Going back into the work force is still a decision I’m not comfortable with. Jeff and his business partner are planning to launch their delivery service at the beginning of October, and he hasn’t shut up about it. I’m so horribly depressed at being stuck in the house all day that I found myself looking forward to the season premier of Oprah. Rachael is not very stimulated or challenged at home, and is smiling and happy as she waves “goodbye” to me when I drop her off at pre-K two days a week. Yet with all of this, I’m still uneasy about getting a job.
From the time females enter womanhood, they are given many ass-backward messages. You need to make a contribution to society by working a career, yet you need to have children and be a good mother. If you are a housewife, you are wasting your life and talent away, yet raising children is noble. More women should stay home and raise their children, but go ahead and try to live on one income. When my mother and other women were standing up in the ‘70s for choice, I know damn well this isn’t what they had in mind.
I’ve read my Susan Faludi, and I am well aware of the terrible backlash against women in this country, and unfortunately, despite all of Susan’s warnings and awareness, the backlash has worked, but not in the way we thought it would. Women aren’t stopping themselves from pursuing careers, or keeping themselves at a job when they really want to be home, they are doing what they want, but are constantly second guessing their lives.
I want to be at work again, because I like what I do. I’m one of the best fucking event managers you will ever come across, and it’s not an ego thing, I’m really good at it. However, the thought of leaving my daughter in daycare is really nagging at me. Fortunately, since Jeff is starting his business, I now have boot up my ass that I need to plunge head first into the working world again. My main challenge now is making it to the second interview.
As if interviews weren’t torture enough, two are needed nowadays, and I’ve even heard tales of terror from friends of mine that have been through up to eight interviews. I can pretty much size up a person within five minutes, and Human Resources isn’t my field. If a person is willing to keep coming back past five interviews, then they might as well work there. Besides, you never really know what you’re getting from an employee until they start working, anyways, so it’s all just a big guessing game.
I can sit there and tell you until I’m blue in the face that I’m a kick-ass event manager, and for the past two weeks, this is exactly what I’ve done for those organizations that have called me back. However, in retrospect, I think I’ve been all too eloquent about my capabilities. Instead of telling potential employers that when needed, “I can make the event my main focus,” I should say, “I’ve run 15-hour events on three hours of sleep with only two piss breaks.” Maybe I should replace, “my husband is very willing to accommodate childcare needs during events to free me up to give the event my full attention,” to “I look forward to being away from the house for a week straight, and dumping my active toddler on her clueless dad is like icing on the cake!” Basically, I have to translate to my possible future bosses that I’m all too willing to enslave myself to make sure that the event is a success without coming across like I’m giving up too much.
One of the best lessons I learned in life was that, despite loving what I do, I need to love myself more. In my last stint in the music industry, I worked like a slave for a small company that had zero respect for me. I would get yelled at, mistreated, and have enormous amounts of work heaped on me, all the while making just $24,000 per year. In the end, when I finally did find my voice and call them on their obscene workload and lack of pay, it was seen as more of a peasant uprising than a contract negotiation, and we parted ways soon after. I was pleased to learn later that the company cut off their nose to spite their face, and had to hire five people to replace me. As I said before, I am a kick-ass event manager, and I work like a dog.
I’m older and wiser now. I realize that no matter how important and good my job makes me feel, it’s just a job. If it has a negative effect on my family, I will be all too willing to give it up. A wise rabbi once told me that at the end of life, on your deathbed, no one ever says, “I wish I would have spent more time at the office.” I couldn’t agree more, but I would still like to get called back for at least one second interview.
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