Reinvention and discovering opportunity is exactly what smart people do to keep in the game. It’s what the career changers, laid off, and outsourced do diligently to get employed, and is exactly what smart moms like us should do when thinking about going back to work. Women invented Networking. Networking may be a business term to secure clients, colleagues, and sales, but it’s what we moms have been doing since the
Gumby’s Encouraged to Apply
Way back when, when actually thought I could get a job I applied for, I’d see a posting and think: do I really want to work there? Will I like it? Can I do it? Before even applying I honestly thought I’d be seriously considered for each and every employment opportunity. And I was as selective and scrutinizing as womanly possible: commute, pay, environment, ethics, education, skills, size, opportunity, benefits,
J.O.B.
I got a job. The kind where they pay you on a regular basis with a check that clears and a boss and an email and responsibilities and for christssake I may get a business card. I shit you not. Okay. So edit me. Censor me. I GOT A JOB! Can I tell you that since my last pity-party-posting, I have applied to 77 jobs I could do easily, and
You’re Invited!
I’m having a pity party and you’re invited to watch. Yeah, yeah, intellectually I know no one can find a job. And theoretically I know I wouldn’t hire me if I had my choice of applicants. But emotionally, I’m a wreck. I no longer dream of forgetting to attend Physics and being denied my diploma at the podium on graduation day . . . naked. I know longer dream of
Craigslist SVU
I, like everyone else with a pulse and empty wallet, am cruising craigslist for that great paying, local job that somehow passed by those more qualified than I. So far, not so good. As of late, I’ve been applying to many not even close to my qualifications, but perhaps, just maybe, I’m first in line for a job they haven’t considered needing yet. It’s a reach, but I’ve got plenty
Gettin’ Some
In my town, if you start to look good, really good, it is assumed, rather accurately, you’re having an affair. Men or women, this is universal suburban slander for anyone over, oh, say 40. Forty is such an easy target. Too thin, too fit, good hair, nice clothes, shoes. Real shoes, instead of crocs, Uggs, or sneaks. Bingo. Marriage over, someone’s stepping out and so begins the gossip race to
Four for Four
I’ve been beating my brain to remember the names of colleagues and friends I worked so closely with nearly a decade ago. How I can remember where we kept the secret stash of copier toner to this day, but not my VP of marketing? Weird, that selective memory. We knew each other so well back then, how could I possibly forget? Day in and day out . . . nights too, and
What Would You Not Do For a Buck?
I thought I got a small gig recently, especially when I said I’d do all their local charity stuff pro bono. We clicked, she liked me, I liked her. All was good in the world. But then this smart, smart woman asked me a grand slam question: “Who wouldn’t I work for? What’s off limits?” I immediately replied, “No one. Nope, can’t think of anyone I wouldn’t work for. Nothing