How Do You Stop It?

It’s been a weird couple of weeks for our country and for me, personally.  It seems that the national dialog is debating whether stricter gun control or greater assistance to those suffering mental illness is the answer to end random gun violence.

In my mind, the answer is a resounding: Both.

Gun control, for me, is a pretty cut-and-dried situation: limit people’s access to guns and you’ll limit the number of people shot.  Because I interpret the 2nd Amendment to refer specifically to the formation of a “well-armed Militia” to protect us nationally, I have no ethical or constitutional problem suggesting that the average person has no reason to possess any automatic weapons.  

I really don’t want to debate gun control, though.  I wish to examine mental illness.

It seems that everyone agrees a person would have to be mentally ill to commit some horrible act of gun violence.  There have been suggestions (mostly from people who wish to divert attention away from the gun control argument) that the government needs to step up and take a more active role in identifying and treating those with mental illness.

My concern comes in the link between these two:  Who decides who the mentally ill are that need treating in order to ensure our safety?  Can we ethically detain someone (or medically treat them against their will) based on the probability that they might hurt someone.

Because the profile for these random killers is quite broad.

Jovan Belcher was a productive member of society, in that he had a steady (and well-paying) job and a family.  He had, by all accounts, some issues with domestic violence of some sort previously and was targeted by an NFL program designed to provide counseling for couples having these types of problems.  

Until he decided to repeatedly shoot Kasandra Perkins to death and then commit suicide in a very public manner, I’m sure very few people close to him would have considered him to be a serious risk for a murder-suicide.

In Oregon, Jacob Roberts was considered to be an average, likable guy who experienced some of life’s ups and downs.  His friends described him as seeming a little off the day he decided to steal a gun and a whole lot of ammunition and run into a shopping center shouting, “I am the shooter.”  We, as a country, seemed relieved that “only” two people were killed because Roberts’ gun jammed before he could kill more.

And then there’s Adam Lanza, the most recent and most notorious of the three killers.  He apparently had life-long mental health issues, but there has been nothing to substantiate that he had personality disorder or that his mother was trying to have him committed.  He was often described as odd, an outsider, or quiet.

Of these three men, which ones do you think the government would have had any authority to detain?  And based on what evidence?

Do you know anyone who is quiet?  A loner?  Awkward in social situations?

Has there ever been anyone close to you who has argued–maybe even violently–with a significant other?

Have you ever talked to a friend who seemed a bit off?

And how many of these people have then gone on a shooting spree?

Most likely, none.

We all know people who are socially awkward or have lapses with reality.  We’ve all had that happen to ourselves, from time to time.  But there’s a large–and largely unidentifiable–leap from having a mental or emotional issue to being a killer.

I think I’m dwelling on this because of some issues in my personal life regarding mental illness.  Without delving too deeply into the details, I can say that in the past week, a friend tried to commit suicide, a coworker left our company in a rather disturbing and unusual way, and I’ve been mildly stalked by a vendor who was unhappy with a review I posted about my experience with her.

All three of these have left me unnerved.  I find myself questioning whether any one of these people is the next shooter.  And then I wonder if my unease is because these people are all showing what might be warning signs of a future killer, or is it because they all have easy access to the kinds of weapons used to make a statement killing?

Ultimately, my fear focuses more on the easy availability of weapons designed specifically for killing a large number of people in a short amount of time rather than this collection of people experiencing some sort of mental distress.  I don’t mean to diminish their distress, because it’s obviously very acute, but I think we, as a country, should look to limiting the means of mass murder first, then address the causes in the long run.

How Do You Make Your Memories?

It’s 8 am, the morning after Thanksgiving.  I’ve been up for about a half hour, which, for me, means I slept in. The dogs have been fed (yeah, they get turkey leftovers, too) and have taken themselves back to bed, and my sweetie is snoring contentedly.  The house is quiet, mostly clean, and I’m feeling relaxed, despite the hours of hard work and more hours of socializing yesterday.  This right now is my favorite part of Thanksgiving: the aftermath.  The calm after the storm.  Yesterday was all about following a timeline and meeting cooking deadlines.  Today is casual–things will get done when they get done.  I may very well stay in my pajamas well into the day.

Then I project my mind about five miles from my home, to an area which represents the largest collection of retail establishments in my state.  I imagine the crowds, the folks who lined up early in order to earn the right to shop and the others, who have no choice but to be there, if they want to keep their jobs.

I have friends who participate in the insanity and inhumanity dubbed Black Friday.  I ask them why they do it, and they say, “The prices are too good.”  Being naturally cheap, I understand the allure of getting a screaming deal, but I also understand trying to preserve balance in my life.

These friends of mine–and others, I’m sure–are looking for the lowest prices on Christmas presents.  As I said, finding a good deal is understandable, but I think there’s more to this situation.

We see ads on TV for the “hottest” present this year.  There’s one commercial that shows a mom who is worried her kids won’t think she’s a good mom if the present she got them falls flat.  There are ads that feature kids telling their parents they are the “best parents ever” for buying some toy/clothes/gadget.

Do my intelligent friends actually buy this garbage?

Think back to your childhood and recall some of the happier memories.  What is the focus of these memories? Is it a relationship or an activity?  Or is it a thing?

For me, my happiest childhood memories relate to activities or events: playing board games with my family; going to the farm and hunting for a Christmas tree, then having hot chocolate; playing Marco Polo in the pool with my sisters.

I had plenty of toys growing up, but my happy memories are not about the toys themselves. My memories involve the people in my life and the things we did together.

I’m sure this is true for you, too.

And yet…

And yet plenty of people feel obligated to get that perfect toy or gadget each year, to the point of standing in line in the dead of night or even leaving the house on Thanksgiving night to run to the store.

I feel they think that they are sacrificing their own time in order to make someone else happy by buying them a nice gift.  In reality, by leaving, they’re sacrificing the future memories to be made for their families.  No one, at no time, will look back fondly and say, “Wow, remember that year when Mom packed up in the middle of dinner to go stand in line at the Megastore in order to buy us that toy we forgot about in two months?”  But people will look back fondly if, instead, that same parent spent that evening playing charades or gin rummy or reading a book together or even cuddling up on the couch to watch football.

Those are all experiences.  And they are what live in our memories.  Things do not.

So if you are one of those millions of Black Friday shoppers, maybe you should ask yourself: How do you want to make your memories?

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

A few fun statistics for you:

According to the SBA (Small Business Association) a small business is an organization with fewer than 500 employees (which I think is actually rather large) and they make up about 99% of all businesses in the United States.  There are, in fact, less than 20,000 large businesses in the country, but they employ a disproportionate number of people.

I’ve worked for companies large and small in my life.  My first job was at a family-owned ice cream parlor that had about four adults and a couple dozen part-time teenagers in its ranks.  All the ice cream scoopers hung out together and formed friendships, but the experience wasn’t far from high school, and there was frequent drama and lots of turnover.  When I was teaching, I worked for schools that had less than 100 employees, although the nature of the job is so isolating (teachers spend all their time with their students and little with their colleagues), that it was easy to work with someone for years and never get to know her.  I even worked for one mega-corp that had over 10,000 employees nationwide.  In that situation, I felt completely anonymous in my role–decisions were made regarding my career and my future by people who had no idea who I was.  I felt so disenfranchised, I quit a little over a year after starting.

Six weeks ago, I started with a very small company.  I was the ninth employee–sort of.  One fellow was technically retired, although he agreed to finish up some projects he had started.  So count me as 8.5 on the payroll.

There’s a very interesting dynamic that occurs in a company this small.  Everyone has to get along with each other.  When you work for a larger company–say over 30 or 40 employees–there will be people that you can avoid.  Not everyone, but some people.  There will be people you will never have to interact with, professionally.  And there’s a bit of an ability to get lost in a crowd.

But with fewer than 10, there’s no room for avoidance.  At my office, we all interact with–and rely on–each other daily.  For us, it’s not a matter of leaving egos at the door; it’s a matter of not having the egos to begin with.

And the amazing thing is we all really do get along.  The focus is very much on the job, what we do, ensuring the customer is happy and that our jobs run smoothly.  I don’t feel that there are any tight friendships here, but there’s tons of camaraderie and bonhomie.  There’s plenty of laughter to go around, and folks share about their lives outside of work.

What’s so amazing about that, you might ask.  I’ll tell you.  We are nine individual people who are together by chance.  We’re not a group of friends who decided to start a company.  We’re people who have been added to the group over time, mostly by responding to an employment ad, who really share only one thing in common: we all work for the same company.

What are the odds that you’ll find nine random people in the world who happen to have enough of the same mindset to do what we do without obvious conflict?  I’m sure, over time, there have been bad seeds that were weeded out, but even with that, turnover here is quite low.  That tells me that, somehow, this group really clicks.

I would be less amazed if my interview process were one of those grueling marathons, spread out over weeks, meeting all the players and taking personality assessments.  Instead, I was offered this job less than a week after my first interview (with the CEO and semi-retired fellow).  My follow-up interview was a couple days later (CEO, founder and program director).  And then I was hired.

I might have had a little trepidation that they were acting hastily, but, so far, those fears have been unfounded.  In six quick weeks, I feel comfortable here.  I feel like I’m already part of the team.

I could easily make a case for the advantages of working at a very large company or a mid-sized one.  But I’ve found, in this situation, that I’m happy working where I feel I belong.

Straight Through to Hudsonville

For most of my life, I’ve wanted to travel for business.  The glamorous, jet-setter lifestyle was attractive to me.  I imagined myself confidently striding through the airport, wearing my stylish suit, and other, lesser travelers would step aside to let me pass. Because I was a business traveler.  I was important, with somewhere to go, people to meet, deals to make.

As luck would have it, I became a teacher.  Teachers rarely travel on business.  And so the world of the business traveler still tantalized me.  When I’d fly, I’d notice—with a degree of envy—those professional travelers and their worldliness.  They’re easy to spot in the airport.  Mostly men, they have perfected the art of fitting everything in carry-on.  They know the inefficiency of having to wait for luggage at the carousel.  They belong to the loyalty clubs, so they get priority seating and wile their layover hours away in the club room.  I could see in their faces that the allure of travel had long left them; I still knew they led exciting lives.  How could they not, flying to Miami one day, then Chicago the next?  They dined in famous restaurants and stayed in hotels that offered shoe-shining and dry cleaning services.  They ordered room service.

And even after I left teaching, my companies rarely asked me to travel.  No chance for me of dashing off to a high-impact meeting, wheeling a deal, in New York, Los Angeles, London.

I started a new job last week, and on my first day, I was told I would be traveling on Monday.  My services were needed, and not at home.  In order to be useful, I needed to fly far away.  I needed to do some scrambling to get everything in order, but, with five days’ notice, I had my reservation set and was ready to go. Now this is what I was talking about!  Last minute plans.  My presence needed.  A chance to display my world-weary face as I navigated my rolling bag through the airport throngs.

I got my assignment: I was flying to Grand Rapids, Michigan with the owner of the company, to observe a training he was leading.  My role, sadly, did not involve wheeling or dealing.  But it was still business travel.  The first day was simply a travel day, so I wasn’t wearing my stylish and professional suit.  I was wearing jeans and sneakers, carrying a sweater, because planes are often chilly.  But never mind!  I had the business traveler mentality.

We had a 3-hour layover in Chicago, which is never fun.  When we landed, we noticed that there was an earlier flight that had been delayed.  We sprinted to the gate, and—through the magic of the loyalty program membership—we were whisked to the top of the standby waiting list.  At last!  Here was the wonder of being a business traveler.  My boss’s Premium Platinum card was a key that opened this door to preferential treatment, treatment I had been coveting for years.

Once we landed in Grand Rapids, we grabbed a taxi for the hotel.  I wondered if we were staying at the Hilton or the Sheraton?  We were, after all, on the customer’s dime, and why wouldn’t we have the best?  The cab pulled up in front of those places that has “Residence” or “Extended Stay” in the name.  It was located off a long driveway, behind a Red Lobster and an Olive Garden.  Strip malls and gas stations made up the neighborhood.

The hotel was clean and the staff friendly, but the carpeting and lobby furniture were loud and garish.  Any feeling of homeyness was lost on me when I stared at teal and orange couch, resting on the green and yellow flowered carpet.  Other than the couch, the lobby was filled with groups of small tables topped with salt and pepper shakers and packets of Sweet-n-Low. This was, obviously, the dining room.  But it wasn’t the dark, wood-paneled hotel bar I imagined myself in, unwinding after a long day of flying by nursing a gin-n-tonic, strategizing business moves with my boss.

If you’ve never been in this type of hotel, the idea is that it’s a home away from home.  Each room has a small living room, with a TV, desk and dining table, set for two.  There’s a kitchenette.  This one had a microwave, a two-burner stove, and a full-sized fridge and dishwasher.  In the cupboards were four salad plates, four small bowls, four glasses, four mugs.  The drawer held four each of knives, forks and spoons and a knife that, at one time, might have been sharp, but was currently as sharp as a spatula.  One small saucepan—just the size to heat up a can of soup—and one frying pan completed the set.

Conceptually, a person could live there for quite some time, preparing miniature home-cooked meals, inviting guests (or guest, as there is only seating for two at the dining table) over to dine and sip wine out of tumblers.  In keeping with propriety, the bedroom door could be shut.

I have a belief that, for the most part, two types of people typically stay in these hotels: 1) business travelers, and usually male business travelers, and 2) divorced men.  In the TV series Men of a Certain Age, Ray Romano’s character does just that, whether from laziness regarding finding a new apartment or delusion about his wife’s willingness to take him back, it was never clear.  I stayed at one of these places, once, where they didn’t even have hangers in the closets.  I guess they imagined the man simply lifting all his hang-up clothes from home and transporting them directly, hangers and all, to his new home.

There was a note on the dishwasher that I shouldn’t run it unless it was full—in an effort to save water.  I thought it would take three or four rooms’ worth of implements to fill one dishwasher, so I stuck with using a single glass for water from the tap.  There was no ice machine in the hotel, but I did have one empty ice tray in the fridge.  I was thirsty, and craving a cold drink, when I got in that night, but I had to wait for several hours for the ice to set before that could happen.  The water from the tap was warm and slightly metallic-tasting.

My boss had told me that his hotel requirements were few: a good shower and a comfortable bed.  The bed certainly looked inviting, piled high with pillows.  I glanced in the shower, and saw that somebody inexpert had recaulked  some time recently.  For whatever reason, hotel showers have caulking issues.  I believe the person assigned to repair it uses something like a banana to spread the new caulk over the old, smearing it for several inches up the tile.

We had an early start the next morning.  I flicked on the light in the bathroom to take a shower, and when I did, the fan turned on.  The sound was not unlike the sound generated by the jets on an airplane.  The cover of the fan was loose and rattled.  I showered, and when I emerged, I realized the first law of hotel bathrooms was intact: the louder the fan, the less effective it is at removing any steam from the bathroom.

The second law of hotel bathrooms is that the shower head was designed by the same person who created firehoses for police crowd-control use.  The spray was the velocity to debrade my skin, but not enough strength to penetrate my hair.

The hotel offered a hot breakfast in the lobby and we had time for a quick bite before heading out to the training.  The door to the kitchen was open, and I could see that the facility consisted of two major appliances: a freezer and a microwave.  The hot dishes were pale, rubbery scrambled eggs, flaccid pieces of turkey Canadian bacon, and two kinds of potatoes: sausage and potato hash and roasted potatoes.  To the side was a bowl of melon squares, next to the miniature containers of yogurt.  All in all, not a terrible selection—until it was tasted.  Rubbery eggs are one thing, but chewy and tough potatoes are a real downer.

The world’s toughest breakfast

 

Our training went well—my boss is a great presenter, the group was intelligent and engaged, and the facility was lovely.  Outside, the leaves were turning and we had a backdrop of spectacular colors.  I had a chance to meet some interesting people and made plans to follow up with several.

We were heading to the airport directly after the second day of training.  Here I was, in my stylish and professional clothes, ready to dash off to the airport, boarding pass loaded on my phone, book in hand, and all I could think is: these dress shoes aren’t very comfortable for trekking along the concourse and they’re not very warm; these pants are cute, but they tend to ride up a little in the seat; sitting for four hours in my coat will wrinkle it so badly, it’s headed for the dry cleaner for sure.  I thought about our time frame and realized that I had time at the airport to pull my carry-on into the bathroom and change into the jeans and sneakers I arrived in.

I was tired.  My bed was comfortable, but I kept waking myself up with thoughts of bed bugs or random strangers trying to get into my room.  I felt bloated and fat, after eating heavy, salt-laden food for three days.  My back hurt from all the sitting—first in the plane, then in the training.  The hotel had a work-out room, but our schedule never allowed for a visit.

After a mere two and half days on the road, my hair was limp from lack of proper rinsing, my skin was greasy from my terrible diet and my pants were snug.  Where was the sophisticated life I was supposed to have as a business traveler?  Why was this travel so much less fun than the vacation I took last spring?  Instead of jet-setting to London or Tokyo, I found myself riding straight through to Hudsonville.  Maybe I could convince my boss to let me stay home next time?

A Quick Lesson in Civics

Nearly 50 years ago, in 1964, the United States enacted the Civil Rights Act, which granted or guaranteed certain rights to people, regardless of race, religion, color, sex or national origin.  It has been amended to include those with disabilities and will soon include amendments to address issues around sexuality and gender identification (I hope!).  Title VII of the CRA deals specifically with employment issues.  Because of Title VII, employers have to offer maternity leave to pregnant women, must allow employees to take off from work for religious purposes and provide accommodations for people with disabilities*.

In a lot of ways, I think we take Title VII for granted.  It’s been around for nearly 50 years, after all. That’s half a century of time for employers to learn what can and can’t be done in the interest of fairness and respect.  So you’d think the agency that monitors and enforces Title VII, the EEOC (Equal Employment Opportunity Commission), would be an anachronism by now, employees playing table-top football and gathering dust, waiting for a case to champion.

*Snort!* Hardly!

I had the good fortune to visit the EEOC on Friday, to discuss what I felt were some unfair interview questions posed to me that week.  The company I was interviewing with was small–so small, it might not fall under the EEOC’s jurisdiction (a company must have at least 15 regular employees to be subject to the provisions in Title VII).  But, since I was unsure of the exact size, I went ahead to file.

Claims are made on a drop-in basis.  I arrived around 10:30 am to a small office with four chairs–three occupied–in the waiting area.  The harried receptionist was friendly and helpful, but had to interrupt our conversation to answer her phone.  She had me take a seat, saying it wouldn’t be long before an investigator met with me.  

After 30 or 40 minutes, I met with the investigator, who was also very friendly and polite.  I don’t want anyone to think that I’ve fallen into some Gilliam-like bureaucratic hell, where soulless drones push paperwork on me and lead me through a maze of red tape.  I felt listened to and in capable hands.

The investigator was very clear on the EEOC’s role and what my expectations should be.  The EEOC does not take sides, but simply investigates.  Their goal is a resolution through arbitration, rather than a race to court.  If the EEOC does find sufficient evidence for a court case, however, they will often provide the attorney for the claimant.

At times during my interview, I second-guessed myself.  Should I be doing this?  Is it worth the bother?  I didn’t really want the job anyway.  I wouldn’t want the business owner to go out of business because of me.  Will I be embarrassed if the company is too small and my claim is dropped.

As if knowing what I was thinking, the investigator continued to reassure me that my actions were appropriate.

The process is a lengthy one, and anyone walking into the EEOC thinking they’ll have a swift resolution is delusional.  For me, I’m content to wait.  However, imagine if someone files a claim for wrongful termination, has no other source of income and is relying on some compensation just to survive.  That person could be in a dire situation because a claim can take six to twelve months just to be assigned a case worker.

Here’s how the timeline breaks down: the EEOC will send my claim to the company within ten days.  That company then has fifteen days to respond in writing.  Then the case becomes active and goes into the queue to find a case worker to handle the arbitration, settlement and court case. That’s where things get bogged down.

Normally, getting a case worker takes up to six months.  But in the last few years, there’s been an enormous spike in claims, while, at the same time, the federal government is cutting its budget and not taking on new employees to handle the load.

I asked the investigator why the increase and she said that it wasn’t because employers are more likely to stomp on people’s rights now than ever before.  It’s that people are increasingly unhappy in their jobs.  They might have had salary cuts, reductions in perks or benefits, changes in policies to eliminate fun elements of the job, and they’re just not willing to put up with employer BS as they used to be.

In other words, if you get paid well, have a fun and social atmosphere at work, enjoy “free lunch Fridays” or company picnics, you’re willing to have your rights ignored to a certain degree.  You see it as the price you have to pay to work somewhere otherwise terrific, and if the boss is kind of jerk, hey, you can live with that.  But if you lose all the elements that make a job great and still have to deal with the jerky boss, then someone needs to be told.

For a company, providing those perks can be expensive, and because of the slow economy, more and more companies are choosing to focus on essentials instead.  That’s understandable.  It’s more important to keep employees in full-time jobs than giving away door prizes or sponsor happy hours.   But treating people fairly doesn’t cost much at all.  It requires some patience and some flexibility and some understanding.  That’s it.

This shouldn’t be a surprise for employers, either.  Title VII has been around for five decades.  And it’s not a secret, either.  The text is available online.  And Hollywood has milked its provisions for endless courtroom dramas showing the Civil Rights Act in Motion.

Honoring Title VII isn’t particularly costly, but ignoring it sure can be.  Companies have a good chance of going under if a large-scale suit is brought against them.  If they don’t fail because of the cost of the suit or settlement, they can also suffer real damage to their reputations which, in turn, cost a great deal to repair.

So, you may ask, why do people do this?  Why do they consistently violate Title VII and ignore people’s right?  In my case, I’m sure the employer was simply ignorant.  She’s a small-business owner who probably hasn’t had formal interviewing training.  My goal in filing the claim was to warn her to change her technique, more than anything else.

But large corporations, with HR professionals and house counsel available, couldn’t possibly be ignorant of the laws.  And yet major corporations like Walmart, McDonalds, Hertz and Amazon have been in the news for ignoring the rights of the workers.

I have a feeling it’s because corporations aren’t, in fact, people.  They are businesses that are designed to put profits first and everything else a distant second. When human beings adopt the corporate mindset, they lose sight of the humanity needed to make a corporation run.  They think of employees as machines, without needs, priorities or rights.  They forget individuality and tend to group all employees together as a single unit, without distinction.  There’s no room in that world view for a unique religion, a disability or gender issues.  

The best way to attack the lack of humanity inherent in a corporation is to report it.  It’s the duty and responsibility of all employees to ensure fair and legal practices for everyone.  Reporting is free.  I was in the office for about two hours.  From here until arbitration, the EEOC does everything related to my case for me.  Given the number of people who shared stories similar to mine with me just in the last week, I’d say most cases go unreported.  

Don’t let your rights be stripped from you.  

*I apologize for any inaccuracies in my understanding of the CRA or Title VII.  I read the content online just moments before writing.

 

According to Joe

If you watched the Democratic National Convention last week, you might have caught Vice President Biden’s speech endorsing President Obama.  The mission of his speech was to make a rebuttal to some of the criticisms against Obama offered by the Republicans in their own convention the previous week.  He addressed, mainly, two situations that illustrated, in his mind, Obama’s superior leadership, compared to Romney: the death of Osama bin Laden and the US auto industry bailout.

At the end of his remarks about the bailout, Biden shared his personal experience with his father who had to travel to a different state in order to find work, returning to his family on weekends.  Biden said:

“I was a kid, but I can remember the day that my dad sat at the end of my bed, and said, things are going to be tough for a while. I have to go to Delaware to get a new job. But it’s going to be better for us. The rest of my life, my dad never failed to remind me–that a job is about a lot more than a paycheck. It’s about dignity. It’s about respect. It’s about being able to look your children in the eye—and say honey, it’s going to be okay, and believe it was going to be okay.”

When I heard him say these words, I felt it deep inside.  In our society–and in my life–having a job shows a person’s worth.  Having a job would mean that I’m a productive, responsible member of society.  Having a job would mean I would have some pride that I am accomplishing something that others value.  Having a job is outward evidence of myvalue.

And I don’t have a job.  So what does that say about me?

I think about how many people view homeless or jobless people.  They think they are dirty–and not just on the outside.  They think they are lazy, who would rather live off handouts than earn their keep at a job.  They think they are shiftless, evasive and unscrupulous.  When  homeless people are victims of a crime, they rarely merit the response–either from the police or the general public–that someone else might.  The feeling is that homeless people are somehow less than other people and so a crime against them  isn’t as upsetting or detrimental as a crime against someone else.  Jobless people are looked at in shock or disgust if they do something to try to enjoy life.  A jobless person who goes on vacation, for example, is viewed with disgust.  I know this to be true because I’ve just canceled an up-coming vacation, feeling that I don’t deserve some time away, since I’m not working.  I feel I would have a hard time justifying my desire to go somewhere else for a weekend and simply have fun, to myself or anyone else.

Even the jobless who don’t live on the streets or use government aid are suspect.  Take Ann Romney, for example.  Part of the uproar about her is that she doesn’t have a job.  One of the biggest criticisms of her speech at the Republican National Convention was that she is a stay-at-home mom.  Because she doesn’t have an income, her voice doesn’t count.

I’m not going to debate of the validity of either Vice President Biden’s or Mrs. Romney’s speeches.  I have my political views and you have yours.  But I find it interesting how we, as a society, definitely measure people’s worth by their employment status.  And since my employment status is the undesirable one (and since, unlike Mrs Romney, I don’t have $250 million in the bank to fall back on), I feel the weight of this viewpoint every day.

Don’t Count Your Chickens

A few weeks ago, I was feeling pretty good about my job search.  I had strong interviews with three companies and all seemed like good possibilities.

The first company decided that they’d prefer someone with industry experience, despite explicitly stating in their ad that industry experience wasn’t necessary.  

Okay, no biggie.  There were still two more.

The second company spent a lot of time with me.  Seriously, I was there all the time: five different interviews, shadowing people in their jobs, meeting tons of people.  All was going great, things looked positive, and then I was told that corporate headquarters hadn’t approved the addition or the position yet, so the job (if there was to be a job at all) wasn’t going to be open until October.  At the earliest.

So that left the third company.  This was the one that was quite small and not glamorous, but had lots of positive going for it: great CEO, close-knit team, realistic expectations, close to home, etc.  I met with the CEO first and we hit it off great.  Then I met with the office manager, and she and I really got along well.  Finally, I met with the sales manager, software developer and operations guys, all together.  Again, we got along well.  The sales manager was particularly impressed with my experience in the public schools, as this was one market they wanted to grow in.

I was told that there was one more candidate who couldn’t come in to the meet these last three until over a week after I did.  I knew this wouldn’t work in my favor: the most recent candidate will stand out more.  They will have forgotten about me in the meantime.

I was hoping to hear from this last company before Labor Day weekend.  I really, really wanted to be employed before my birthday, which fell on Sunday.  I contacted the company and was told a decision wouldn’t be made until after the holiday weekend.

So today I got word.

I didn’t get the job.

I’m back to nothing.

I got nothing.

No interviews.

No leads.

Zilch.

And not from not trying.  In the past week, I’ve found exactly two jobs to apply for.  From one I got no response.  From the other: “We want someone with industry experience.”  (Despite, once again, specifically stating that industry experience wasn’t required.)

I can’t begin to tell you how demoralized I feel.  Not to mention useless, devalued, and pathetic.  I spent a great deal of time and money going back to school just so I could find a better job, and now I can’t find any job at all.

I don’t know what to do differently.  I don’t know how to make myself seem more attractive to employers.  And I certainly don’t know how to get industry experience if no one is willing to hire me.

It’s Official…

…I’m totally middle aged.

This morning, I was looking through the job listings and came across a posted Account Manager position for a company I’ve never heard of (and I won’t mention here).  Most job ads are stifling in their sameness, all employing the jargon and stock phrases that are meant to convey… I don’t know what.  To me, they convey stuffiness and doublespeak.

You know what I mean: “looking for a team player with excellent communication skills” or “must be able to multi-task while remaining 100% focused on the task at hand.”  That kind of stuff.  They speak in very general terms about the job without explicitly disclosing what the job is.  They seek essentially the same qualifications that every other employer is seeking.

You want someone who works well with others?  How unusual!  I was hoping to find a position for a misanthrope who bites.  Darn.

So when I find an ad that actually sounds like it was written by a living, breathing human being, I’m always intrigued, and more often than not, I’ll apply. I figure, if the company cares enough about future employees that the hiring manager takes the time to write out something like that, they might be fun to work with.

Here’s how this particular ad begins: “We want to connect people with businesses. Come help us.

Our mission
Our mission statement is to love our customers and all the people we do business with everyday.”

Nice start.  I like the personal touch conveyed in “Come help us.”  And the mission statement, while a little touchy-feely is better than “Our mission is to achieve world domination through ruthlessly destroying all in our path.”

To be fair, on the company website, the mission statement continues with “Whether it be through customer loyalty, VIP treatment, or social interaction, our technology platform enables us to leverage an interaction channel that will make customers happier and businesses more profitable.”

Okay.  That sounds a little less touchy-feely and a little more business-like.

The ad continues to explain a little bit about what this company does.  It’s clear and succinct, with a bit of humor (confirming that yes, they are awesome, for example).  This section ends with a huge fluttering red flag, though: “We work hard, play hard, and look good doing both.”

As I’ve mentioned before, the expression “We work hard and play hard,” to me simply means that the company is more than willing to burn its employees out and lead them to a life of alcoholism.  I’m not opposed to working hard, but by pairing it with playing hard, all I can think is that any employee is going to need some serious chemical decompression after a long business day.  I don’t need chemical decompression in my life, thank you for offering…

From there the ad begins to baffle me, as it starts to resort to the kind of douche-bag-speak one might find on Jersey Shore or some other show I don’t watch about people I don’t care about.  The text tells me that by working for this company, I can be “boss” and then confirms that they meant it; I could actually be “boss.”  I’m glad they clarified that, because I would be hurt if they were simply tantalizing me with the title of boss, when they didn’t feel I could every really earn it.

Instead of listing the job duties, the ad tells me “how you’d roll.”  The first is that the expectation for my position is to work 60 hours a week, which they describe as “full time.”  Ah, no.  For hourly employees, full-time is not to exceed 40 hours per week.  Of course, this is a salaried position, which is a boon for this company.  They’re getting an employee and a half for the cost of one.  Yay!

And don’t get me wrong.  I know there are lots of times when it’s necessary to put in more hours.  I did it as a teacher, and I did it at BiNW and AIS.  But those were on an as-needed basis.  The expectation wasn’t that I would be paid for 40 hours of work but work 50% more than that.

Ultimately, this is the bit that convinced me that I’m far too middle-aged to ever apply for this job.  Instead of “experience required,” the ad says: “Skillz Needed:”

I kid you not.

Skillz.

Because the folks who run this company are far too “boss” to pluralize in a conventional way.  No sorry “s” for them, no sir.  They have to convey both their current trendiness and their devil-may-care attitude with that single letter substitution.

Just to confirm my suspicions, I checked out the website a bit.  I found a photo of the staff.  At least I think it’s a photo of the staff, as they’re all holding party cups, there are empty beer bottles all around and in the foreground is a foozball table.  Maybe the photo was taken at a fraternity party?  There are even a couple guys waving the Hawaiian hang-loose sign. One of them looks to be older–maybe he’s the one who is of drinking age and bought all the beer for everyone?

Sigh.

I’m so middle-aged…

As Meatloaf says, Two out of Three Ain’t Bad

So, last week, I wrote about these three companies that actually were interested in me, wanted to talk to me and indicated I was a good candidate for their positions.  This week, I’m still in the running — for two of them, sort of.

Company 2, which was attractive to me because of a good company culture and a lot of support in the job, passed.  Not even a second interview.  They decided to proceed with people with “industry experience.”

Boy, nothing makes me cringe as much as “industry experience.”  Especially when the ad said, “no industry experience required.”

I get it.  If I’m a hiring manager, certainly someone who has worked in the field is going to be easier to bring on board than someone starting from scratch.  But if that’s the case, then say that’s what you want in the ad.  If you’re really looking for someone from outside the industry (maybe to prevent bad habits, or to mold someone from scratch), then say that, too.

The most frustrating thing about “industry experience” is that there has to be a way to enter the industry.  I’m sure this is a symptom of the economic climate.  When unemployment is low and it’s tough to fill positions, I’ll bet any experience is valuable.

So, yeah.  Anyway.  That’s one of three off the list.

I had a good interview with Company 3 last week.  This was the company that was not glamorous, but certainly convenient.  Also, it was a small, tight-knit group, which is certainly attractive.  The company president is new and hasn’t relocated from the Southwest yet.  He flies in for a few days every week or so, and this week he made time to interview me.

I like him.  He was relaxed and comfortable, clearing interested in the mission of the company and easy to talk to.  He asked me a couple “trick” questions. Not really tricky, like he’s trying to catch me out, but certainly unusual.

The first was: You’ve been working for a year to get a meeting with a purchasing manager at a very large corporation, some place like Boeing.  Just as you’re walking out the door to go to the meeting, the receptionist tells you that a small but consistent customer is on the phone, looking for some important pricing.  In fact, the customer needs the pricing within a half hour.  What do you do?

Well, I started, I’m pathologically afraid of being late to things, so I always leave very early.  That means, I would probably have time to get some pricing for the existing customer.  If not, I would ask around the office, to see if someone else could provide the pricing.  Finally, I would ask the president himself if he would attend the meeting in my place.

I believe the purpose of the question was to see if I would favor a small, consistent customer that’s a sure thing or a very large customer that’s only a possibility.  I think there are ways to have both.  At least that’s what I tried to convey in my response.

The other unusual question was to ask me if I could invite any four people to a dinner party, who would they be.

I started with Tony Bourdain, because I think he’s a great raconteur and wit, plus he really likes to eat.  Secondly, I mentioned Gertrude Stein, because she was involved in so much in Paris in the ’20s, that she must have fascinating stories.  My third person was someone who was an insider or even a spy, who would be willing to share juicy, behind-the-scenes stories of how governmental decisions are made.  And my final person was Picasso, because I’ve always admired his vision.

I did add that I would love to invite someone like Gandhi or the Buddha, but what would I serve them?

We had a nice talk about Picasso and his methodology for creating his cubist masterpieces (he looked through a prism) a bit, then a bit more about the job.  He was going back home in a day or two, but said he’d like me to come back in to meet others in the office.  (I’m doing just that tomorrow).

So that leaves Company 1.  To date, I’ve been there five times.  Last week, I met with the woman leading the team with the open position, and, on another day, I spent a couple hours shadowing two people on that team.

The shadowing was fine.  I got a more concrete idea of what they do and how they do it.  Afterwards, the team-leader and I sat down together to debrief.

And that’s when she dropped the bombshell.

She mentioned that the position they have in mind for me isn’t actually available.  She would like to place someone there, but corporate does not.  So the earliest would be in early October and could realistically be at the first of the new year.

Really?  Uh, then why did you have me come in?

I was disappointed, naturally and kind of mulled about it over the week.  On Monday, though, the manager called me.  She likes me; she really, really likes me.  And she wants me on board.  She has another position, something different, in a different department available.  Would I be interested in that?

Sure.

So yesterday, I visited the office yet again, this time to meet with another team leader.  She was nice, honest, open and approachable.  As of yet, I haven’t heard if there’s an invitation in for another job shadow, but I would not be shocked if there was.

I’m still looking for other stuff (and there ain’t a lot out there), but I’m feeling pretty positive about these both.

Once again, please keep fingers crossed for me.  I’d like to be gainfully employed before I turn 45.

When It Rains, It Pours

Since I began my job search, I’ve been so disheartened by the total lack of reply I’d been getting from companies.  If I sent out 40 applications in a week, I wasn’t even getting a single “no thank you” back.  My efforts seemed fruitless, the ultimate waste of time.

Gradually, though I started to get replies.  Not good replies, but replies nonetheless.  I’d receive the form letter email: “Thank you for your interest in our company.  We received a large amount of responses and have decided to go forward with a candidate who best matches our needs.  We’ll keep your resume on file for future consideration.  Blah de blah de blah.”  It never feels great to receive a form letter, but–hey–it’s something.

Eventually, I started being invited to phone interviews.  I had a couple of these that yielded nothing except a polite “we’re looking for something else” a couple days afterwards.

For me, though, last week was the mother-lode.  I saw an ad for a recruiter and there was something about it that was a little odd: it included the name and direct line phone number of the hiring manager, with a note saying: “For immediately consideration, please call.”  These days, a person’s direct contact information is never included in an ad.  There were simply be too much response.  Regardless, I called the number, spoke with the bewildered hiring manager (she had no idea that her information would be included and I was the first to call).  We had a nice conversation and I sent my resume to her.  We planned an interview the following Wednesday.

Wednesday arrived and I think the interview went well.  I liked her, the position and the company.  She said many things that made a positive impression on me.  The boss is supportive; there’s a lot of autonomy in the job; she likes my level of experience.

As I was driving away from that interview, my phone rang.  A couple weeks previously, I had gone to a temp agency to interview for a position.  The woman I had interviewed with was impressed and suggested me to the manager of the permanent-hire side of the business.  She was calling, out of the blue, to see if I’d like to come in for an interview the next day.  Of course I did!

And that afternoon, I had an email from a third company, seeing if I would like to interview for an account manager/business development position.

Three interviews in one week?  Why couldn’t this have happened two months ago, when I first started looking for a job???

The next day, I went to the out-of-the-blue interview and found out there were two positions available, one published and one not.  The manager was more interested in my for the unpublished position, which would a combination of business development, recruiting and managing a team.  She also liked me and invited me back to meet with the department lead.

So today, I had my third interview in a week.  This company is small and the president (the fellow I met with) was very nice and funny; we had a good conversation.

My internal gauge says I’m in the running for all three positions.  I have a 2nd interview scheduled with the first company, a job shadow day scheduled with the second, and the fellow at the third said at the end of the interview that he’d like to have me back to meet the team.

I don’t want to count my chickens, but I’m dangerously close to being in a position where I might have to chose which job I’d want.  All three involve doing the type of work I like (consultative sales/account management).  All three would pay well.

Company 1 —

Pros: Great location. Beautiful offices.  Having the responsibility of managing others.  Very strong pay. Room for advancement and transfers to other locations.

Cons: Fixed hours and little work flexibility.  No paid parking (in downtown?).  Very high-pressure environment.

Company 2 —

Pros: Great location (with paid parking). Flexibility in working (I would be able to set my own schedule for the day).  A nice, supportive company to work for with plenty of training.

Cons: Little room for advancement, although there will be opportunities to transfer to other locations.

Company 3 —

Pros: Very close to home (with free parking).  Very flexible schedule; can work from home.  Extensive training.  Small, close-knit company.  Room for advancement and having an impact on the success of the company. Geared toward building long-term relationships with clients.

Cons: Not a very interesting product.  Compensation not as high.

So now that I’ve jinxed myself for all three companies, I guess I’ll have to start over and go weeks without any sort of response from anyone.