Monday, July 11, 2005

My parachute is black with dog hair and baby vomit all over it

Lucas woke up today at 6:45 (15 minutes before we usually have to wake him up) and started whining. All throughout getting him dressed, giving him some milk and cheerios and the car ride to daycare, he was grumpy and moping. I feel bad that the kid had to learn of life’s toughest lessons so early on… That Mondays Suck.

2 weeks ago, my office moved from the temporary, abandoned wasteland of a space in which we were “squatters” in to a deluxe, top floor, newly built out prime location. Gone is the bridge to Nordstrom (just mere weeks before the sale of the year!) and the scary hallway where either terrifying Aliens or Christopher Walken may jump out of. Now we have floor to ceiling windows, limestone tile and a kitchen with granite countertops. But while it may look nice, it just doesn’t feel right. I laugh in the mornings when I walk into my office with my large faux mahogany desk and high back, black leather chair. While part of me thinks, “yea, big time baby!” the other part of me feels as I’m faking it. I can walk the walk the walk and talk the talk, but am I really fooling anyone?

Wednesday we have a “staff development and retreat,” which is slightly humorous to me since there are only four of us in the office and most of the day will be spent getting luxurious spa treatments from at the Spa at Torrey Pines. (CAN. NOT. WAIT.) The development part of the day is being lead by the chairman of our board, and before I go any further I want to tell you all that this is the man we all dream of working for. He’s all about work/life balance and treating employees with respect. He’s nice, he’s easy to talk to and he really seems to have realistic, no BS/Drama way of getting things done. I 100% respect this man and his ideas and I told him that one day I want to work for him directly. That being said, for our “development” he asked all to read the classic career book, What Color is Your Parachute.

First reaction is a bit sketchy since it is a book about job hunting – and the guy running the organization asked us to read it… but, I figure if they were shit canning all of us, they wouldn’t be getting us massages and/or scrubs and taking us and our spouses out to nice dinner after. But the other thought was what if this book (which I have read before in college) tells me that my career choice is all wrong for me. Then what?

Jason and I talked a lot about this on the way up to LA for the merging of the grandparents (His parents. My parents. BBQ. Nothing really to report). The thing is that I know that I’m good at my job. Skills wise, I rock. But is this my passion in life or a means to an end? And how many people out there really are passionate about their jobs? While WCIYP makes it seem easy to just “go out and do what you love,” how realistic is that?

I remember the first time I read that book. I was still a good 1 ½ years from graduating college, and LIFE was beckoning. I was a speech communications major! I could do anything I wanted to! I was young! I was motivated! Everyone wants ME to work for them! I was so full of optimism. THAT’S what I miss most about that time in my life – the optimism. Now when someone asks me what my dream career would be, while I would love nothing more in the world than to open little boutique, all I think about is how hard it would be and what are the chances of it really succeeding and how the hell am I going to get the money to open a store. While one may think that’s pessimistic of me – I think its just reality. While its wonderful to fantasize about your “Dream Job!”, how much of a reality is it? I guess that I’ve been bitten in the ass by reality too many times.

And just like Mondays, reality can suck.

NOT that my reality sucks!! God, this post has turned into this morbid, depressing diatribe. I almost didn’t post it because I feel like freaking Debbie Downer. I didn’t mean this post to necessarily be about my lost dreams and lost youth. But more about the fact that I really want to tell Mr. Richard Nelson Bolles to go fuck himself and his parachute. I just want to check into the spa for my salt rub.

2 Comments:

Blogger Char said...

My parachute is um... hey.. where'd it go?

Dayum.. can I have a job with you? Lol.

Nobody here fits the description you gave. No one here I could give a rat's ass to work directly for. Honestly. And it's a pretty big company.

Actually, I don't think they'd give us a lunch break if they could legally get away with it.

If I could do anything I wanted?
(I did say anything)

1. Sing
2. Own my own restaurant or bistro'ish place
3. Professional gambler of other people's money?! (ha) Sorry.. Horseshoe Casino ad on the radio just now.
4. Own a flower/plant shop
5. Cop (I love cops. My Dad was a cop)


What do I do? Call Center Human Resource work.
Do I love it? Not even close.
Do I like it. It's alright.
Is it my dream job? Hell no.

And no need to delete this blog. Not everyday has to be all sunshine and posies. Hahaha...

3:52 PM  
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