Swim Lane

Image credit: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xhpb3KowOLs/SKC2PMzDh5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/JXe6CaZ9MYA/s320/Swim+Lane+08.04.08.JPG

My job coach says that in tough economic times, it's more important than ever to "stay in your swim lane" when looking for a new job. That is, only apply for those jobs which neatly match your skills and experiences. This is not the time to waste energy applying for jobs which are either aspirational or make do ("I could be an administrative assistant!"), because people whose skills neatly match those positions are also applying for them and while yes, you may be a great typist and organizer, it's not your "swim lane". It's not that you're unqualified or overqualified, it's just that you aren't going to be using your best gifts in that role and there are others who are better suited.

It can feel like an awfully New Age-y and impractical approach to job hunting when there is a very real part of you that is screaming "BUT I NEED TO PAY MY BILLS!!!". It takes tremendous discipline to narrow one's focus and only submit materials for wholly relevant positions. It also requires a gut check with every posting: "Okay, this is in my pool, but is it in my swim lane?" That said, it's also satisfying to stick the landing every time. It's the difference between trying on clothes that fit you beautifully and trying on clothes that don't hang right, whether it's because you need to lose five pounds or you need different foundation garments or they're just too big in the wrong places.

In the three weeks that I've been unemployed, I've applied for five jobs. Three have been exactly in my swim lane, two are just outside (one is something I've done in the past but no longer want to do, the other is right next to my lane but still outside my direct experience). Of the three that are exactly in my swim lane, only one feels like a bullseye. I'm practicing deep yoga breaths and expanding my faith boundaries, trusting that my what's next will be there, knowing that I'm doing everything I can.

A Facebook friend has been unemployed for a long, long time. She's applied for multiple extensions on her unemployment benefits. Today she had a "public meltdown" and described her search-- initial success, seemingly sure opportunities that vanished and then, gradually, nothing, no matter what she applied for. I suspect she's taking the automatic fire approach, jumping at any moving target, allowing her desperation to overwhelm her common sense... but she is also running the very real risk of not being able to make ends meet. That scares me. I know I'm better positioned, realistically. I know that I have outstanding networks and I know that I'm capitalizing on them fearlessly. But I'm still nervous.

Inherited

Image credit: http://api.ning.com/files/I-HtJW36Yr48cFy5zokERU3nM7-*6qPPb4n5RLgi0gfNlCb3*Vd4IskYaQ0Z-NBlyLXbXK0-uUBliKU-A9Ii6ZSv9XHIInMA/circle.jpg

My father's younger sister, W., and her wife, B.-- collectively known as The Aunts (pronounced "AH-nts")-- have been a huge influence in my life. I call them "the mothers of my adulthood". Had I not forged a relationship with them as I embarked on my teaching career (B. was a first grade teacher), even though they lived all the way across the country at the time, I don't know where or who I'd be.

They've taught me about everything from vibrators and lubrication (on a dark car ride so they couldn't see me blush) to being honestly who I am. They introduced me to excellent coffee and the pleasure of good food cooked with love. They showed me a different way of being in the world. They gave me a different path from the one of the repeated emotional dysfunction that I eventually came to see in my family of origin. They taught me that family had less to do with genetics and obligation and more to do with who you choose to be in your circle-- heart family. I was the first blood relative they let into their world, a huge risk for them in its own way. They are my marriage role models. They're part of the reason I'm in Seattle-- they live on the other side of the state, but we all agree it's far better than being on the other side of the country.

I spent Thanksgiving with them (my brother lives in their basement, so it's one-stop shopping for People I Love Most in the World). Visiting them is more home than visiting my parents in the house where I spent my adolescent and teen years. I completely relax when I'm with the Aunts. When I visit my parents, I feel a continued obligation to "contribute to the welfare of the family" by doing chores or run the very real risk of Mom "blowing up". When I visit the Aunts, all I have to do is be. There is a massive fireplace. They have a hot tub in the garage (one of the few vestiges of their California life). They get the Food Network. I can read. I can help W. in the kitchen. We talk for hours. I sleep on the couch in the living room but it's still Home.

This Thanksgiving, we added a new person to the family. E. is the granddaughter of one of their good friends, a woman they call their "sister" (see: "doesn't have to be genetically related to be family"). E's mom is a convicted felon and bi-polar drug addict. Her dad was a sweet guy but made his living dealing pot. Her parents divorced when she was little (she's 5 years old now). She'd been living with her dad in a nearby state since she was 3.

One morning this past July, E. went to wake her dad up. He didn't move. She made her own breakfast, watched cartoons, and went back to wake him up for real. He still didn't move. She didn't know it but her daddy was dying of a drug overdose. Within 24 hours, her world had shifted completely. She was placed in crisis foster care. Her grandmother drove down with B. and moved heaven and earth to gain full custody of E. within a week-- unheard of. E. moved into my aunts' house with her grandmother, B. became her secondary guardian, and now E. has three mommies and a whole new life.

E. started kindergarten in August. She's a gorgeous, sparkly elf of a girl. She has an artist's soul-- a keen eye for color and design that is already clear. She's beginning to read. She's musical. She's magical. For the first time in her young life, she has structure and boundaries. She is safe. The grief and rage that bucked through her for the first few months has abated. My aunts, who talked for years about adopting a child, have now inherited one.

E. is the first child of the Next Generation in my family. My brother and I were long the only grandchildren and neither we nor or late-arriving cousins are anywhere close to procreating ourselves. E. could easily be my daughter. In the fluid constellation of this part of my family, E. is my niece.

I am head over heels in love with this child. We spent Thanksgiving morning watching the Macy's Parade-- the first parade she'd ever seen. She sat on my lap and we "danced"- I held on to her feet and whenever there was music or dancing in the parade, I moved her legs in time with the songs. She giggled and giggled and giggled. That night, she helped us with the 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle that the grownups worked on for two days-- and darn if she didn't put together one of the most challenging sections. We played school. I read her bedtime stories.

It wasn't all happy-- she had a terrifying meltdown my last night there, screaming because I didn't give her "ten books" (turns out that part of the bedtime ritual is to scatter 10 books on her bed, which she reads until she falls asleep, but which also give her a sense of security in their presence). B. pointed out that E.'s mother had called earlier in the day and E. needed to let the stress out in some way. (During the phone conversation, E. kept saying "Okay, mommy, I'm going to go watch the parade now. Mommy, do you want to talk to Grandma?" Poor kid didn't want to be on the phone with her mom but couldn't get away.) Once we figured out what was wrong and books were duly laid out on her bed, E. was wreathed in smiles and she didn't have any nightmares that night. Given her mama's bi-polar diagnosis, the sunshine and shadow-ness is being watched very closely. It's a scary reminder that we can surround this child with all the love and security in the world and her life could still go off the rails.

As the aunts dropped me off at the airport to return home, they said, "You realize that you are a very important part of this village, don't you?", meaning the village that it's going to take to raise E. I do and I'm honored and humbled by that responsibility and gift. There is the very real likelihood that E. will become a bigger part of my life as my aunts and her grandma get older (they're all 50 or older). It comes full circle. I get to be an Aunt.

HA!

Image credit: http://char84.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/open-closed-door-i1.jpg

What seemed like a sure thing with the campaign position vanished this morning. Mr. Smith called to let me know that a staff member for the non-profit behind this campaign who had already filled this role several times told him this morning that she'd be doing it again. Oh.

I had one of my "bad" days today. The bad days are the ones where I have to say "I'm unemployed, I'm looking for my next opportunity" too many times. They're the days when I have conversations that allow me the room to share my grief and outrage at the loss, the days when I gnash my teeth too long over the city's embrace of everything that I hate about the culture here. The days when I look at the economy and the unemployment numbers and panic just a bit. The days when I realize that this isn't going to be easy or over soon. They days with closed doors instead of new opportunities. The days when I just get tired of having to be nice about it all.

I'm still angry. And being without a job doesn't help. Every day my focus is on finding a new job and oh why? Because I'm unemployed. Because my candidate lost. Because the other guy won. How do you move on when every single day you're reminded of why you're in this position? Yes, yes, it's an opportunity (sick of that word today) and yes, many good things have come and will continue to come out of this, but I'm tired of looking for the lesson, for the good, for the optimistic side of this.

The guy who won SUCKS. I spent seven months with him on the campaign trail and was never impressed by him. Not once. He ran a crappy, unprofessional campaign in every sense. I heard quiet whispers about him having issues with women- a misogynistic attitude. I heard gossip about his lack of follow-through and how much he loves sitting in endless meetings, listening to himself talk. He SUCKS. It's just not fair or right that he won. And the fact that he won surely means, to a great degree, that we ran a crappier campaign or had a worse candidate, which makes me almost as sad as the fact of the other guy winning.

It was a bad day.

HA!pportunity

Image credit: http://vator.tv/images/attachments/010709230256open_door_free_access.jpg

"Know any qualified, experienced individuals who would want to be a Field Director?" Mr. Smith emailed me last night. He's managing an issue campaign to fund education locally (I really don't get the way we do things out here sometimes-- it's like institutionalizing inequality and taxing people twice instead of just fully funding schools and supplemental programs the first time).

It's a quick gig- just through early February. I forwarded it to the Campaign's field director, but couldn't help but be intrigued myself. Issue I care about deeply, winning campaign (who's going to hate on kids?), direct field experience (which would surely help with my application for the community outreach job I really want), something to fill my time with, and not an impediment to either the interview process or potentially accepting the outreach job if it's offered to me. It also addresses perhaps my biggest weakness as a potential candidate some day-- my lack of engagement with public schools.

And it would mean working closely with Mr. Smith for the next two months.

Oddly, this is perhaps the biggest negative (beyond plunging right back into ANOTHER campaign, which, p.s., I swore I would never ever do). I am strongly attracted to Mr. Smith. Could I handle two months of working closely with him? Could I maintain my professionalism? On the other hand, two guaranteed months of flirting and a definite reason to go to work in the morning does not suck.

I'm going to send him my resume. He said I'd be a "joy to work with". It would start as soon as possible. Fuckity fuck fuck... this was NOT the plan. But it's a pretty fantastic opportunity.

New Economy

Image credit: http://normalteens.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/caution.jpg

I've had a fairly Pollyanna-ish perspective on my job search. "Oh, it will be fine! I'll find something by January! The economy is turning around!" Reality is starting to set in. One job I applied for has 169 applicants so far. I'm not a specialist in any one field. I'm still in career transition. I don't have a concrete set of skills I'm able to apply-- my field is more the warm and fuzzy "relationship building" arena (plus side: can't be outsourced!). I am not going to be the obvious choice to make the first cut. I'm going to have to be as sharp as possible and it's going to take longer than I thought it would.

One definite advantage I have is my network. I know people and people, for some blessed reason, are willing to help me, whether by giving me a name or talking to someone on my behalf or sending me leads.

I had a meeting this morning with a friend of a friend, someone who, by dint of his "reservoir of affection" for my contact, was quick to agree to meet with me. It turns out that he's one step away from the actual hiring manager for the position I've applied for and therefore the best possible person for me to talk with. He was able to tell me in detail about the position ("One thing about this is that it's definitely intellectually challenging," he said, in warning. I almost audibly sighed with delight. I am such a good fit for this quirky position...) He will mention me to the hiring manager and, should I get an interview, he'll meet with me again to coach me. As supportive as he was, he also prefaced everything he said with big yellow "CAUTION" signs. It's a jungle in the job search world and even the strong are not guaranteed to survive.

I am becoming more realistic. It could be a while. I'm going to have to hustle (and, to give myself due credit, I'm doing absolutely everything I can. I have never been this aggressive or creative about networking before). It may become necessary to cobble together part time jobs for a while.

I saw The Candidate last night and he asked me what I'd been up to. "Job searching full time," I said, with sort of a "duh" expression in my eyes. "Sorry about that..." the Candidate apologized. Yeah. Stupid losing campaign. Stupid new economy.

That said, the flip side is the tremendous well of opportunity before me. I'm just going to have to be patient, diligent, disciplined, and creative. More than ever before, I can't get stuck on one opportunity. I've only applied for three positions so far. I need to keep beating the bushes.

Job Search = Dating, Part One of an Occasional Series

Image credit: http://www.grinningplanet.com/2003/first-date-conversation/first-date-conversation-copyright6.gif

We met on the internet, through a networking site. He accidentally invited me to connect with him, saw who my most recent employer was and that I was searching for work, and invited me to meet him for coffee.

I reviewed his background before we met. Journalism, business consultant, Catholic schools. Definitely had the potential to lead to other connections.

We met. No chemistry. Our conversation didn't connect. I sounded vague and aimless. I inadvertently offended some work he'd previously been involved with. He insulted my candidate and the work I'd just done. He sounded like an old dude trying too hard to be savvy.

He suggested things I've already thought of and then suggested I check out one of the start ups he's working with to find financing for. I appreciate my fundraising background but I'm starting to hate how everything comes back to raising money and as soon as people see that, they immediately want me to go there again. Fundraising was the least intellectually satisfying thing I've ever done. It's a part of my toolkit, but I want to do more.

So, not a good "date". Didn't get me any more names, really. Didn't open any directions that intrigued me.

But, as with my love life, every encounter provides an opportunity to reflect and hone. The more people I talk to, the more clear I am that I want to build community. I want to work in an over-arching organization that brings people together to solve problems, be it a Chamber of Commerce or a consulting firm or a foundation or a government agency. I want discrete projects. I want the opportunity to work with diverse groups of people. I want to move about the community, have meetings with people in the places where they work and live.

Every no gets you closer to yes.

Stages

Image credit: http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2138651/grief_Full.jpg

I was unemployed once before, three years ago. I was terrified. Nothing seemed to go right-- jobs I'd counted on vanished, my former boss contested my application for unemployment benefits so I was left without a safety net. I didn't have any savings to speak of. It was really scary. I freaked out a lot. And I worked even more. I did anything I could do to earn money. Cleaned houses of people who had moved, babysat, nanny-ed, temped-- anything that would pay me at least $14 an hour. And I made it. There was always enough. I paid my bills and I ate and I was okay. It was, in the end, a good experience. I'm ever more grateful for it now because I'm able to recognize some of the same patterns. There is definitely a series of steps you go through, like a weird mashup between mourning and on-line dating.

Stage 1: Shock
"I don't have a job!!!! Oh my God!!!"

Stage 2: Excitement
"Look at all these opportunities! Wow! So many jobs for me to apply for! So many people to send my resume to! I'll have a new job in no time!"

Stage 3: Reality
"No new jobs posted in a while. Talked to everyone I know. Resume is set. Nothing left to do. It's going to take much longer than I thought it would."

Stage 4: Hopelessness
"Nothing new. No meetings. No emails. I'm never going to be employed again."

Stage 5: Compromise
"Well, maybe I could do appointment setting... I've got some of those skills. Or substitute teaching. I could always do that."

Stage 6: Desperation
"I'll do that! $10 an hour? I'll make it work!"

Stage 7: Phone calls
"Maybe that light coming toward me isn't a train... maybe it's the end of the tunnel."

Stage 8: Interviews
"Security!" "But maybe I could do freelance..." "Security!"

Stage 9: Offer
"I miss my freedom!" "Paycheck!" "Change..." "Paycheck!"

I've slipped into Stage 3 today. There are a few jobs left to apply for-- a Big Scary One, which I would rock but I'm having trouble imaging myself with that title; an education policy position which would be a good fit but I recoil a bit from going back to education. There are more contacts to connect with. However, Thanksgiving is next week and then we're in the holiday season. The fierce urgency of last week is already fading. At some point, I'll be simply maintaining, hitting my mandated three contacts a week and following up. I will need to reconnect with other parts of myself-- follow the Artists Way for a while.

It's nice to not be searching wildly for direction, though. I know pretty much what I want to do next and where my strengths lie. That's energy I don't need to expend. What is required now is the patience and faith to go with all the hard work I've put in.