selling oneself, again

While I feel an unfamiliar sense of relief for actually having an interview today, I am a little ambivalent.  Because I know that a job won't solve all my problems.  But it would solve quite a few, if I am hired.  Aside from the need for consistent and meaningful employment, I felt it was a pleasant conversation.  People put a lot of stock in stuffy professionalism, but in my humble and socially awkward opinion, a conversation is preferable to an interrogation.

I did have to answer the strength and weakness question, but I did what I usually do...I was honest.  I wasn't out to "sell" myself in the sense of trumping myself up and making me look better than reality.  Some might say I shot myself in the foot with that.  We'll see.

The best part about this morning was that the two ladies with whom I was conversing really seemed to understand me.  No blank stares a la store manager from yesterday.  One even told me I should be a writer because of how I answered the application questions.  I better be good at it by now...I've been writing a lot of cover letters and such lately.  Maybe I should try to make money blogging!  She said she understood my "heart," which is good.  The job is in a non-profit, working with people.  That's all I'll say so as not to jinx anything.

Honesty and a willingness to help people.  Is that not rare these days?  Or am I falling into the "sell myself" trap and latching on to a trait that I think could be marketable?  I have no idea, not yet...but I do know that helping people whether in the arts, education or another type of service feels a whole lot better than soliciting store credit card applications.  Asking people to add a credit card to their wallet seems like part of the problem, not the solution.  Yes, you save a certain percentage that day--and every month onward, if you really want to buy that often--but many people are concerned about their credit scores, identity theft and the temptation to spend more than you have earned just yet.

I'd rather help than hinder.  Not all customers are jerks who didn't pay attention in math class.  The one extreme example I have is a lady who declined to apply for credit, then got a little annoyed when I continued to converse with her about non-credit things.  It takes a lot of effort for me to talk to people in a comfortable manner...part of me still thinks I'd better keep my mouth shut.  But I thought I might make her day by treating her like a person.  Problem was, she had problems weighing on her mind, and blurted out "I'm homeless if you must know, and my husband is in jail for murder."  I told her she didn't have to tell me that as I handed over her change.  I'm not sorry for speaking to her (it's part of my job) but it was not my intention to make her feel bad about her situation.  She's the sort of person whom I might help in the new job.  Maybe in that context I'd win her over.  But some people do have chips on their shoulder, and I blame society and all its pressures for that.

Yesterday my dad told me I wasn't really part of the workforce.  Because of my liberal arts degree.  He said I "took it the wrong way" but how else should I take it when my father calls my chosen pursuit a "problem"?  He assures me I'll get a museum job when the economy gets better.  So for the moment I need to starve?  I do hope that teaching this fall doesn't disqualify me from the non-profit job...I told them this morning--and I think they feel me on this--that I want to keep at least a toe in the arts.  A whole foot, really.  I refuse to sell my soul.

this is what I get for not writing during gorgeous weather

If this entry were from last week, it would be incredibly upbeat and optimistic.  Not so, today.  It's a sad, rainy Tuesday, and there are a couple indications that I won't get exactly what I want.  I want employment, meaningful employment, and I have no definitive answers.  Well, except the potential teaching job.  But with my track record, even that could go haywire.

If all goes to plan, I'll be teaching the Baroque to Contemporary art history survey at OUZ.  Which sounds awesome.  And scary.  Especially if I wind up in the auditorium.  What if I bore the students to death?  What if they can't comprehend me?  It wouldn't be the first time...it often seems that I'm speaking gibberish to people.  So that's one thing.  In September.  But what about in between?

I just can't revel in the good things, like completing the horrid thesis or being done with the Heifer event.  I find not the silver lining but the dark spots.  Like...what if my grades aren't updated in time to reflect my graduation on my transcript?  I bet everyone at the graduation party was wondering who that loser Deborah is on the list and why she isn't there.  I do wish I could have been there.  I don't feel like a Master now.  No more than before.  And really...none of the good things in the past month keep me out of debt.  My life is all about a paycheck now.  So much for idealism.

On the bright side--well, less dark side--I got to watch the pilot of Lost on my computer while trying to email a potential employer and submitting yet another resume.  Fingers crossed for at least some form of acknowledgement.  It'll need to get a whole lot more gloomy for me to think that I shouldn't keep looking for that arts job that's out there for me, somewhere...

When it rains, it pours...

At first I found it quite infuriating that after two years of looking for permanent employment, I'm stuck in a frightful limbo with two very different jobs set before me.  But then I reminded myself that this is just the annoying problem that I have been waiting for.  Just to have somebody put my resume in the "call" pile instead of the recycling bin was joyful enough.

So I'm making the final heroic push to finish my paper and redeem myself this spring.  I know I should stop talking about it this way, but I really feel like a prodigal scholar...and maybe I don't deserve a second chance.  I'll never know why so many of my resumes were tossed; it could be the leave of absence, or it could be something else entirely.  I'm constantly reflecting on that last year at Columbia, and wishing I could have performed better and reacted differently to the challenges I was facing.

In hindsight, I wish that I could have dealt better with my mother's death and focused my energy on success.  It seems to me that I was on the right track, doing what felt right instead of what was always expected.  I wish I still had the guts that allowed me to pick up and move to New York.  But I haven't shown any guts for a while now.  Moving back to Ohio was like doing the expected.  Would I have suffered if I continued in NYC?  Most likely.  But who can say whether the suffering would have been better or worse than the stagnation I experienced on the farm?

If you boiled down the choices before me right now, you'd see an epic struggle between idealism and reality.  Arts or business?  And I use "business" instead of money because at this point (don't jinx it) there is an arts opportunity that is actually offering a salary.  So do I continue the struggle to make a career in the art world and field disparaging comments and questions from my family?  Or do I suck it up and strike out on a new path paved with business attire and sales pitches?  It wouldn't necessarily be a deal with the devil...I could do a lot of good with the money.  And I wouldn't be cut off from the arts.  They would, however, become my hobby, not my life.

Why does the "new normal" of our society/economy seem so hostile toward the University of Trial & Error?  I remember interviewing an artist at Winter Fair for HS art class, and that was the school name she gave.  It was humorous, honest and inspiring.  That life path doesn't seem to be available to me, though.

On the other hand, maybe I'm already enrolled at Trial & Error.  Maybe the next trial is to test out the business waters.  Those of my friends who have posted on my facebook would disagree.  I'm still young.  And my two-year-old paper isn't half bad.  So I must have some brains left inside my skull.

At this particular moment, I'm weighing and measuring...and hoping I haven't already blown it with the arts side of things.  Voicemail is not my strong suit, and the cellular signal was no help either, but I do hope I can speak with my potential arts employer this week.  I'll make sure she knows I'm enthusiastic and capable and worthy.

meditations on a career fair

These are the misadventures of a liberal arts girl in the heartland of the vocational and financial...

I suppose I should lay out the preconceived notions and fears I had prior to this little venture.  I have never before visited a career fair.  Which seems odd, given there were plenty at Ohio State.  Again my fatal flaw of rolling the dice and going on my own.  So I wondered what it would mean for me, especially after so much artsy schooling, to visit with hiring staff from insurance companies, financial institutions and corporations.  Would I be laughed out of the room?  My resume is tailored to catch the museum eye...and I might just get confirmation that I've lost all ability to impress.  I might get confirmation that my resume is crap.  I might be the only Gen Y in the room (pretty darn close, it turns out), and I might not look good enough.

I wondered who goes to these sorts of things?  I was a little surprised to feel some shame.  Like the unemployed and under-employed are vocational lepers.  I never imagined myself in this position of helplessness.  And I never wanted evidence that it is of my own doing flung in my face.  Even though I have never attained any semblance of status, I felt the absence of it.  Very strange.

Now this fair was a lot smaller than those I had seen on the news.  Maybe around a dozen tables.  Of course, more could have come after I left.  I was yet again reminded of the specter of education...or rather, re-education...by the presence of three career colleges.  And I call them that to differentiate from the 4-year liberal arts system that seems to be so demonized these days.  Like people who study history and art don't want careers?  Sheesh.  They're running a pretty nice racket, getting people to go back to school for every little change in their career path.  I guess I'm an oddball for thinking enough is enough when it comes to student debt.  So I was a fish out of water.  But I had my spiel:  branching out to the private sector, offering my administrative and organizational and computer skills.  I even have some sales and customer service under my belt.

So why deny me "entry" (in the figurative sense) to this world of "career"?

Nobody actually flinched when I said "art" or "non-profit."  Good sign.  One lady seemed to deem all my experience in museums collectively as an internship.  Like I had no valuable training from those years.  Bad sign.  This I find interesting, and I would have to go to many more fairs to say anything definitive, but the woman was far less receptive to me than men at other tables.  Curious.

What I got out of this was some confirmation of my previous employment lamentations:  1. Every HR person has his/her own prejudices, and you cannot please everyone (without lying), 2. I will never rid myself of my prejudice against financial institutions even if I work for one and drive myself slowly insane, and 3. I just cannot seem to get along with middle-aged women.

give me a job

A facebook friend posted this a week or two ago:  "what should you value more in a professional experience: quality, or "quantity", that is, length of commitment? is it just my generation, or are most people always looking for a better, more interesting, or just more convenient way to earn their living and enjoy their work?"


Of course the reading of this reminded me of how I am racked with guilt over being one of those Generation Y losers who haven't stayed at one place of employment for multiple, continuous years.  I try to justify, and think over the reasons why I have not stayed.  Well, I suppose it began with college.  I worked summer only.  Then work-study at the Columbus museum came along, interrupted by an internship in D.C.  I did go back to Columbus, yet I doubt that counts as continuity.  Then graduation...and work-study ended and the museum had no place for me.  I volunteered for a few months, worked retail for a few more, then got back into the old Development office for a few months.  Then I had the awesome idea to go to graduate school.  Ooops?  More work-study, but there wasn't enough work to last past May both years.  Summer jobs.  Unpaid internships.  Volunteering.  Substitute teaching.  2010 Census.  Then finishing the last 4 months of the Zanesville museum's education grant.


I want to know, quite simply and unequivocally, does the past decade of my life make me ineligible to work for a living?


Because it was all supposed to do the opposite.

loose ends

I knew this would happen...I'm mentally balking at the notion of sending my resume to New York places because I feel that New York is out of my league.  That's what a year in Ohio does to you.

I really need to bite the bullet and call the places I've already sent to, so at least I'll know they've dragged and dropped my resume into their computer's recycle bin.  It really stings.  As it did before.  And it's harder now to search for jobs, not because there are no openings, but because I feel I am not qualified for the openings.  Because I took that worthless internship my second year.  Because I'm on academic leave.  Because I'm here in Podunk, Ohio.  I cannot bring myself to lie or pad my resume.  And quite frankly...does it really need padding?  What else can I do but write an honest letter and let my skills speak for themselves?  A clever turn of phrase, in moderation, maybe, is all I used to need to impress a potential employer.

Sometimes I think I embody the phrase, "Oh, how the Mighty have fallen."  It really brings me down to think of all the potential I had in high school.  That I still had at OSU.  All that promise that now seems wasted.  And I know I've written sentences like that before.  At least there is still a little voice inside that insists:  I have fallen, but I'm still mighty.  I just wish I were more impervious to the things that make me feel less intelligent.

I'm wrapping up a "gig" as educator of a small museum with major financial and organizational issues.  Have I helped at all?  The idea of talking about what I've done with my boss is rather frightening.  I think I've helped in such tiny ways that it will all disappear not long after I'm gone.  Absorbed by larger problems.  Again and again like a litany of shame I describe to the people I run into around town that I'm applying everywhere I possibly can...waiting...licensed for substitute teaching...waiting.

shoot! I forgot what I wanted to write...

So as an art educator/museum person am I really doing my job when the only people who come to my open-ended informal Q&A talks are family members?  That's been bothering me all weekend.

Just how do I go about reaching the people who need to be reached?  Step 1:  work at a better institution.  I've got a dozen applications floating around in the ether (at least that's how it feels when everything is electronic), and I'm unsure whether I should make follow-up calls.  Rats.

Y-Bridge Festival was all right.  I guess when you've got a funny-shaped bridge that you can partially close off without completely disrupting traffic, you have to stage an arts festival there.  I bought a really cool collage that reminds me of the architecture days.  And now all I want to do is snip up old maps and magazines and make collages of my own.  I did my best impression of a salesman at the booth...just trying to whip up some community support.  And the band did play my favorite karaoke song:  I Want You to Want Me.

I'm slowly digging out of my lack of organization.  The room is almost liveable again.  Now if I could only stop being so uncomfortable about the clothes in my closet (and on my floor), I might actually wake up in a good mood.  I'm just not liking what I've got.

I have to see the movie Eat Pray Love.  HSN would like to think that buying stuff over the telephone is equivalent to traversing the world, but I know they're wrong.  Every time I see the trailer on television I want to get the heck out of Dodge and see something.  Anything.  I really have to wonder at this point...will I ever see the world?  Or did I miss my opportunity, now that my twenties are drawing to a close?  The sisters say they're happy right where they are.  Good for them, but not for me.  Right now I don't even like my closet.

Dad was watching Huckabee last night.  One of the guests was talking about how God saved him from the "demon of murder,"  after he brutally murdered a woman in the 70s.  Now he's free and preaching.  Only one thing comes to mind when I see Huckabee.  Theocracy.  Why is it that the various Protestant sects that emerged out of the Reformation are just as tyrannical and corrupt as the Church they rejected?

Topic for next time, I think.

compassion

It's not the be-all end-all...or end-all be-all...but something this country (as a whole society) lacks is compassion. Today there was a lady in line behind me who ordered a sub. No big deal there. Except that when it came down to picking veggies, she explained it wasn't for her...it was for the guy outside holding a sign that said "hungry." Now I've tried to give food instead of money before, and it didn't work. For some it's a health issue--food given by a stranger made them sick at some point--and for others, well, they'd rather have cigarettes or alcohol instead of food, unfortunately. If every single American was like the sub lady, we might be in a better situation than we are now.

I know it isn't so simple. Some people are too proud to ask for help. Others abuse the help that is given. All the Christmas food baskets my mother ever delivered couldn't solve the world's problems. But they helped those families have a merrier holiday.

A lot of Americans are afraid of becoming a "welfare state." These same Americans bemoan the dreary future for Medicare and Social Security (which is welfare...shhh! don't tell them!) And while Europe is slowly digging itself out of a rather deep financial hole, these Americans point eastward as if we need to learn a lesson. Well, we can learn a lesson right here on our own soil. The lack of compassion for others, those who are losing jobs and houses and livelihoods, is exactly what is sending this country down the drain. Like dirty bathwater. We cannot be the great nation of decades past when we have our own tired and poor yearning to be free (of debt) right here and now.

I've made no attempt to hide my bias toward my generation. I consider myself a bit of an advocate for the graduates and the interns and the assistants out there, being one myself. Yes, we need to create jobs for those who have lost them, which is what, in the millions now? But my focus is on the people who have not yet gotten a job. And I'm talking a real job with benefits and retirement and your very own desk and email account. I gave one of those up to go back to school, and although I most likely would have been "redirected" from the museum in the course of their renovation/lay-off-good-people campaign, I sometimes kick myself. There are "kids" out there, fellow generation Y-ers, who like me have moved back in with parents. Some send out 70 resumés a day and others have given up. Yes. There are recent graduates who have given up already. So much for commencing.

What is Congress telling my generation, when the interests of unions and industry make them focus on jobs for the older generations? When they filibuster an extension of unemployment benefits? Why can't we have the American Dream? Because we voted for Obama? Is this revenge?

I am about to commence the job search once again. And while the prospect of change has me a little giddy, I am deflated somewhat by the lack of compassion in my own backyard. When a sibling who has been working for over a decade complains about her retirement fund dwindling in such a way that (and I'm pretty sure this wasn't unintended) demonizes the very thing that has thrown me a lifeline--federal stimulus--I infer that older generations don't care what happens to us. As long as they can retire comfortably and drive their luxury vehicles, life is great. Meanwhile, remember those graduates I mentioned? Like me? Screw 'em. It's our fault for being born in the eighties. I should have known better...

Guess what. We'll be in charge some day. We are the future leaders. And then the next generation and then the generation after that. I've heard several conservatives preach about leaving debt for their grandchildren to pay...but no one is crying about hanging future generations out to dry. Let us get our start. Let us roll over our IRAs some day. It's not all about you and your retirement fund. Your wealth would be worthless, quite literally, if the next generations can't get their wealth started. So there's my socialist rant. With a capitalist twist...I want money. Let me earn it!

But I pledge this now: I will never drive a luxury vehicle.