I've never been an essential worker, so I have to talk about the other side of the equation. The government shutdown, now thankfully behind us, divided the workforce into people we can't do without, and people we can. I like Joel's Stein's take in Time. We all know who's essential in this world: doctors, farmers and the like. He owns his nonessential status, lumps it in with the arts, but points out that nonessential workers can make life beautiful.
I hear from a lot of people about what they want in their future careers, and so many people want to be essential. They want to influence large groups of people. It's a criteria that comes even before "working with animals" or "finding exciting work." They list careers like the law and banking as possibilities, things that have status.
But this need for status, to at least appear important to the world, really screws up our chances at career happiness, and it gets us stuck in a boring way of looking at the world.
I once attended a career counselor conference session about finding meaning in work. The presenter relayed an account of a hospital janitor who had once been a doctor in the country she had emigrated from. Many people saw that as a huge drop in status, but the janitor found that she was sometimes the only person alone with someone if they died in the night. When she heard someone in need, she could be there for them, if not in the same way.
Is she nonessential? If a family couldn't make it to the bedside of a loved one, but the janitor could assure the son or daughter that their mom wasn't alone when she died, isn't that essential? Our views of careers need to allow for this scenario, and scenarios like it. Can we view each other with curiosity and imagination?
And what do we learn from the colossal fail of government to pass a budget? I think it's part of the same problem. We're quick to judge each others' usefulness. It's like we can't get out of consumer mode when we view our fellow human beings. What can they do for me? Our lawmakers are just trying to deliver the goods. They've perfected their "brands" and they go into the government to get what their constituents and donors bought from them, either with money or a vote. There's no room for logic anymore, for compromise.
So if we're going to move forward from this fiasco with some dignity, we need to allow for some mystery in the world. Could there be a scenario where the janitor is more important than the heart surgeon? Could we imagine dedicating ourselves to something nonessential, with the idea that maybe we would end up essential in a different way?
I saw the Gravity this weekend, and I loved the objects floating in space stations: the Buddha, the statue of a saint, or even a Marvin the Martian toy. I like to knit, and sometimes I make these toys for people. They're not nearly as useful as hand knit hats, but sometimes they're something to hang on to in a different way. It's the kind of uselessness that I pride myself on.
I'm not essential as a career coach. I believe people can get on in life without me. But I can make the experience better. So can other people in our lives who can listen with an open mind. Being essential isn't, well, essential. It's enough that we're alive, that we treat each other well while we're on this planet (or orbiting it). And maybe some of us are here to be the George Clooney in the movie, to point to the sunrise and say, "Look."
That can be its own kind of essential.
Some nonessential links for your Monday:
A resume app, so you're never without your credentials.
A checklist for "engaging" with information.
The November issue of Real Simple magazine has a great article on how people in different professions stay in the moment.
Have a good one!
Monday, October 21, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
Living Frugally, and Other Links
I was hoping this Monday would be all about recovering from the shutdown, but it's dragging on. Lordy. With that in mind, I'm liking these tips for living frugally.
Speaking of money, here are some ideas on learning to love negotiating... inspired by kids.
Mastering business casual (for women) can be tricky. Here are a few tips.
Need a nook for working on your career dreams? Here's an interesting way to squeeze one in.
Cool job: Running Concierge.
Hang in there!
Speaking of money, here are some ideas on learning to love negotiating... inspired by kids.
Mastering business casual (for women) can be tricky. Here are a few tips.
Need a nook for working on your career dreams? Here's an interesting way to squeeze one in.
Cool job: Running Concierge.
Hang in there!
Monday, October 7, 2013
Why I Started My Business, and Other Monday Links
It's a rainy Monday here in the great state of Maryland, and many of my neighbors are off work, furloughed. If you find yourself with some time this a.m., here are a few career related links for you. And let's hope everyone is back to work soon.
How to sell your sports experience in an interview.
Some thoughts on building a career that I think are right on.
Why I started my business, and why the Mommy Wars reporting misses the point. Go here.
Don't know where to start with career exploration? Consider a Pinterest fieldtrip. Go here for some tips...
Have a good Monday!
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
When Time Is Up
I’ve cooked a few Thanksgiving dinners,
and the turkey usually turn out dry and stringy. I start out with high
hopes. I go organic, free-range, and I use some crazy brining bag. By the time the thing is ready to come out of the oven, though, I’m in a
political argument with my dad and my kids have created a fort out of the
dining table.
I finally had
a decent turkey one year because I bought the Butterball with
the thingy that pops up when its done. What I really need is a
turkey that walks itself out of the oven when its done. The thingy worked, I got the bird out, and it was juicy, tender and
actually tasty.
The thing about our careers is, they can bake for years while we do other things. But suddenly, time is up, and our work demands our attention. If we don't tend to it, it can end up like a dried out organic turkey, full of good intentions, but low
on taste. I may carve out time for everything I need to do, but is it
enjoyable? Is it juicy?
Recently my own Butterball thingy went gone off.
My oldest started kindergarten , and suddenly I feel the passage of
time. Soon it will be Thanksgiving, Christmas, spring, summer, 2014, 2015. I
want to be with my family when I’m with my family, present, creating memories and then I want
to sit down and do really good work. Juicy work, not
overcooked.
I think lots of people might have a Butterball thingy.
Maybe it’s not kindergarten, maybe it’s turning 25, 30, 40. You know something must change but you’re not sure if it’s something big or small. That’s my
favorite career coach conversation, because it can save you so much money, time
and heartache to give that question the full weight and consideration it
deserves. You can’t be arguing proverbial politics while you’re doing it. And
that’s the kind of work I want to do for people. Give them the time and space for the questions they need to tackle.
I don't claim to have all the answers. I'm still stumbling along like everyone else. But I trust the process, the value of a juicy conversation. Then maybe we can all sit down to some delicious work.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Decision Tailgating
There's a road near my home that I usually take at about 35 mph. It's curvy, treacherous when wet, and I just don't like to go too fast on it. I always get tailgated. It's a byproduct of living in a major metropolitan area, I know, and I just try to deal with it.
I've noticed, though, that my career counseling clients sometimes face a similar problem. Some attract what I call decision tailgaters. These are people who, sometimes because they care, sometimes because they're impatient or have something at stake, ask about a decision you're trying to make and pressure you to speed up the process.
There are decisions that should take a long time in life, and trying to figure out how you're going to spend the bulk of your waking hours is one of them. Still, sometimes clients don't give enough thought to how these tailgaters affect their decision. It's the same feeling as when you look in your rearview mirror on an icy morning and see someone five feet from your bumper. You want it to not matter. But the blood pressure rises, the palms grip the wheel a little harder, and your decision making can really be affected.
The difference in the scenarios of course is that there's no doubt what the car tailgater's motivations are, but your decision tailgaters will couch their pressure in terms of concern and caring. But what it really does is bring your ability to make a decision into question. And that's no small thing. Decisions take confidence. It's a crucial ingredient.
Sometimes I think my main job as a career counselor is to let you know I have the utmost confidence in your ability to make a decision. How do I know? Because you've executed a million decisions by Friday, and if you're still alive and functioning in this crazy world, chances are you've made some decent ones.
You may get your tailgaters to back off a little by talking with them about their concerns, and maybe letting them know, ever so subtly, that you've made some decent decisions before, like marrying them, if it's your spouse, or befriending them, if it's a buddy. I'm sure there's something to dig up for your parents. That can be a tough one though.
So slow down, even if you've attracted a tailgater or two. They may have the best of intentions, but then again, they just might be impatient.
***
Here's a song to play, back from the days when videos were, you know, actually on TV. Because every little thing that you do is magic. OMG, the hats in this.
I've noticed, though, that my career counseling clients sometimes face a similar problem. Some attract what I call decision tailgaters. These are people who, sometimes because they care, sometimes because they're impatient or have something at stake, ask about a decision you're trying to make and pressure you to speed up the process.
There are decisions that should take a long time in life, and trying to figure out how you're going to spend the bulk of your waking hours is one of them. Still, sometimes clients don't give enough thought to how these tailgaters affect their decision. It's the same feeling as when you look in your rearview mirror on an icy morning and see someone five feet from your bumper. You want it to not matter. But the blood pressure rises, the palms grip the wheel a little harder, and your decision making can really be affected.
The difference in the scenarios of course is that there's no doubt what the car tailgater's motivations are, but your decision tailgaters will couch their pressure in terms of concern and caring. But what it really does is bring your ability to make a decision into question. And that's no small thing. Decisions take confidence. It's a crucial ingredient.
Sometimes I think my main job as a career counselor is to let you know I have the utmost confidence in your ability to make a decision. How do I know? Because you've executed a million decisions by Friday, and if you're still alive and functioning in this crazy world, chances are you've made some decent ones.
You may get your tailgaters to back off a little by talking with them about their concerns, and maybe letting them know, ever so subtly, that you've made some decent decisions before, like marrying them, if it's your spouse, or befriending them, if it's a buddy. I'm sure there's something to dig up for your parents. That can be a tough one though.
So slow down, even if you've attracted a tailgater or two. They may have the best of intentions, but then again, they just might be impatient.
***
Here's a song to play, back from the days when videos were, you know, actually on TV. Because every little thing that you do is magic. OMG, the hats in this.
Friday, February 15, 2013
So, Tell Me About Yourself....
This dreaded opener is often asked at the beginning of interviews, and it's surprisingly difficult to answer. Where to start? You're a complex individual, and I think there's something in us that resists being summarized in a few minutes. And selling ourselves is somehow depressing, isn't it? We're not commodities.
But polishing an answer is like carrying a crisp copy of a resume wherever you go, because you can drop it into conversations at a conference you're attending, or even at a bus stop when someone asks you what you do.
Tips for answering:
1. Before you think about the content of your answer, think pacing. As in, how fast are you answering, and are you coming off as a Gilmore Girl because you're answering too fast for the human ear to track you? Record your voice and listen.
2. Now, for content. Keep it relevant, but not too relevant. Throw out something quirky now and then, something that isn't all about achievement and can lead to conversation. So, where were you born? Are you a native, or from a far-flung country? Fill in your college, your major, companies or organizations you've worked for. But also, what do you do in your down time? And what projects are you working on now?
3. Wrap it up and ask for something. Well, not really ask, ask. Let them know why you want to work for them, if you're in an interview, or if you're at that proverbial bus stop, let them know you're job searching. This is so easy to say on paper, but so tough to do in person. We're not accustomed to asking for things from strangers. There's shame involved. Remember, though, it's a gift you're giving, this sharing. You're letting people know they're worth your time, and you're interested in their organization and their work.
When all this is put together, practice it in front of a mirror, recording it on your laptop memo program, or with a friend until it fits in a 30 second speech.
Here's my version of a quick intro. Depending on the context, I might also add that I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, that I teach knitting in my free time at a local yarn store, or that I'm trying to learn Mandarin but am mostly tongue-tied at this point. What I hope for is that I hear those magical words. "Oh, really, I did X,Y, Z too. Or I know someone who grew up there." You never know what will help you make a connection.
But polishing an answer is like carrying a crisp copy of a resume wherever you go, because you can drop it into conversations at a conference you're attending, or even at a bus stop when someone asks you what you do.
Tips for answering:
1. Before you think about the content of your answer, think pacing. As in, how fast are you answering, and are you coming off as a Gilmore Girl because you're answering too fast for the human ear to track you? Record your voice and listen.
2. Now, for content. Keep it relevant, but not too relevant. Throw out something quirky now and then, something that isn't all about achievement and can lead to conversation. So, where were you born? Are you a native, or from a far-flung country? Fill in your college, your major, companies or organizations you've worked for. But also, what do you do in your down time? And what projects are you working on now?
3. Wrap it up and ask for something. Well, not really ask, ask. Let them know why you want to work for them, if you're in an interview, or if you're at that proverbial bus stop, let them know you're job searching. This is so easy to say on paper, but so tough to do in person. We're not accustomed to asking for things from strangers. There's shame involved. Remember, though, it's a gift you're giving, this sharing. You're letting people know they're worth your time, and you're interested in their organization and their work.
When all this is put together, practice it in front of a mirror, recording it on your laptop memo program, or with a friend until it fits in a 30 second speech.
Here's my version of a quick intro. Depending on the context, I might also add that I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, that I teach knitting in my free time at a local yarn store, or that I'm trying to learn Mandarin but am mostly tongue-tied at this point. What I hope for is that I hear those magical words. "Oh, really, I did X,Y, Z too. Or I know someone who grew up there." You never know what will help you make a connection.
Friday, February 8, 2013
On Self-Doubt and Being Boring
This week has been a bit of a struggle. We've all been sick with the stomach flu, and at one point both my kids vomited at the same time.
What, you're still reading? Okay, then, I'll try to get to my point. We all have weeks that make us doubt our choices, and this was one of them for me. Unfortunately, becoming a career coach has not made me immune to career doubt. I spend most of my days with my young kids at home, fitting in part-time work where I can, you know, trying for that elusive career unicorn: work-life balance (which I do think is a myth, but a pretty myth with a rainbow mane and sparkly horn that I can't stop searching for).
On weeks like this, I fantasize about putting on a suit and going to a busy office full of adults and discussing matters of the utmost importance, then dining in vomit-free restaurants, where I sit down the entire time and don't have to break up a shoving match over the sippy-cup with the fishies on it. Did I mention I'm sitting down?
I thought I'd go back to work full-time after my first child was born, but I had a difficult childbirth, an emergency C-section. I felt like motherhood had broken me, and I needed time to rebuild myself into this new creature: A mom. I decided to stay home with my baby, and it's a decision I don't regret. Still, some weeks, like this week, I start to wonder if I should be going back to work full time. Like many moms at home, some weeks are so hard. And I wonder why more at-home parents aren't raving lunatics. Seriously. It seems like everyone's making it look so easy.
It's the loneliness that makes me doubt myself. There are people who stopped asking me about my day-to-day life after I decided to stay home, and it hurt. We're not close anymore. It's funny, I think there are some fascinating aspects to caring for young children. At-home parents have a front-row seat to developmental milestones, and not just first steps. The other day my son learned to jump. The joy on his face as he left the ground was unmistakable, and I loved helping him work out the details of how to do it again. We take so much for granted with our bodies, and seeing someone learn to launch himself, literally, is exhilarating.
But then there's the drudgery, the housework and lack of adult conversation. Two years ago, Meagan Francis of The Happiest Mom wrote about boredom, and I was reading her thoughts and feeling inspired. Two years ago she chose fighting boredom as her new years resolution. Her tips include choosing challenging media, taking action, and finding daily inspiration.
So, what to be inspired about in this week of dreary weather and stomach flu? There's a column I like to read in Harvard Business Review on careers. Recently Gianpiero Petriglieri urged readers who are questioning their career direction to stay with their career questions:
So, taking my business lunch fantasy seriously, but not literally....I think it's less about the clothes and the nice lunch, and more about a need for camaraderie. Because really, I like being boring, and I would love to hang out with other boring moms.
But in this age of Facebooking and Tweeting, boring is a luxury, one that's tough to indulge in. I've been afraid of boredom all my life. There's a part of me that fears that if I'm bored, then I'm boring to others, and if I'm boring to others, then I'm not worth much. If I can't deliver a good response to "What do you do?" when meeting someone for the first time, what then? If I can't be witty all the time, then who am I?
My hesitation with being an at-home parent, then, amounts to a reluctance to make peace with the part of me that has always been a homebody, who will always love a good book and a cup of coffee maybe with one good friend, more than a loud girls night out. I'm not one of those stay-at-home parents who says: "I don't know why they call us 'stay-at-home.' I'm never at home." People, I'm always home, and I like it. I love it. I have the frayed bunny slippers to prove it. A sunny spring day in the backyard with the kids, followed by an old Bruce Willis movie and a beer with the hubs? That's the stuff.
There, I've admitted it. And I'll be sure to go out and meet some new moms at the moms group mixer soon. Tomorrow. But for now, some at-home time. Now, where did my toddler put that remote?
What, you're still reading? Okay, then, I'll try to get to my point. We all have weeks that make us doubt our choices, and this was one of them for me. Unfortunately, becoming a career coach has not made me immune to career doubt. I spend most of my days with my young kids at home, fitting in part-time work where I can, you know, trying for that elusive career unicorn: work-life balance (which I do think is a myth, but a pretty myth with a rainbow mane and sparkly horn that I can't stop searching for).
On weeks like this, I fantasize about putting on a suit and going to a busy office full of adults and discussing matters of the utmost importance, then dining in vomit-free restaurants, where I sit down the entire time and don't have to break up a shoving match over the sippy-cup with the fishies on it. Did I mention I'm sitting down?
I thought I'd go back to work full-time after my first child was born, but I had a difficult childbirth, an emergency C-section. I felt like motherhood had broken me, and I needed time to rebuild myself into this new creature: A mom. I decided to stay home with my baby, and it's a decision I don't regret. Still, some weeks, like this week, I start to wonder if I should be going back to work full time. Like many moms at home, some weeks are so hard. And I wonder why more at-home parents aren't raving lunatics. Seriously. It seems like everyone's making it look so easy.
It's the loneliness that makes me doubt myself. There are people who stopped asking me about my day-to-day life after I decided to stay home, and it hurt. We're not close anymore. It's funny, I think there are some fascinating aspects to caring for young children. At-home parents have a front-row seat to developmental milestones, and not just first steps. The other day my son learned to jump. The joy on his face as he left the ground was unmistakable, and I loved helping him work out the details of how to do it again. We take so much for granted with our bodies, and seeing someone learn to launch himself, literally, is exhilarating.
But then there's the drudgery, the housework and lack of adult conversation. Two years ago, Meagan Francis of The Happiest Mom wrote about boredom, and I was reading her thoughts and feeling inspired. Two years ago she chose fighting boredom as her new years resolution. Her tips include choosing challenging media, taking action, and finding daily inspiration.
So, what to be inspired about in this week of dreary weather and stomach flu? There's a column I like to read in Harvard Business Review on careers. Recently Gianpiero Petriglieri urged readers who are questioning their career direction to stay with their career questions:
"For all the value we put on plans and pursuits, what makes us who we are is often what we do with life's surprises. Temptations don't always point to what we really want, but often hint towards who we are trying to become. Maturity isn't the ability to pursue or suppress them. It is the ability to take them seriously without always taking them literally."
But in this age of Facebooking and Tweeting, boring is a luxury, one that's tough to indulge in. I've been afraid of boredom all my life. There's a part of me that fears that if I'm bored, then I'm boring to others, and if I'm boring to others, then I'm not worth much. If I can't deliver a good response to "What do you do?" when meeting someone for the first time, what then? If I can't be witty all the time, then who am I?
My hesitation with being an at-home parent, then, amounts to a reluctance to make peace with the part of me that has always been a homebody, who will always love a good book and a cup of coffee maybe with one good friend, more than a loud girls night out. I'm not one of those stay-at-home parents who says: "I don't know why they call us 'stay-at-home.' I'm never at home." People, I'm always home, and I like it. I love it. I have the frayed bunny slippers to prove it. A sunny spring day in the backyard with the kids, followed by an old Bruce Willis movie and a beer with the hubs? That's the stuff.
There, I've admitted it. And I'll be sure to go out and meet some new moms at the moms group mixer soon. Tomorrow. But for now, some at-home time. Now, where did my toddler put that remote?
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