now.
I am a wife, a mom, and a writer.
I am happy.

I might not have one of those "lifelong careers" where at your retirement party you can say "I've been a [insert job here] for the last 40 years and I've loved every minute of it!" But I have the best job in the world. I'm a mommy. I'm a chef and a short order cook, a taxi driver, a laundress, a booger wiper, a homework checker, a cheer mom, and a dance mom. I'm a wife, a partner, a constant source of nagging about something (what? it's true and I'm OK with it). And, I'm a writer. A blogger. A tweeter.

And most importantly, I'm happy.

Sure, I need to find a job that helps pay the bills. But I'm no longer looking or longing for a career. I found my lifelong career - mommy - and while it might not pay enough to cover the mortgage, the perks of the job are awesome.