cherylm's Open Salon Blog

To Anne - thanks.

Wed, 4 Aug 2010 13:08:25 -0400

In 2009 I optimistically proclaimed to a friend that 2010 would be the “best year of my life…evah!” Less than a week later I was unexpectedly and unceremoniously laid off. I wasn’t worried. I tallied my assets and decided that there was no reason to reach for the panic button. I had savings, minimal credit card debt, a solid work history in my industry, my car was newly paid off and I could count on a small but dependable unemployment check. I expected to be quickly re-employed with the only damage being a slightly dented savings account. I was even secretly a little pleased about being able to temporarily step off the six day a week, 10+ hours a day treadmill.

Less than three months later that confident optimism had received some scary reality checks. The universe had decided it was time to screw me - hard. After three years of no rent increases, the owner of my cute little house, in financial trouble himself, significantly raised my rent - the same week I was laid off. My once dependable little Honda had turned into a mechanic’s wet dream. Appliances that had purred along smoothly for years began clanking and clunking and I was faced with the choice of replacing or paying expensive repair bills. The microwave - meh, I chunked in the dumpster along with a little tear. The washer - no realistic option but to replace it. Concerned at how rapidly my savings were diminishing, I turned to my ONE credit card to offset some of the major expenses. Big mistake. My interest rate didn’t just increase, it doubled. Along with my electric bill. Yea, that was the winter my little corner of Florida decided to dip into the 30’s.

Spring came and instead of any sense of renewed hope, I had fallen into a pretty deep depression. All of my carefully crafted resumes and cover letters seemed to be falling into a humanless void. Not a single interview was tossed my way. No phone calls, no e-mails. Networking through friends and former business associates yielded sympathy and suggestions but no job. It became scary. My meager unemployment benefits would end soon, my savings were rapidly diminishing, and there was no prospective employment. Unless something changed, quickly, I was facing homelessness in the too near future.

So, I did what any rational, well educated, mature human being would do. I began praying for a miracle. I read and re-read the scriptures of my childhood. I looked for inspiration and hope in every corner. That’s how I stumbled upon a blog by Anne Cameron Cutri. She had written a post called “Hold Fast: The words of Saint Clare of Assisi.” Every single word spoke to what I was experiencing. Without knowing it, she became part of my miracle. She didn’t send me money, offer me a job or put food on my table. Other people did help do those things and I am forever grateful. But she, through her words, gave me the courage I needed to reach out for their help before I drowned. Her words helped lift me out of my depression just enough to make some hard choices I needed to make in order to save myself.

It’s been nearly three months since I was at my lowest point. I am once again working in my field. Two days ago, for the first time in eight months I was actually able to put money into my savings rather than draw it out. Today I paid, with no assistance, the rent on my new (tiny but comfortable) studio. A place where I no longer have to obsessively calculate how many more months I’ll be able to pay the rent. This evening I’ll go to the grocery store and buy what I want to eat for the week instead of trying to figure out how long I can stretch out $20 worth of cheap pasta, rice and beans.

Best of all, this afternoon I’ll give a gift to someone who has helped me tremendously. It’s a beautiful print, “Refiner’s Fire” that I bought from Anne’s website. It’s a tiny way of saying “thank you” to someone who helped restore my physical well-being. Just as this post is my way of saying “thank you” to Anne - the person who helped restore my spiritual well-being. Thank you, Anne.

UNEMPLOYED? NOT A GOOD FIT FOR OUR COMPANY!

Thu, 22 Jul 2010 01:07:37 -0400

I was recently hired by a fairly large company that is cautiously restaffing following a year long hiring freeze. Even though we have a (two person) in-house HR department, a lot of job seekers (those sneaky devils) are sending resumes directly to departmental managers. And some managers have actually made the mistake of thinking that, because they have the authority to make the final hiring decisions for open positions in their departments, they also have the right to screen resumes without first consulting the HR Department. Apparently not. It seems that, without being first filtered through the discerning eyes of these women, we will waste our time (and the company’s money) by interviewing candidates who “are not a good fit for our company. “

We now know the errors of our ways because nine of us sat through a mandatory two hour HR training session this morning. I prevented myself from falling asleep by trying to count how many times the phrase “not a good fit for the company” was solemnly, almost religiously intoned. There were even ominous charts showing how much money the company loses when someone who is “not a good fit” is not only interviewed - but God forbid hired - by the HR unsavvy manager.

I suppose I am grateful that I now see the light. Without the guidance of these HR mavens I might have actually hired someone just because he or she was the most experienced, had the best developed skill set, a proven track record and demonstrated a willingness to actually do the job. I mistakenly thought those qualities equaled being a good fit for the company. I was wrong.

Fortunately we did a little exercise which was designed to show us how HR successfully separated the wheat from the chaff and prevented us from interviewing applicants that were ‘not a good fit for the company”. We were given a stack of resumes with the task of discussing which ones we would chose to interview. This is where the clueless managers were shown to be - well clueless. Here’s just a little of what I now understand:

Someone with a previous salary higher than what the current position offers. Not a good fit.

Someone with a gap of more than six months in employment history. Not a good fit.

Someone with a previous salary in line with the current position BUT with a significantly higher salary in the position immediately before that. Not a good fit.

Someone with a history of only full-time employment applying for a part-time position. Not a good fit.

Someone with an employment history in a different field, even if the basic skill set was translatable to the open position. Not a good fit.

Someone with a graduate degree when the position required an undergraduate degree. Not a good fit.

I admit that there are many things about HR that I do not know - or want to know. I would rather be slathered in honey and staked to an anthill than do what these women do all day. Maybe some, or even all, of these guidelines make sense. Maybe, having recently been unemployed myself, I’m just too sensitive on the whole issue. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the rigid and antiquated attitudes of HR professionals like these two that are helping to ensure that the long term unemployed remain unemployed

The Man Who Came to Dinner

Thu, 8 Jul 2010 10:07:13 -0400

Once a week my ex-husband and I meet for dinner. Those first meals were comically painful as we made polite, awkward conversation while covertly eyeing each other for signs of decay. Is her hair really still black or does she dye it now? Did he always have that little furrow beside his mouth or is it a sign of age?

We were former boxers warily facing each other across the table. We'd lost the desire to fight but remained acutely aware of our unresolved battles. The wrong topic, (hell, even the wrong word) could spur either of us to lace up the gloves and resume the war once again. So, we were delicate - very, very delicate - with each other.

Occassional phone calls bracketed the weekly meals. At first these were equally uncomfortable. They were businesslike in brevity and tone and usually about money since he was generously financing my economic recovery. I've had warmer transactions with bank tellers.

Then we began e-mailing each other. And a door opened. Our exchanges were light in tone and our language unguarded. Written communication gave us the space and distance we needed to honestly explore, evaluate and eventually resolve past hurts. The e-mails grew ridiculously long and frequent.

Text messages slipped into the mix. Playful one-liners and silly pictures. Suddenly we were calling each other, having long e-mail conversations and texting randomly through the day and evening. The painful unresolved issues we could not broach face to face became easy to discuss with electronic devices as our intermediaries. We finally stopped talking at each other and began communicating instead.

We communicated our way into a friendship. Although our marriage was brief and disastrous, our strange friendship seems destined to endure. It helps that we have known each other since childhood. It helps that our roots are deeply and irrevocably intertwined among our families. It helps that he never stopped being a wonderful father to my sons.

Our weekly meal has become a ritual we anticipate and enjoy. We laugh, argue, recollect adventures and misadventures, share plans and solve the world’s problems over sushi or pasta. We are no longer treading lightly in shark infested waters. I chide him for his shitty diet, “I saw a potato chip wrapper in your car!” He feigns shock that I am still a health nut and control freak and I respond that he remains the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. He knows that when the server arrives I will order his meal and it will be disgustingly healthy.

Last week my new friend sheepishly admitted he enjoys feeling “taken care of" when I call each morning and demand that he eat breakfast before leaving the house. He has always been a man who spends his every waking moment caring for others without admitting vulnerability or need. I secretly enjoyed knowing that I've finally succeeded in slipping beneath that armor.

As we were leaving the restaurant tonight I caught him eyeing my butt. I’m 48 years old; it’s nice to have my butt appreciated. I added a sassy little strut to my roll.

I intensely disliked the man who was my husband. I am starting to love the man who is becoming my friend. Funny how life works.

Starting Over - I'm too old for this shit

Sun, 4 Jul 2010 07:07:16 -0400

When do I get to stop “Starting Over”? Seriously. At what point do I get to stop feeling like I'm a six year old boarding the bus for the first day of school? It's not as if I've spent my life being resistant to change. A quick tally of "new beginnings" includes:

1. College

2. Marriage

3. Children

4. Divorce

5. Navy

6. Marriage #2

7. Seperation from marriage #2

8. Picking up stakes and moving 600 miles away

9. Change of career

But number 9 was supposed be the last time I boarded the bus. The end of major upheavals and new beginnings. I thought I could finally exhale and actually settle into life. And, for ten years I did. I worked hard and established a successful career. I developed close and loving friendships with a small group of amazing women. I became part of a community that felt like home. I didn’t aquire wealth, but I had modest savings combined with material comfort and enough “extra” to help lots of other folks along the way. I even had a bourgeoning relationship that held the sweet possibility of becoming something more. I was happy.

I guess I was too busy being happy to notice that the economy was even busier going to hell. Seven months ago I left home one morning as a confident professional. I returned an hour later as an unemployed worker.

Once again I am starting over. New job. New state. New standard of living. New attitude.

I’ve learned a lot in the last seven months. I’ve learned that the safety net I’ve always imagined existing in this country was exactly that - something I’d imagined. It does not exist. I’ve learned that I can hold two completely conflicting ideas in my head at the same time. I am grateful as hell to have a job with a steady income, a roof over my head and food to eat. I am resentful as hell that I feel so damned grateful just to have the bare basics in life. I’ve learned that starting over is fun when you’re in your 20’s, scary but exciting in your 30’s and downright exhausting in your 40’s. I’ve learned that I’m just too old for this shit.

And I’ve learned that I can do it anyway.