Tag Archives: job

resume


resume, verb, begin to do or pursue (something) again after a pause or interruption

Image result for Bischoffs Teaneck

On Thursday last week, I woke up with the goal in mind of updating and writing my resumé– the shock of being laid off still quite fresh and the need to just keep moving pressing upon me. I went to my favorite coffee shop with my laptop, ordered the biggest cappuccino I could, and got to working. Writing your resumé is somewhat of a boring and mundane task, if not an exercise in ego inflation. A good resumé makes you look like a rock star as much as possible – even though most of us pore over spreadsheets and run unproductive meetings as a main part of our jobs.

Resumé with an accent on the e is a summary – a curriculum vitae. Remove the accent, and you get a much more interesting word – one which is still apropos to being unemployed. The act of writing your resume is done in an effort to resume your working life – either as a fresh start, or because you’ve been laid off. The other way to look at resume in respect to losing a job, is to see it as resuming your actual life again – like the life we have beyond the eight hours that we toil, gossip, move numbers around on spreadsheets, etc.

For the past few days, I have resumed many things that are essential to who I am – and that I had lost without realizing. I have resumed exercising and moving – which so many of us let go because the pressure and strain of our jobs makes it hard to fit in. I have also resumed daydreaming – having ideas. Just having the time to sit, have a thought and take it to the next place.

I’ve resumed cooking and enjoying food – instead of it just being something I have to do to live. I’ve resumed seeing people I love – meeting with friends and laughing. I have also resumed breathing – really breathing – consciously – in through the nose, out through the mouth – intentionally. I’ve resumed listening to and enjoying music all day, and all different kinds. Listening to NPR and This American Life again – letting the stories and news give me ideas, making me think and use my brain.

I have also resumed reminiscing. The only other time in my life that I was let go from a job was when I was 16 years old and the famous town ice cream shop fired me. I remember feeling the same way I do now back then – although working at 16 was mostly so I could buy my clothes and go out with friends – it wasn’t a livelihood like it is now – and I ended up within a week or so working for the kosher burger joint down the block. It was called Fliegels – and although it wasn’t the cool place to work in the way my ice cream scooping and waitressing gig was, I ended up working there until I graduated from high school.

As I remember, the ice cream shop job was brutal. I worked late and had to clean the kitchen…and they made us split our tips with the non-waitressing staff – which I always thought was unfair. I went home filthy every night, covered in dried ice cream and grease from cooking sandwiches on the grille. The customers were often rude and demanding – sometimes sexually harassing as well. My dad came to pick me up at midnight most evenings – and I’d go home and finally get to my homework in the wee hours before school the next day – completely exhausted and working too hard for a 16-year-old.

Despite the not so great situation with ice cream shop, getting the job at Fliegels initially felt like a step down. It was a takeout place – no waitressing or staff of teenagers. I manned the counter next to a giant, revolving wheel of shawarma – which was a foreign food to me. Most of the time, I worked alone, ran the register which spit the orders into the back where a Mexican immigrant prepared them. I had to wear a long skirt that went to my ankles and cover my hair and I learned a few words for things in Hebrew. Once a week, a rabbi came and worked in the basement blessing all of the food – and I began appreciating a totally different world of food and culture. One that was filled with shawarma, hummus, tahini, tabbouleh, falafel…much more interesting than ice cream sundaes and cream cheese sandwiches. The people were nicer – especially my Mexican partner who prepared the food in the back. Working at Fliegels wasn’t as flashy or as cool as my former job, but I was able to resume being a curious and well adjusted 16-year-old. I didn’t work late hours, was treated well and learned about Middle Eastern and Israeli food, some Hebrew and Jewish culture. The day I graduated from high school the owners asked me to come pick up my last paycheck. I had gotten a job as a camp counselor for a Girl Scout Camp in the Catskills for the summer so my stint there was over. When I got there that day, they paid me double what I had earned and sent me off with hugs and thanks.

I think for the past four years, my last job was a lot like working at that ice cream shop. I felt a part of something fun, flashy, iconic and important – but I was going home dejected and worn out for many reasons. As I resume my job search – and the next chapter of my life – I hope to find my Fliegels again. I’m 41 and not 16, but the things that make me tick are not all that much different…and I definitely prefer a good plate of falafel, hummus and tahini over a banana split any day.

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

calling


calling noun, a strong urge toward a particular way of life or career; a vocation.

pictures.jpg

Several weeks ago after a tough few days at work, I started reading The Art of Happiness at Work, by the Dalai Lama. I purchased this book probably close to a decade ago at the Ruben Museum of Art in Manhattan – a regular visit of mine while we lived in Brooklyn. I never read it. It traveled with us from Brooklyn, to Maplewood, and now here, to Cranston – never having been read. The pages yellow but the spine not broken or creased. I started reading without intention or expectation, not much expecting to finish it like so many other books I pick up and leave half read and discarded. However, I did finish it. I read it with a voracity I haven’t felt for reading since I finished the Elena Ferrante series…and I emerged profoundly changed from what I learned.

One of the concepts that the book discusses is calling and how it is important to happiness at work. The book delves into the problem of calling as relates to assembly line workers or people whose work is mainly to earn a pay check – not so much what someone loves or feels an attraction to doing. I am lucky that my job is my professional calling and that I have found it…and ultimately, I really shouldn’t complain or be unhappy. It also forced me to remember the path I took to where I am and the many years I worked at jobs that had no calling.

My very first really job – outside of camp counselor, lifeguard or waitress while in high school – was in a factory soldering circuit boards for 8 hours a day. My father was diagnosed with a stage 4 glioblastoma and underwent brain surgery at Columbia Presbyterian hospital in Manhattan on the day I was supposed to arrive for freshman orientation at Providence College. Neither of my parents attended college. My father enlisted in the navy after graduating from high school and my mother didn’t finish high school. Needless to say, I was stunned, depressed, confused and in need of a job. My father was the sole breadwinner of the household and being somewhat intelligent and 18 years old, it was the only choice.  My aunt was the floor manager at a factory that made Harmonizers – these black boxes that musicians use to distort their guitars to make them sound like Jimmy Hendrix. We went to work every morning together where I reported to my bench and was handed a pile of green Harmonizer motherboards and tiny bags of circuits to solder in the same pattern, over and over again.

Sometimes I would get a different type of board to solder and an engineer would show me the new pattern and the new circuits, but it was mostly the same thing, over and over again. As one can imagine, I quickly grew bored – although a very proficient solderer. I became fast enough that I could get all of my boards soldered in a few hours and would have to go take labels off of RAM chips that came back from aeronautic navigation devices that the company also made. It was in this boredom that I started to appreciate the circuits themselves – their different colors and minuteness. They came in all sorts of attractive striped patterns, almost like glass beads, and I started secretly soldering them together to make bracelets and rings. I will be truthful here. I had no conscious interest in jewelry back then. Even in high school, I had no interest in jewelry, make up or clothes. And I had no passion for jewelry when I was making these odd circuit soldered bracelets. They just sort of happened and I liked making them. Maybe there was something going on subconsciously back then, but I highly doubt it.

I went on to go to college, graduated and worked in finance for years thinking that I was going to take my series classes and become a trader, fulfilling my Melanie Griffith dreams as a Working Girl…but I always knew that wasn’t a calling either. I just wanted to make money and was probably influenced by the thought of a young Harrison Ford in a business suit.

The day I realized my calling was on my first day of work at a small watchband company in Rhode Island. I interviewed for a job as an assistant product manager – not really fully understanding what that was – and got it because I had passed a v lookup and pivot table test when no one else they interviewed could. I spent my entire first day making 80/20 reports for the Director of Marketing and was as happy as a clam. I was surrounded by watches, watchbands and jewelry – and the entire supply chain making it available to customers existed right around my little, fabric paneled cube. It was fascinating and new…and I fell in love with it. I had sent an email to China…CHINA! I was amazed. I went straight home and told my husband that someday this job was going to help me get a job at Tiffany’s (This is not a lie. You can ask him.) …and it ultimately did.

So when it comes to the idea of calling I tend to believe that it’s not such a simple thing. It’s almost a bit like fate or falling in love. You don’t really know when or how it will strike or what the actual calling will be. Now that I think of it, it really is a lot like love. A lot of waiting and searching, patience and perseverance – always with the possibility of ultimate failure. I am very lucky in that I have this career and job that I truly love and have a calling for, but the job itself is not the calling. The calling is that if I lost my job tomorrow, I would still work in jewelry – whether making it myself, reading about it or buying it. It brings me joy – a joy that would not have been found without some tough times, confusion and sorrow along the way. When I remember this, being happy at work is no longer a difficult thing. It is the most natural way to feel that there is.

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
The Art of Blogging

For bloggers who aspire to inspire

ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Carter and Toby

a 'tail' of two friends

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Grumpy Aristotelian

Unearthing truth, virtue, beauty and joy amidst the dreck

ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Bri Bruce Productions

Design | Publishing | Photography | Art

seoheekoh

Life full of Jewelry and cats

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

Black. Bunched. Mass. Mom.

Raising Two Bi-Racial Boys in Suburban Massachusetts

Hiking Photography

Beautiful photos of hiking and other outdoor adventures.

The Overstand Podcast

"Overstand the definition, then write your own."

The INSIDE

Delving Further

Momamorphosis

Adventures in Motherhood

Mum's the word

a blog about real life. the good, bad and ugly.