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| Wednesday, August 15, 2007 |
| Emotional Reset |
Someone (TomO I think it was you) said at Eddypolusa this year that the annual event is sort of an emotional reset for him. As soon as the words left his mouth I thought: Yes! YES! That's exactly it.
In years past that reset, that sense of calm has always stayed with me for months. Not so for 2007. Faced with a boss whom I've described at length before, I came back and was working weekends, was working on my days off, was driving myself insane. The anxiety I felt between the hours of 9 and 5 was following me home, constantly nipping at my heels.
I was headed for a breakdown and I knew it.
And then the weekend arrived. A weekend that promised the company of some of my guy friends, some baseball, and some beer. Saturday found us in the second row of dead center field at Camden Yards watching Beckett pitch a masterful game - the only one the Sox won in the series. Saturday night there was some Mexican food, many MANY beers, and a lot of entertaining conversation.
After a hangover-curing greasy brunch, there was a surprise sailing trip. 4 guy friends, a cooler full of beer, and my first trip on a sail boat (yes I am the worst Rhode Islander ever). As we floated past the monuments, swam in the placid waters of the Potomac, and talked about absolutely nothing for hours on end, I felt further away from work than I had since my days on the St. Croix.
But a 2am arrival time back in NYC and a morning that came far too fast brought Monday crashing down on my head. And then I did the smartest thing I've done in a long time.
I called out sick.
A lazy day of no work, sleep, some tv watching, and more sleep found me sitting in the office yesterday morning with a slight smile on my face as my boss called me insubordinate. For planning a happy hour. After hours. For a coworker who was leaving.
I'd officially figured out how to emotionally reset myself. And damn did it feel good.
 Labels: baseball, drinking, friends, photos, Red Sox, travel, work |
posted by FINY @ Wednesday, August 15, 2007   |
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| Wednesday, August 01, 2007 |
| Just Walk Away |
I should be writing about how excited I am about the Gagne trade.
Or how I leave this evening bound for Rhode Island and a tradition that has stood with my high school friends since somewhere in the mid - to - late nineties.
I should be writing about loving the summer, that song "Naive" by the Kooks, and how listening to it while walking down my tree-lined Brooklyn street always puts a bounce in my step.
But instead, my chest is so tight that it feels like I'm having a panic attack. Because I have a problem ... I work too hard.
I am about to spend two of my "vacation" days working from home. So much went wrong at the office this week (of course - always on a week you're taking time off, right?) that I actually broke down into tears in the office today. None of it was my fault, and I think I handled it really well, but the problem with having a boss who doesn't understand what you do is that - she doesn't understand what you do. So when things go wrong, she has no idea how much time it takes to fix, and how that time is time you can't spend on other less-important projects. Hell, she doesn't even always understand what's important and what's not.
So instead of heading to Rhode Island relaxed, happy, and excited to sit around getting wasted with people I've known for two decades, I'm leaving my apartment wishing there was some way I could add ten extra hours to my day. Or just stop time altogether so I can catch up.
I need to learn how to walk away. This isn't healthy. It's just a job. But unfortunately, I'm proud of the work I do, and even knowing this wasn't my fault, I feel like I've let people down. Even if those people don't realize that they're asking unreasonable things. Even if they don't seem to appreciate my willingness to give up precious time with my family and friends in order to work on days I shouldn't be.
I'm so not going to be able to sleep tonight.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, August 01, 2007 |
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| Friday, June 29, 2007 |
| The Definition of Professional |
pro-fes-sion-al- adj. - Engaging in a given activity as a source of livelihood or as a career
writ-er- n. - a person engaged in writing books, articles, stories, etc., esp. as an occupation or profession
When I was in college, all I wanted in the world was to be able to call myself a writer. It was, I figured, a pursuit that likely would never come to fruition. Writing doesn't pay well, you see, and unfortunately I was not all that keen on living with my parents. So instead of devoting myself to a craft I loved so much, instead of taking the risk, going to graduate school and immersing myself in literary endeavors, I did what so many of my fellow word-loving-geeks do: I got a job fixing other people's writing. I went into publishing.
There has not been a day since when I have not participated in some sort of writing activity. Who knew college professors don't actually know how to write their own textbooks!
My word quota has upped significantly in the past couple of years as I've moved into the nonprofit sector. Turns out "Publications Manager" and "Online Content Manager" are just fancy ways to say: you're going to write until your fingers get all puffy. Articles, announcements, newsletters, direct mail campaigns, websites, brochures, you name it, I've probably written it.
But through all this, I never thought of myself as a writer. A writer was someone who writes books or poems or articles. Who doesn't go into an office every day. And yet yesterday, someone I highly respect introduced me via email to someone as a "Professional Writer". I almost laughed. Who did he think he was kidding? I'm not a professional writer! I'm a professional ...
hmm.
Hold on a second ...
Holy crap!
A professional is someone who gets paid to do something right? Ok, so I get paid to sit here and write copy all day ...
Damn. Turns out I'm a writer after all.Labels: work, writing |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, June 29, 2007 |
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| Wednesday, May 30, 2007 |
| Am I the Kiss of Death or What? |
My boss' boss resigned today. She'll be gone by the end of June. And as soon as she's gone the deathwatch will begin on MY boss. Most of us don't give her long once her boss is gone. It's a long story, but it leads me to one question ... am I like the black cat walking across an organization's path? My last nonprofit basically went under. Now the shake-ups here not even three months after my arrival ... one has to wonder.
Most of my coworkers are thinking I am safe from any "cleaning house" type moves that could be made under new supervision. With some relatively high ranking executives on my side, I know I’ve got enough people in my corner to lobby for me. But after losing my job TWICE last year, I can’t help but worry. Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, May 30, 2007 |
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| Thursday, May 10, 2007 |
| The Lessons Not Learned |
I think I missed a day in health class back in middle school. Perhaps it was when I was almost hospitalized with the chicken pox? Or maybe it was even younger than that, maybe they taught this lesson when I missed a few days in elementary school when that mean boy from down the street chased me on my bike and I flipped over the handlebars and landed on my face.
Whenever it was, I seem to have missed a lot of the "How to Be a Girl" lessons. Sure I got the "How to Wear Your Emotions On Your Sleeve", the "101 Ways to Increase Melodrama". I especially enjoyed the "The Art of the Chick Flick" class. I even took some cross over courses. "The Art of the Infield Fly Rule" was a good one. As was "Across the Line: The Evolution of Icing in the Game of Hockey".
But as I sat around my office today, chatting with fellow coworkers about the sample sale going on 14 floors below and comparing purchases, I felt like the kid who skipped a grade because he did well on one test only to realize he should probably be in remedial reading. I'd been so proud lately that I'd finally been wearing heels on a consistent basis. That the occasional eye shadow would grace my lids. Hell, I even felt downright sexy in the dress I wore to the gala last week!
Then the comments started coming – in the friendliest fashion possible of course.
"You do have the right brushes to apply that eye shadow, right? And that you should probably wear eyeliner with it?"
"You should wear more belts they'd give you much more of a waist."
"That lipstick probably isn't the best color for your skin tone."
Now, who knows, they're probably right, but here's my question: Where the HELL are you people learning this stuff? I have no idea what kind of skin tone I have or which eye shadow will accent my blue eyes well. I've figured out that black is slimming, but damn, how much black can one person wear? (Ok, I live in New York, so actually, quite a bit).
So is there some sort of summer school I can go to to catch up on this shit? I'm a pretty hard studier, I am sure I can make up for the lost time. Or maybe a cheat sheet I could get? Is there a Cliff's Notes out there somewhere?
I never did like feeling behind at school. Now I just feel behind at life.Labels: misc., work |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, May 10, 2007 |
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| Thursday, April 19, 2007 |
| How To Get Dressed In The Morning While Doped Up On Cold Medicine |
1. Look in the mirror.
Yup, yup that's it. That's all you've got to do people. But apparently? That was a little too much for me today.
After having spent the entirety of yesterday in a cold sweat under my down comforter, coughing so much that I gave myself a migraine, and barely being able to get up in order to down the water that was necessary to keep me from completely dehydrating, I awoke this morning thinking "Ok, I can do this I can go to work".
And I thought I could, I really did. Until my boss told me I looked like hell. And then HER boss told me I looked awful. And then yet another coworker told me I really should go home. This was a real ego boost of a morning let me tell you.
So I did as I was told and boarded the subway to Brooklyn around 1:30. It was only when I was hanging up my jacket in the closet that is conveniently right next to the full length mirror that I realized, my being sick may have not been the only reason they had all told me to go home. When I had dressed this morning, in my black pleated work pants and my dark teal cashmere sweater, which I had never worn, I thought I was fine. But upon closer inspection, and in different light?
Yeah the damn this is pretty effing see-through. And I'm not talking, just see the outline of the bra kind of see-through, I'm talking, see the cute little flowers that are embroidered into the bra kind of see through. Like hey-I-can-see-your-belly-button see-through.
I'm going to go crawl back into bed now.Labels: How-to, work |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, April 19, 2007 |
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| Wednesday, April 04, 2007 |
| Slacker |
There are a million things I should be doing right now. Not the least of which being that I should be at the bar watching the Sox game instead of listening to it on the internet. Or putting away my laundry. Or, I don't know, eating dinner.
But thus far, this job has been sucking the life out of me. I'm too tired to do shit. Now don't take that the wrong way, I am still enjoying it, and it's challenging me in all the right ways. But I was thrown into the very end of a project that I had no part in planning, and that I am now heading up. It's taking ten hour days and an assertiveness that I didn't know I had in me. Like I said, challenging, but in a good way.
It has, however, adversely effected my blogging, as some of my friends have mentioned to me more than once (and I love that I am hearing from my friends ... who see me all the time, and yet are still giving me shit about not updating). I didn't realize how writing for, editing, and revamping a website all day would make me less than enthusiastic about hopping on the internet as soon as I got home. So bear with me folks. Hopefully this weekend home (yay Easter!) will do me some good and I'll get back into the swing of things when I return.Labels: misc., work |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, April 04, 2007 |
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| Tuesday, March 13, 2007 |
| Dressing the Part |
Business Casual. It can mean so many things. To most of the places I've worked it's meant just that. Look presentable should a client, author, or executive come in, but wearing a blazer to work would be taken as a sign that you were looking elsewhere and had an interview that day.
Not the place of new employ. Oh no. They say business casual, they mean business. I've somehow managed to find a nonprofit organization that is more corporate than most major corporations I've worked for.
At first, it kinda irked me. Mainly because it meant I had to go out and buy new clothes (thank God for that raise). Suddenly I'm wearing more skirts than I thought possible. I've had to relearn how to walk in heels. I've been digging dress pants I forgot I had off the top shelves of closets.
But you know what? There might actually be something to this dress code thing. I'm feeling more confident, more competent, more, I don't know ... dare I say it, professional. Like I actually deserve the sweet office with the amazing view that somehow got bestowed upon me.
At first I thought this newfound energy and excitement were from simply, you know, finding employment. But I really do feel great walking out the door all dressed up every day. Sure, I am positive that a few months from now I'm really going to miss wearing jeans on Fridays. But then again, in the last two days, I've had four different men actually tell me I could be a movie star/actress/model. And who wouldn't love that?!
(and no, I am not going to mention that three of them were over the sixty mark and the fourth was one of our cafeteria food service guys ... a compliment is a compliment, damnit!)Labels: misc., work |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, March 13, 2007 |
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| Thursday, March 01, 2007 |
| It's Official ... |
... I'm staying in NYC.
Running out to a lunch date, and then back with all the details.
Hurrah!!!Labels: Unemployment, work |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, March 01, 2007 |
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| Tuesday, November 14, 2006 |
| A Little Help? |
There are a lot of reasons I don't talk about work in this space that often. It's a dangerous topic to touch. People have been fired for less. And even if a current employer doesn't mind, if a blogger is out there looking for a new job, the potential for someone to not get an interview, or not get a job because of their personal blogs is not out of the realm of possibility.
And that's exactly the scenario I'm looking at right now. The unfortunate reality of working in the non-profit world is that the money can dry up, and it can dry up quick. And that's the situation I'm being faced with right now. Less than a year into my job, a job I love more than anything, I've got to face the music and start looking for another place of employ. And this isn't me speculating. This is my boss telling me that it's a good idea to keep my options open. Because we don't have a time frame. And it might not happen. But even if it doesn't, do I really want to stay? Because there'd be very little left to work on, even if they do keep us all around.
So I'm back where I was last January. And if anyone knows of any non-profit communications positions ... well, send 'em my way.Labels: Unemployment, work |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, November 14, 2006 |
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| Tuesday, July 25, 2006 |
| Blinded |
I know it's tough to tell from what I write in this space, but I care a ridiculous amount about grammar. The written word is precious to me. Sure when I blog I throw all grammar, punctuation, and spelling rules out the window, but it's mainly because I spend all day getting paid to agonize over whether our organization should hyphenate the word email or not (my feeling is not. When the internet and email were first emerging the word was hyphenated as an abbreviated way of indicating that it was "electronic mail". At this point, email is so ingrained in our culture the hyphen is no longer needed. We all know it's electronic by now).
But I do care. A lot. Especially when it comes to the publications I work on. I take pride in what I do, and how hard I work to do it. So when I received the call that one of our publications had arrived from the printer (well the overages had after being sent out to all 33,000 people on our mailing list) I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait to see it. I had poured over this thing for months. 24 pages of articles, some I'd written, all I'd edited, I couldn't wait to see the final product.
But then I flipped through. And in just those few seconds I realized that that was a bad idea. I should have held onto that moment longer. That "Oh, Wow, look what I did" moment. Because the minute I cracked the spine with was over. Two typos immediately stuck out, and this thing, this project, that had become my baby for the last few months, was dirtied.
And it's stupid because really? If I am honest with myself, not many people read this thing. Just thinking about how many mailers I get from various non-profit organizations, and knowing that 99.9% of them end up in the trash, is enough to make that point hit home. And one of the typos I doubt anyone will even notice. But I did. And I will every time I look at the damn thing now.
So I ended up being blinded by a lot of things. Blinded by the sheer repetition of the proofing cycle. So blinded that I completely missed things that should have been obvious. I was blinded by my minds eye which scientifically does actually see what you want it to see at certain times. And I was blinded by my rage at myself. That I couldn't do what I get paid to do - catch the errors.
This is what happens when all of the publications flow through one person. And Mom and DTR and a number of other people tried to tell me no one is perfect. But when it comes to the written word that is actually exactly what I am paid for. To fix mistakes. To be perfect.
And I want to write about how great the weekend was, and how I think my favorite part was Sunday when all we did was buy the Twin some glasses, catch a movie, and hang out at some bookstores, and how that makes me feel a little old but I don't really care. But instead I'm still fuming at myself. And sitting here wondering how to snap myself out of it.Labels: work, writing |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, July 25, 2006 |
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| Thursday, June 15, 2006 |
| You Can't Teach Your Life's Lessons to Other People |
The email came in early yesterday morning from DTR.
"Museum Girl just got fired."
I immediately jumped up from my desk, hustled down the hallway, and found DTR on the phone with her. Memories from that day three months ago came flooding back all too quickly, though with not nearly the same sting they used to carry with them. Instead I was remembering the feelings without actually feeling them. I thought this would make me excellent counsel for Museum Girl and that night joined her and DTR at DTR's apartment in Hoboken for some dinner and some good old fashioned cheering up.
But as we sat there, MG in the same shocked state I had been in – feeling like a failure, wondering what she was going to do, still replaying the conversation in her head – I realized that I actually could be of no more help than anyone else. When I was fired everyone told me I was going to be fine, actually better. For five weeks I dismissed them all. Thought, they don't know what I'm going through. How the hell do they know anyway, this is my life, how am I going to make rent?! It wasn't until after I got the new job and got out of the terrible situation I was in that I realized they were all right. And that's going to be when Museum Girl realizes we were right too. One day down the line she's going to wake up and think, oh my God, it was completely true!
Until then I guess all we can do is get her a good stiff drink, some chocolate, some ice cream, and some tissues.Labels: friends, work |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, June 15, 2006 |
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| Tuesday, May 09, 2006 |
| The Job, The Breakup, The Weddings, The Sox |
Welcome back to the world of Finy, everyone. Yeah I know, it’s been about a month since I posted last, and previous to that I was inconsistent at best. But I’m back, never to be thwarted again. I forgot until yesterday how cathartic this can be, how much I missed writing every day. So I hope you will forgive me, dear readers, and give me a chance to win you back.
The Job
Well, it’s been about three months now. Still as happy as ever. In those three months I’ve put out one issue of a magazine, three issues of an electronic  newsletter, written letters, PSAs, and am about to come out with my second magazine. I still think it’s crazy sometimes how much I am in charge of; the budgets, the print runs, the writers. But it’s a good crazy. It’s a daily challenge, and there’s very little I love more than a challenge. Plus, it’s still wonderful to know that I am working for a great cause. I know that I am helping, in a small way, to better the lives of others. I am no longer stealing textbook money from broke college students hands, working for little to no acknowledgement, and being an insignificant blip in the corporate America world. In an organization that employs only 16 people, who’s board almost outnumbers it’s staff, I can actually make a difference here. And hot damn if that doesn’t feel great.
The Breakup
I don’t actually want to talk about it too too much. I think it’s still too fresh. Well, actually, it is still too fresh. It’s been almost three weeks – but it still feels like an open wound. Basically what it came down to is that he didn’t love me. And I loved him. The end.
I kind of wish he had been an ass about it. I wish I could be mad at him. But I know he cared about me, just not in the right way. He was honest and open with me about that, and in the end, he just didn’t know that he was ever going to get to the place that I was at. End of story.
The worst part, though, was the timeline of events.
Thursday, 10:30pm: The Twin leaves my apartment. I have made it through the conversation without crying in front of him. The door closes. I lose it. And then promptly call MM, Meegan, and my roommate Lee. I clearly can’t be alone right now.
Thursday, 11pm Friends and roommates start arriving with beer, cookies, and ice cream in hand.
Friday 1:30am Friends leave. I lose it again. Had been doing ok with people around, but once alone, am sobbing hysterically. Call Adam in LA since West Coast time, it’s not that late.
Friday 2:30am Finally fall asleep through sheer mental and physical exhaustion.
Friday 3:30am Wake up and shower.
Friday 4:30am Get in waiting black car that takes me to La Guardia
Friday 6am Flight leaves.
Friday 11am Touch down in South Bend, IN. Commence with weekend long torture as I am here for my cousin’s BRIDAL SHOWER.
Talk about a kick in the pants. I had had my heart broken not more than 12 hours pervious and for three days had to be happy, shiny, member of the bridal party. I didn’t succeed that well. Plus I was only working on an hour of sleep. Let’s just say I was in such a state that I actually smoked in front of my mother. THAT didn’t go over well, let me tell you.
But it IS getting easier. Slowly. And thank God or what is about to come up would be completely unbearable.
The Weddings
That’s right everyone, welcome to wedding season!!! This Thursday I fly down to  Florida be a bridesmaid in my best friend Adam’s wedding to my college roommate Kat. Next weekend is free, but the weekend after that is a wedding in RI of a friend of mine from high school. The VERY next weekend is a wedding here in NY for a guy I’ve known since I was 4. Then there’s another free weekend and then I am back in South Bend again for my cousin’s wedding in which I will be wearing a Vera Wang bridesmaid’s dress and walking down what is possibly the longest aisle of all time. This is the most expensive spring/summer of my life. Because before all of this came the bridal showers, the bachelorette parties the airfares, gifts. Aren’t I too young to have all of my friends getting married, or am I just thinking that because I just got dumped and don’t want anyone else to be happy?
The Sox
But when all else fails, turn to the old standby. Baseball. Tonight, I will be at  Yankee Stadium watching the Red Sox play the Yankees. Yes, I just got dumped. Yeah, I have no money. Sure, I am completely exhausted, and yes, it is gray and rainy outside. But Sox/Yanks? Johnson/Beckett? Yeah, that would cheer any girl up.Labels: Boston, dating, Red Sox, work |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, May 09, 2006 |
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| Thursday, February 23, 2006 |
| The First Day |
"What is important is to keep learning, to enjoy challenge, and to tolerate ambiguity. In the end there are no certain answers."
Martina Horner
Boy do I need to remember those words in the coming days and weeks. Today I completed my first day at the new job. There are so many thing I am just overjoyed about. The cause I'll be working for. The people I'll be working with. The salary. The office. The responsibility.
It was a bit of baptism by fire today. Somehow I went from 7 bosses at my first job out of college, to 4 bosses at my last company, to exactly none at this one. That's right, as of tomorrow, the woman that hired me will no longer be with the company, leaving me with little to no direction. On my second day. With a magazine that is half done and needs to be out in three weeks.
I haven't even started day two yet.
I'm not upset about this. I'm nervous. Which I guess comes with every first day on a new job. I KNOW I can rise to this challenge. And I am looking forward to proving what I can do. But I'd be lying to say that I am not feeling a little in over my head at the moment (and I HATE admiting that knowing some of the people who are continuing to read this blog). But then again, it's only day one.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, February 23, 2006 |
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| Friday, February 17, 2006 |
| A Hangover, A New Job, and a Celebrity Sighting |
I awoke yesterday with, quite possibly, the worst hangover of my life. My head hurt, I threw up, and I generally felt like I was going to die. Wednesday had been my last day, as I had noted before, and after an interview for a sales representative job, I met up with 10 of my good friends at one of my favorite bars both to drown my sorrows and celebrate the end of what had turned into five weeks of torture.
I had intended the night to end with me returning to my apartment, drunk enough to have enjoyed the night, sober enough not to have become sloppy. A lot of beer and two shots later, I only vaguely remember leaving the bar, The Twin taking me back to his place, and generally taking care of me. So the hangover was to be expected I guess.
When I rose at 10:30 to use the bathroom, my head hurt so bad I couldn’t fall back asleep. So I checked my email. Along with a few “Hope you’re enjoying your first day of freedom” messages, was a note from a woman I had interviewed with a few weeks back. She asked me to call her whenever I got a chance. Hangover be damned, I got on the phone right away.
Long story short, I was unemployed for all of 18 hours. I can proudly say I am now the Publications Manager for a national non-profit. I am beyond ecstatic. The job has more responsibility, pays MUCH more, has better benefits, and I finally get to say goodbye to cube living since I’ll have my own office. Basically, it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, PLUS I’ll be working for a really great cause. I didn’t even need to think about it, I accepted the offer immediately. I then promptly called everyone I knew, told them about it, trekked back to my own apartment and went back to sleep. Getting a new job was exciting, but damn that hangover was still kicking my ass.
Later that evening, I met up with a group of friends from the company I had just been fired from. After choking down a few beers, we split ways and I headed towards Union Square to pick up a book at Barnes and Noble. Having just finished The Glass Castle, I had nothing to read on the subway ride home, and now that I was gainfully employed, I could afford to splurge on a new book.
As I’m standing outside Barnes and Noble, talking to Graduate School roommate about the new job and finishing off a cigarette, I see a Sox hat pass me on the street, and then stop a few feet away. The guy wearing it looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it. As I finish my cigarette and head inside I hear “Finy” behind me. I turn around, and it hits me. Sox hat guy? Yeah, it’s Jere ! Maybe not a celebrity to many of you, but to someone who reads his blog every day, he’s a celebrity in my little world. For those of you who don’t read his blog, you should. He knows more about baseball, pop culture, and well, really most anything, than I do.
So being the big dork that I am, I whip out my camera and have Chan take a picture of the two of us (see below). We chatted for a while, Jere led the way to his mother’s book , which I promptly bought. It was REALLY great to meet both Jere and Chan, and I hope Jere knows that now that I have met him in person I am going to require his presence at the bar at least ONCE to catch a game together this season.
So yeah, two days ago, my life was shit. Today, I have a great new job and I got to meet Jere. God damn, life is good.Labels: blogging, drinking, work |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, February 17, 2006 |
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| Wednesday, February 15, 2006 |
| LAST DAY!!! |
No, not of the blog, at my office!!!!
I know I have been woefully neglecting this space, but come tomorrow I'll be a blogging maniac, hell not going to have much else to do. But for the moment, I am just enjoying that in about an hour I'll be in my exit interview. And tonight, I've got an interview for a new job, a better one. Not to mention the three interviews I've already been on. In the words of Tom Petty:
"It's time to move on, time to get goin' what lies ahead I have no way of knowin'. But under my feet babe, grass is growin' it's time to move on. Time to get going."
And I couldn't be more ready.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, February 15, 2006 |
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| Monday, February 06, 2006 |
| Why I am So Emotionally Drained At The End Of The Day |
... because I need to keep smiling through shit like this:
Cast of Characters:
Me – self explanatory
Alanna – friend in the office.
Coworker 1 – woman in her, I don't know, midthirties maybe?
Coworker 2 – woman in her, again, I don't really know, but let's say early 50s
Scene:
Downstairs lobby of my building. Coworker 1 and Coworker 2 say hello to Alanna and I and promptly turn their backs to us, as they were in the middle of a conversation. Two elevators arrive at the same time. Alanna and I get in a different elevator than the rest of the crowd that is waiting.
(cut to the 35th floor)
I exit the elevator maybe two seconds after Coworker 1 and Coworker 2 turn the corner. I can hear them talking but don’t know what about. Coworker 1 sees me out of the corner of her eye.
Coworker 1: whispers something inaudible
Coworker 2: what did you say I can’t hear you
Coworker 1: whispers something I can’t hear
Coworker 2 promptly looks over her shoulder, sees me not three steps behind her, and stops dead in her tracks. Sidestepping so I can walk past her. As I continue down the hall, and Coworker 1 and Coworker 2 turn the corner we hear this:
Coworker 2: God it’s just like school all over again.
Yeah but only because you're making it that way.
The 15th can't come soon enough at this point. It's getting too hard to hold back the tears in the office. This is just downright humiliating.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, February 06, 2006 |
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| Wednesday, January 18, 2006 |
| I've Become Boring! |
... And save the "Become?" comments, wiseasses, I'm serious!
Ever since I was fired I eat, sleep, and breathe the job hunt. I talk about almost nothing else. Hence the reason I haven't blogged in a while. I don't want to bore you guys too.
So shoot me some ideas. Seriously, nothing is too ludicrous. Tell me what to write about and I will. Yes, this is yet another cop out, but trust me, I am saving you all this way.
Have at it!Labels: blogging, work |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, January 18, 2006 |
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| Tuesday, January 10, 2006 |
| I’ve Become The Guest of Honor At A Party I Desperately Want To Leave |
We’ve all been there. You’re at a lame party. There’s no one worth talking to. You’re guzzling watered down Jack and Cokes in an effort to make it all a little better because you’re not allowed to leave. You’ve been approached by the weird dorky guy who mistakes your polite smile and downward glance as a “I’d really love to hear about the Dungeons and Dragons conference you went to last weekend” plea for conversation. More than anything in the world you want to kick off your heels, not in an effort to have a good time, but as a way to make your sprint out the door just that much faster.
But you can’t. You’re stuck. And what’s worse, it’s YOUR party.
This is where I find myself. In the last five days I’ve realized that the key to successfully navigating my post-firing professional career is to avoid, at all costs, declining the invitation to participate in a pity party for one. However, it seems that by RSVPing to that invite with a resounding “No” I have instead become the guest of honor at yet another party. This too is a Pity Party, only it’s not for one. It’s for all.
There’s a fine line that needs to be walked when you’re approaching someone who has just received bad news. It’s a tightrope walk – being supportive is on one side, pitying on the other. They are generally caused by the same thing: feeling bad for someone, wishing you could help, genuinely caring about the person in question. But the feelings brought about by the two are drastically different.
Many, no, most of my friends, family, and blog readers (yes that’s you!) have navigated this mine field beautifully. The support I’ve received from all of you has been amazing. Be it offering career advice, similar stories from personal experiences, providing job leads, or even just offering yourselves up as a sounding board. THAT is a party that I am grateful to be a guest at. But as I walk around the office, or read certain emails, or see the looks on certain people’s faces, I just want to crawl under a rock and never come out. It’s the hushed “hello”s, the being overly nice to me, the tiptoeing around me as if I could blow up at any time that is making me absolutely crazy.
Because the best thing I can do right now is avoid feeling sorry for myself. If I remain motivated and positive it’s easier to send out those resumes. Most times it’s easy. Well, not easy, but doable. But when you see those looks, hear that tone of voice, feel the palpable vibe of “Oh you poor thing” it just makes it harder. I want to scream “It’s Ok! I am going to be Ok! Why don’t you think I can handle this?!”
But I don’t. Instead I call my Mom and cry for a minute before getting back to the pissed-off-I-can-do-this mode that I’ve been oscillating in and out of for the last few days. Which I guess makes me that girl sitting on the stairs after the high school dance, her shoes in her hand, her mascara smudged because the captain of the football team wouldn’t dance with her. And I thought I had outgrown that. Damn.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, January 10, 2006 |
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| Saturday, January 07, 2006 |
| You're Fired! ... Oh wait, no you're not, I am! |
It's funny how we define ourselves by our careers. I'm an Assistant Editor. She's a doctor, he's an actor. Upon first meeting someone one of the automatic questions is: "What do you do?" In approximately five weeks I will no longer have an answer to that question.
See, I was fired on Thursday. Or, as it was put to me, "let go". I'm not going to go into why, because really it doesn't matter. What does matter is that in five weeks (they're keeping me around to give me time to find a job – though finding a job in five weeks is going to be no small feat) I will be unemployed.
There have been few times in my life that I've felt this low. I can't sleep, each time I nod off I wake up in a panic. I've been fired. It's amazing how hard a concept it is to grasp. Coming completely out of the blue like that (and you can tell it was out of the blue from what I wrote in my update 100 Things About You post) it just still hasn't hit me. I've thought a thousand different things. Certain phrases from the meeting come back to me. "This isn't personal". On the surface I know that's true. I know none of my bosses dislike me on a personal level. But it IS personal to me. Not being able to pay my bills. That's personal. Wondering how I am going to pay my rent. That's personal. Feeling like a complete and total failure. That's personal. It's not personal to them because when I walk out the door it's over for them. But for me it will keep going. Every day. I've been fired. Over and over again in my head.
Being fired makes you reassess. Every step I've taken since the minute I declared my major as Writing, Literature, and Publishing has been to have a career in the publishing industry. Unfortunately, this is a very very small industry I work in. And a ridiculously incestuous one. So how am I supposed to go out and get a job at another college publishing house? Actually, how do you spin "I was let go" on ANY job interview?
I’ve already started looking for jobs. Today I’ll spend polishing my resume and cover letter. I’m applying for anything and everything at the moment. From jobs in publishing to event management, hospitality to an Account Executive with a sports team in NY/NJ.
And luckily, I’ve got the best support network a girl could ask for. Ten minutes after I was let go I sent out an email to all my friends in NYC. I had already been planning on meeting up with J for drinks, so it seemed the perfect opportunity to turn the evening into a “let’s drown my sorrows” event. On a good day it’s tough to get all my friends together. We all have varied schedules, events, parties, and jobs to go to. But that night, 8 of my friends dropped everything and rushed to my side. It meant the world to me. The hangover the next day was a bitch, but it was worth it. To have them all around me, knowing they loved me, helped to temper the “I’m a complete failure” feeling I’ve got going on right now. Because I’m NOT a complete failure. I have a great family, amazing friends, and soon, I’ll have a new job.
I oscillate between being sad, scared, shocked, and angry. But even during these mood changes I know deep down in my heart that I’m going to be Ok. Fuck it, this may be the best thing that ever happened to me, who knows? I just need to keep reminding myself that my job is not myself. And just because I was fired it doesn’t diminish my worth as a person. I’m still me. Just with a little less money.Labels: work |
| posted by FINY @ Saturday, January 07, 2006 |
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