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Will Work for Shoes: A Woman’s Guide to Job Search Attitude
Everyone and everything advises employees and job seekers to “Stay Positive!”; after working 60 hours weeks for the past four years without a raise, that should be easy, right? Believe it or not, it is. But, you need strategy.
I had my dream job as the director of marketing at a boutique investment firm — with the shoe collection to prove it. At the end of 2008, when the market crashed, so did my firm. I was laid off and spent most of 2009 unemployed, watching my savings disappear with only a handful of job interviews and only one job offer. Needless to say, I took the job.
I didn’t have a plan. I applied to job listings, followed-up, rinsed and repeated. I wasn’t consciously “staying positive,” I merely kept reminding myself I survived worse — deaths in the family, the threat of swine flu and SARS epidemics, and even the revival of Bret Michaels’ career.
I do wonder, what if I did have a plan of attack — a strategy to keep positive? How many less sleepless nights and pimples would I have had — TONS — that’s how many.
***
Here are the top five steps every woman should take if you recently lost your job, are in the process of job searching or simply still feel a bit blue about life’s twists and turns.
Step 1. Pink is the new black: what do to immediately
Realize you are not alone. Unemployment is still lingering at a dreadful nine percent according to Entrepreneur magazine, with roughly six applicants competing for every one available job.
Update your resume, executive summary and any other professional profiles immediately. And then, tell everyone you know you are in search of a job. No, really. EVERYONE.
Use your updated executive summary in the body of your emails/status updates/internal emails/voice mail messages with your resume attached, as a mini elevator pitch, giving your connections job history, qualifications, and some idea as to what you do and what would be a good fit. Believe me, some of your closest friends and family have no clue as to what you do; I received a multitude of forwarded job openings for selling houses, working with small children, financial advising, and teaching senior water aerobics.
Step 2. Strategy is key: creating a 3-,6-,9- and 12-month plan
When I worked in the marketing department of a health care system, we continually used the buzz phrase, “a holistic approach to medicine”; this is exactly the approach women need to take in creating a 3- through 12-month plan because of the multi-roles women usually have — wife, mother, head of household, cruise director.
No matter the length of time, a strategic plan should include a blueprint for:
*Your personal mission statement targeting the type of position, salary and company you are looking for as well as the minimums and maximums you’re willing to sway; *Tracking networking efforts, positions applied to and follow up efforts;
*Connecting with a mentor, life coach or therapist (some offer discounted or pro bono rates for the recently unemployed and remember, even if she think she is, remind your mother — she is NOT your life coach);
*Finances covering rent, savings, utilities, car payment and unexpected expenses;
*Daily exercise (as simple as a 20-minute walk) to keep the endorphins flowing in order to keep stress at bay — and positivity at hand;
*Creating a daily routine. Get up at the same time everyday, take a morning walk at the same time everyday, pick up/drop off the kids the same time everyday, search for a job at the same time everyday, etc. Your body craves the stability, calmness and reliability of the daily routine your job held.; and
*A worse case scenario plan.
Remember, “You can hit a target you can’t see,” setting goals and mapping out how to reach them is power — empowering you to take action, eliminate the stress of the unknown and create excitement for the future.
Step 3. Find your inner stiletto: navigating feedback/bad advice
The good news for job seekers: you’ll receive an inordinate amount of advice and feedback. The bad news for job seekers: you’ll receive an inordinate amount of advice and feedback.
Take each piece of advice and feedback and compare it to your mission statement you just created in Step 2. Are they aligned? Will the advice/feedback get you closer to your goal? If the answer is no, it a honking waste of time. Period. It is critical, especially if you are unemployed, to keep your focus, energy and more importantly, time directed to accomplishing your goal — a paycheck.
Don’t get me wrong, people will want to help you find a new job or climb the corporate ladder, however, I found friends, family and colleagues are more prone to giving you “rushed” advice out of pity and their misdirected anxiety. Don’t let other people’s fear lead you to make bad decisions or take advice your gut is telling you is garbage. Give a gracious, “Thank you,” and keep moving forward with your plan.
Step 4. In the meantime, try on all the shoes you like...
Even with your new set daily routines and overall goals, there is still going to be a lot of free time. Think of this time as new-found freedom to explore hobbies, bucket lists and projects that were shelved on the night stand for ages.
Here are a few examples of what I did with my time, along with a few others, to get your creative juices flowing:
* Learned (very poorly) French
* Watched every movie on the AFI’s Top 100 Movies of All Times list;
* Started yoga classes;
* Started training for a half marathon;
* Started painting again;
* Started reading every book listed on the Top 100 Books of All Time list;
* Caught up with friends over a cup of coffee;
* Create a bucket list;
* Refurbish a piece of furniture;
* Learn how to knit/sew/craft; and/or
* Spend more time playing with your kids/pets/family/friends/cabana boy.
You never know where the connections you make by filling in time may lead you. In the words of Cinderella, “One shoe can change your life.”
Step 5. Comfortable shoes: settling — or not settling — into your new job
It takes roughly 30 city blocks to fully break in new shoes, a new job takes just as long. No one likes change, keep to the new routines, hobbies and projects you set in Steps 2 and 4 to pad yourself again with stability, calmness and reliability in adjusting to your life’s new chapter.
If you took a job to get a job and now are ready to move on as the economy seems to be leveling, follow the steps above — tell a select and perhaps discreet group of everyone you know you are on the hunt for a new job, create a deadline-based plan, filter advice, keep feeding the right side of your brain, and don’t kill me for saying this, but Stay Positive!
References
“Employees Only: The Great Recession spurs growth.” Entrepreneur Magazine, December 2011, page 71.
My Guest Post for DatingSite.org
SWF: Ying Seeks Her Yang
by Josie M., LifeofJosieM.com
Rick Ocasek and Paulina Porizkova, Mary Matalin and James Carville, Mork and Mindy, Samantha and Durwood, Miss Piggy and Kermit, the old adage is true – opposites attract. After all, complimentary opposites are by definition, natural. Remember playing with batteries in sixth class science class – likes repel, opposites attract? Yup, all el natural.
Single people have, do, and always will get inundated with dating advice (whether they want it or not) from every Tom, Dick and Harry (and Aunt Joan) which runs the full gamut spectrum of bad advice. From “You should join a bike club” (knowing I don’t own a bike and it’s in the middle of winter in New England) to “You should try that eHarmony because it matches every aspect of your beliefs, chakras, urine samples and hair highlights” (the site rejected me, yes, rejected me, actually saying it was unable to match me).
The notion of finding the perfect man or woman who has the exact same interests as you falls right in the middle of the bad advice spectrum; single people are either being given short, curt advice by people unnerved by the unmarried (because single usually implies retardation, apparently) or by people who think finding someone is beyond easy (because after all, they found someone).
In my dating experience, I have dated nothing but opposites. Because – they’re interesting! They’re different! They’re exciting! I have been shown different parts of the world, different perspectives, different cuisine and ultimately, different parts of myself.
Singles should, need and must seek their opposites because ultimately, they are truly seeking their compliment counterpart – the ying to their yang. Now mind you, just as we learned on Wild Kingdom, opposites sometimes are just opposites (or on a date when the guy shows up with his lap dog in a sweater). But, stay the course, don’t be afraid – seek your opposite!
One Word.
Manifest. 2011. Rebirth.
Guest Post from Chelsea of DatingSite.org
When Good Dates Turn Bad
by guest blogger, Chelsea of DatingSite.org
You can almost hear the music change in the background; the soft guitar plucking of a romantic-comedy turns into a violent piano concerto. Maybe it was a flubbed sentiment, or a mention of “forever” but you’ve taken a great night out and turned it into a Cosmopolitan article about bad dating.
Don’t panic! Everyone, including that judgmental face burning eyes in your forehead has made a similar mistake. The worst thing you can do is try to bullshit, or track down the one errand comment of the evening. Instead, simply be honest about your flub.
One successful tactic might be to take your time and think about something your partner said earlier in the conversation and relate it back to them. Whether you met through a dating site, or through a friend, chances are you have plenty of morsels of information stored in your memory (or Blackberry). The best solution is to make the evening about your date, not your boneheaded comment or move. It shows confidence when you can show interest in someone else’s life, so always be honest and redirect the conversation.
Let’s say you are on a date and your partner mentions that it was rude of you to have not opened the door to the restaurant. An improper response would be the defensive, “Oh, I meant to but you were moving too fast.” It’s likely dishonest and just makes you seem incapable of connecting with your partner’s frustration. A better response might be to repeat their sentiment, “Yeah, that wasn’t smart on my part. I apologize I wasn’t paying attention. I always like it when people hold the door for me.” This way you take a little blame but come out with confidence intact.
The worst dates are when the witty banter breaks down completely and your attempts at tactful conversational redirect are met with snarky, or combative quips. In desperate situations like these, it is sometimes best to recognize the problem and simply verbalize your frustration with the tone of the conversation. No one is so miserable as to become upset at someone for saying in earnest, “Hey, this date was going really well, and now we seem to be suffering from some miscommunication. Is something up? Did I upset you somehow?”
Honesty has a way of being both disarming and endearing. When used properly, the moments we are conditioned to lie about, like forgetting about something important, are actually opportunities to improve our standing in the date. Honesty isn’t just the best policy, it’s your best dating tool.
They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said 'no, no, no'
I have teetered on the edge of serial single and serial dating for years now. Thus, my blog. However, this year both sides of the fence have culminated into a gigantic, festering vat of emotionally draining energy.
I mean, things were to a point were Kaz and SlinkyChic insisted I audition for VH1’s Tough Love, a reality TV dating boot camp. Look, Slink even started filling out my application:
Q: Why do your friends think you are single?
“I would say you are single because, well, you have not yet found THE ONE, but THE ONE has not yet found you either. The potential future Mr. Josie has to GET YOU, and let you BE YOU. You are Little*, but not LITTLE in your attitude. I would say that you have a certain type and when your friends show you a potential MAN, you may not consider him upon the first review after the 2 seconds you have reviewed him from head to toe....plus usually when we go out it is late at night and usually quite dark and libations may be involved.”
And then she also added this in her email —
“I think your criteria may be very selective and narrow, meaning that you HAVE to have a man that falls w/n a list of your requirements if he EVEN gets as far as to talk to you...
Oh, and they LINGER..... they have to be long gone before you can move on!!! YOU HAVE hanger-oners... that are always there or come back. I have trouble typing on this little laptop, maybe we need to have a conversation all of us and make a conclusion as a group. We need to make this GOOD.”
Slink’s email was touching enough to make my eyes water and brutal enough to make my eyes water.
I am particular. Not particular like, “narrow, meaning a man must fall within a list of requirements,” but particular like a hot-house orchid; I have certain conditions I want THE ONE, as Slink put it, to meet.
These “hanger-oners” at one point did meet my “conditions”, but over time, fell out of favor for one reason or another – and stayed around. And, yes, some fell into the category of major douchebag – and stayed around.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care these “hanger-oners” weren’t THE ONE, they were someone to go to dinner with, on a long-weekend with – let’s be honest, I wasn’t in love with any of them. Hell, there were a few I didn’t even really like, never mind love. This leads me back to the culmination of a festering vat of emotionally draining energy… There were a few I did deeply care for (i.e., Ian) — and one I was insanely in love with (i.e., the secret crush). But, the feelings were not returned.
Ian didn’t want to get married again, or live together, or spend lots of exorbitant time together, but he didn’t want to break up either. I thought I would be okay with his terms, I even called him, “Mr. Right Now” to his face. I guess, deep down, I thought he would eventually change his mind. Ah! Wait! I know what you are thinking! But let me add, Ian would also say things to make me believe his mind was changing. After a long weekend in Boston last month, I finally realized he never meant anything he said in terms of change – and was harshly reminded, leopards don’t change their spots.
The secret crush I have been referring to in my junior high school manor since the creation of my blog, is no longer secret. I think. I think he knows about the depth of my feelings, but with men, ladies you know, they mostly lack the ability to connect the dots – no matter how many degrees. But, at this point, does it really matter if he knows? It’s been a cat and mouse game of flirtation for the past year, however, he decided to stick with his current situation. I am heart broken, and worse, I feel stupid. He made himself clear – even if he did dabble with the idea of me – and he did dabble – you do not not bring up your current situation for this long without dabbling! Plus, he talked a big game. He dangled the proverbial carrot of many super fantastic, incredible projects/jobs/etc. on a stick in front of me, yet, meant none of them. I don’t know which is worse – being the girl not chosen or realizing the guy of my dreams could actually fall into the category with all the rest — douchebag.
So, three weeks ago to the day, I put myself into douchebag rehab. (Kaz and Slink are extremely proud). No more accepting phone calls, emails or text messages. I have deleted all the “hanger-oners” out of my phone, email address book and social networks.
I have emptied and cleaned my festering vat – with bleach.
*VH1 Tough Love, Season 2 casting was closed when I went to submit my application.
*”Little” is one of my nicknames.
Sex, drugs and nakedness. Did I mention I was with my parents?
Not living far from New York City, last week for my birthday, my parents announced they would treat me to day of shopping, a matinee and dinner with close friends in the Big Apple.
Being avid travelers, my parents always amaze me with their savvy and worldly knowledge.
STEP DAD: “You know…I think they have a bathroom on these trains.”
MOM: “We sit backwards?”
After enduring a non-express Metro-North Line train ride into Grand Central, we then endured yet another non-express line – the ticket line in Times Square.
For those of you who know – and for those of you who don’t know – there is a ticket booth in Times Square (http://www.tdf.org) where would-be show-goers can purchase matinee (and some night shows) at a discounted price. Since it was my birthday, my parents advised me to pick the show of my choice – they also advised me they wanted to see a musical.
As the line dwindled and we neared the ticket window, so did our show options — we were down to Shrek, Mary Poppins and HAIR. Shrek – a singing, flatulent ogre…um, no thanks; Mary Poppins – been there, done that; so, that left….HAIR. I faintly remember listening to my parents’ HAIR album (yes, 33LP record) growing up and knew the premise… how bad could HAIR be?
Sex, drugs and nakedness. Yup. Did I mention I was with my parents? I know I am a full-grown adult, but as a kid, you never outgrow AWKWARD.
I understand this play was a radical social commentary of the late 60s, I get it. I understand the naked protest is just that – a protest. I get it. The cast was uber-talented. I am not debating that. I know this particular revival JUST won the 2009 Tony Award for the Best Revival on Broadway that very week. I am not debating that either.
What I am saying is, by intermission, I was ready to throw the Kumbaya towel in. I am just not a flower child, thus, the 33 songs which comprise HAIR – and trust me, all 33 were performed – put me over the mother-loving, hallucinogenic, orgy edge. I am a child of the 70s, by then, the hippies were fading and The Partridge Family was taking over the sit-ins. Donnie and Marie were stars – clean cut and as white bread as you can get. No LSD for them.
The only thing close to HAIR when I was a teenager were – the glam rocker bands – POISON (who, incidentally, where at the Tony Awards this year as well, you know, when douchebag lead singer, Brett Michaels had a run in with the stage – in case you missed it — http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JocPcYBCN18 ), Bon Jovi, Cinderella, Stryper, etc. The hair was there, but the radical social commentary for these guys was showing off how many groupies they could fit backstage – they were burning hotel rooms down, not draft cards.
At the curtain’s close, my mother felt the same as she did close to forty years ago when seeing HAIR in London, “It’s still as radical now as it was back then;” my step father agreed and remembered seeing the play in New York shortly after its debut – and still likes the nudity (*wink*), and I…I was glad to leave (sorry, HAIR) – with a new appreciation for the play, actors and our freedom, of course.
HAIR: The Musical
http://www.hairbroadway.com
2009 Tony Award Winner for Best Musical Revival
Al Hirschfeld Theatre
302 West 45th Street, New York, NY 10036
Prize Pack Winner
My apologies for not posting the winner of the
MAY PRIZE PACK
...and the winner is....
KAZ
The PRIZE PACK will resume again in July — so check back often — and COMMENT!
10 Things
I have been tagged by one of the hippest bloggers around, Date Girl, from The Date Girl Diaries (http://dategirldiaries.com) to list 10 Things About Myself, so here we go…
1. 2009, for me, is The Year of Facing Fears – and, they are as follows:
a. Becoming a casualty of the economy – getting laid off
b. Leasing a new car – and then getting laid off
c. Gaining the 10 pounds back after working so hard to shed them
d. Meeting the most incredibly sexy, smart, funny, better-than-sliced-bread man I have ever encountered, falling deeply in love – only to have the sentiment unreciprocated
e. Turning 35 – still not in the place where I want to be, nor with the person I want to be with, realizing 40 is around the corner.
f. Starting over – yet again.
2. I once gave a gift, only to discover after being unwrapped in front of a crowded room, included a pair of my underwear. Never wrap anything next to your clean (thank God) laundry pile.
3. I am addicted to eBay. If I had $1.5 million, my purchase this week would have been part of the Eiffel Tower stair case (sorry, the listing disappeared after no one bid).
4. I received one of the most touching birthday gifts to date — a snow globe from one of my favorite movies, Ratatouille, with a handwritten note “Remy was a little mouse with big dreams who achieved them — dream often, dream big. When you get discouraged, turn this on and dream with him.” 
5. Yeah, this blog was a “class project” – and yea, this “class project” won a regional academic award, a significant cash award and significant publicity and business contacts across three states. Oh, and did I mention, I do the same – and more — for my clients’ “projects” – as for the haters, BITE ME, MOTHER FUCKER.
6. I collect sock monkeys – and anything with a sock monkey on it.
7. I am over Facebook. It’s lovely to connect and re-connect to old and new friends close and far, but – enough already. The quizzes have put me over the edge. I am predicting the beginning of its’ decline.
8. I have sold three pieces of art this year – with current interest in a fourth.
9. I, too, could live off of carbs alone. If I had to choose one food to eat for the rest of my life — nutrition aside — I would forever eat French fries.
10. I have major projects cooking...an online empire is underway — Achtung, Baby!
Setting. Development. RESOLUTION.
Hello readers!
Thank you for patiently waiting for me to crawl out of hybernation.
I came down with a bad case of acute creativity block.
Thank you for your wonderful comments and support of this piece.
I now present to you, for your consideration, my complete flash fiction piece.
PLEASE NOTE: Georg's understudy, Henry, has stepped in for this performance.
Enjoy!
**************************************************
Graduation
Commencement is not only about the degree,
but about taking life to the next level.
I could hear the inner wheels of Henry’s mind grinding as he lay silently next to me, both of us facing
opposite directions with only the smalls of our backs touching.
I sat up holding the comforter up to my chest as if to shield me from the vulnerability ahead. I turned and spoke to his back, “I knew this would happen the minute I saw the back of your head.”
He picked up his head and rested his chin on his shoulder. “What?”
“Well, actually… I knew this would happen when I first saw your back…in your fabulously sexy, dark-navy suit with the silver pinstripes…then I saw the back of your head. But, still, I knew.”
Still confused, Henry now swiveled his body counter-clockwise to lie facing me on his side. “You knew what?...From what…my head? All I heard was you think I’m fabulously sexy,” he let the last word trail off slowly like he used to do while teaching, using sarcasm to get his point across, only this time, it was seductive, luring me back down next to him.
I let go of my death grip on the comforter and slid back down on my side into his open arms and nestled up close to his chest. We were now looking into each other’s eyes.
“When I walked into Albert Hall, while I was focused on finding Room Six, you were hunched over at the water bubbler. I couldn’t help but say to myself, ‘Wow. Who is this with the phenomenal taste? He's a student here?’ You then stood up straight and walked into the next room. I only saw the back of you head. But, I knew. The salt-and-pepper hair was a dead giveaway.”
As he kissed my forehead, he muttered, “I still have no idea what you are talking about. Are you calling me fabulously sexy again?”
***
Eventually, we had to pull ourselves away from each other and the seclusion of my bedroom as it was Monday morning and we both had classes to teach. As Henry showered, I got up and started the coffee.
“Ugh. Rain again,” I muttered to myself as I opened the window blinds. Opening the blinds was painful, not because of the light hitting my un-ready pupils, but because I felt each one of those horizontal lines of light shattering the cocoon the weekend in bed had just built around me and Henry.
Reality was rearing its’ ugly head with the possibility for sheer and utter disappointment when Henry leaves, as he had not responded to any of my feeble attempts to convey the true breadth and depth of my feelings. I had tried several times during the course of the past two days to gather the thoughts, feelings and emotions rushing through me for the past year into what needed to be the perfect combination of words to tell to this man, the most wonderful man I had ever met, I was in love with him.
I could still hear the shower running. I started to prepare myself for the worst. I started running scenarios of our departure through my head.
“Thanks for an amazing weekend. But…I’ve already told you…I’m happy in my current situation..."
“East or west coast?”
Henry startled me. While I was preparing myself for the dreaded “You’re a Great Friend” speech staring out the window, he had gotten out of the shower, gotten dressed and poured our coffee. He was standing at the edge of the kitchen holding in one hand my “I ‘heart’ LA” mug and in the other, my “I ‘heart’ New York” mug.
“LA or New York,” he clarified.
“Oh…New York, please. Thank you.”
***
I stood frozen in anticipation as I watched Henry gather his belongings from around the apartment. I was still in my bathrobe, still gripping my “I ‘heart’ NY” mug and still unable to breathe.
“Well...” Again, his words rolled off his tongue with great seduction.
We were now walking towards each other. When Henry reached me, he took the mug out of my hand, placed it down and began kissing my neck.
“Stunning, sexy, and irresistible,” he kept kissing me as he spoke.
“What?” My mind was preoccupied with his lips, not conversation.
“Turquoise, strappy high heels and your refute of Georg Hegel’s theory of the Absolute.”
“What?” I repeated, still preoccupied.
“That’s when I knew I had fallen in love with you.”
***
*fin*
I feel a tantrum coming on…
As the week begins to wrap up, I feel as if I could throw an old-school, temper tantrum as if back in the day of being four-years old. I feel the only way to shake the pit this week has left in my stomach is to pitch a fit of crying it out, while screaming and tugging on my hair, stomping on the floor with both feet at the same time, ending with a grand finale of kicking the wall.
Anytime I get a stomach pit, I know I need to re-focus, however, this yearning to kick-it old school, literally, was a red flag warning me I was in need of a spiritual overhaul. I needed to meet with the one man I consider one of New England’s top spiritual advisors – the pizza man down the street. Actually, The Pizza Guy down the street. I needed guidance immediately, so I picked up the phone to schedule an appointment. I ordered a veggie wrap.
**HISTORICAL FLASHBACK: I do not cook. If I do, I make sure the recipe does not require more than one pan, thus, I order out a ton. Through a variety of wraps and personal-size pizzas, I have come to know The Pizza Guy’s owner, Bobby. Over the course of the past two years, while waiting for my orders, we have discussed a multitude of topics, especially the spiritual and universal laws of the universe – and success. There have been occasions when Bobby suggests I read a certain book and after I telling him I finished it, he invites me to sit in the kitchen to eat and discuss what I have read.**
As I walked in the pizza shop, Bobby looked up and with one eyebrow raised said, “Ahh…I see you are fighting the universe again. Come back and eat. We will talk.” I followed him to the kitchen table hidden behind the enormous brick oven and sat down at the table. He placed my wrap down in front of me and proceeded to pull Deepak Chopra’s The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success down from what had to be three dozen or so recipe books high up on the shelf above the prep counter.
“Here,” he opened the book and handed it to me, “read this chapter and I will be back.”
The book, a hard cover showing signs of frequent use with dog-eared pages, bookmarks and torn jacket cover, was opened to the fourth chapter, The Law of Least Effect. “Ah, fighting the universe,” I said to myself while thumbing to the next page.
As I read the chapter, I came to a page with highlighting. “Any time your encounter resistance, recognize that if you force the situation, the resistance will only increase. You don’t want to stand rigid like a tall oak that cracks and collapses in the storm. Instead, you want to be flexible, like a reed that bends with the storm and survives…When you remain open to all points of view – not rigidly attached to only one – your dreams and desires will flow with nature’s desires. Then you can release your intentions, without attachment, and just wait for the appropriate season for your desires to blossom into reality.”
I released a heavy sigh and then bit into my now luke-warm wrap. My Italian yogi, in his trattoria Ashram, had once again, instantly calmed my soul.
Bobby was right, throwing the tantrum I was dreaming about would only make my frustration worse. I needed to stay within the present moment and welcome the new adventures which lay ahead of me.
As I was half way through my wrap, Bobby returned. He didn’t say anything as he stopped and looked at me. “Ahhh, Bella, I am glad to see you stepped out of the ring. Boxing is hard work,” he said as he smiled and tapped me on the head. “Now, let me get you some gelato to sooth the wounds of your soul.”
Ah, divinity.