Bye Bye Jackson Hole…

A plane departed Cincinatti, OH en route to Jackson Hole, WY this morning at 6:10 AM.  Seat 10B had my name on it.   I wasn’t in seat 10B.  I was in my own bed.

I got the call.  The call that I’ve been waiting for all week.  All week I have sat by my phone willing it to ring – I was ready.  I had my resume pulled up on my computer screen, numerous research documents on the project and the company all keyed up and ready to review during this call if necessary.  When do I get the call?  As my friend M and I  are in the McDonald’s drive-thru on our way to J’s house to pick her up to go to Cincinatti.  No computer, no documents, barely any cell phone reception and a lady in the background asking if I wanted to super size anything. 

In spite of the less than stellar call, the guy on the other end of the phone asks if I can be in Baltimore on Monday for an interview.  I weasel around trying to find an alternative solution – ‘is Wednesday a possibility’ I ask.  He puts me on hold and comes back many minutes later to inform me that no, unfortunately, the executive is flying in from NYC and Monday is the only option.  He apologized profusely for the late notice and for the effect it was going to have on my plans.  It’s ok, I said.  This is my top priority.  I walk in J’s house.  “I can’t go.”  She looks at me with complete and total disbelief, a little smirk on her face that says “Julie, its really not funny to joke about these things” Then it sets in.  “Oh my god, you’re serious.”  Ideas were tossed around trying to figure out a way that I could have my cake and eat it too.  Ultimately, it came down to making the adult decision.  The adult decision was to stay home, get prepared, and ultimately, hopefully, get the job. 

Packed and ready to go is an understatement

So, in a matter of hours, M & J will land in the Tetons and spend the next 4 days crusing down the slopes at Grand Targhee with multiple feet of fresh powder under their feet.  I will be preparing for the interview, presssing my suit, and making last minute tweaks to my resume. 

Unless you’re a big skier, you may not totally understand the sacrifice that comes with bagging a trip to the Tetons.  I’m in this mood of excitement for the interview and total sadness over my missed trip. 

I will say this – I’m taking my A game on Monday.  I’m gonna rock that interview.  Because the only thing sadder than missing a trip to the Tetons is missing a trip to the Tetons for an interview for a job I don’t get.

Tick Tock goes the decision clock

When one finds themselves unemployed, the decisions you have to make on a seemingly daily basis are pretty big.  When you have a job, and your life is fairly settled, most days your biggest decision is which restaurant to go to for dinner.  When you’re looking for a job your decisions go more like this:

* To what extent would I want to shoot myself every day if I took that job?

* Oh, my dream job and you’re interested in me?!  Excellent!  Oh, it’s in Memphis, TN.  One quick google map later and you realize that Memphis is a stone’s throw from Arkansas.  Holy crap that’s far away.  I guess if I go there is going to be an excellent skiing/Patagonia/Mountain Hardwear apparell sale on EBay – be on the lookout

* Oh, my dream job and you’re interested in me?!  Excellent!  Oh, it’s in St. Louis, MO.  What the hell is there to do in St. Louis?  Other than that big arch thing do they really have anything cool going for them?

* Should I take my dream job even if its in a not so dream city?  Well, I just left a dream job because it was in a not so dream city about a year ago for better balance in my life…  But my life is pretty unbalanced without any money…  But what good is it to have money if you are unhappy and have no friends and spend your evenings with a bottle of wine and a carton of Ben & Jerry’s…

So, if you’re employed and your biggest decision today is where to eat dinner.  Be thankful.  At least you’re not grappling with life altering/what’s god’s plan for me/8-10 hour cross country move/am I ever going to find a decent job kind of decisions.  Those suck.

Good friends are hard to find

The totally adorable picture above is of my precious pooch Tucker (the black one) laying nose to nose with his bestest pal Duke.

This Denver business has really had Tucker in quite the tizzy.  In fact, he came to me the other day and said:

“Please don’t make me go to Denver – I don’t want to leave Duke”

He got me to thinking about it – I don’t really want to leave my bestest pals either.  The kind of friends I have don’t come around everyday.  And just ’cause we don’t sleep nose to nose doesn’t mean we’re not close.

So, after lots of thought – I’m doing something that I’m not well known for: completely reversing course and changing my mind.  These country roads of West Virginia will remain my home for the forseeable future.

Let’s just hope that somewhere within the confines of this beautiful state there happens to be a company that would like to add me to their payroll.

When I Grow Up…

My first recollection of knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up is at age 6. I idolized my first grade teacher, so when approached about what I wanted to be when I grew up I proudly proclaimed that I was going to be a teacher and I was going to marry a man with the last name Wilson, so I could literally be just like her and be “Mrs. Wilson”.  If nothing else, you have to admire the level of detail in my plan.

As I enter into this next phase of my life where I can completely start over and be anything I want to be, I’ve revisted all of my previous ideas to see if at the age of 28, I can figure out the answer to this age old question:

* Mrs. Wilson (i.e. First Grade Teacher) – Nixed when I became old enough to understand money and paychecks and what teachers earn.

* Emergency Room Doctor – Idea emerged when the show “ER” became popular, idea was nixed when I realized how much science is involved in becoming a doctor.

 

* Psychologist – Nixed when I realized that in order to practice as a psychologist you had to get your PHD.

* Journalist – This was my first of many majors in college – it became clear early on that writing as a profession was going to completely take the fun out of it for me.

* Human Resources Manager – I hung on to this one for awhile, not sure why it fizzled.

* Currency Hedge Manager for McDonalds – This would be a neat job, if I had no interpersonal skills and was infinitely smarter than I actually am.

After all that, I emerged with a degree in Finance and have done the following:

* Research anaylst for a Commercial Real Estate Firm

* Real Estate broker representing shopping center owners

* Landman for an Oil & Gas Company

So, what’s next…  nurse, bartender, waitress, writer, or unemployment compensation milker.  Those are the ideas I’ve had as of late.  I’ll keep you posted on what happens to pan out – my money’s on bartender.

Oh’ What a Grin Life It Is

Grin Camp

I’ve located an oasis.  It’s super easy for anyone to find:  Just get off the Turnpike, make 37 right turns, 14 lefts, and once you pass the turkey farm and cross the unmarked railroad tracks you’re basically there.

Once you park your car, head down the hill and you will see pretty much the most gorgeous place imaginable.  And just because it wasn’t cool enough all on its own – there’s a tree house.  Yes, a genuine tree house.  From the time I was 5

The Mother of all Tree Houses

years old until I finally gave up around the age of 14, I BEGGED my Dad to build me a treehouse.  In spite of many attempts which included batting my big brown eyes and saying “puuhhlease Daddy” – no treehouse.  Apparently the limbs were too high.

 I ventured to this new found oasis a couple of weeks ago at the urging of my friend J (if you’ve read my other posts, she comes up a lot – she gets me into all sorts of trouble) for a party called Grin Fest.  At Grin Fest they take this oasis, then add in tons of people, really great live music, dancing and maybe an alcoholic beverage or two and basically they’ve created the greatest place on earth (take that Disney World).

They're not kidding

 The problem with Grin Camp – its a hard place to leave.  Consider yourself warned though -  one of the first things you see when you arrive is a sign that says “Grin Camp – Its a Hard Place to Leave”, so you can’t argue that you weren’t sufficiently informed.

In fact, its such a hard place to leave that I decided to go back again this past weekend. 

Just couldn’t get enough of that darn treehouse.

The thing about this past weekend, when camp was a wee bit calmer, what without 100+ people, a stage and a bazillion tents, I was able to really appreciate what a seriously cool place it is.  I think the reason its such a hard place to leave is it gets you to thinking about what you’re doing with your life.  It makes you feel like such a conformist because you realize how many hours of your life you’ve spent sitting at a desk when there is clearly more to be had.  I’m always so envious of people and their nomadic lifestyles; floating back and forth between ski patrolling in the winter, guiding on the river in the summer and the freedom to go whereever, whenever they want.

At this crossroads in my life, if that’s a lifestyle I really want, now’s the time to do it.  In fact, I may have to do it because  the good ole’ fashioned 9-5 American gig is getting a little hard to come by.  But faced with the potential that there will be no more sizable paychecks, no more 401K contributions, no more health insurance. It makes me wonder – could I really give it up?

Despite which direction I take, having a place to go to like Grin Camp is good for the soul – its good to question the decisions you make in your life and really analyze whether you’re going in the direction you want to go, or whether you’re going in the direction you’re supposed to go.

And… its a great party.  Nothin’ wrong with a few good times.

Dear Mr. Uhaul: I would like to inquire about your ‘Frequent Renter Program’…

Denver, Colorado

I had mentioned, after returning from my Florida trip that an announcement was looming.  I feel sure you all lost sleep wondering what sort of impending news was going to pop up on JoblessJulie. 

I’ve wanted to move out west since before I had ever even been out west.  For someone who loves all things winter and skiing - it is the promised land.  For a variety of reasons, life has simply just gotten in the way between the end of college and present and as more and more years passed the idea of moving out west seemed more novelty than reality. 

But then – it just all fell into place. 

There are benefits to losing your job – even though I could have quit my job at any given moment, that would have seemed SO irresonsible in these ‘economic times’ as people like to say.  But, hey, if the company quits on you – well… the world is your oyster. 

So, effective late September, I’ll have a new zip code and I’ll get to check ONE.HUGE.THING. off my bucket list.

“I would like to apply for the position which pays the most. Thank you.”

I got an e-mail from this lady that works for an organization that is sort of helping me find a job, not a headhunter, but just this place, anyway – she says she has an opportunity that may work for me and it pays ____ per hour. 

Hmm…

No one has quoted a salary to me in the form of ‘per hour’ since I was a lifeguard at the local pool in high school; therefore, I didn’t immediately understand what that correlated to in ‘grown-up dollars’.    I had to do some math.  I did said math and upon seeing the ‘annual’ number which I was calculating pop up on my trusty Texas Instrument I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry, puke or laugh.  So, I did something that may come back to bite me.  I responded to her e-mail and outlined, in general, the money I’ve made (on an annual basis, since breaking it down to dollars per hour seems like such a silly thing to do) in the last few years.  The premise this was sent under was so we could ‘get on the same page’  because there’s really no need for her to waste her time sending me job opportunities in which the ‘salary’/'hourly’ whatever it is, is actually less than than the fine state of WV pays out in unemployment but it probably got read by her to the tune of  ’you snotty litlle *$&%!  Who do you think you are??’

Will it come back to bite me, yeah, probably.  In fact, she probably printed it off and took it to happy hour and had a good giggle with all of her friends about how unrealistic, snotty and pretentious I am. 

But it led me to give serious consideration to: What’s my bottom line?  At what point do I say “not enough.”  Is turning down a job because its not enough money an exercise in not selling yourself short or simply being greedy and shortsighted.   The thing is -  I’ve been poor, I’ve been ‘not sure I’m gonna be able to pay my rent and there’s only one piece of bread left in the pantry’ kind of poor.  {EDITORS NOTE: I have great parents who would never, ever, let me starve.  My ‘pooredom’ was a result of my seeing how long I could last completely on my own without asking for help – not because my parents just fed me to wolves}

I feel like that kind of poor is good for the soul.  Its a due course in life we all have to should have to wade through; but I’ve already waded through it and asking me to do it again is synonymous to asking if I’d like to go take a little dip in an alligator pond. 

Here’s the take away point – a little Tuesday morning philosophy for you, if you will.  I’m 27 and I’m not married (which PS, is completely normal in any other part of the country besides where I currently reside).  Is that because I’ve spent the years since my high school graduation pining away for a ring to no avail?  No, its because I have standards.  Now, before all my married friends go and get all huffy, I’m not saying you settled, I’m specifically referring to me and my life and ’my guy’ hasn’t shown up yet and I would prefer to wait on him rather than spend my next 60 years angry and bitter.  I’ve had a couple of opportunities that could have sent me on a stroll in white dress, but instead I said ‘Eh… I’ll wait.’  So, simliar to how I think I’ll know when ‘my guy’ finally shows up, I think I’ll know when it’s the right job.  It may not be the kind of money I want, but I think in spite of the salary I’ll recognize the right opportunity when I see it and in the meantime, if its not right, I’m going to feel confident in saying  ‘Eh… I’ll wait’

Finding Peace

I’ve been debating about whether to send an e-mail for 4 days.  The e-mail is to a guy I know who has a pretty important job at a company that I would give my right arm to work for.  This same guy, because of his role at that company has incredible contacts at numerous other companies which I would also donate an important limb to work for.   I send tons of e-mails in any one given day and this should certainly not be one that gives me much hesitation.  My reluctance to  hit send on this one was a deeper issue and it sent me on a stroll down memory lane…

The future recipient of this highly scrutinized and debated e-mail works for a company which is my old firm’s most important client, namely, a client that my boss secured single handedly.  That account is not just his baby but his legacy.  What he managed to accomplish through that account changed the whole course of his success and propeled him from a hard working ‘associate’ to one of the most successful people in the business.  So, clearly my old boss keeps pretty good communication lines with these folks and by the very nature of my sending an e-mail to this guy, I might as well call up my old boss on the phone and say “hey – remember when you told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life by moving to West Virginia? Yeah, funny thing about that…” because it will take all of a millisecond for the news of Julie’s professional demise to filter from e-mail to said guy to my former boss’ ears. 

The thing is – he’s not right, I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life.  Not by a long shot.  But that’s the appearance that the news of my losing my job will give.  It’s not just pride that’s standing in my way – it’s something else, something that’s difficult to explain. 

My old boss and I had probably the best boss/employee relationship anyone could ever ask for.  He saw potential in me as a 22 year old fresh out of college who had moved to the big city from little ole’ West Virginia and gave me a shot.  He gave me work that was meaningful and didn’t expect me to do nothing other than answer phones and type spreadsheets – he saw I was capable of more and was willing to risk letting me have my chance.  I worked my ass off for that man.  He gave me the opportunity to interact with people that are more successful and important in corporate American than anyone else my age that I know has had the opportunity to associate themselves with.  When I wanted to grow in the business he was my biggest advocate.  When my best friend was killed in a car accident he never mentioned the countless projects that I just forgot about because he knew my sheer presence at the office was all I was capable of giving.   He gave me high fives in the hallway when I accomplished something that people didn’t think was going to happen.  He told me he thought that one day I would be one of the best in the business. 

He told me I was making a huge mistake.  Those were his words when I told him about my decision to leave DC.

He looked at me with the same look that a father would give a daughter who was about to marry the wrong man, a look that’s a combination of fear, disappointment and sadness all wrapped into one.  On the day I left, the office threw me the obligatory ‘see ya later lunch’, at the lunch he managed a half-hearted ‘good luck’ and later that day he left the office without really saying goodbye.  He was disappointed in me.  Maybe he was mad at me too.  He’d spent a lot of time grooming me and I quit on him.  I feel like in your life there will only be a small handful of people that you really, genuinely care what they think about you – for me, he’s on my short list of people that it matters what they think.  But you can’t spend your life doing something for someone else’s benefit or because you don’t want to let people down.  I’m fortunate enough to have parents who have always stood by my decisions and have never guilt tripped me about anything.  And at the end of the day I am happy with my decision to leave.  In fact, right after I left things really started going downhill in our business.  Not for people like him really, not for people on the top who can withstand the cyclical nature of such economic downturns, but for people on the bottom like me – it would have been devastating.  From a sheer timing perspective, if Jesus Christ himself had knocked on my door and said ‘Jules – wrap it up and get outta here while you can still afford a UHaul truck’ I couldn’t have timed it any better.  That’s just the money side of the decision.  Deciding to actually live my life before I’m too old to enjoy it, having fun, having friends and taking the stress level down about 400 notches has served me well.  West Virginia isn’t the end all be all and I’m certainly open to exploring other opportunities, but living here has put me in a place where for the first time I feel like I actually have the time and the peace of mind to see those opportunities for what they are.  I do know this – DC is not the place for me, being 100% commission is not for me, living only for my job is not for me.   So, does getting laid off from a job that I only took because I simply needed a job suddenly make my decision wrong or a huge mistake?  No, because this was never about the career, this was never about the money – it was about me.  And I am significantly improved from where I was in life, in the things that matter anyway – physical, emotional and spiritual wellbeing, than I was 10 months ago.  I think it might be tough to transfer that information down the gossip line when I send this e-mail, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.  I guess sometimes you have to have enough peace within yourself to have peace with what those select people on your short list think – good or bad.

The slip wasn’t pink… I would have appreciated pink

When you get an e-mail like this… you know your day is not going to end well:

Hello Friends,

 {Sic} asked me to inform you of an employee meeting being held tomorrow, May 28th at 10:30 a.m. to discuss plans for the Charleston office

At said Employee meeting, it was announced that the Charleston office, my office, is closing (or relocating rather) to Pittsburgh, PA.  Further announced was that ‘some would get offers to relocate, others would not.’  Despite what particular piece of paper they had in store for me, my fate was already sealed – given the choice between the unemployment line and Pittsburgh, PA – I choose unemployment line.  No offense Steelers fans, its a personal choice to stay in West Virginia.  Not too terribly long ago, 8 months to be exact, I arrived in Charleston, UHaul in tow after giving up a great career in search of a more balanced life and coming home to the great town I grew up in, was more important than some fancy schmancy title on my business card.  So, to make such a drastic change just to turn around 8 months later and follow a ho-hum job to a city I’m pretty sure I won’t like just for the piece of mind that I’ll have a paycheck to support children I don’t have, seemed a bit unnecessary.  I mean let’s face it its not like I need to buy formula and diapers – Lean Cuisines, beer and dog food are pretty much my only true life sustaining necessities (the dog food’s for Tucker, not me – more on him later).  So, for the last 10 days I’ve been feeling pretty good about everything – I’m proud of myself for being confident enough to sacrifice financial security for personal happiness (I did that once already when I left Washington, DC in October, might as well do it again) and ‘cautiously optimistic’ as I like to say about the prospect of finding a new job. 

So, effective immediately, the job search has began.  If, in 3 months, this blog still exists, we’ll have to see if I have a new token phrase, because ‘cautiously optimistic’ would have to be revisited.