Androgynonamous

Taking Risks—Hump Day: Mid-week Musings

August 19, 2010 at 12:01 am (Hump Day: Mid-week Musings)

Now and then, I talk here about my job hunting ventures in this awful economic situation as well as the strangeness of the process. It has certainly been an adjustment to be job hunting at my age in a world that is so different from the way it was when I was leaving college and entering the work world. The arena of job searching is, in my opinion, one area where the increased reliance on technology has not helped us at all. It has, I think, taken a process that, by nature, needs to be as personal and interactive as possible and transformed it into the most impersonal, randomized, dull-witted, and banal activity it can be. It is so void of anything resembling interaction that one wonders how any person actually gets an interview or gets hired. There is only one thing about the new way of things that is good: volume. 

When there are actually several jobs to apply for, a person can apply for a large number in a relatively short amount of time and with a fair degree of efficiency—at least, in regard to completing the process. What happens in the ether is anyone’s guess. Whether a person ever looks at or reads our applications is a mystery. But, if the jobs are there to apply for, a massive amount of applications can be done in one day. For example, in the past week and a half, I have applied for approximately 35 jobs. A vast number of these were the any-old-retail-job-will-do kinds of jobs. But there were several of them for a change. This past week, however, it was not only quantity that was different; there was a difference in quality as well. 

There were actually three postings for Executive Director positions with three different non-profits in our area. I nearly fell over from shock. Well, truth is, I have applied for so many jobs for which I am over-qualified, for so long, that I almost missed these. Like my brain had trouble recognizing what I was seeing—kind of like what happens when you have been in a very dark room and walk out into the sun. These things stung my eyes at first, and I had to adjust. Then, because I had not seen a posting for a professional job in so long, I had to remember that I was one of those candidates. It was a lot like when I woke up after surgery and everyone was asking me what my name was. I had to stop and think for a moment. And, then, I had to say it a few times before it sounded right. Once I remembered who I was and the kind of jobs I am actually capable of and want, I applied for all three. 

Applying for these jobs, stepping even partially back into the light of my previous professional achievements and standards, was risky. But, reaching deep within to pull out that old and dusty leather coat of confidence and studded belt of self-awareness was not the real risk I took this past week. No, indeed. I went one further. I wore the metaphoric coat, so to speak.

One of these executive positions was posted by a non-profit clever enough to make use of the techno-application age to begin weeding out the gross multitude of applications they had the good sense to know they would get in this economic climate. They created a questionnaire, put it in a pdf file, and required the completed product be sent, by email, with a resume, list of references and an actual cover letter. I had to like these guys. I could not help but wonder how many applicants freaked over the cover letter due to lack of practice. I’m old school, however. Not a drop of worried sweat even formed on my little brow. Nor did I freak over the questionnaire. I am a writer—of sorts, anyway. I tore through that thing, handling with ease and renewed confidence the topics regarding experience working volunteers, working with Boards, managing budgets, management style and philosophies. I was in my element. Until I hit the last question. Then, I felt a little queasy. 

I did what I always do when I am thrown. I did what any real butch does when uncertain about the next move. I called my girlfriend. And, I ended up taking her advice. 

The last question was one of those canned interview questions for which everyone prepares a canned answer. And, as a previous business owner and a person who has been interviewing a long time, I asked at least one of those questions on purpose and for one reason only: to see if I got a canned answer or a real, honest response. These kinds of questions always have some other value; they do get at some basic stuff you want to know. But, their main purpose is to weed out the bullshit. It was the trick question. They wanted to know about a situation in a previous job that was irritating, why it was irritating,  and how we responded to it. Not that hard in itself. Except, it’s the trick question. And, given the probable volume of applicants, it is important to be sure you stand out from the masses. This was the question to nail, to hit it square on the head the first swing—it was the only swing I was going to get. 

My girlfriend’s response. “Be honest. Tell the truth. What have you got to lose at this point?” What, indeed. [This is one reason why I love her. She values honesty and integrity as much as I do. But she also loves to shake things up. Rock the boat a bit. Live close to the bone. Got to love her.] 

Given that all jobs have their frustrations and bad days, and I am a realist, there are only two things in my employment history that were really what I would call irritating. One was the massive mess that the mental health system has become due to lack of theoretical and practical cohesiveness and consistency, as well as inappropriate oversight. The other was the recent troubles I had with one particular demographic group and their response to my appearance. Everything else was just random daily shit that any professional accepts, handles and moves on in response to. Clearly, referring to the first would be a bad move. It would imply an inability to work within systems and accept things as they are. The second one…well…I am sure you can see the risks involved there. But, Di made a wonderful point I had not considered. If I bring it up first, if I put the whole androgyny thing on the table, there is no surprise when they see me. And, having the honesty and the guts to talk openly about it might be the thing that makes them bring me in for the actual interview in person, not on paper.

So, I took her advice. I answered by explaining the hell I went through with this particular client base:  affluent, retired, Southern folks. I talked openly about being called “sir” after I had introduced myself repeatedly. I discussed having to endure actually being asked what I was. I told them about my staff having to listen to statements such as “that thing that is your manager.” And, I talked openly about what it was like to face that every day after several years of relative reprieve found in my previous profession. I also discussed how I have developed a way of being and moving in the world that is open, accessible, light and engaging with people—a way of being that greets them first, lets them hear my voice, clears up any confusion and invites them in without being overly friendly or intrusive. I simply am with people. And, as a result, people are put at ease without ever having to acknowledge that there was a moment when they were not. I have learned to let others see me, to be light-hearted, and engaging.

Over the years, and with the exception of circumstances where interaction is not possible or is not appropriate—such as public restrooms, malls, gas stations, etc.—I have rarely had problems with people. Until, that is, I was working, daily, with this particular group of people. Many were very nice. Many did not cause problems. And, many of the people I saw each day, responded to me in ways I am used to; they liked me. But, every day, there were several who made it hell for all of us. They wore their frustration that I had confused them like a bad dress. I was open about all of this in my answer on the questionnaire. And, I was honest about my response to the whole thing. 

I told them that I resigned my position after having done everything I knew to do. And, I told them why. This is the part of my answer that I felt was most important because it speaks to who I am, how I see things, and my basic values. I resigned because the situation was not fair to me or to my team. There was nothing I could do to make it better for any of us. I could not, and would not, change who I am. It was affecting our performance numbers. It was not fair for them to suffer my situation with me. In my answer, I also pointed out what I believe to be a basic truth. In the business world, we are almost brainwashed to believe that there is a solution to every problem, that there is always a win-win if we look for it. The truth is that this is not true. Some things cannot be solved or prevented. When that happens, the only thing we can do is seek to determine what is the next right thing and do it. The next right thing is always the thing that, both, serves the greater good and comes the closest to fulfilling the original goal, whatever that is. I stated these things in my answer. 

The risk has been taken. The truth has been told. In many ways. Perhaps, the trials of the past three years in this awful job market and the dwindling of my resources, have transformed me in some way. Perhaps, all that has so beaten me down and demoralized me has somehow pulled me back to my own center. Perhaps, after retreating as far as they could, my balls are finally descending again. [Wait, that sounds like a different post…] I don’t know. I do know this: this is the scariest time in my life.

My savings are gone. The crap jobs I have had caused such a drop in income that I have spent my savings to keep my house and pay my bills. I have had major issues with my health and nearly died before I got treated for the right thing and started getting better. Then, I had to face the cancer. I have reunited with the woman I have loved for a long, long time and was concerned at times we would not find a way to stay with each other and make it all work. Yet, we have. And, somehow in the midst of my greatest fears, I am finding that my sense of self keeps growing, despite the blows to its weathered housing. And, I am finding courage persists when I feel as if I have run out. I am finding that I am worth a little risk taking. I am remembering who I am, learning more about myself, and remembering that taking risks and putting myself on the line are the ways that I achieved all the things I have in the past. I am rediscovering the warrior I have always been. At heart, my hair is long; my shield is made of many inner aspects; my sword is sharp and heavy. I am taking risks again. Maybe, I am remembering when to raise my shield and when to wield my weapons. Risking has given me more in my life than playing it safe ever has. I am hoping it will again. 

NOTE:  This work is published here as proprietary and may not be reproduced, distributed, sold, or otherwise utilized outside the posting on this site without the express permission of the author; these works are the sole property of the author writing as Androgynonamous or DreadPirateRobert.

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What Comes Next…Is Living: Mid-week Musings

August 12, 2010 at 2:11 am (Hump Day: Mid-week Musings)

Cancer. The first time I heard it, it sounded like this. “The biopsy revealed cells that appear to show signs of being highly suspicious of what we would expect to see in cancer cells.” Although I can be dense at times, this was not lost on me. It was Doctor-speak for “you have cancer.”

Given my practical nature, my response was simple.  “Where do we go from here?” Thus began the journey of the past year that led to my recent surgery.

In the meantime, there were plans to be made. There were things to take care of and put into place. Not the least of which was the creation of a plan for getting the whole thing paid for so that I could get about the business of healing and moving on. This was no small task. But, I found a charitable organization that acts as a third-party payor for people with no insurance. There was a ton of paperwork, weeks of reviews, an interview and months of waiting, but I qualified. My specialist found a surgeon who would accept my assistance program. And, I needed to arrange for practical things like a healthcare power of attorney, advance directives, beneficiaries, and whether there would be someone to smuggle in real food for me to eat. I get hungry. And, I like real food.

There were things to consider as well. Things that were concerns. I have a family history of cancer and problems of the thyroid. Both my mother and her mother had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. My mother’s was in her thyroid. Half of the women in my family have had all sorts of thyroid problems. And, added to all of this was the fact that I also have an autoimmune form of anemia. The genetic tendency for this also came from my grandmother who had it as well. All of these things were factors to consider in planning for my future while living in my now…which I did.

I went about my daily life which consisted of searching for a new career, working at landscaping and whatever other work I could find, tending to my home, spending time with family and friends, playing at my personal interests, and trying not to give too much attention to the idea of having cancer. Most importantly, I continued to focus on things that were primary—nurturing and developing my growing relationship with Scin, my relationships with others, and my own evolving sense of self. I put my energy into the things that make a life. The idea of cancer and pending surgery became part of the situation of life, not the life itself.

Like any significant issue facing any couple, the situation brought with it fears, insecurities, frustrations, silences, uncertainties, and opportunities. And, it did for us what any serious situation has the potential to do for any couple. It brought us closer and made us stronger. We laughed and played. We talked. We bore silences and frustrations. We worried. We disagreed. We ran from each other and then, walked back, heads bowed and arms  extended. We cried. We watched movies. We held each other. And, we fucked like teenagers. We dealt with and struggled with the normal day-to-day things that couples face. We faced and resolved financial woes, car troubles, and larger issues like what to have for dinner. We read books and spent time with friends. We did the things that put together strings of hours and weave them into days, weeks and months. We waited.
My focus was the same as it is in regard to life in general: 
focus on the good, on what is working; do what is in front of me; trust my instincts and myself; know, every day, that the degree to which my life is good and healthy is directly related to the degree to which I am willing love myself and others; and–most of all–trust that God is doing for me, and will do, what I cannot do for myself.

However, over the months leading up to the surgery, a strange thing happened without my conscious awareness. Somewhere along the way, I came to believe the optimistic Doctor-speak that had seeped into their language as the date of surgery neared. “Thyroid biopsy is tricky…there is a good chance it is not cancer…false positives are common.” The plan my surgeon and I laid out made perfect sense and seemed like a good one: take out the right lobe, biopsy a slice or two while in surgery, and take the left lobe [and the smaller mass] if the results show cancer. As the date neared, I came to believe I would come out of surgery with only part of my thyroid gone.

The day came and I waited in pre-op with Scin and my mother. My mother sat in the corner reading while Scin and I flirted. She entertained me with toys that had randomly found their way into her bag when her son and I were done with them. We laughed when my surgeon came in to write his initials on my neck and review the plan with me. I reminded her of what I wanted to do should there be any need for her to make decisions. I held Scin’s hand until they wheeled me to the operating room. The staff and I joked as they attached one thing and another and strapped me down snuggly. The last thing I remember was joking with my surgeon.

I remember only a few things about waking up. I have a vague memory of hearing my doctor explain that he and Scin had talked and he had removed both lobes of my thyroid. I knew what that meant. But, what I recall about hearing the word cancer was that it was my own voice saying it. That I was talking to Scin. I was saying it—asking really: it really was cancer honey; I have cancer and they took my whole thyroid? Right?

She was sitting on the bed beside me, holding my hand. Nodding. I think there were tears in her eyes, but you never would have known it. My sweet tender Scin. The girl who so often looks to me for assurance and strength, who calls me her rock, who needs to know I have faith and all will be well, was holding my hand and holding me up. Assuring me. Telling me they got it all. Sitting beside me, silently, holding my hand. My mother sat back, watching, letting this woman she is coming to know care for her baby. Safe with them, I fell asleep for a little while. Once I was asleep, they left to eat.

For a while, each time I woke, I reviewed what I thought I knew. Each time, Scin greeted my questions with unwavering strength and tenderness. I verbalized my understanding. Cancer. It was my voice saying this. My voice taking ownership. Scin stayed and mom went home. It was a long night. I was sick for hours. Scin was there through all of the nausea and dry-heaving and the bitching about being hungry and too sick to eat. She has been here since. She will be here tomorrow. She will be here when I come back from my post-surgery follow-up with the surgeon. We will talk together about the pathology results, the recommendations for continuing care, the things to watch out for and do or not do next.

She will be here for what comes next. And, I will be there. We will be here for the doctor appointments and the birthday dinners for friends. We will be present when the other is sick. She will be here when I find the right job, the one I have been looking for that was waiting for all of this to be done. I will be there when we have dinner at her folk’s house. We will be together for family holidays. I will be here when her first book is published. We will be here for cook outs, and yard-mowing, and cub scouts. She will be here when a major journal actually publishes one of my poems. We will be present for putting energy into all the things that make a life. I know this because this is what comes next; living comes next. Doing the things that string together hours and weave them into days. That is what living is. Living is what is next. And, Scin is the woman I have chosen to be with when the living weaves the hours into a day, and the days are woven into months, and the months into years. What a beautiful weaving it will be. Beautiful. And, long.

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