Life in the Middle Lane

AKA: In which I tell the universe what kind of job to send me.

A few weeks ago a friend (let’s call her Carla) and I were discussing our bosses and the undying love (not) that each of us has for our jobs. I told Carla how I had no intention or desire to work in state government, yet here I am.  I went on to tell her how state government sucks and I hate every minute of it.

Later in the conversation, Carla asked me what exactly I’d like to do. So I told her about what I hope to accomplish one day with Cosmopolitan Urbanist, and I told her about my research in affordable housing, downtown redevelopment, and community development. I told her about the project that I’m working on with my gym. Not concretely saying what I want to do, just kind of listing the stuff that really interests me.

Then Carla told me about her ideal job. And I decided to steal it.

So in the Spirit of Carla’s career statement, here goes my own:

I want a job where I’m hired because I’m me. The organization(s) trusts in me enough to do my job, without interference, without daily reporting, without having to clock in or sit in a cube all day.  I want a wide variety of interesting, socially conscious, useful projects and the freedom to pick which ones I want. I want to work without always needing to work at “break neck” speed but always keeping my deadlines in sight. I want to work with a group of interesting, creative, and social individuals that like and respect me.  And I don’t want to wait until I’m 50 (or 30, for that matter) to get this job.

Thinking in “big picture” reminded me of what I used to tell people in graduate school when they’d ask me what I wanted to do after graduation:   I want to work for an organization that allows me to work on large social problems, helps me to grow professionally and personally, in an environment that’s friendly and inclusive, in a large metropolitan area.

People always looked at me strangely when I said that. I think they wanted me to say something simple like, I want to work in local government or non-profits, or consulting, or urban development. I learned early that my ideal work environment is way more important to me that the actual work that I’m assigned. More often than not, even digging ditches can be fun if you’re doing it with a great group of people.

Don’t get me wrong, I think I would hate flipping burgers even if my 6 favorite bloggers joined me every day [thought it would be fun for a while], but to me, a good work environment is just as important as doing important work. Having worked with great co-workers doing menial tasks and not-so-great co-workers doing relatively good work; I’d rather stuff envelopes and have someone fun to talk to any day of the week.

I’m hoping for the trifecta: a great team of co-workers, work that’s engaging- intellectually and socially, and mornings where I don’t wake up hating the fact that I have to work.

So, Universe, bring me my ideal job,  Mmmhkay?

For years in North Carolina and in Georgia, the background on my computers at work have been some oceanscape.  Waves lapping on a beach, the view from a sail boat, or small island.  Without fail, the first thing I do when I get a new computer at work is change the background from whatever the default it, to something ocean or island related.

I’m a little obsessed with water; ocean, river and lake front properties make me drool. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that some of my favorite cities, San Francisco, Boston, Madison, and Miami are, in one way or another, on the water.  I blame my parents for this.

The nearest beach was about a three hour drive from where I grew up in  North Carolina and we would often head to the beach spontaneously for the day, an overnight or a long luxurious weekend. Driving to the beach and letting us kids splash around for a few hours, getting a great seafood meal, and driving home the same night was an easy and inexpensive way to trick us kids into behaving and to stop us from complaining that we never went anywhere. Dad (when he was there) or mom would load us into the station wagon and head for one or the other of our favorite beach spots.

I thought about this today. I’m at work wishing to high heaven that I was somewhere else.  I looked at the background of my island paradise on my computer, tried to go to my happy place, couldn’t and got a little angry.  I got so frustrated suddenly that I HAD to; ABSOLUTELY had to, change the picture.

So I did a google search on ocean pictures and found this one and I liked it. I could feel a headache coming on, so I took some deep breaths and stared at my new backdrop.

I can almost feel the heat and the dampness of the air.  I, just when I close my eyes, can smell the salt and sand coming off the water.  If I concentrate just a little bit, I can feel the lushness of the flowers. I run my fingers through the soft grittiness and smell the heady aroma of the dirt that produces such beautiful plant life. I relax just a little as I imagine myself in one of those corona commercials.  Beer in one hand, book in the other. No need for ipods, the world is my soundtrack. Ah, the life.

Don’t think that I’m just here getting my tan on at the beach.  After a morning swim, and a short “meditation” from my beach chair; I shower, dress (in something small and flowy, because it’s hot and I’m at home) and settle in my office for the day.

Where is my office, you ask? A screened-in porch at the back of my “house” where I can see and smell the ocean and hear the sounds of the birds and the waves.

In my office, I go to my computer and I write. I’m not sure yet what I’m writing. But I am. And, somehow, I know that I’m making people happy. And I’m making me happy.

And this is my life. Someone pays me to do this.

Suddenly, I am snapped out of my reverie by a ringing phone or a irritating laugh of a co-worker in a nearby cube. I shake my head and go back to reading the 50 page bill on my desk.  The one for which I’ve been asked to prepare a fiscal analysis. This analysis, like the other analyses I’ve done over the past six months, won’t make a huge difference in the world.

I glance back at my new happy place on my computer background.  One day.My

Atlernatively titled: This is my new motto. or More on why women should rule the world

This morning I was researching slacking off as I normally do and came across a New York Times article about State of the Nation/Union/Country.  Apparently, the US isn’t the only county to have an annual State Address. I was intrigued, and clicked to see what other leaders have been talking about lately.  Mostly its boring, economic stuff but this one quote from Philippines President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo during her (yes, I said her) State of the Nation Address on July 27, 2009 took my by surprise and caused me to do a double read.

I did not become president to be popular. To work, to lead, to protect and preserve our country, our people — that is why I became president.  To those who want to be president, this advice: If you really want something done, just do it. Do it hard, do it well. Don’t pussyfoot. Don’t pander. And don’t say bad words in public.

Wouldn’t we be better off if all the world’s leaders felt and behaved this way?

I went to college without really knowing what I want to do. Over the four years I changed my major four times. I started as a Political Science major, then I was a International Business/French major, then I switched to a plain Business major, finally I found my home in a very unlikely place—The Philosophy and Religion department.

I started college without really knowing what I wanted out of a four year degree, other than to be rich and famous. I loved the being a Philosophy major because I got to do my favorite things; read, think, talk and write. When folks asked me what I expected to do with a degree in a Philosophy, at first I shrugged. At one point, I assumed that I would go to Law School but in my heart I knew that was a cop-out. By the time I graduated, I wasn’t worried about the naysayers because I knew that I can do ANYTHING with my degree because I’ve learned how to THINK.

Tell that to the employees who wanted to see me with a Business or Journalism degree.

It took me a little while to get my act together, but I soon I found a field (Government) where I fit, and I knew that making a career in the public sector was right for me.

It took a few more years, and a graduate degree, interviewing my mentors, therapy and a life coach for me to identify what is most important to me, the thing that I would do for free.

What’s important to me?

I write about it, here and on Cosmopolitan Urbanist.

-Being the Best Monica Ever and hopefully inspiring someone else to be the best them ever

-Making public organizations better through technology

-Making neighborhoods stronger through urban design and community development

None of which I get to do in my current job. My job pays the bills, but it doesn’t turn me on.  Every once in a while, I get excited about the opportunity to learn a new skill set at work. Some days, I’m just happy just to have a paycheck at the end of the month and I don’t care that I’m not content in my work. Most days, though, I am so bored and frustrated and anxious that I sit in my cube wondering how I got to this place and what the hell do I have to do to get out of here.

I read Naomi at Ittybiz and Chris Guillebeau at The Art of Non-Conformity and now I’m completely jealous of Jamie at A Life in Transition. I read their stuff and I get emotionally confused. I’m so excited for them and inspired by them, but I also get sad because I feel so ordinary. I feel so unaligned with my values. I feel that I’m just getting by and not living my best life.

I’m the most goal oriented person I know, but I’m feeling a little stuck about taking the small steps that I need to, to move towards my best life. When I think about my stuckness, I want to throw my head back and have a Charlie Brown moment. WAAAHHHH!  This is not my life!!

During a recent conversation, my mom asked me if I was happy. I decided to forego the “I’m fine” answer, and answer honestly. I had to tell her that no, I’m not happy. I’m absolutely not happy. I’m not supposed to be a fricking management analyst. I ranted about how this recession has put a cramp in all my plans, and how I don’t feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. After a moment of silence, she agreed with me.

She said, “You have a ministry- not necessarily religiously- but you are supposed to be helping people to do and be better.”

Her response brought tears to my eyes. But what she said next made me stutter.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I didn’t have a great answer to give her.

Since then, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I really want out of life, and you should expect a post or two soon outlining just that.

Six years of secondary school has given me the skills that I need to build a successful business and gave me some professional credibility. Unfortunately for me, school didn’t really teach me what I need to do to live my ideal life. Being involved in the blogger community, especially reading Rebecca, and Penelope, and the other bloggers at Brazen Careerist has been the best education that I could have received. Through their inspiration, I’ve started to harness the power of my passion.

I’m moving slowly, and it’s hella frustrating. I never expected to be rich and famous overnight.  I know I’m going to work hard and be patient with myself. I know that soon, my hard work and my passion will get me to where I need to be.

And that’s how I’m crushing it.

For those who haven’t seen the twitter or facebook updates….I am gainfully employed!

Yay me!

This is the end of the FIRST week has been an interesting work week.  Monday was spent getting introduced to the building, Capitol Hill,  and all the different Audit sections. Tuesday were spent almost completely on selecting benefits.  (I, for one, did not know that insurance could be so expensive.)  I ended up buying a half a dozen different kinds of insurance. Now I worry that I’m paying for stuff that I’ll never need while simultaneously hoping to God that I never do!

Wednesday and Thursday were spent in my cube (yes I have a cubicle) reading a stack of manuals. Administrative procedures, departmental procedures, division procedures, performance audit procedures.  I read several different kinds of audit reports.  I know auditing backwards and forwards.

Today, my division chief gave me his version of Auditing 101 (basically a recap of everything I’ve read so far this week.  I really, really understand (conceptionally, at least) what I am here to do.

I am officially ready to hit the ground running.

And apparently that is exactly what they expect me to do.

Monday is Day 1 on a new project and I am one part of a two person team. What fun! (Actually it IS fun)

My division chief, on several occasions this week has told me a bit about how I came to be hired.  On Wednesday, he told me that there were several highly qualified finalists but that I rose to the top. How I rose, I am not sure.  I assured him that I am immensely happy to be working, and flattered, to say the least.)

Today, he told me that there were several (including me) good candidates in the applicant pool.  There were some he knew would be productive staff analysts for many years. He then said that I was selected because it was clear that I wouldn’t be satisfied staying a staff analyst, and he needed to hire someone who wanted to be promoted.  Quickly.  The division is extremely understaffed, and my boss hopes to put me on the fast track when the budget is less restrictive.  (Yay me!)

As he told me all this, it took tremendous will not to start laughing out loud!  Am I that obvious?  No lie, on Monday during orientation I looked at the department’s vacancies org chart and decided that I could comfortably stay in this organization for 5-6 years and move up quickly in responsibility and salary.  It is nice to know that my boss has already pegged me as a mover and shaker and is willing to push me along.

.

I got off the train on Thursday, and found myself in the cleanest MARTA station I’ve ever seen. The platform didn’t smell like pee or filth. The escalators were all working. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to go, I looked wildly at the wayfinding signs, and randomly picked, and went up the escalator. At the top, I found myself at a security checkpoint in a Georgia State Building.  I quickly found out I was in the wrong place, and made my way outside.

Outside the building, I looked up into the sky and the first thing I saw was shiny, golden dome of the Georgia State Capitol.  Immediately I was taken back.  I was probably in the third grade, and my class went on a field trip to another state capitol. It was beautiful. All I remember is that the seats and carpets were deep burgundy and sooooo soft. The dome (are domes required on capitol buildings?) was stately, but opulent, with different colored glass and gold filigree.  I remember our tour guide telling us that the building was newly renovated. I was starstruck. I remember thinking—I wanna work in a place that’s this cool when I grow up.

Then I was taken to another time. I was 22 and driving to DC.  It wasn’t my first trip to DC, but this trip was special. I was in town for an interview, it was the middle of the worst year of my life, and it was my first trip to DC by myself as an adult.  I was on the interstate, and I remember looking over the city. It was so pretty and glittery and POWERFUL!! I fell in love with DC immediately, and I fall more in love every time I’m there.

I was so excited and I couldn’t hold it in. I just hooped and hollered and did a jig in the car. It was so exciting. I had to call my friends and scream “I’M IN DC!!!!!” And because my friends are awesome, they yelled along with me.

All of a sudden, I’m snapped back to all the times over the past two years in MPA school where I’ve emphatically declared that under no circumstances would I consider a job in state government. ‘It’s a bureaucracy!’, I’d say. ‘Nothing ever gets done there!’, I’d say. ‘It’s too big!”, I’d say.

But there I was, about to walk into that big domed building. I just shook my head. I whispered under my breath, “Never say never.”

I’M BORED. And not just because I’m poor and jobless and I spend my days in the public library sneaking in food and beverages. (I often have the librarians chastise me for eating in the stacks).

I’m bored because I’m tired of living my life the way I’m currently living it.  Apply for Job. Wait for a response. Check my twitter and Google Reader. Repeat.

By the way, this is the last whiny post about how tired I am of being jobless and poor.  I’ll probably still write about the job search, but I promise not be so f-ing whiny. I’M tired of listening to me whine. I’ve got to gain perspective in my life. I need to redefine my goals. I need to seriously think about my life’s direction. I have to get myself together.

I always get excited when I stumble upon a really great person who seems to have taken live by the balls and SQUEEZED. I want to squeeze life by the balls.  I want to use my superpower, dammit.

I wanna DO something.

And then I think about all the things I could and, dammit, SHOULD be doing to fully start working for myself and then I come up with 5 billion reasons why I can’t do all the things I should be doing. And it’s stupid because I’ve done stuff that is way harder…. WTF is my problem?

Hence the “getting myself together” that I spoke of a few sentences ago.

Question 1. Why is it is so hard to move from “starting” to “doing”?

Maybe it’s time for an online to-do list, with you guys (yes, that means you) to keep me accountable, huh?

***

Everyone morning I look at my very beautiful Vision Board and I sigh. It makes me sad to even look at it.

Why? Because I remember the idealistic Monica that carefully and lovingly put the Vision Board together this Spring. (it’s so gosh darn PRETTY!!) And I remember the hot and sweaty Monica, who, this summer, after packing her car to move to Atlanta, scrambled to find a place for said vision board. (I didn’t want to wrinkle or, God forbid, tear any of it)

Now the vision board, my clothes, computer, and 20 books that I couldn’t live without are setting in Atlanta.  I’ve found a prominent place to display it where I can see it often through the day. But all I feel when I look at it is sadness. Not happiness, not joy, not hope, not even pride that I put together something so lovely. I feel sad. And Duped.

I was in a very hopeful state of mind when I put together my vision board. I thought about everything I wanted. (Yes, the words FABULOUS and FAMOUS can be found on my board.  Along with HEALTHY and SAFE and SUCCESSFUL, and my core values) I imagined my dream life ( not so farfetched that it’s unattainable) and I tacked it on my board. I put everything on it. The cities I want to live (no, Atlanta is not on it), the jobs I’ve really want it (and subsequently been rejected for), my business (that I’ve procrastinated starting) and my desire to rule to free world (what? I’ve been planning that one for YEARS)

Every day I look at my vision board with a heavy heart and I want to kick it and hit it and break it into a million little corkboard pieces. The GF says that I should calm down. I’ve only been here for a week, she says. It’s not my fault that all the jobs I’ve interviewed for don’t want to hire anyone until August, she says. Something good will happen, she says. Have a drink, she says.

We disagree on the point of the vison board. She says that the purpose of the vision board is to keep me focused on my goals.  I thought the vision board was to help me manifest my future. Which it ain’t doing.

Question 2. Who is right? Me or the GF?

Question 3. Why is it that everyone else can be optimistic about my future except me?

I had a conversation with my mother today.  She asked me how I was doing.  My new stock answer: Still poor and jobless.

I swear if she’d been in the room with me, she would have smacked me in the head and told me to snap out of it.

Instead, in her best “everything will be ok” voice, she proceeds to tell me that everything will work out. She reiterated the GF, that I’ve only been here for a week, that I’m smart and capable, that God wouldn’t put anything on me that I couldn’t handle.

Then she goes into her “you listen here, missy” voice and tells me that I am not to start doubting, I have to believe in myself. I can’t even use adverbs: maybe, probably, and hopefully can no longer be a part of my vocabulary. Over and over, using different words, she says

Something good is going to happen. I just know it.

I’m trying to believe mama, I’m trying.

Over the past few days I’ve realized that I’m back on my “depression sleep cycle”.  Bed after midnight, sleep til 10am.  Yawn all day….eat junk….mope around.

During the hours when I am, what passes for awake, I trudge from restaurant to restaurant from temp agency to temp agency putting on my happy face, and telling them all why I would be just AWESOME as a hostess, bartender, server, administrative assistant, call center rep……and all I REALLY want to do is cry.

This is not my life.  At least, this is not the life I wanted/dreamed of/expected.  I mean, when I finish writing this post, I’m going down to the local CVS to apply for a job as a cashier.

And to think. I actually WENT to college. TWICE.

At night when I’m waiting (usually in vain) for my eyes to close and sleep to overtake me, I run through my mind all the people I need to email, all the staffing companies I still need to get to, all the cute little restaurants that I should drop by, and ask the Universe, God, whatever you want to call the higher being that keeps the world turning…… When will it end? When will I hit rock bottom?

I am beginning to believe that it is only when I am on the brink of a nervous breakdown, all my optimism is gone, and I have no other options that whatever breakthrough I’m supposed to have will happen.  I’ll have a moment of clarity, and the path I’m supposed to take will be clear, and I’l stop feeling like a fish out of water.

And I think it’s close.

Looking for a job is a lonely experience.  Looking for a job in a brand new city across the country is an extremely lonely experience. With all the time I spend applying for jobs, I’ve largely ignored the rest of my life.  The constant worry and rejection, coupled with the “so how’s the job search going?” questions leave me too sad, depressed and anxious to come out and be social.

This week I’m in the Bay Area for an interview. (YAY!)  But in spite of my super excitement about the opportunity and my confidence that I’ll get the job, I’m so sad out here. This is my second trip to the Bay.  On my first trip, I had so much fun.  It was equal parts networking extravaganza and vacation. This trip (because I’m newly poor and jobless) I can’t even afford a hotel or a rental car.  I’m staying with a friend of a friend who happens to live near a BART station (thank GOD).  I’m just starting to be comfortable traveling on the trains. However, I still haven’t ventured on the buses. I constantly worry that I’m overstaying my welcome and will come back to find my suitcase on the sidewalk.

Being out here, I spend a lot of time alone. Sometimes alone is just alone, but sometimes, most times, alone is a very lonely place.  I just wanna go home, drink straight out of my own milk carton and watch my tv in my underwear. (Except, I gave up my apartment, and am now living with my mom–boo).

Being in a new city, alone, is tough. Having to be ON and networking and interviewing in a new city is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  Today I was on a train and it hit me. I don’t want to do this by myself and I don’t want to be here by myself anymore.  I’m tired and I’m done.  I cannot do another trip out here like this. If I don’t get a job out of this trip, I think I’ll officially be at rock bottom.

It’s not that I am losing faith. It’s not that I don’t believe in myself. I believe in hard work, I believe in perseverance, I believe in a little bit of luck .  So I’m going BALLS OUT for the next three days. As hard as I’ve been working, all the leads that I’ve followed, all the time and effort I put in, and as big a hit that my credit card has taken (!!!) if nothing happens this week, I need to rethink my strategy.

You know that old saying, “Know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away….” I’m not walking away.  I’m going all in.

Wish me luck out here. It’s now or nothing.

Everyone must know something about me that I am currently unaware of.  For the past year I’ve had co-workers, professors, counselors, friends, mentors, Jenny, new people that I’ve met and the GF all tell me the same thing. 

Monica, you’re awesome and successful. 

Every time someone tells me that I’m going to be fine and I should stop worrying about not finding a job, part of me doesn’t believe them (even thought I really want to believe them). I’ve worked crazy hard over the past year. I’ve been networking my ass, applying for lots and lots of jobs, going on informational interviews, going to professional conferences, tweaking my resume, building a new website all working towards getting a fucking job. 

Unfortunately, I’m one among 100’s (I know, I harass HR managers) of new graduates, and older experienced displaced workers going after the same very limited job pool.  So my goal has changed, and I’m piecing together a couple of entrepreneurial ventures with my friends and classmates.  And I’m really excited about them.  But I’m rather scared shitless. 

When I tell folks about the consulting and the promotions and the party planning, they tend to get really excited. And the more excited they get the more scared I get. 

What if I fuck it up?  What if I’m not as awesome as everyone thinks I am? 

Tonight I finally asked the GF why she keeps telling me that I’m going to be fine.  She said the proof is in the pudding. Over and over, she said, she’s seen me make something out of nothing.  She’s seen me hustle.  

She said, 

I would trust you to make a great cake because I’ve seen you make cakes and I’ve tasted your cake in the past so I don’t worry about your capacity to make good cake in the future. 

I make good cake, huh? 

I giggled at her metaphors (all food related, since we’re dieting), but I think she’s on the money. 

I am a diva (which is the female version of a hustler).  I’m seriously not going to be left penniless, homeless and hungry. I have always had a plan.  And I bought a domain name just in case. I go through my school notes, and they are filled with business plans, and funding sources, and potential partners. And I built a beautiful vision board with all my goals on it, and you can’t go wrong with a vision board.  I’m thinking about tumblring my vision board so you guys can see. It’s SO awesome, and I love it. 

I’m still scared shitless, but I’m not letting my fear stop me from moving forward.  In fact, I think my fear propels me forward.  

When my mama says she’s praying and my bosses tell me I’m great, and I interview with managers who tell me that they wish they had the money to hire me (but they don’t and they can’t), and the GF tells me that she’s not riding my anxiety train…… 

I’m going to take a deep breath.  I’m going to smile.  I’m going to nod and agree with them.  Then I’m going to double time it with my business ventures so that I don’t let all these wonderful people down. 

How do you deal with fear and insecurity?