BoomerBlix

Shopping on Thanksgiving: Is America Doomed?

  

Deep down, we knew it was coming.  It was only a matter of time before stores would inch their opening hours--and those tantalizing Black Friday specials--closer and closer to midnight. Once there, it was a just a bleep to Thanksgiving evening.  

Americans have been outspoken about the sacrilege of shopping on the national holiday dedicated to gratitude, abundance, and goofy relatives. Facebook campaigns have been mounted to instill guilt into the would-be defectors. Lists of stores that will remain closed ("so our employees can be with their families")  are widely circulated. We're reminded that that the pure-of-heart will hold out until the respectable hour of 4 am on Black Friday.

Let's think back to a couple of similar drastic changes that were supposed to have rocked our moral foundations. Remember when:

• Everything was closed on Sunday? Everything. Blue laws meant we couldn't buy a loaf of bread, a gallon of gas, a fifth of whiskey, or a cute sweater. People had to plan ahead, make do, or go without. The thought was that Sundays were meant for piety and family. Clearly the enforcers never spent endless Sunday afternoons with crabby toddlers, moody teens, or bored spouses. When the shift finally occurred in the early 70s, we were liberated. Off we ran, and never looked back.
• Other national holidays were "shop-free" as well? I happily recall going to Yorktown Center with my mother and Louise Shannon on New Year's Day. It was the first year the mall brazenly announced it would be open on a day traditionally reserved for hangovers and college bowl games. We were giddy at the prospect of being allowed to spend money on a holiday. Now, of course, there are simply routine 30%-off sales on Presidents Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day...

And then there's Amazon.com. Heck, the entire Wide World Web is one big marketplace. Black Friday deals have been offered for weeks. I know--my AmEx card has been getting a daily workout. The bargains are real and the trend for free shipping makes online ordering irresistible. Yes, even on Thanksgiving. All. Day.

We can argue that shopping on Thanksgiving takes people from their homes and families. It diminishes the meaning of the day. It forces premature preparation for Christmas, we claim...despite the fact that Christmas has been evident since October and probably half of us already have the tree up. And what about the folks who have always worked on Thanksgiving? Police, firemen, nurses, pilots, and football players?

Speaking of football, I don't recall any mention of the sport being played by Pilgrims and Indians. When Thanksgiving football began in 1876, was there a national protest? I can't find any records of "Football? Hell no! We prefer to sit around the hearth for hours and hear about Grandma's bunions." Or were the women simply relieved to have men out of the way and quickly endorsed it?  Doesn't matter, Americans made room for football and it's an indisputable part of the day now. 

Though it may seem that way, I'm not urging you to leap from the table and race to the mall. Or forego any of your traditions. But Thanksgiving shopping is here to stay. And it will continue to creep further into the day, right up to "Macy's Parade" and "Turkey's-in-the-Oven" Doorbusters. Go or don't go. Personal choice. That's the American way.

But...after the leftovers are put away, the dishes are done, and nutty Uncle Harold has finally left...maybe it wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air and see if we can snag a couple of items on the list. After all, Thanksgiving is really over at that point, right?

 

 

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Boomers vs. Millennials--What a Contrast!

Step aside, Baby Boomers...the Millennials are coming. They're going to change the world, maybe more than we did. And like every generation, they're going about it in a unique style. 

The world already knows the Boomers. Born between 1946 and 1964, we were the largest living cohort in history, peaking at 78.8 million in 1999. But now we're down to 74.9 million...the Millennials have passed us with 75.3 million on their way to 81.1 million. (Click here to see the Pew Research Report.)

Boomers were promised "The American Dream" and worked hard to achieve it. In fact, we came a generation of workaholics, seeking prestige and possessions. We grew up competitive and ambitious. We struggled for work-life balance, and as a result have the highest divorce rate in history. We are also the generation of optimists, believing we could "make a difference" and that anything was possible. We challenged authority, rebelled against convention, and crusaded for causes. We're nervous about retirement because our identity has been tied in with our careers...and we were also hit very, very hard by the Recession, with little time to recover. Many of us will continue to work out of necessity.

Who are the Millennials? Formerly called "Generation Y," they were born between 1982-2004. (Some folks move the date range up or back a few years.) They may be our children or our grandchildren, and they have become the most coddled and indulged generation ever: Everyone gets a trophy, so no one's feelings are hurt. They're growing up busy, with scheduled activities instead of playing on their own. They're social and see themselves as citizens of the world. They're flexible, tolerant, embrace diversity, and open to new ideas. They're ambitious and good workers, as well as avid consumers. Work-life balance is a priority; they're engaged at work, but out the door promptly at 5 pm. They are champions for the virtual office, job sharing, and sabbaticals. They want to be entrepreneurs. They'll want to retire early and maybe switch careers.

See the difference? Wait, there's more!

1. Technology: This seems obvious, especially when you consider that the BIG advancement in technology for Boomers was the microwave. We've adapted to the constant changes and have become savvy about computers, gadgets, and apps.  We shop and bank online with ease. But we're no match for the generation that has never been without the Internet. Millennials live and breath technology. It's an integral part of who they are.
2. Travel: Boomers love to travel! We tend to go alone, with a partner or friend, or in a tour group. We like cities, with their culture and dining. Millennials enjoy traveling places in large groups. They have a difficult time "going off the grid" because they can't imagine being without their smartphones. And what else? Boomers are still coddling these kids--we pay to take them with us on family vacations. 
3. Sex: Our hippie "free love" days left us with an average of almost twelve sexual partners. Millennials average about eight. What's interesting is that they are more liberal about casual sex and marrying later than Boomers. They just aren't hooking up as often as their elders. They are also much more accepting of same-sex relationships. When we were teens and young adults, only 21% of us were fine with gay couples--now it's 56%.

Of course, these descriptions are generalizations--but I didn't make them up. They come from smart sociologists and researchers. Still, we can agree that Boomers shouldn't be surprised that our brilliance is fading and a new star is shining bright. We rejected our parents' lifestyles and now it's our turn. Millennials will say the same thing someday: "Those young people! I just don't understand them. What is the world coming to???"

 

 

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Three Reasons to Love the Sun

  

Credit: cartoon_sun_st6

Who doesn't love the sun? I was in Boston earlier this year, when the sun broke out on a Saturday. I swear, the entire city was outside. It was a mild early-spring day, the kind that makes us feel alive again. Boston Commons was packed, people walking on the melting ice, sitting on the benches, eyes closed, faces toward the afternoon sun. Human sunflowers.

I cannot pretend that this Blix is endorsed by modern medicine. But here I go, anyway...

1. Suntans feel good. Really good. 

Here is my confession:  I love the sun. More specifically, I love a suntan. I came of age in the "Coppertone Era" when--at the first hint of spring--we'd all head outdoors to start tanning. We'd assume the tanning position: on our backs, hands splayed across the hips, to optimize the browning of our hands. Faces to the sun, eyes closed. No sunglasses. No sunblock. Maybe some baby oil, for faster frying. The goal: To be as tan as possible by Saturday night.

Think about it. Has anyone ever returned to work with a tan and heard the words: "Yikes! You look awful?" Au contraire, mes amis. It's more like: "You look terrific! Must've been a great vacation!" There is just something about that sun-kissed look that makes you look healthy and feel good.

Now I wear sunscreen and a hat with a six-inch brim. No more afternoons devoted to turning over for even exposure.  I've become sensible. That doesn't mean I don't miss the look and feel of a tan. I can commiserate with ex-smokers, who will admit that they know they are healthier, but, god, they crave their cigarettes.  Even as I write this, I am jonesing for a tan.

2.  Vitamin D!

Let us not forget that humans are animals. That just might have something to do with our instinct to get outside in the sun. Vitamin D is necessary for a ton of reasons...and our bodies can't make it. By the end of winter, our Vitamin D levels are low. At the first sign of spring, outside we go. Vitamin D seems to be important in preventing heart disease, diabetes, and a dozen cancers. Some research indicates that up to 90% of breast cancer could be prevented with more Vitamin D. It lowers pain thresholds, cholesterol, and blood pressure . Pregnant women with low Vitamin D levels increase their babies' risk of Multiple Sclerosis.  A quick Google will tell you more.

It seems that in our zealous attempts to reduce skin cancer--but that still means never, ever getting sunburned--we've cut off the supply to one of the most important vitamins required by the body. Long before we popped supplements or added vitamins to milk, we went outside to fill our Vitamin D tank.

Rejoice, sun lovers!  As that Aristotle guy said, "Moderation in all things." But I say: "Woo-hoo!"

3. Sizzling Social Life.

I bet you didn't know about this benefit, but it will make complete sense to you.  First of all,  sunshine makes serotonin: The Happy Vitamin! Sunlight wipes out depression; lack of sun in winter leads to Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).  The sun also stimulates the pineal gland to release melatonin...and we sleep better.  

Starting to get the picture? We feel better, we sleep better, and that makes us want to get out with be with friends. Barbeques, picnics, patios, parties, pools.  

We can't overdo it in the sun anymore.  Then again, no one wants the leathery eternal Floridian look. But that healthy glow?  The thrill of tan lines? The satisfaction of knowing you are honoring your ancestors' way of getting Vitamin D...before anyone even knew what Vitamin D was?

Get outside, now!

 

 

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No! No! Not Another PowerPoint!

PowerPoint...helping people fall asleep since 1994.

In two weeks, I get to go to Las Vegas for a meeting. Should be fun--I get to see good friends, eat at a Brazilian Steakhouse, and enjoy some sunshine. But, even as I write this, I can already feel the boredom that is about to set in. And I will have some responsibility in causing it. 

Why?  Because it means I have to create another PowerPoint.  Perhaps you, like me, have come to dread attending any kind of meeting, seminar, workshop, class, lecture, retreat....any place where information is likely to be shared.  If so, it will be by PowerPoint.  Of course,  my presentation will be by PowerPoint, as well.

I recall the olden days when we had to use slides.  Remember those?  It was a hassle just to make slides. I worked at places where it was someone's actual job.  We thought it was so inconvenient to get the slides in the proper order, make sure they were right-side up, transport them, fit the tray into the projector, hope the light bulb didn't burn out, hope the slides wouldn't get stuck, and really hope they wouldn't fall out of the tray.  Click-click, "This is a slide of...." Click-click, "And here we have..."  Click-click.  Kind of a nostalgic sound, when you think about it.

Then came computers.  Remember the pure thrill of watching your first PowerPoint show?  HOW did they do it, anyway?  So slick!  So modern!  So fascinating!  I thought I could watch anything on PowerPoint.  It made any topic credible.

That initial phase of rapture lasted a while.  And there was more!  Before long, the tech-minded among us figured out how to do the animations, the fade-ins, the little bounces.  Clever, and so much better than those dull slides of yesteryear.  I mean, could there be anything more entertaining than those data points racing across the screen, then screeching to a halt, thanks to sound effects?

At the outset, PowerPoint came with an authentic lesson.  Because it was new, the best way to learn was from a certified Microsoft instructor; entire businesses sprung up, just to provide training.  I can't imagine how many zillions of dollars were spent sending all of us to day-long computer classes, not only for PowerPoint, but also those new-fangled Word and Excel programs.  Now, we just ask each other or figure it out for ourselves. 

The good thing about the lessons were the tips--tips long since forgotten or ignored:

• Put no more than three bullets on a slide.  The slides are meant to be talking points, not the entire presentation.
• If you want to use animation, limit it to a few slides.
• A slide or two per minute is a good pace. 

Pretty basic, huh?  And when was the last time you sat through a PowerPoint presentation that actually followed any of those?

My own presentation will violate two of those rules.  I'm not a big fan of animation, so I'm okay there;  it goes from amusing to distracting to irritating, pretty quickly.  I think it's more of a male-gadget-preference thing, anyway. 

But, I will certainly jammed plenty of information onto my slides!  This will include spreadsheets, not understandable by anyone sitting more than three feet away.  By putting more on the screen, I don't have to refer to my notes.  Heck, I don't even need notes. Call it laziness.  Guilty, as charged.

Here's a slide for my upcoming presentation:

Of course, the first words out of my mouth will be: "I know this is hard to see, but..."  And the audience will think "...but, you did it anyway, you ding-a-ling!"

Everyone does it. Everywhere.  Doesn't matter what the topic or the audience.  Because it's so easy to make a presentation, we can crank out slides like crazy.  We think more equals better, even when we know it's not true.  We put ridiculous amounts of information on a slide, then invariably say, "I know this is hard to read, but..."  [...but, I'm doing it anyway. Because I can.]

And those nifty handouts we can print?  Admit it, in the beginning, we thought they were heavenly. Saved us oodles of time, compared to the outlines we used to have to develop and type.  And admit it again, now you don't even look at them.

I'm sure something will come along to replace PowerPoint.  We'll love it at first, then our eyes will begin to glaze over, and we'll wish we were anywhere else but in yet another presentation.  PowerPoint will become as obsolete as slide projectors.  And everywhere, people will date themselves by saying, "Remember PowerPoint?  Can you believe we thought it was great?"

"Death by PowerPoint" is a fantastic and wonderfully accurate phrase I first heard from my son, Andy.  He's an officer in the Navy, where apparently PowerPoint is a regular practice.  At least, that's Andy's take; to hear him tell it, entire days and weeks are spent in dark rooms getting trained by PowerPoint.  I asked him to tell me a few titles for this post; I thought it would be interesting to share what goes on in the military.  He couldn't remember any. Not a single one.  Our tax dollars at work, folks. 

Credit: Marketoonist.com

 

Job Search: "The Company Men"...and Women

Boyfriend and I have a game we play when we watch movie trailers.  At the end of each trailer, we count to three and give it a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down.  If we agree--and most of the time we do, although he's a guy, so he favors the action films--then it goes on our "to see" list. It's fun--give it a try!

 Having already seen most of the Academy Award contenders, the weekend found us buying tickets for "The Company Men."  While it had looked interesting before my layoff--it scored a previous thumbs-up from both of us--it suddenly became timely. And riveting.

It's the story of what happens to people after being laid off.  Ben Affleck plays Bobby, a successful Regional Sales Manager who walks into a meeting one morning, only to find he's out of a job. Given a few months of severance pay and Outplacement assistance, he turns around and heads back home.  He is stunned, but confident that he'll snag a new gig in no time.  After all, he has a strong track record and great experience.  "Highly employable," declares his supportive wife.

Things come apart in bits.  At first, the family continues to live and spend as always.  Bobby goes to Outplacement with an amused attitude. Just a little setback, he assures everyone. Only gradually, as income stops and expenses continue, does the reality sink in.  His car is repossessed, his wife returns to work.  There are weeks spent at an Outplacement cubicle, just trying to get an interview.  When he does get the occasional one, no job offer happens. Always dead ends, with, or without, the much-touted networking.  They sell their home and move in with his parents.  He takes a construction job, working for his brother-in-law.

I tell you all this because the emotions and situations are real.  Hope is soon replaced by pain and panic. Bobby and his colleagues are smart, talented and motivated.  Well-connected, well-networked. But there is no work.  Not just at his former salary, but at any salary.  They lose everything.  One of his co-workers, a man of about 60 years, is told to alter his resume and dye his hair.  "It's going to be rough out there for you," is the frank observation of the career counselor.  In despair, after trying to compete with much younger candidates, he eventually completes suicide.

I found several things especially fascinating:
1.  The scenes involving discussions about which employees would be let go. As Human Resources and Managers review the lists, it goes something like this: "Her husband has a good job, so she'll be okay."  "Not him, he has a son in college."  "She can go--she could be home with her kids."  "Close enough to Social Security, should've planned better."  On and on.  There is one good-hearted executive (played by craggy Tommy Lee Jones) who objects to the subjective method, but doesn't really do anything.  Until he is handed his own pink slip.  But, I had to wonder if this is really how these decisions are made.  No rules?  No criteria?  Just people in a conference room, drinking bottled water, and casually destroying lives?
2.  When executives are sitting in a meeting about cost-cutting, the first budget cuts are staffers. No one at their own level. Not a big surprise, but you never hear any of them say, "Hey, we make plenty.  How about we save a few jobs by giving up our bonuses?" Or "Perhaps there are redundancies in the corner offices?"  Or "Hey, Pete--you're close to retirement.  More time with the grandkids.  How about now?"
3.  The Outplacement was uncanny in its accurate portrayal.  An initial orientation, complete with a pep talk about enthusiasm and attitude. "I will succeed!" chants the group, standing in a circle.  Then, it was off to the bull pen, to crank out resumes and applications, along with the others whose companies had eased any corporate guilt by providing a couple of months of career coaching. 

Finally, Bobby gets a job, at half his previous salary.  It's supposed to be an upbeat ending, because the kind-hearted executive cashes in his stock options to start his own company. Apparently it will be a company brimming with integrity and caring.  It was the only part of the film that didn't ring true.
 

Job Search, Week Three: Honey, I Shrunk the Budget

Today I can file for Unemployment Compensation.  From what I've gathered, the amount will barely cover my COBRA costs, the monthly healthcare expense that, as the Human Resources person happily told me, is a "benefit." It's also Federal law, but she wanted to make it sound like something special,  an offer reserved for only the nicest employees.

Lucky me!  Finally, a chance to capitalize on my tax dollars, by using unemployment insurance to pay for what should be a basic American right.  Only the United States ties healthcare to employment, but that is way beyond the scope of today's Blix.

I've heard that I need to get past my anger and move on.  Interesting comment from Miss Still-Employed-Double-Income.  I should be ecstatic with the opportunity to re-invent myself and to follow my heart.  Thrilled to explore my creative side.  Begin Anew.  Do what I really want.  What a crock.  What I want is my old life back.  My career.

Sorry if I'm not being a jolly good sport about losing my income, knowing I will never again match it, delaying retirement indefinitely, scrapping the idea of my own condo, scaling down to a 600 sq. ft. apartment.  Oh, and my son, the one who went through a windshield when he was sixteen?  Yes, him, the one with the severe facial, and equivalent psychological, scars. He's found a delightful woman and plans to get married this year. Sorry, kid, but you're on your own for the wedding.  

Please don't tell me I need to cut back.  Of course, one of the first things I did was to examine expenses.  I'm a pro at being frugal.  I buy in bulk. I don't waste food, always plan menus around the week's specials, cook at home most nights, buy clothing when it's on sale, etc., etc. This is not rocket science.  And I've done it before.  Other things, that were work-related, are not easy to change.  My job required a smartphone, with a big data package, for which I was reimbursed.  Guess what?  That $150 monthly bill is now mine.  For eighteen more months. Same with the big Internet/LAN line bill.  Both are locked-in rates.  My apartment has an extra room, because I had to have a dedicated space for a home office.  Extra room = extra rent.  Angry?  Not me...why would you think that?!  Why, for only $600 a month, I've got COBRA!

Lest you think I'm insincere, consider this.  In the mid-80's, I went through a particularly contentious divorce. It was summer, and my job as a school nurse did not pay during that time.  My soon-to-be-ex-husband gave me $25 a week to feed four children.  Nearly impossible, even back then.  To make every cent count, I shopped at Aldi Foods.  It was the lowest point of my life, buying just enough to get by.  When it was all over, I swore I would never step foot in another Aldi.  It wasn't so much the warehouse/pack-your-own concept.  The place just felt really, really sad to me.  I swear, despair hung in the air and clung to my clothing.

I had such a visceral reaction that when I made my list of how to cut costs, I couldn't include Aldi.  Too many bad memories.  But...one day, I drove by one, and stopped.  Sat out in the parking lot for a few minutes. Slow, deep breaths.  Then, as they say, I put on my Big Girl Pants, and went in. Is it any different, over 25 years later?  Not really.  But I was in.  I bought some pretzels---it's pretty hard to screw up pretzels.  I've been back twice, even, for bread and fruit.

So, I begin to figure out a new life.  Am I angry?  You bet.  Not only for me, but for all the others who suddenly find themselves without options, and without the ability to help a son celebrate his wedding.

Job Search: The Interview Suit

Raise your hand if you own a traditional suit in black or navy.  (Lawyers, put your hands down. This attire is your equivalent of scrubs for those who work in a hospital.)

Right off, here's my proposal:  Any severance agreement should include sufficient money to buy The Interview Suit. Period. They owe us that much, at least.

I have not owned a traditional--read "conservative"--suit for over seven and a half years. The last one I bought?  To interview for  the job I was just released from.  After I was hired, I donated it to an organization that gives suits to women without resources, so they can try to repeat the process.  The truth is, most of the corporate world has gone to what's called "business casual." Research shows people are more productive when they are comfortable, but not sloppy.

For men: Pin-striped suits, silk ties?  For women: Non-descript blazer and skirt, complete with sensible heels? Not in the world I came from.  I worked the West Coast, trendy, but not stuffy.  Comfortable, but cool. I didn't wear stockings for over a decade.  Loved those styles!

But.  I'm about to embark on the interview circuit now.  And that means I have to be compliant, if I want a prayer of a chance to get a second interview, let alone be chosen.  And there is an entirely different set of rules when it comes to the hiring process.  

Prospective employers never got the memo that they should hire for, say, skills or experience. Nope.  It's still the First Impression that makes or breaks a prospective candidate.  If you believe the research, that means a whopping twenty seconds before the decision is made, before you ever say more than "Nice to meet you."  Also, this apparently includes suppressing any hints of fashion.  Now, I'm not saying that we-who-seek-an-income should show up in jeans and a t-shirt.  But, really...we're not stupid.  We just left the work force.  We actually know how people dress on a daily basis.

 Yet, suddenly we're forced to show up in an outfit that's a cross between a nun and a 1960 airline stewardess.  AND, we, who are unemployed, have to dish out a considerable amount of money to achieve this look.  Ever read "Nickled and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in America" by Barbara Ehrenreich?  If not, stop reading this and go find it.  Ehrenreich sets out to see what it takes to live on minimum wage in three different employment arenas (Note:  As Alan, who recommended this book to me, said, "You won't ever again leave just one dollar for the hotel maid.")  Anyway, I digress.  What Ehrenreich finds is that people without jobs are expected to buy and wear a dictated type of clothing before earning an income.  

I've played this game before, so off I go, to find a reasonably-priced business suit--including the requisite dull white blouse and sexless tan pantyhose--for the interview that I surely hope lies ahead.  Once I'm at a reputable store, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.  After eliminating anything with the tiniest bit of flair, I find myself staring at expensive suits that I know I will never, ever wear again.  Ever.  Okay, maybe to a funeral.

All the employment websites--even my new favorite, Careerealism.com, have told me that I need a black, navy, or camel (if I'm feeling daring or interviewing at a progressive organization) suit.  And, unless my legs are horribly disfigured, it must be a skirt.  Hello?????  Have we learned nothing from Hilary Rodham Clinton?  Our successful Secretary of State wears pants.  

Here's the scoop for females, straight from a progressive website:

Shoes Wear pumps with a medium-sized heel. Do not wear high, excessively spiky heels or boots. Black, brown, taupe, or navy is fine. Avoid flashy shoes with bright colors like red or glittery gold. No tennis shoes, open toes, or sandals. Flats may be OK for an extremely casual workplace, but low pumps are preferred.

Dresses or Suits In the workshops I teach, I always have at least one woman who says, “I wore pants to the interview and I got the job!” That’s usually the case, these days if you are wearing a nicely tailored pant suit with an attractive blouse, but if you feel comfortable in a skirt and matching jacket, I recommend it!

Hair and Makeup Keep it simple! Don’t allow long or wavy hair to hide your face. Consider having a touch-up color, wave, or trim. Wear lighter or less makeup than usual. Do not apply too much foundation or eye makeup. If you use hair spray, you might consider an unscented brand. Any sort of perfume-like smell from hair spray, body lotions, cologne, or perfume can be disturbing to some interviewers.

There ya go.  Be as neutral as possible.  No hint that you might like color, fashion, or that you actually have a personality.

If this whole job thing doesn't work out, I think I could start a business.  I could just rent business suits, shoes, and accessories to people who are in Full Interview Mode.  No need to invest, just drop by for your black or navy suit.  Heaven knows you won't need it after you're hired.

Job Search, Week Two: Does Loyalty Matter?

If you're like me, you believe there are no coincidences.  As the saying goes, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.  So, you don't bat an eye when a colleague from another part of the country--someone whose friendship would never have been possible, under most circumstances--picks up the phone and calls.  "Hey, check this out.  It's a non-typical career website.  I was listening to NPR, and the founder was on.  I thought of you..."

That's how I learned about Careerealism.com.  Right away, I knew I was in a different world.  The site's slogan is a tip-off: "Because EVERY job is temporary."  Such refreshing honesty.  If only someone had shared this truth with me about thirty years ago.  It might have changed everything about how I viewed my career.  I might not have been so blown away when I got the news about my layoff.

I'll write more about Careerealism in an upcoming Blix.  For now, I want to focus on a single article I found there.  Let us consider the idea of loyalty in the workplace.  Simply put, there is none.  Dawn Rasmussen writes the article about how loyalty is a false concept. Bogus, in fact, when it comes to jobs.  Ouch.  Then again--in all fairness--it seems both employees and employers love the idea of "till death do us part," but like an unstable marriage, both are actually committed to only one thing: Looking out for Number One.  Self-protection, if you will.

On the employee's part, there is the comparison to an unhappy spouse.  The roving eye, looking over seductive want ads.  Fantasies about what it would be like to be with other organizations.  Maybe even a dalliance, sending out a resume or two.  The clandestine interview.  Sometimes, we're the ones to initiate the break-up.

Companies can change, too.  Adopt a new look, like the man going through a mid-life crisis who buys a red sportscar and gets hair plugs.  Experienced employees can suddenly seem frumpy in the redesigned culture.  Out with the old, in with the hip.  Companies can also purge, to save some bucks.  And that "purge" most frequently means living, breathing souls. Complete with mortgages, orthodonia bills, and now, a dead hope for a family vacation.  No big deal.  It's just a head count, after all.

My company, like many, was one which spoke of compassion and caring.  "We take care of each other" was the message.  On one hand, people were encouraged to enjoy vacation, or get education that would improve their careers. On the other hand, staff who traveled frequently were forced onto the cheapest flights, with multiple stops, negating consideration for the personal toll of being away from home.  If you didn't like it, too bad.  It was a sacred cow.  Rasmussen would not be surprised at the dichotomy. Here's the down-and-dirty: "But don’t forget, for even one moment, the workplace is first and foremost a business environment, and your being there is a mutual business decision."

So.  We're not one big, happy family after all?

I bounced this possibility off a couple of colleagues.  Here is the wise response from one:

"It is all so true.  I was just thinking about it today, because although I know all the legal reasons for no authentic communication, the #1 reason is that to them, it's just a job.  Even though it certainly doesn't feel like just a job, and we care about other people like a friend, or family....i.e. caring about each other's families and health issues, etc.  Then, BOOM, it's like scissors to a ribbon, leaving you dangling from the ribbon.  How could someone who 'cared' about you do that???!!!  The lack of financial support is one thing, but the lack of emotional support or friendship feels unconscionable.

 

But, as the website says... employers do, they cut the ribbon, just like that.  I guess our big mistake is falling for the idea of being in a work family, and that includes sometimes giving more than we want, or feels right.  I have known this in my head...but falling into the "we're like family" mode is so seductive, and you really believe that it would be different." 

 

Rasmussen points out that we spend about 40% of our 168-hour week at work. For people like me who have often worked more than 40 hours a week, the job consumed more time than we had for relationships and fun.  Suddenly, loyalty seems a tad over-rated.  Turns out, we're just little cogs in the big wheel of profit.

 

Remember this on your next job interview, when asked the inevitable question about your strengths.  "I'm loyal" might not be the best choice.  

Job Search: The Kindness of Others

"...I know that you have devoted so much of your life to the passion of donation, only to have this passage of time end with so much pain."

 So wrote Maggie. 

For me, "this passage of time" is twenty years.  A career that found me, not one that I ever had a formal plan to pursue.  Some of you know that I worked in donation and transplantation.  A tiny niche of healthcare, with specialized skills that aren't readily transferrable.  It's a field that either one loves or one hates.  If it's for you, then, as we used to say, it gets in your blood.  And you stay with it, always. 

For me, it began when I was working in the Intensive Care Unit.  A hot summer evening. We admitted a 42 year-old woman who had been watching her son play baseball.  Suddenly, she complained of "the worst headache of her life" and collapsed.  This headache is characteristic of a bleed into the brain, always life-threatening.  Treatment was futile, and she was declared brain dead.  Her family was approached to discuss the option of organ donation.  "Of course," said her husband.  "Whatever we can do help others. She would have wanted that."  An organ coordinator--a nurse, like me--came to the hospital to run the entire process.  Six people on the wait list got calls that night, telling them this donor was a match, and that they should prepare for their transplant. I was fascinated. I wanted to be an organ coordinator, too.

So it began.  I started in Chicago, moved to Seattle, then returned for what should have been the rest of my career.  It was challenging work, which suited me.  And it was satisfying.  How many of us get to be the direct link between a tragedy and a miracle?  If you'd have asked me what I did for my job, I would have said, "I save lives. From an untimely death, I help someone get a second chance at life."  This sounds dramatic, but it was true.

Seven years ago, I moved to another area of donation.  Tissue donation isn't as glamorous as organ donation, but is equally important.  Tear your ACL?  Back surgery needed?  Breast reconstruction after a mastectomy?  Possible amputation following trauma or bone cancer?  All are healed and restored by the generous gift of human tissue.  I was thrilled to be part of this new, and ever-changing field of medicine. 

One of the best things about my work?  My colleagues, who often became friends.  Since the news, their kindness and compassion have been a constant comfort.  Nearly all my co-workers have reached out, with words of healing.  While the people who decided my fate will continue to cruise, ski, frequent spas, and decorate their vacation homes--lifestyles uninterrupted--those who shared my world understand, and make every effort to prop me up right now.

Read this, and tell me I haven't been blessed with a wonderful co-worker and dear friend:

"I'm rooting for you.  Remember the story that Anne Lamott recounts in Traveling Mercies about her friend who ends up sitting next to a guy on the plane that works for the Dali Lama? She's asking him why is all this bad stuff happening to her.  And he says to her, when a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born.  And that this 'something' needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.  I believe this is what this distraction is ...  preparing you for the birth of something really beautiful."  

How about this poem?  Only a true friend would know how to touch my heart so well.

WORDS FOR IT
I wish I could take language
And fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead
I would wrap words on your wrists.

"There, there," my words would say--
        Or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
"Hush" and "Shh, shhh, it's all right."
I would ask them to hold you all night.

I wish I could take language
And daub and soothe and cool
Where fever blisters and burns,
Where fever turns yourself against you.

I wish I could take language
And heal the words that were the wounds
You have no name for.
    --Julia Cameron (The Artist's Way)

I know my situation is not unique.  And in this economy, it's not remarkable.  But--as in most significant life events--it does seem to be both when it happens to you.  And what could be more soothing and necessary than the nurturing of those who are close and loving?

Nothing, steadfast readers.  Nothing.

Job Search: Week One, Day One

Monday morning arrived, same as always.  The only thing different was that I didn't go to work.  Not that there wouldn't have been plenty to do; ironically, at the moment of the layoff, I'd been the busier than ever, working 10-12 hours a day.  I had tons of reports and projects that needed attention.  Make that, I would have had tons of reports and projects...I definitely need to shift to past tense.

Boyfriend tried mightily to cheer me up over the weekend.  Dinner in the city, a night at The Palmer House, a visit to the Art Institute.  He knows I love Matisse and Picasso.  We wandered through Millennium Park.  As we stood by "Cloudscape"--affectionately called "The Bean"-- a delightful young German offered to take our picture, with the city reflected behind us.  "Come, stand on the other side, I know." he directed. "You're glad to have this photo."

It all worked pretty well...until I hit the wall on Sunday evening.  "What are your plans for tomorrow?" Boyfriend asked in his most gentle manner.  I looked at him blankly.  No idea, I said.  It was downhill from there.  We were both restless all night, finally giving up and turning on the coffee about 4 a.m.

What to tackle first?  Everything seems important--and urgent--right now.  Yet I looked at the list I've been compiling and set it aside.  In no particular order, here's what I did on Day One:
-considered and decided against watching "Oprah"
-called Apple Support to learn how to reconnect to wireless, post-data transfer
-ate a tuna salad sandwich
-ate leftover pasta with lemon-garlic shrimp
-packed two big boxes of files to ship to the corporate office
-started my income tax
-sold some stock to pay for the MacPro Book
-discovered my hair was long enough to pull into a short ponytail
-checked my Monster.com account
-considered and decided against moving to Paris
-went into a panic when I couldn't find my Kindle
-relaxed when I did find it
-read a chapter of "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest" on the Kindle
-did a search for jobs at two nearby hospitals
-took a video of the squirrel who keeps coming on the balcony
-sent the video to Boyfriend, who has named the squirrel "Duke"
-sifted through the folders on my desk
-considered and decided against going to a Spinning class
-did a load of laundry instead

You get the idea.  My mind is pretty scattered right now.  The feeling is nearly identical to what I experienced when I became a widow.  Same physical symptoms, same inability to sleep, same restlessness, same sense of hopelessness.  The attention span of a goldfish.  Call it grief.

The other interesting thing is that I've had the same dream every night since the layoff.  In the dream, I return home and suddenly realize that I've lost my purse.  I start to panic because I need to go somewhere, but don't have my driver's license.  Now, it doesn't take Freud to interpret this one.  For women, our purses hold our identity.  Purses tell the world who we are.  We carry everything in them, from our legal proof of identification to our favorite shade of lipstick. Photos. Phones. Keys to any door that is important. Even the purse style says something about us.  In my dream, it has been stolen. Snatched away.  And I'm shocked to discover this.

So, the purse symbolizes my career.  My identity.  How am I going to be able to prove who I am?