Gentle readers, you've all seen that online quiz. Which Mad Man are you? Well, your MatchGirl has taken that quiz many a time. And every time she is Joan Holloway.
Here's the thing, dear ones. That is the case. Your MatchGirl, when she was previously in the working world (and now that she is back in it - full force!) is Joan Holloway. She is the one that gets things done. She is the one that knows the in and outs of how the place works (OK, at my new job, I'm still sussing that out, but it will come to me sooner than later), whether it has anything to do with what is in her job description.
The best thing about Joan Holloway is that she's entirely in control.
Gentle readers, your MatchGirl is a big fan of the gentler things in this life. Politeness. Concern. Trust. Respect. It's something that I've been thinking a lot about lately, as my faithful readers know.
Why is it, in this modern world, that people have such a hard time treating others the way that they, themselves, would like to be treated?
My new boss wrote an article for our company blog about doing business with a pinky swear fairly recently. He is a big believer in trusting people until they give him reason not to. I like this. We all want to be trusted, but then we turn around and are so very distrustful of others. Living in a city, one needs to walk a fine line, between trusting and naivete, but, to be generally trusting and trustful, to be respectful of others, that's not such a bad way to live your life.
Recently, dear ones, your MatchGirl was involved in the kind of display of disrespect that is usually reserved for 8th Grade girls and bored ladies who lunch. I was on the receiving end of some very intense bitchiness. I won't bore you with the details, it wouldn't make sense unless you knew all parties involved. But it was pointed and mean and the only point of it was to hurt my feelings. It's been a long time since i've been faced with that situation.
Sure, I've written here previously about people being disrespectful of others, of not valuing their time, either in the workplace or their personal lives. Whether the people who had you in for two interviews and checked all your references and never even sent you an email to say you didn't get the job or the guy who you dated for three weeks who just stopped phoning, it just sucks to be treated rudely. It sucks to have someone be an out and out bitch to your face.
I just want to remind you, dear readers, that we're only as good as we treat other people.
So be nice to each other.
It should come as no surprise, gentle readers, that going back to work after a year and a half on the dole has been a bit of an adjustment.
I was nervous about going back to work after being unemployed for only a couple of months, not because I felt like I wouldn't do a good job, I know I'm capable and know I can do a good job wherever I am (though I was a bit nervous about living up to expectations - everyone wants to shine, after all!). But, after a long period of unemployment, I was mostly nervous about the adjustments. You get used to doing your own thing. You get used to sleeping in if you feel like it and staying up till 3AM to get your work (blogging, sewing, writing, art-making, what-have-you) done and going out till all hours on a Tuesday just because you can. Even if you, like me, are doing a million things and working on a thousand projects and going to loads of meetings - it's still, for the most part, on your own time.
When you get a job, suddenly, all the work your doing is according to someone else's schedule. From commuting with the masses to being at your desk at a certain time to making sure to be available when your boss needs you, your time is no longer your own. This is something to which your MatchGirl must adjust. I still have lots of projects of my own happening - fun Work It Brooklyn events being planned for the next few months, a sewing party with me and the fabulous Hip Girl's Guide To Homemaking, a little blogging here and there - and while I have always been fairly good at managing my time, I need to relearn how to manage my personal time with my project time and my working time. I need to get used to organizing my nights and weekends around things that I need to get done as well as things that are just fun.
This weekend was a prime example. I had homework to do. I had blogs I wanted to write. I had reading and research that needed to get done. But it was a beautiful weekend - so many interesting things to do, so many friends to run into while strolling through the neighborhood on the arm of my gentleman friend - your MatchGirl simply could not focus on blogging or homework or laundry. It just seemed like it would be such a better idea to keep walking around, holding hands and soaking in the sunshine. And it was a lovely weekend. But Sunday night came too soon and I'd gotten very little done. I wouldn't have spent my weekend any other way, not this particular one, dear readers, but I definitely didn't make the best use of a lot of my time. No worries. I was up early Monday morning to do a little yoga before getting ready for work. And I was up late Monday night, finishing homework and writing blogs and making food for the week (or, at least for part of the week).
It's only the start of my fifth day of work. I suppose a little period of adjustment in only natural. I'll be glad, though, once a little time has passed and I've re-learned to juggle my time with a little more ease.
The day is here, gentle readers. Your MatchGirl is about to face her first morning commute to Manhattan in a very long time. Nerves? Yes. Deep breaths.
Thanks for all of your love and support - to those I know in real life, those I know via e-mail and those who simply read this small tome. I have much love for you all.
Next post, I promise, will let you all know how it goes!
One by one, gentle readers, you are going out into the world. You are leaving this world of unemployment and entering the big, bad world of employment. And you are leaving your MatchGirl behind.
This is a post that your MatchGirl started on Thursday of last week. I'd had an interview on Wednesday morning, that I felt pretty good about. I'd had a productive day, with a Work It Brooklyn meeting in the afternoon and a photography reception and drinks with friends in the evening. Somewhere in there, however, I logged on to Facebook and saw that my dear friend Tony, one of my great allies and commiserators in this unemployed Brooklyn world, had gotten a job. Don't get me wrong, dear ones, your MatchGirl could not have been happier to see her friend employed. We've been jobless for about the same amount of time and have long discussions about how terrified we are of what will happen when those unemployment checks stop coming it.
I commented on his post: Yay! (But slightly sad to lose my neighborhood unemployed buddy)
And to me he commented: @unemployedbklyn - your time is coming soon!
Yeah yeah yeah. I woke up Thursday morning feeling bummed out and unmotivated. I followed up on Wednesday's interview. I sent out a few resumes. I started to write this blog post. But I put it aside. I kept thinking about how hard I had been looking for a job and how much I really wanted one. I kept thinking of all the hard work I have been doing in this past year to push myself forward and to advocate for the unemployed community and to form coalitions in Greenpoint and Williamsburg. I kept thinking of all the people I have connected for work and for social purposes and jobs I have referred people for. And I kept wondering when it would happen to me. When will it happen for me?
The answer, gentle readers, has come.
When would my time come? It came on Friday.
I was on the playground in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, waiting in line for the swing set with my charge. It was a little after 3PM. And, having a moment with Leo standing patiently at my side and not riding his scooter around in crazy circles, I had a moment to peek at my phone and check my email and my Twitter and Facebook feeds. And there it was. "Offer of employment..."
Oh. My. God.
This was something my four year old charge could not comprehend. But he knew, by the look on my face, that something amazing had happened. He asked me what was going on, giving me an incredulous look. My smile was huge and I said, "I got a job." I'm fairly certain it was a whisper. "I got a job."
Here's the thing, dear readers. This is not exciting news to a four year old. He said "oh" and ran to take his turn, Superman style, on the swing.
The details are still being ironed out. I'm still finding out about when I'll start and dress-code and all of those small yet very important things. It feels surreal and I don't really know how to tell you about it. Not yet.
Don't worry, though, my faithful friends and fans, I have no plans of abandoning you. I will try as hard as I can to keep this little blog going forward and chock-full of all the information you have found relevant over the year. It's because of you, after all, that I had the experiences that I need for the type of job I will be doing moving forward.
Thank you. For reading. For commenting. For lending me the kind of support that I didn't even know I could get via people I've never met before. Just thank you.
Oh, gentle readers, your MatchGirl is still channeling the mid-90s Brit pop - feeling nostalgic and a little melancholy all at once. Nostalgic for the salad days of youth, perhaps. And melancholy that it was fifteen years ago and being a proper adult seemed so very far away. Back in those days, all you had to do to connect with someone was go to a bar or a concert, hang out in a coffee shop or wander through the (now defunct) Tower Records in Harvard Square. You simply had to go to class and pay attention to the people in your seminar who has interesting things to say. To get a job, you spoke to a counselor on campus. You walked into a store you liked and asked if they were hiring.
Oh my, how times have changed.
Perhaps some of what has changed is simply perception. We're not kids anymore and everything looks so very rosy and romantic in hindsight.
Or, maybe the internet has changed everything.
From Craigslist to Monster to Match, whether you are looking for a job or a date, all one seems to need to do is hop on the web and everything is at their fingertips. Don't get me wrong, gentle ones, your MatchGirl is amazed at the connections she has been able to make through this forum - through blogging and Tweeting and Facebook pages - but, I am lucky to have made a lot of those connections with people who live right here in Greenpoint. I am lucky to have met them in real life and be able to go and grab a coffee or a cocktail with them.
It is a little over a year since I was laid off and it is also a little over a year since I started online dating. I'm ashamed of neither. The economy (and my bosses stocks) tanked and my position was a casualty. I was single and not meeting anyone else who was single, so I decided to sign up for an online service and see who was out there. Both have been enriching and interesting experiences.
Unfortunately, in the desolation that is the American economy in 2010, finding a job online just doesn't seem that likely. The last place I interviewed told me they had received 450 applications - only counting the people who applied properly, answering the supplemental questions and sending their resume to the email address embedded in the body of the job listing. I felt honored just to interview. Honestly. There are so many thousands of people out there right now, searching earnestly for a job. I can't even conceive of the hundreds and hundreds of resumes that each employer receives in their email inbox. I can't imagine sifting through them all, looking for that perfect match.
Online dating is kind of the same. There are so many single people out there - of all shapes and ages and sizes - too shy to speak to someone at a bar or coffee shop. They see a pretty face on the subway and, instead of taking a deep breath and saying "hello", they rush home and write a Missed Connection - throwing it out into the ether and leaving it in the hands of whatever fate they subscribe to that their dream hunny (or an astute friend) is going to see that missive. They troll through pages and pages of online profiles, looking at pictures and sending out emails. All in the hope that not only will the object of their desire respond, but that, upon meeting, the connection will be there and that that one will be "the one".
This morning, as I sit here, perusing the job postings on Craigslist and MediaBistro, I'm over it. I am so very tired of reading these anonymous listings of job descriptions from nameless companies I know nothing about. I want a job - I desperately want a job - but I want a job that is a good fit. For both the employer and for me. I feel as though these anonymous ads on Craigslist are just wasting time. Not only mine, but the company's as well. To sift through a thousand resumes is a pain in the ass, and, by the time that the reader gets through the piles, we all know they will be less focused than when they began the process. The anonymity of the postings also leads to tedious cover letters. If you have no idea who you are addressing, how can you really introduce yourself as being the right one for the job?
As for online dating? Over that, too. Sure, I've met some very interesting people. Some I would never go out with again, but they make a good story for a cocktail party. Some have become good friends, and I'm glad to have them in my circle. But I miss the days when you talk to someone at a party or a dinner or waiting for the bus. I miss the days of making that initial connection.
I am ready to have a job. I am ready for a commute and wearing heels every day and not being able to log onto Facebook whenever I want. I am ready for conference calls and water cooler conversation and intra-office gossip.
I am ready to stop going on first dates. I am ready for dates three and four and hand holding and movie watching and that giddy excitement of actually getting to know someone. In real life.
Is it my imagination
Or have I finally found something worth living for?
I was looking for some action
But all I found was cigarettes and alcohol
You could wait for a lifetime
To spend your days in the sunshine
You might as well do the white line
Cos when it comes on top . . .
You gotta make it happen!
Is it worth the aggravation
To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?
It's a crazy situation
But all I need are cigarettes and alcohol!
You could wait for a lifetime
To spend your days in the sunshine
You might as well do the white line
Cos when it comes on top . . .
You gotta make it happen!
Oasis, Cigarettes and Alcohol, 1994
Ah, gentle readers, your MatchGirl has been spending a bit of time living in the past lately. Having deep memories of times gone by. Not longing for them, not by any means, but most certainly thinking of those times.
With kind of a sense of wonder.
Watching VH1 Classic the other day (yes, I am old enough that the songs I adored in college are now shown on VH1 Classic) I heard this song again. Cigarettes and Alcohol, by Oasis (before Wonderwall. Before most of you, dear readers, had ever hear of them). This song is the lament of all youth - thinking that they are wiser than they are, thinking that the life they have ahead is nothing but a bore. Thinking that there is nothing to do but get drunk and do drugs and live for today because tomorrow is not worth very much.
And, no matter the time period, the "youth of today" always feel that way.
At the time that album came out, the economy in Britain was in the crapper. From Wikipedia:
The song proclaims the inherent appeal of cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs as a remedy to the banality and seemingly futile nature of the working class life. Lyrics such as "Is it worth the aggravation to find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?" tapped into the mood of many in the mid-1990s (when released) as well as a common sentiment today.
Upon first hearing the song, the man who discovered the band, Alan McGee, claimed that the song was one of the greatest societal statements anyone had made in the past 25 years.
Anyway, dear ones, your MatchGirl hates to dissect poetry. I like to hear it, to feel it, to really listen to it and to let it take me somewhere. I feel this way about most art. Sure, I spent a lot of years reading art theory and studying paintings. Sure, I belong to a book club. It's because I like discourse, not dissection.
That said, I heard this song the other day and he reminded me not only of being, um, young(er), but of the right now. Of the economic situation. Of how hard it is to find a job and how sometimes you just want to say "fuck it" and throw in the towel because there doesn't seem to be anything out there worth the time or effort. There are so few jobs (and, let be serious, men) out there that sometimes it just seems like it would be easier to just give up.
Not that I'm going to.
It's not my nature.
But I might keep the early 90s BritPop on a loop for a while.
