Caterwauling

It’s always weird when you see your old job posted in the classifieds. It’s like, hey, that’s MY job. What are they doing advertising it? LOL. Then you remember that you left that long-term relationship. You broke up with them. And that’s how it should be treated — like the end of a caring relationship that had its ups and downs, but somehow, you’re going to be better off without each other. Everyone is raw and unsure in the aftermath of the breakup, but you know that nothing lasts forever and that the “right” match is out there for both you and your employer.

I finally have some irons in the fire for my freelance business. In fact, I’ll be working quite a bit this week. And getting the first client is always the hardest, so I can go to other clients and say that I’m in high demand so they’d better book me quickly! LOL.

I was just e-mailing with a dear friend about a (romantic) breakup that shook me to my core. He kept giving me every reason under the sun to leave, but I stuck it out. Did I think I was going to be some kind of hero or martyr, waiting through the bad that never seemed to end? But there truly were moments of happiness and comfort that I wouldn’t trade for the world — that’s what kept me there so long. But when I left and got some perspective (and he invited me back), I saw very clearly that we had both changed. But we changed so much that what we had in common didn’t exist anymore. And maybe it never did, but we didn’t know that at the time. In any event, you’ve got to learn what you can — whether from the job or from the romantic pairing — and take it with you into your next realm.

I guess I’ve always regarded breakups of any sort as a chance for people to work out their personal stuff and that, if the timing is ever right, they can get back together and see what can happen. But more often than not, the relationship probably should have ended long before it did. Or maybe it did end earlier and everyone pretended not to notice. But you really can’t go back and fix things. The best you can do is apologize for what you did wrong, in retrospect, and definitely not apologize for becoming a better person after all is said and done.

But that’s not to say the door isn’t open for you to achieve some sort of peace or truce. Life is just one big series of stepping stones and scenic stops along the bustling highways. You can’t always go back, but sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can visit, even if it’s only for a few moments in your mind.

On iTunes: Melissa Ferrick, “Taste”

I’m reading some great Sept. 11, 2001, tributes around the Web, and well, I don’t have a whole lot to add, being that the theme of the day is honoring heroes and I wasn’t much of one at that point in my life. But being that this is my “professional” blog, I will relate my experiences then to the ones I have now in relation to earning a living.

Sept. 11, three years ago, really did something to the mindset of the American worker. Think of how many people now work at home who used to commute to a physical office every day. Now that I am among those ranks, I do have to say that for all the horror of the tragedy we all witnessed, our world is turning in a better direction, at least insofar as work.

I guess before I blather on any further, I need to explain where I was on Sept. 11, 2001. I was sitting in a hellacious meeting. I mean, a really torturous, out-of-control, insipid and mind-numbing weekly meeting with some people I tolerated and others I absolutely abhored. As I was walking to said bonfire of the vanities, my mom called to inform me about the fall of the Twin Towers. Twin calls, actually — when she called again to report the second one, I had asked if she had just seen a repeat of the first tower being hit. She assured me that it was new footage — breaking news.

So I went to my earth-shatteringly painful meeting, only to be informed about the Pentagon hit. Then a little while into the horrific meeting, I heard about the plane crash in Somerset County, Pa.

And I didn’t, as my grandmother used to say, know whether to shit or go blind.

I panicked. I wanted to call my friend Jodie who lived in Johnstown (in Somerset County). I wanted to be with anyone but those strangers in that room. I needed some kind of comfort (and it did cross my mind that Southern Comfort would have sufficed). I needed some familiarity, some warmth, some kind of safety net.

The meeting from hell continued, after the CEO made us all stop and observe a moment of silence for those who had lost their lives that morning. And while I did feel a bit better to have a chance to connect with my higher self, well, someone else in the meeting went into a full-fledged panic attack. We were running around, getting her cool, wet towels and calling 911. I ended up calling 911 after 45 minutes had gone by, asking when they were planning to come save this woman’s life (we were four blocks from the nearest hospital). The operator said that there was a huge influx of panic attacks in the city, and everyone was in their cars, clogging the roads, so a unit was on its way but there was no telling when it could arrive.

Long story short, she was fine. We were all fine … eventually. But what I loathe to admit was that, during that moment of silence, I hoped that the building I was in would be hit with a plane. Yeah, when do you expect to read a thought like THAT in a Sept. 11, 2001, memorial post? But bear with me for a second. It’s not that I really wanted for myself or anyone to perish — I’m not that sadistic. 🙂 But I realized how woefully unhappy I was in my life. I’d made many sacrifices for my job, and while I fundamentally loved what I did, I was masking my general unhappiness every day under a cloak of Suzy Sunshine-esque mannerisms.

And what struck me more than anything was that people died for their jobs, fundamentally. I’m not talking about the firefighters and police and other good samaritans who restored our faith in humanity. Oh, no, I’m talking about the office workers who were counting on just another ordinary day in the workforce so that they could get a paycheck. I didn’t live in Washington, D.C., at the time (and BOY did my mom freak out when I decided to move to the nation’s capital, but that’s a story for another day). But I realized that I could very well have been one of the people jumping to my death to escape a burning building. I could have been trapped in a stairwell with other unsuspecting people, praying for my life. I could have died a very unhappy woman in an environment I had grown to dread.

But I didn’t. I am fortunate to have lived to make the changes in my life so many others would have done. And while my contribution to the workforce and the economy is a small one, it’s still all I have to give.

So it took me three years, literally to the day, to start working from home. But this is the lesson that many people learned before me, and I hope others will follow in our paths. Someone at a previous job had a great saying, how clear-cut the employee/employer relationship is: you give them a full week of work, then they give you a paycheck for that work. End of story. That is the extent of your contract with them. But I always gave my heart and soul to any job I held. And while I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I’ve, well, rocked socks, the bottom line is that I worked too hard for what I got in return. Questions always arise whether the employer needs us more than we need them, but when we need that paycheck (commensurate or not with the effort expended), well, we need to feel like we earned every dime. At least, that’s how I’ve felt. And I still do, but if I’m going to be busting my behind, I want to be the beneficiary. And now I am. My business will only be as successful as I make it.

Anyway, I’m treading carefully here, because I don’t want future employers to read this and think I’m a walking attitude problem. But I don’t want anyone to miss the message that no matter whether you work for someone else or yourself, you need to be fulfilled by it each and every day. We come into this world with so much potential, and I truly believe that something, anything has to change by the end of each workday. In the positive sense, of course. So many people amble through their vocations, not realizing that they have the power to change their respective industries, if only they seized the opportunity. And many people don’t have that option — some are held back by politics, by superiors, by their own indecision or insecurity. We as leaders should be enabling every single person to grow to his or her heights within an organization. Most people are rebels at heart (at least, I am anyway), and when you give them parameters, they like to go beyond them. So keep setting the bar even higher, and you will be amazed at how people surpass themselves.

So, in any event, Sept. 11, 2001, is truly the start of a snowball effect on the labor of love. Whether paid or unpaid, Americans and maybe even citizens of the world have realized that whatever they want to do, they can do it and should do it before it is too late. The lesson I learned throughout my life, and it is magnified now, is that we may be born alone and die alone, but we don’t have to live alone. There is always some sort of safety net out there — friends and strangers really aren’t so different, when you think about it. We all want each other to succeed, and when we spot that spark in others, whether we’ve known them 10 minutes or 10 years, we want to help them to reach their happiness. When we can and do help, it’s a stop along the way to reaching our own.

On iTunes: Pat Benatar, “Invincible”

I’ve found myself in a strange position lately: a mentor to anyone who needs me.

It’s weird how, when your life kind of falls apart, you suddenly get a clear vision of just why you were put on this earth and what you love to do. My strength, my gift, my calling is to be a mentor — the proverbial helping hand, the gift horse, the sage, the traveler who is 10 steps ahead of you who has just been where you are right now.

The life lesson that I can share is that when it rains, it pours. In four days, I left my job, broke my phone, got my car dented by some moron, had a first date cancel on me and more stuff I’m not planning to post here. 🙂 Same thing is going on elsewhere — my former core staff of three is temporarily a staff of one. In fact, I just got a desperate call from that lone wolf, and I am glad to say that I knew how to solve the problem immediately. I know, I’m almost off the payroll, but if there is one thing I have learned, it is how to spot the opportunity in every crisis, and it’s the least I can do to share my wisdom with the next generation.

That’s actually the first logical step forward — after you’ve accepted that life is unfair, your next conquest is to defuse the situation and move out of crisis mode. After the urgency of the situation is removed, then everyone can think clearly.

I was talking to one of my dear online friends, who noted that she learns a life lesson every time I leave a comment on her site. That kind of made me giggle out loud — as I mentioned to her, there’s a moment when you realize you truly do know (or have experienced) enough to become a mentor. You realize you have dispensed solid advice, and you wonder to yourself, “When the hell did I become the grown-up?” Because, let’s face it, we all have our own mentors, and it’s unnerving to realize we have joined their ranks. But in a good way.

So again, I’ve not earned any money in my freelance business today, but my heart grew three sizes that day. 😉

On iTunes: Mary Chapin Carpenter, “Grand Central Station”

Today I spent: $200

Today I earned: $0

Perhaps I have taken my attitude of, “I’ll be fine financially … eventually — stop worrying” a little bit too far.

Spent the afternoon doing serious credit card damage at Tyson’s Corner. Didn’t bring home much, though. Got some great new sheets and some wrought-iron curtain rods and entirely too many specialty food treats from Harry & David.

Un Self-employed people should not have this much fun with money they don’t have yet. 🙂

I did pick up a freelance gig for next week. Woo hoo! I *really* lowered my rates to ensure I would get the job. The great news is that this will pay my rent next month. Hurrah! The glorious news is that I can do it from the sanctity of my own home.

I’ve applied for about a dozen other freelance leads, but I’m not sure how to dazzle people via e-mail. I figure that sending a resume and a PDF of a professional reference is a good start, but alas, I am a newbie and who only knows what protocols I am missing at this point. Live and learn, I suppose. My next goal is to write a consultant agreement, and fast!

What I need to do now is hit the Virginia lottery — I need a laptop in case any of these leads come through during the three weeks my plants will be dying that I am on vacation. Many props to go Cope for creating the Freelance Daily newsletter for us homebound employees. Sign up, friends! It’s free and you’ll love perusing employment leads that land in your inbox by 9 a.m. every weekday!

In other news, my previous week’s shopping yielded big results in my post office box today. A couple of great shirts from Old Navy (I need to be trendy even if I’m not leaving the house!) and my Passion Parties business cards awaited my arrival as well. By the way, I LOVE donations mail — drop me a line (or a contract) at P.O. Box 9663, Alex., VA 22304!

Oh, and I have a DATE tonight (Thursday). Hurrah! Here’s to hopefully finding a sane single in my neck of the woods! At least I can sport one of my new outfits — I swear, dating should be a business expense in its own right! 😉

On iTunes: Frou Frou, “Let Go”

Now that I’ve gone and told everyone where to find me, I start thinking about moving this blog to a subfolder of this site. 🙂 Don’t move your bookmarks just yet, though. I’m still trying to sort it out.

In good news, I got my business cards today for my freelancing business. Hooray! They’re so pretty. Glossy, shiny, new and MINE. Mine, all mine. My business. My future. My PRESENT. I was like the dorky guy on the commericals who gets his new business cards and furtively sniffs the freshly printed paper, reveling in the scent of the fresh ink where his name is now printed.

I kind of did that at the post office today. I was mailing a letter off to my good buddy Isabel, and she got the first business card of the bunch. 🙂 I almost wept when I saw my perfect little cards. I didn’t order a ton of them, just enough to get by for the next couple of months. Hopefully, I will have a grand identity and logo to launch when the time comes to re-order.

Anyway, I got to thinking about blog names. Of course, I would want something related to journalism, because that’s the highly esteemed educational degree I hold. But it’s funny about journalistic terms — they’re macabre, to say the least. We “kill” stories we don’t want or need and offer “kill fees” to authors for their trouble. We write “heads” and “cutlines.” “Deadline” was a prison term back in the days of stockades. Your lead paragraph of a story is the “nut graf” (not so much morbid but appropriate — it’s usually a nut who’s writing it!). Our archives are “morgues.” We “bury” fluffy stories in the back of an edition. Etcetera. People call us renegades, muckrakers, watchdogs. The general public talks about “violence in the media,” not understanding that the violence is in the WORLD and we’re just responsible for telling them about it.

Thus, you see the conundrum in coming up with an intriguing blog name when this is the material with which I have to work!

Suggestion box (er, the comment box) is below — what would you name this joint?

On iTunes: Shawn Mullins, “Lullaby”

Unemployment is at its lowest point ever (so the local news says), yet I am among the few who hold that honor. I don’t know why more people aren’t doing it — unemployment is fun!

Actually, I shouldn’t talk in those terms. I am SELF employed. Damn it. 🙂

Had a crappy breakfast at the local greasy spoon. Normally, I ask them to hold the side of pancakes, but today, I’m glad I didn’t because the breakfast was burned to a crisp. I ordered bacon, not beef jerky. And while I typically greedily consume eggs, well, today they just looked at me like, “I dare you to eat my runny goodness.” Ugh. (Yes, one day without gainful employment and I’m already conversing with my breakfast.)

The service wasn’t so hot either, and my server only had three tables. I’ve been in there before and know she has worked there for at least a year. I tipped well, because that’s just me, but I generally hate to tip at all when I have to go in search of my own coffee.

Nearly everyone in the joint was by himself or herself. We all brought paperwork or newspapers — anything to avoid the flashing signs above our heads that read, “I’m dining alone!” I had brought bills and my checkbook, writing out the remaining drops of funny money on car insurance, property tax and a parking ticket. I can’t afford to pay for the fucking car, what with all the incidentals.

Attempted to take my car to a shop to get new shoes (tires) and brakes, but nobody would wait on me and I refuse to reward such shoddy customer service. The mechanics were either smoking cigarettes in the parking lot or sitting at the desk with their feet propped up. I gave it five minutes because I know this place would give me the best price on what I need. But if there’s one thing I understand, it’s providing customers with the royal treatment (when you’re in business for yourself, you gain a whole new appreciation of this). And when you work really hard for your money, well, you want to spend it in establishments that value you just as much as your money. It’s one thing to spend $10 on a breakfast, but another thing entirely to be prepared to spend $400 to keep your car running.

In any event, I did get a lot of personal business done today. Next on the list is to register my businesses with the city and to get those new shoes for the car (I have to look at it as shoe shopping — that’s always been something that has brought me pleasure!). I also have coffee planned for tomorrow night with some Passion Parties colleagues. Yeah, so far I’m doing a lot of money spending and not so much money making, but it’ll more than even out with all the preparation I’m doing.

In any event, the sun is shining — both outside and inside my heart. For as stressful as today has been and tomorrow may be, though, it’s good to be me.

On iTunes: Cary Brothers, “Blue Eyes”

Typically, at the tail end of a holiday weekend, I have one of two reactions. One, I probably worked on the holiday and would be bemoaning the fact that everyone else had a long weekend but I did not. Or two, I’d be getting the back-to-school butterflies.

I started to get the butterflies tonight, and instinctively, I started making some hot chocolate to soothe my nerves so that I wouldn’t be awake half the night, dreading the workweek.

But then I remembered …

I DON’T HAVE A JOB ANYMORE.

And while the financial future is a scary one (that should, admittedly, be causing gastrointestinal activity more similar to trapped hornets than butterflies), I became almost giddy at the fact that I don’t have to go into the old office anymore. Not that I didn’t like my job — I loved it, actually — but I won’t duck in late and hope to not be noticed as I futz with my key in the door. I won’t have to dart to the coffee pot and jet back to my office, where I kept my own personal supply of creamer and Splenda, to avoid fumbled too-early-in-the-morning chitchat over the murky brew. I won’t see the light on my voice mail lit up with some misdirected caller who landed in my VM box because they know my name or they met me at some function and hope I can redirect his or her request to the right person or, as they always ask, if I can just handle it myself because they trust me.

Tomorrow, I will awaken without an alarm. I will make coffee and curl up on the couch with the remote and a pack of Camel Lights. I will giggle at Jerry Springer and dance with Ellen DeGeneres. I will go to the dollar store to pick up paper towels, check my post office box and maybe go vacuum my car. Or not. Whatever — it’s my time now.

I’m on vacation — in my own mind, anyway. My goal is to not look for full-time work because that’s a life that never truly suited me. I will look for freelance projects soon, though, because one cannot live in D.C. on dreams alone. But tomorrow is not that day that I figure out the rest of my life. No, tomorrow is the day I enjoy as the first day I’ve never needed to be anywhere or call/meet with anybody.

It’s a good feeling. And now, I am sipping hot chocolate and having my last cigarette of the night, but there’s no pressure to crawl into bed because there will be no alarm to jolt me into functioning in seven hours.

I’m starting to live the life I’ve coveted for so long. Makes me wonder why I didn’t do it sooner. I think everyone in the world would be happier if work wasn’t the No. 1 priority in life.

On iTunes: Melissa Ferrick, “Feel Like Makin’ Love”

My heart just did a little jump. I signed up for a seminar at the Virginia Press Association — an all-day affair on business reporting. Normally, were I still gainfully employed, I would have heard about this and said, “Damn, it falls on my editorial deadline day. Maybe another time.” But not today — I am free as a bird now. Not only will I have a chance to learn and to network, but it’s also a tax write-off.

I took great joy at striking “editorial deadline” off my calendar and writing my new plans over it. Much as I would rather have a paying gig, I delighted in feeling like a “grown-up” who is truly in charge of her own schedule. Why didn’t I quit the “real job” circuit sooner?!?!

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve quit my job and moved all my office furnishings into my dining room.

It’s exciting, really, even though I left in a hurry, with no savings or anything. Sometimes, you just have to stand still for a moment and let the wind pick you up and carry you to your next destination. Or, in my case, destinations. I’ve held a lot of very different jobs in my life, and today is the day I begin taking what I loved from each one and parlaying those elements into my future.

An old colleague of mine works for himself now. He once warned me that being self-employed isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, because your new boss is a real asshole and there’s no escaping that person because, well, it’s YOU.

It’s a chance I’m altogether too glad to take, however.

I’ve decided I won’t *officially* start my freelance odyssey until Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I am taking this weekend to detox and give myself a true emotional dialysis from the life I used to have. In the meantime, I’ve transformed the lovely glass-and-wrought-iron dining room table into my new executive desk. I’ve got tons of Passion Parties catalogs piled up (hint, hint — host a party with me, pretty please! *bats eyelashes*).

One thing I’ve decided is to not fret about where the next paycheck is coming from. I’m sure that day will come and probably sooner than I’d hoped, but I’ve never had any doubt as to my ability to land on my feet, and this is my chance to see if I’ve got what it takes to become my own personal corporate empire.

Barbara J. Winter, one of my favorite authors, says that the joy in working for oneself is that all of one’s days are pre-paid. Meaning, work your tail off, but know that you can take a break at any time because you have earned it. No more begging a boss to let you take off a month because you don’t feel like working. That’s unheard of in the land of strict leave policies. Now I get to set my leave policies, and let me just say, it’s divine, because I’m taking three weeks to myself to travel. Three weeks! I intend to return as refreshed as one can be. I will see family in Pittsburgh and in Springfield, Ore. And when I come back, I will definitely be project-hunting and writing for sale like there’s no tomorrow, but I look forward to my next break — probably in the summer. This from the girl who’s never had a real vacation in her life. I’m so excited about being me — truly, I’ve never been this happy to be alive. I’ve never been this scared, either, but I’ve no time for fear right now.

A teeny, tiny part of me wants to be successful to spite those who said I couldn’t make it happen. But really, I want to dazzle for the benefit of those who never expected anything less from me.

There is a moment of quietude one reaches when all projects are put to bed and one wonders, “Now what?”

“Now what” is infinitely better to ponder than the “What the hell have I just done?” that threatens to overtake one’s psyche.

Whoever ratted me out at work, I almost want to send them a thank-you card instead of murdering them in their beds. I look forward to leaving the semantics behind when I clean out my desk on Friday.

But I will miss my favorite parts of the job. The morning check-ins with A, our first cigarette break of the day before we get started on our work (we aren’t morning people), the brainstorming sessions, the midday therapy sessions, the food/smoke runs in the afternoon, the late-day check-ins with “Adonis” and the camaraderie we all share in general with each other and our vendors.

Next week at this time, I will have nowhere to be, no pressures other than figuring out where the car payment is coming from. I’ve waited so long for this time, but it didn’t happen the way I planned. Then again, nothing ever does unfold the way you expected it would.

The job with the vendor may or may not work out. They are being met with resistance about me being a customer and all — can’t they see that as a customer, I am the best person to transition into their job opening? And it makes me wonder whether they would be comfortable having me when I was so thoroughly displeased with my former employer.

I’ve spent so much time hoping for miracles, but the reality hit today that all I ever really wanted was respect. I neither needed nor wanted to be celebrated — just accepted as a contributing member of the team. I hated being accused of keeping my department in the proverbial “silo” because I was always reaching out to help others — particularly others who wanted no suggestions or manpower or ideas or communication. The dichotomy drove me to distraction sometimes.

I’m trying not to feel guilty about taking a month off before I start looking for what it is I’m going to do next. The money situation is the killer, of course — I really do need the time to gather the strength to decide what I want to do before I go about doing it. We all go from job to job or life situation to life situation, assuming the next one is better. And sometimes it is, but more often, we trade bad for bad. I hated most of my staff at my last job but handpicked and nurtured everyone I had on my team at this job. But I supported the vision of my last job and hated the lack of vision at the current one. What would my next move have brought? Why can’t I take the time to prioritize and be prepared to search for what exactly I want and be able to live with what I don’t necessarily desire?

This is what makes me hate the welfare system. We reward people who shit out five kids and pay them to stay at home. But for people who are truly suffering an identity crisis, as I am doing right now, shouldn’t we get back some of the money we dumped into TANF so that we can massage our feet before we jump back into the race? Employers enjoy the luxury of interviewing a ton of candidates before settling on the right one — they leave positions open indefinitely and overburden the remaining staff. Why can’t I entertain several career possibilities without the distraction of wondering just how long it will be until my car is repossessed?

I will probably end up taking a stab at several careers at once. This is my right, this is my wish, this is my future. But there is the pressure to just take a “real” job for a year just to make ends meet (although even with a full-time job, I haven’t managed once to make ends even appear in the same ZIP Code, much less meet!). Tiff says it would be nice to “win” for a change — earning more money than we spend constitutes a win. But the thing is, the more money we make, the more we need. Sure, I don’t need to spend $136 on digital cable and broadband, but for as much as I work from home (as well as for how I am too poor to go out much), I see it as an investment. I keep meaning to cancel the cable and keep the broadband (at $50), but damn HBO and Showtime series (like “Six Feet Under,” “The L Word” and “Dead Like Me” keep me forking over the cash. Not like I can find anything ELSE to watch on the other 700 channels I have!

Anyway, suffice it to say that reality has hit. I didn’t mean (or want) to wallow, but I’m starting to get nervous. And I’m too tired to be nervous. I need to think about the future, but the present is draining the life out of me.

I have four pages of a to-do list, none of which has to do with finishing up the old job. This is a good thing, I guess. I will suddenly have the time to have a life again. But it’s not going to stop me from missing the life I had.

Word to Adonis, even though he has no idea where I am blogging now: I never expected that missing you would be so high on my to-do list. Maybe there is life for us — together — after this whole mess is over. Am I the only one hoping for this? You’ve promised that we won’t end. But first, we have to begin.

I have so many beginnings to anticipate; I just hope that I am aiming for the right things.

On iTunes: Seether f/Amy Lee, “Broken”