Employment Woes

I'm now working as a commercial loan underwriter at a bank in Southern California (thanks, Dad). I never thought I'd take a numbers-centric job, but I do alright because the numbers are not very complicated. The job is about finding a story that a company's financial statements tell. When a company actually wants money, it's my job to take a large amount of data and anecdotal information about the company, the people running it, and the industry and distill it into an easy-to-swallow, 10-30 page credit pill. Taken with water, it informs a senior credit administrator's decision to approve or deny the request.

I am so fortunate to have a well-paying job. I even like the work. And my boss seems to like my work! But I often come home and spend hours on my computer, wishfully searching for that job I'll LOVE that combines all my interests: words, public speaking, turn of phrase, design, editing, world travel...

I don't think I'm unlike a lot of discontent 20-somethings whose well-meaning parents showered them with participation medals and money for passing grades and told them that They. Could. Be. ANYTHING.  This was inspiring to hear when we were 12, but now it's downright overwhelming. Equipped with little more than bachelor degrees in political science (because undergrad was just supposed to be a time to "discover yourself"), many of us are struggling to find just what that "ANYTHING" is. It couldn't possibly be sitting for 8 hours straight, reading manuals, sending emails, clocking in, making awkward conversation in the office elevator all for a $1,000 paycheck. Could it?

I think a hard lesson my generation needs to learn is that each of us is probably not exceptional. As normal people, we have to work hard and not expect anyone to notice, much less award participation medals. And a job that feeds every one of our interests, gives us unflagging purpose, and pays for a new BMW by 24 probably doesn't exist.

But don't fret! Some good can come of this cold, corporate merry-go-round.

Firstly, after working for a couple of years, I've discovered what I'm good at, which was hard to identify under my parent's roof where  it seemed that every one of my accomplishments warranted a parade. Maybe these strengths fall outside my explicit job function, but I can insert them by asking my boss: "Would you like me to draft that email for you?" or "Can I lead the training?"

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, I've learned to put the money I earn toward the pursuit of other interests outside of work. I've taken to paying for acting classes because I want to audition for local theater this year. I also love trying new restaurants and bars with friends. Maybe you take a cooking class or buy a set of golf clubs. If work doesn't bring you the profound fulfillment you thought it would, get a life.    

US Airways Center Redemption

A very well-liked and relatively long-tenured member of the Suns/Mercury sales team celebrated his last day at work today. We sent him off with the traditional meeting in a large conference room, sharing stories about the employee and offering a Suns basketball that everyone has signed. In my 14 month tenure, I've seen my fair share of these send-offs, but none so tearful as this. He is taking a job with the Yankees, a dream job in the sports world, and he moves to New York TOMORROW! His friends from work cried because they might not see him again, but what surprised me more was that he cried.

I don't know him super well, but he seemed to bemoan his position there for these last couple months. He joined whole-heartedly in the lunchtime bitch sessions about work, offering hilariously cynical commentary that bordered on bitter. He probably shared more serious concerns about his job in the company of a few close friends. I'm sure he was excited to be getting out of a job that no longer fulfilled him, but on this day, you would never know. He could barely get through a speech in which he thanked his managers for shaping his work ethic, his fellow employees for the laughs and support, and executive management for their generous involvement with even the lowliest of sales staff.

The situation today in that conference room made me think of an idea from the Shawshank Redemption. One man paroled after 50 years behind bars pulls a knife on another prisoner. It's decidedly out of character for him, and Red reasons that he does it in a last-ditch attempt to stay in jail. Red explains, "These walls are funny. First you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on 'em. That's institutionalized." While I don't equate work to prison, I do see similarities in that as much as we complain about it, we spend most of our lives there, most of our relationships are with co-workers, and it gives us purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning. This job is unique, too, because most people who come to work on the sales floor aren't from Arizona (the guy who left today was from Kentucky), so your whole life in Phoenix revolves around work and work people. We come to depend on it for everything from compensation to career development to friendships for a decent social life. That's institutionalized.

I'm sure he cried for more reasons than one. It's overwhelming to leave behind what you've known for two and a half years. He starts a new, bold chapter in his life tomorrow. He finally got out, and I wish him all the best.

Lunching on a Budget

Most people in my office eat out for lunch. It's a social event: deciding on a place, walking there, sitting together for a rushed 40 minutes or so. I brought my lunches when I first started, but quickly ended that habit when I realized how refreshing it is to leave the office to eat. And how many more people I could get to know if I sat down for a meal with them.

My sister and my dad have gently cautioned me against eating out for lunch everyday. They point to health and frugality in their reasoning. Health because you know exactly what you pack in a lunch for yourself, whereas you never know how many calories and preservatives are packed into a meal at a restaurant. Frugality for the obvious reason that spending $12-$15 on lunch everyday can be avoided with a much more cost-effective lunch from home. But is it really that much more cost-effective to pack? I may be blind, but I have seen no meangingful difference in my checking account between the weeks that I eat out and the weeks that I pack lunch.

But I chose to give lunches from home another shot this week. My ritual the past three days has been to come home (I live 6 minutes away from work), eat a sandwich, and watch an episode of Sex and the City. I'm saving money and I'm getting out of the office, but I have no one to eat with :( Carrie and the girls are great, but I don't think I mind paying the extra few bucks to be able to eat with real people.

Mercury Insider Emails

I spent a tedious hour at the end of my workday putting together the Mercury Insider email. This is a bi-weekly email sent to all Mercury season ticket holders. This is not one of my normal duties. One of the girls in the AES office used to do it before she left, but now my boss shoulders the (burden) duty. My boss is out of the office starting tomorrow, so I was tasked with drawing up the email and sending it to the correct managers for approval and distribution. "Submit a draft by EOD today," she instructed.

There is not much information in the Insider. In fact, there is so little that I had to stretch for some good copy to fill the page, most of which I copied and pasted straight from other sources on the team website. As I wrote a few short sentences to remind people about Hip Hop Squad auditions and the all-important 2 game pre-season schedule, a number of difficult questions gave me pause.

Who is my audience?

What do they want to know? What do they need to know?

How can I effectively communicate this information to my readers?

What do they need to know about me, the author?

How might their past experiences color their perception of my words?

I submitted a solid rough draft at 6:15pm. I'm sure it will get ripped to shreds before it goes out on Wednesday.

First Time Back at Rice

I recently went back to Rice to celebrate its greatest ritual: Beer Bike. It's hard to explain to any one who didn't go to Rice, but, very simply, the kids wake up at 6 in the morning, drink a lot of beer paid for by the colleges, compete in a water balloon fight, and end the afternoon at a bike race.

Photo courtesy of Phoebe Kung.

Traditionally, it's the best excuse to go back to Rice. And all your friends are probably going back for Beer Bike, too, so you go.

I think I had more fun at Beer Bike this year than while I was an undergrad. More than the drinks and the music and the warm sun, I really enjoyed seeing my friends. I teared up a bit when I got to see them. I realized how precious these friendships are. I had four years to get to know these people. Intimately. And they had all that time to get to know me. You don't get the time to form relationships like that in the real world.

I was incredibly sad to leave. I cried for the hour before I left for the airport, in the car on the way to the airport, and in the public bathroom at the airport. What if I only had 4 years with those girls? They mean so much to me. I don't think I'll ever meet other girls as smart, talented, informed, opinionated, or hilarious as they are. My ideal situation would be to live near all of them again at some point. Sporadic weekend visits are fun, but I want to live close enough to share quiet times again.

Saint Francisco

Last week, I started feeling a little sick at work. It all started with a headache and some angry sniffles on Wednesday. A day later, I felt a little better. But I think my trip to San Francisco may have contributed to it. The trip meant a lot to me and I fell in love... with the city. But airplane travel takes a lot out of me.

Before I left, everyone at work and even randos on the phone had an opinion as to what I should see and do in San Francisco. Fisherman's Wharf, Ike's Sandwiches, a Giants game, and the list went on. I had only two and half days in the city, so I appreciated Casey's itinerary, laid out perfectly in an Excel spreadsheet.

I saw and ate a lot that SF has to offer. Alcatraz was a highlight. We started with breakfast at the farmer's market that day and took a ferry to the Rock. It was just plain freezing, but the audio tour made it worthwhile. Included in your ticket to the tiny island is a set of headphones. Old guards and former inmates from Alcatraz narrate your walk through the prison. Prisoners pointed out the miserable irony of captivity in that bright, breezy setting. Bummer.

I loved San Francisco because it combined the rush of a big city and the hushed natural beauty of the bay. People consider it a very cold place, but I actually like a few clouds, an expansive gray sky... sweater weather! It makes me appreciate a sunny day even more :)

Whine

I work in a small part of the office on the second of four floors. I call it the sales dungeon because there are no windows and you have to navigate a maze to find an exit. They have successfully created a place where, if there were no clocks on our computers or smartphones, one might never know the time of day.



"JUST... KEEP... WORKING," this room seems to insist.




Life on the outside continues.


At night, after I've left the office, I think about what I've missed in those 11 hours. I think about the female lead in a romantic comedy and how content she is when she holds true to her passions and works at a flower shop or specialty book store. I think about how much time she has to herself and how much money she seems to have lying around to ensure that she is always comfortable. I think about how happy she must be to have found a job that is fun and fulfilling, and still provides an adequate living.


This fantasy almost never works out. Most adults I know will admit to sacrificing their free time and the pursuit of a passion in exchange for a job that pays the bills. I just hope that I can learn to be satisfied with my career choices, and not keep wondering, "what else is out there?" That's a question that can haunt people like me: privileged, college-educated 20-somethings who have been told, since they were small, that they can be/do anything they want to be/do. This was a fabulous way to grow up. I have the freedom to decide what I will become. But the freedom is immense and overwhelming. I could work a basic 9-5, I could continue whole-heartedly in this industry, I could go to work for a non-profit, or I could teach English in Bangladesh! I could pursue any of these, but I'm paralyzed by the question, "what else is out there?"