small change

between jobs

My first paying job was for the Vancouver Playhouse (in British Columbia, Canada) manning a booth at a fair at the Pacific National Exhibition. I was young, not quite 18, thin, with lots of hair, and the right size for the elaborate Elizabethan costume I had to wear. At the time I believed I got the job because I was talented enough to speak for the theater, mistaking the image I already fit, and which had nothing to do with my abilities, for a role I created myself in the position. That I loved the theater and was more than eager to sing its raises for all who stopped by the booth helped maintain my illusions of competence that much longer – or long enough while the gig lasted. That competence was not a requirement for this job, never crossed my mind.

My last paying job I just lost a few weeks ago. I got this job, as an administrative assistant, precisely because I was not young. Mature and responsible, I suppose, though still thin enough for an Elizabethan costume and with enough hair left for some flair – though all this was immaterial to the position. That I had a sense of obligation to do my best and was more than eager to subsume any ideas of my importance in the scheme of things helped me last the better part of nearly three years. That is, until one day the illusion that I really carried no weight in the scheme of things around me cracked, leaving me rather incompetent at performing routine tasks. That competence in this position required an incomplete sense of self came to me too late in the game. And so, it was apparent to all, that it was time for me to go. Even in these lean times.

So now I am in between jobs and free in the sense in which time appears to be completely mine. It's a nice illusion, one that gives way to others about  one's competence and importance in the grand scheme of things. The fact is that in this state of freedom time itself can suck one through the cracks and slip past while making dust of all manner of grand plans. To prevent this from happening, one has to work very hard, indeed, harder than what it takes at most jobs....

current

The sun is not about to relent its power in this corner of California I call home. Though we are more than ready for rains at this time of year, I am glad for every day of additional sun we get. The slant of light at this time of year reaches deep into the recesses of my brain, illuminating an oddly out-of-season happiness. Late, late October and most of November are the time of year I love the best. That the grasses that have been parched since the first heat wave of spring are green again, that certain bushes, like the bottlebrush by my window, put forth brilliant flowers all help with a feeling of renewal even as the year is diminishing everything from light to days to prospects.

Last Thursday was my last day on a job I held for almost 3 years. So now I am helping shore up that new high in the statistical achievements of the American economy by joining the more than 10 percent of the jobless hordes. Though I already have an offer for some part-time work, it doesn't come with any benefits or even a living wage. The only reason to accept it would be to keep working, but the work is along the lines of what had led me down a blind alley before. Or, I could take a leap of faith, and because I happen to be lucky enough to have enough support right now to see me through for a while, I could grab the oars of opportunity and head up the creek, so to speak....

training

Mornings come ever brighter these days. Today’s dawn flew in on gusts of winds, unsettling dreams. A shaky foundation to the day, all this whirling light, but the cocoon of grime on the windows left by past seasons blunts edges, be they that of the garden gone wild beyond the frame or be they that of anxiety, from inside the mind caught in the vise of quotidian worries over the past and unbridled anticipation of a future never to materialize.

And yet, in spite of all this pervasive blurriness in high winds, I managed to stop working today long enough to work out the problem that had me working so hard the last two days that I was intimately reacquainted with the kind of headache that had me quitting jobs before.

What the winds couldn’t blow away, and what the grime couldn’t conceal, and what the light couldn’t wash out of this day is that old saw about listening to your gut. Or neck muscles, if they are the recipients of the kind of torque applied by your job, friends, or family that goes against your common sense, your integrity, and especially your soul. If the steam builds the pressure, it doesn’t mean that your only option is to blow. Nope, you can take all that energy and run with it.

Of course, it doesn’t mean that your boss or family or friends will climb aboard your train. But if they derail it with turning on red lights, even if it is obvious that the convoy is headed in the right directions and speedily to its destination, the train wreck becomes their problem.

Flooding is imminent

 

They sounded the alarm in San Anselmo about an hour ago. The creek is near flood level, after a day of copious rain, with plenty more in the forecast. A couple of hours ago, I went from work (one of the jobs I kept ... but more about that flood later) to the yarn store in San Anselmo to pick up more material for the rainy weekend that is ahead of us. I expect to take my sock kitting to the next level, if not exactly in craft, at least in experience.

It's been an odd week, this one. The first of having attempted to work at three jobs. In fact, the week started on Sunday, when I got a call at home form the brand new boss. It took me by surprise, because I didn't expect to be communicating outside of the parameters of regular working hours. There was a sense of urgency, I suppose, to get going, since there is a lot in the works for that organization, as I was to find out in two days of working (along with working one of my other jobs during those two days), there was too much in the works for me to handle.

So, on the second day, after I put in my hours and completed only about one third of the tasks on the list for the day, I wrote a note to the 'boss," letting him know why this won't work out.

I learned two things form my two days at that job. One was that you really have to be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it -- which is another way of putting that you can be had by your own wishes in ways that are not healthy for you.

The other thing I learned was that the kind of self-knowledge I thought I had is an illusion. Like Krishnamurti said, "there is no method for self-knowledge," because "[s]eeking a method invariably implies the desire to attain some result." As soon as I thought I knew who I was, I was someone else - or so it seems.

So now I am back to working two jobs, one in the nonprofit sector (my old job), where I was given a raise the day of my 1-year anniversary, and the other job, in a small office in one of the more charming towns of Marin and a boss with whom I sneak out at odd hours to yoga classes -- and whom I am starting to admire more and more for her formidable business talents, not to mention her considerable zest for life and loyalty to family and friends.

Rout(ine)

One son we took to the airport last night. He was catching the red-eye to Boston. The other left this morning, when it was still dark. He should be in Madison by tonight.

The house is quiet, but not so my mind.

The job offers keep coming -- it's almost laughable. I now have the option of working at four jobs: two with nonprofits and two for businesses. Alas, all these jobs are all part-time, which means that were I to take all of them, I would be working more than full time and at least six days a week, all with absolutely no safety net. That is, with no benefits of any kind. And, I suspect, this is one reason why I am getting so many offers. That, and my timidity around negotiating when it comes to the subject of compensation. It took me all of a few days to find out that at one of my part-time jobs I am getting 25 percent less in "wages" than my predecessor was earning. Why the fancy language, when the fact is that I am cheap! Unfortunately, it's mostly with other people's money and rarely with that of my own.

The funny thing is that putting a dollar value on my hourly output has a strange consequence on my psyche, at least when it comes to working in the for-profit world. I tend to become duller by the hour and less able and motivated to cope with the demands of the job. My stress level rises and I can measure its peaks in the rising caloric intake of carbs I consume, along with the time less spent on yoga.

Not so with my jobs in the nonprofit sector. In fact, it's almost the inverse. I am motivated to help the organization or clients beyond the call of duty, regardless of the wages I get. In turn, I always get something invaluable back. I am not sure it can be called satisfaction. I don't know what it is exactly, but it more than makes up for the low wages. Free of doubt over my abilities, I am also free to enjoy life outside work, which means more yoga and better interactions with the people around me. 

Perhaps there is no need to analyze this in length or in fancy words. It's pretty simple, after all: In the for-profit sector I think that the routine of work takes the best out of me and makes me into a worse person in the end. In the nonprofit world, work takes the worst out of routine and makes me a better person in the end. Or, even more briefly: one gets me out of the world and into myself, the other gets me into the world and leaves me be....

This wasn't so hard now, was it? Thanks to this post, I now know how to decide about which jobs to take....