Almostgotit.com

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Sometimes people come across my older posts and leave comments, which my regular readers then miss. I didn’t want you to miss this one, though.

Tanya wrote:

What if you moved to another city for your husband, ended up unemployed for 2 years, and 2 of the most potentially productive and career-making years of your life (under 30, no kids)? After you had already had to give up a very promising and well-paid job in another city? And now you realize you will never have a really cool job and kids at the same time? And you are too old with too much of a broken resume to ever apply to and get into a top business school, which you have only come to realize is essential to having transferrable job skills that people actually want to hire? How do you get over that?

Tanya’s comment hit me in the gut, and I don’t want to minimize her obvious pain in any way.  She and I have had a whole lot of experiences (and feelings!) in common*, and I don’t have any easy answers for her. 

((Except that it sounds like I’m even older, have an even worse resume, so quite possibly am even more screwed! ))

Tanya sounds pretty upset.  And pissed off, too.  The last thing I’d suggest is that she “get over it.”  Being upset isn’t wrong, because it tells you something IS wrong. You can’t just ”get over” it: you can only use it.  Anger is very powerful, and while it can destroy you, it can also give you enormous strength to do important and difficult things. 

I wonder who, or what, is telling Tanya she’s too old and too broken and can’t even APPLY to business school?  Or that people will only hire her if she does something she’s already told herself is impossible?  Those are the sorts of thing our wicked inner toad people tell us.  That’s a load of garbage.  And it hurts us very much to swallow it. 

What’s worked for me? Personal and marital counselling, talking to people who are experts in job re-entry, talking to people who know how to make my resume better, taking care of myself even when I don’t want to.

Being with supportive friends is the MOST important, studies now show… even better than exercise!

So, Tanya, what are you doing to be nice to yourself?

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* I am re-activating this angry post especially for Tanya.  I’d de-activated it because it’s not me at my most attractive, and I really do like men.  But sometimes, Damitol, living with them just makes me MAD.

My husband and I finally had an argument over this whole job thing last night… sort of remarkable, really, that it took us this long.

We are supposed to make our final decision about the new job today, and The Mid-Level Guy (T.M.L.G.) was supposed to get back to us yesterday morning with his counter-offer.

By 9 pm. last night we’d not heard a word, and began making plans about how to handle his silence.  Tensions were a wee bit high.

We finally got T.M.L.G’s email at about 11 pm… no, he hadn’t heard yet from his superiors with the money part, but hey, before? When he said pretty dismissively that he couldn’t do anything for The Wife? Turns out maybe he could get Almostgotit a very low level, very poorly paid secretarial job in his own Development office after all, which could be a great entree into Development in general, which we all know is a growing and lucrative field.

Yes I do know, says I, to Mr. Almostgotit. And I’m trying very hard to appreciate his efforts.

But might I point out,  says I additionally, That it’s the other city’s highest level Development/Advancement people (among others) who are calling me directly, on the phone (not just sending emails via my husband) and talking to me about writing and PR jobs in Development — instead of ignoring my updated resume altogether and offering an entry-level clerical job instead, citing my fracking “organizational skills?!?”

All else being truly equal, we both would rather stay in Tennessee, but

No one will ever just hand you a job, says Mr. A. You’ve got to try harder, or get another degree.

Maybe, counters I. But lots of people, especially those not occupying your own particular little part of the world, would say instead that the best way to get jobs is though connections, And how crazy am I to turn my back on this only time, ever, that so many people are going to bat for me, in the other city, right now??

(Besides, I add, much later. Besides. How can you say I haven’t tried??)

The man here is trying, says Mr. A. We should consider his offer. He’s right about it being an entree…

No, says I. If I wanted that kind of job, I could get one on my own. There are a million of them at The Institution that Shall not Be Named ( TITSNOB. *) Thank T.M.L.G for me, of course, but I am a terrible, terrible secretary. And I know exactly the job he’s talking about… I used to bring my paperwork to that person, buried in a basement office in a sea of filing cabinets and paperwork. That’s all she did. I’d die there. I’d DIE.

If you could get one of those jobs on your own, why haven’t you, says Mr. A.

Because I haven’t applied for any of those jobs, says I, a wee bit too loudly. And if I did want to be a secretary, I’d certainly not be one at TITSNOB, as the standard pay elsewhere in Knoxville is almost twice as much. I know, because I’ve looked into it, several times.

If we want to stay here, we need to find out more about the job, at least, says Mr. A.  Do you even KNOW what you want?

Some, says I, voice stupid and wobbly.  I know some of what I want.  And I know I don’t want to be a secretary.

This isn’t just any secretarial job, says Mr. A., but could lead to higher things…

No it won’t,  says I. It won’t. Name one secretary at TITSNOB who has ever gone on to other things, beyond more responsible secretarial jobs? Besides, there is so much paperwork at that place that I’d never have time for anything else. The world needs paperwork people, TITSNOB needs more than most, and some people are satisfied being paperwork people.  Many paperwork people are delightful, but for me those jobs are a DISASTER. 

Slight rolling of the eyes from Mr. A.

I’m not just being dramatic, or snotty, says I.   I’ve failed in four clerical jobs, remember, and grown past them in any case? I keep wanting to push the envelope. I find the work-arounds that work better. I get in trouble in clerical jobs. I’m one of those people that OTHER job ads ask for: “A self-starter,” and that is exactly what TITSNOB does not want in its secretaries. I know that better than anyone else — remember?!?

We both have very mixed feelings, and clearly we are both a little whacky. But how I would love to thumb my nose at TITSNOB and ride the hell out of town without looking back. And how delicious it would be for everyone here to know that the deciding factor in our leaving was the great job someone else just gave to his wife — the formerly-known-pain-in-the-butt we call ”Almostgotit.”

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*Re TITSNOB:  No, the acronym doesn’t really work, but that’s okay because TITSNOB doesn’t really work either.

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** Re Penelope Trunk:  This post isn’t, strictly, like one of Penelope Trunk’s, because (a) I got my husband’s permission to talk about our argument and (b) I did not mention anyone’s genitalia, shaved or otherwise.

My husband has been offered a job in another state, and for the first time ever the people offering him the job are wooing me as well.  They are flying both of us in later today to attend meetings (him), interview for possible jobs (me), visit schools (me again), and tour the area with a real estate agent (both of us).

It’s amazing.  They even sent me my very own itinerary.

Of course, the intersection of blogging and the real world is rather complicated here — we are still in the midst of negotiations, and I’m not entirely sure who reads this blog.  It’s not that it’s some big national secret, but more a set of decisions that my husband and I need the privacy and space, just now,  to negotiate on our own, e.g.:

• Could we bring our woodstove?  So much better than slankets.
• Do they sell self-cleaning houses there?  I want one of those.
• Can they send all my friends their own itineraries, too?
• My 12-year-old daughter has presented us with extensive documentation that this land-locked state has tsunamis, plus also hordes of murderers and plagues of locusts.  Can these allegations be confirmed?

Anyway, I’ll be gone from Blogville for the next few days, and hopefully our family won’t require too many more laxatives.