I have made a huge boo-boo. When you write, you should always keep your audience in mind. Recently, I used my blog as a means to vent out my own personal feelings of satisfaction and making a difference to someone, and while it is not wrong to do so, it should be done more cautiously. Or else with more care in explanation. I struggle with not being the ‘lead actor’ at times. I have a strong desire to be irreplaceable and to feel credited with being an essential role in my place of employment. At this time, I feel that anyone with a strong desire or will to do so, could do what I do. My aim, is to become a vital role to my work place that not just anyone could step in and do.

With that said, I think the WORLD of both organizations I belong to. They are both providing an invaluable service to the Sandwich Community and should be applauded for the work they have done. The directors and board members pour their hearts and souls into all their projects and have given nothing but dedication and devotion to the members of their community. I wish I could say that for all employeers.

Now, on with the show. Thank you for following along with my journey and for caring about how things turn out. This will be my last post about my jobs. I have decided to write about my children from here on out and share with you the joys and hardships of being a young parent.  Look for Buzzards Bay Boys, musings from a young mom on the Cape soon.

A year ago I was content in a position where as long as I got my weekly paycheck and boss lady wasn’t screaming at me constantly I was happy. I felt that being there was good, helping out where I could was better and actually stepping up when I needn’t do so was best of all. This year it seems that just doesn’t cut it for me anymore.

I’ve been working for a little over a month now in two positions that I know I am lucky to have. First, while technically my title is intern, I have been wrapped up into a role where my functions change daily so boredom will never be an issue. I get to read, write, produce, edit, along with a slew of other things. But maybe it’s something embedded into my very nature itself, but something still feels missing. Likewise in my other position.

I am a director. For the first time in my life I have a title that carries weight and makes people stop and say- oh, what do you do? While my title, to me at any rate, suggests some level of importance, at the end of the day, or in a quiet moment I may find myself in, I stop and think, what is it that I do? I keep track of people. I make sure they don’t find themselves lost in their new membership. Do you remember joining a team of kids playing baseball, it’s late in the game, they run off a list of what has happened and where you should be and while you know you’re standing in the outfield with the team, you know too that really you’re standing in the outfield all by yourself? I prevent that from happening. I am the good hostess. But am I really helping people?

That I find I am not so sure of.

The other night I was at a food pantry as part of an after hours work event. It filled up with many local business people and as the operations of the pantry and layout were shown to me in a tour I felt truly humbled. People come here. People are in need. My heart cried out loudly that I should volunteer some of my time to places like this, or at a church. I know I should. I want to more importantly. But as someone told me, there is a time in my life for everything. Unfortunately, with the dire straits I am in, I can’t afford to donate any of my time, at this time.

Sitting at the bar yesterday afternoon, swirling my mango margarita with my straw, licking at the sugar coated rim, I turned to my dear friend and told her how important it was to me to feel that what I did was making a difference and how no, right now I truly don’t think it is.

Sad.

Now I’m left equating things I do to making a real difference. At my intern position I have in the works plans for a show for children. I can entertain and educate and feel that indeed something I am doing is making a difference to someone. At my other job, I keep on top of everything, respond as quickly as possible and let everyone know that I am here for them. For now, these things will have to do.

It happened sometime between 3 a.m., when I last remember looking at the clock in yet another sleepless night, and 6 a.m. when I actually got out of bed. (Probably as close to 6 as possible because that’s when yesterday’s episode of Y& R was on.)

Filled with dread I turned on the tube to see this announcement:

Your EXPLORER settop is NOT AUTHORIZED for use.

Please call (800) 266-2278

Hands shaking I punch in the digits. (Loudly), Shaquele O’Neal and Ben Stein thank me for calling Comcast. I hear my current balance, my past due amount and choose option 2, to pay the past due amount. I provide my routing number, my account number and even speak my name to authorize the payment. So 36 minutes into my show, my t.v. was back on.

Understand this, I am not lazy missing payments nor am I forgetful. Times are tough and when you have to choose either to feed your kids and to put gas in the car to get you to work, sometimes things like cable/Internet have to slide. I’m perpetually counting the days down until I no longer have to make those types of decisions.

The other candidate turned out to have more experience within the field and some skills that would really come in handy. (The position was in the medical field, one thing I haven’t dabbled in, in all my various jobs.) It was tough to hear at first because it seemed like I was a shoe in, but I excepted it. But one thing I have never been particularly good at is keeping my heart in my chest and not wearing it out on my sleeve.

An embarrassing moment ensued when my teary eyes spilled over after hanging up the phone. Let’s get one thing straight right here, I am not ashamed to cry. I am vulnerable, sympathetic, empathetic and have always shown my sensitive side. With that said, I also don’t like appearing weak.

I am not weak. On the contrary, I am very strong. But what you have to understand is that under the stress of this entire year (haven’t been employed since August of last year and just recently started working again), trying to support two little boys who will just as soon eat all of the contents in the fridge and then out grow all of their clothes (seriously, they go to bed with pants and shirts that fit and wake up looking like genies), stifling back tears is difficult.

As always, I reminded myself not to take it personally, it’s business. Actually, the hardest part of not getting the position was telling everyone who knew about the interviews that I didn’t get the job. Instantly my tears that I had in check were back as I heard how sorry everyone felt about it and to hang in there. (Note- I hate being consoled when I am already upset, it just makes me cry more to know that other people pity me.) My dad, a very hard working man whom any employer would be lucky to have, did make me feel better though.

He told me about a position that he had applied for and then didn’t receive. He too, had been the second choice. In his situation, the first choice didn’t work out after all and dad was hired and was promoted very quickly. “So, you never know,” Dad says.

And he is right.

My favorite thing to say while licking my wounds on the other hand is, “everything happens for a reason.” So this position just wasn’t meant to be.  So I’m going to keep on keeping on. Now that this rejection is under my belt, perhaps with the next one I won’t cry.

The vendor was selling bags of the stuff at varying prices for treasure seekers. A water table ran all around the tent where with your bag of treasure, yarg, you can sift for gems. When we peeked our heads into the tent to check things out the man started telling us all about the mine in Maine where his booty comes from and the types of stones he has found.

While we were interested I wasn’t going to buy a bag of rocks. (Think about pogs, which really are milk caps, or, think about pet rocks- it just wasn’t going to happen, again.) So when the vendor noted that he had fed us the bait but we weren’t biting he offered us a free bag if anyone can tell him one of Mica’s modern uses. Eyeshadow I told him. Shocked as he was, he handed over the bag, er, I mean booty.

We sifted and sifted and found quartz, mica and the green one that looks like it belongs in OZ. (Did I tell you I’m not much of a rock or mineral girl?) So there we were dumping rock crumbs into a sifter and hunting for gems.

The job interviewing process is like that. Enter a pile of all variety of applicants, sift through to find the gems and then find the one that has the best personality, the smartest, the fastest, the one as sharp as a tack.

I have tumbled through one round with the Chamber and came out as the gem and here I am again, tumbling away. I have recently applied for a more full-time position and am anxiously awaiting news.

There were something like 16 or 18 people that applied for the job as I understand. Four were intially interviewed and two were called back for second interviews. I was one of those two. So now I wait to hear if it is I with the most clarity, the most points and the rarer of the two.

While Noah is on the cusp of his first birthday and only understands that it makes him sad to see mommy head out the door, Lucas understands that I go to a building and do stuff for the day.

A few weeks back Steve was taking the boys to a doctors appointment and happened to drive by the Chamber of Commerce. When I came home from work that day Steve asked Lucas who’s car they saw on the way to the doctors.

“Mommy I saw your car at work,” Lucas excitedly shouts.

“You did,” I asked him. Without missing a beat he says, “Yeah, at the Chamber of Comics!”

The Chamber of Comics. I couldn’t help myself as I retreated into a fit of giggles. When those eased up I almost dissapeared into another round when Lucas pronounced that he wanted to go too!

Word has spread around about the funny thing Lucas has said and I only hope that no one take offense (speaking directly about my boss and members here), remember kids really do say the dardnest things.

I have a “sore throat” that started back in June. Note the quotes because it isn’t typical in the sense that it hurts/burns or is raw, it is more “thick”- again, not sure how to describe it. It cleared up in mid-June and returned in early July. It cleared up for a week and came back in mid-July. (Now I think that it never really cleared up and maybe just wasn’t bugging me so much- it hid?) As I sit here in my kitchen writing this I am sipping my coffee and instead of a smooth sip of french vanilla, it feels more like a big gulp of ocean water that I didn’t intend to take.

After three visits to my doctor, multiple tests, strep? nope. mono? nope. thyroid? nope- it is on to a specialist on Monday. Now I know that my tonsils were large to begin with, but they certainly never bothered me before, not enough to complain.

Beyond the fact that my health is waning, I’m also exhausted you see because I have been working two jobs. While neither is too stressful in a traditional sort-of way, they both are very demanding of me and my creativity. Two days a week I go from one to the other causing my brain to go into a dizzy as I try to rapidly switch gears. The other three or four days it’s one or the other. While this typically only tallies to 40 hours a week, it feels like much more and it really wears me down.

When I was a teenager still (it wasn’t all that long ago) I could work two or three jobs even and not feel tired or worn-out. But then I also didn’t have two little boys when I got home insisting, “Play with me Mommy!” I remind myself that these jobs are for them and that I should be so lucky to have two great jobs. Of course, I’d prefer to have one really great job with a set schedule for my own sanity.

My current situation got me to thinking that there should be a course in school called, “What it’s really like out there and how to make choices.”

I went to school for journalism and even then knew that there was no money to be had. I told myself that at least I would have work that I love which is far more worth it’s weight in gold. (Or however that saying goes.)  I could live with that. I always fancied myself the type of person when in conversation at my twenty year reunion of high school explaining what it is that I do to someone because my title is just that super groovy it needs explaining. They needn’t know that it pays enough for the gas to get there as long as they know I’m successful because I’m doing what I love.

Then I had children.

My dream of scraping by but doing it blissfully came to an abrupt halt. It’s no longer about me. It’s about them. The toughest part for me in all this is doing what’s best for me and what’s best for my family aren’t always going to be one in the same.

Sure, I can be happy and be doing what’s best for them it might just take some time to get there. What I am doing right now for work is helping me. I am getting experience that will be eye catching on my resume’.  Who could ask for more? My children. My body.

It comes down to this, I need one job. One paid job I should correct, being a mother, a ‘wife’, a friend, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, and so on are mini-jobs in themselves. How I admire and respect those parents that work two or three jobs for their children. Me, I just can’t do it. Not if I want to actually see my children, or if I want to play with them when I come home.

So now what? Neither position I hold can offer me what I need right now. I have two choices. I either stick them both out until one opens up and swallows me in whole or I find something else that is 40 hours with a nice-neat set schedule.

Do I now give up on the fun creative positions for something with more security? What is the right choice?

If only a choices class really existed.

Monday was my first day as Director of Member Services with the Sandwich Chamber of Commerce. Not only is the job exciting with tons of things to keep me busy, but the building is old and interesting and I love being inside it.

As is the case with first days, I had the jitters. I was very concerned with making not only a good first impression, but the right first impression. I wanted to tackle every assignment with enthusiasm and little direction. I wanted to show how well I can follow directions, take initiative and complete tasks. I guess what I really wanted was to show my new boss that she had made the right choice.

Getting caught up in all the excitement I busied myself right through the morning. While I was updating a portion of the member database on our company website, I was changing the location of a link. I thought I knew how to do that. I guess I didn’t.

Somehow the link appeared in more than one place. It was in the correct place except it didn’t link to the correct web address. It was also on the top of the page in the header/banner area. (How on Earth did I do that?)

A bit shyly I directed Kate’s attention to the screen and what I had done. She was gracious and laughed it off. We tried to fix it together but I am no computer wiz and have no idea how to fix websites so it was stuck there until the web site designer could take a look. It was still there yesterday when I called up the page.

Now after sounding the alarms at one job, breaking a web page at another, I suppose I have shown both employers my vulnerable side and how I handle situations. Here’s to hoping things are smoother from here out.

At first it sounds like a honing beacon, a beep, beep, beep noise. I realize that my time is running short and this is the warning countdown before the alarm really goes off. I flip open the alarm box and stare at the numbers. What was I thinking that I would do? It’s not as if I should stare long enough at the numbers that the code would magically come to me. I am in no way disillusioned to think I might actually come up with the right combo either. So there I was wasting precious moments staring at the code key. I jerked myself back to reality and fished through my purse to find my cell phone. Blasted purse! I can never find what I am looking for when I need it.

I frantically began scanning through my call list and dialed Paula. It rang and rang. Next was Jamie. He answered, what a saint answering his cell phone a little after eight on a Sunday morning. He gave me the code, I punched it in, and, viola!, it worked.

After thanking him profusely for coming through for me I figured I was all set to get to work. I started turning on all the equipment I was using, set up my station and then remembered the computer. Paula had given me a really old computer we no longer needed at the studio to bring home for the kids to use. I had been meaning to pick it up all week.

I started bringing various parts of the computer out to my car when the phone rang. It was the alarm company. A women asked me if everything was alright and after I explained that I was new and slightly an idiot, things were under control now, she asked me one more question. “What is the password?”

I knew she wasn’t looking for please or sorry, but I had no idea what the password was. Again I tried to reason with the woman, I’m new, not sure, I have the key code, does she want that. No.

“I can call Jamie and have you speak with him, he can vouch for me.”

“And there is no-one there that can give me the password?”

“No.”

“I’ll be dispatching the police now.” CLICK

“Wait, hello!”

Too late. Wonderful. I called Jamie and told him the police were coming just so that he was aware of what was happening. Then I began to wonder what would happen?

Were they going to arrest me? I have no identification to prove that I am indeed an employee, no business card, zilch. Maybe I could try Paula again and she could come in and tell the officers that I am not an intruder. Or maybe the officers would be more reasonable and hear me out, let me make my phone call to clear the mess up. I’m pacing back and forth in front of the window and door watching for the officer when I freeze. My God, I put the computer in my car already. It’s sitting there in my back seat with labels on it that explicitly state property of Sandwich Community Television. They are going to think I’m looting!

Unsure of what to do, drag it back inside, leave it, bring it in, leave it. Leave it. I have nothing to hide after all.  A few minutes later the officer arrives. I throw the door open to greet the officer.

“Everything alright here.”

“Yes sir, just a misunderstanding, I’m new.”

“You open on Sunday’s?”

“Not usually. I’m trying to finish some work up.”

“Name?”

“Jennifer.”

“Jennifer what?”

“Muh, muh, clatchey.”

“Good enough.”

He drives off to the end of the road and stops. I imagine he’s there punching in my information, checking my history. It takes some time but he eventually drives off.

I’m left feeling like Lucy and that I’ve pulled some caper that has backfired in my face and that “I have some explaining to do.”

Next time I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll make sure I’m better prepared.

Something my mom said to me long ago haunts me every night before I go to bed. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” Of course I agree with her on many levels, but I still hold firm that if you work really hard for something it can be yours.

These past few months have been a true test of my nerves, my patience, my risk taking abilities and of course, my belief in myself. With every non-response, every turn-down and every job that said they simply weren’t hiring I began to think my mom was right. If I were ever going to find a job in this economy, against all the other college grads and the laid-off people searching for work, I would have to know someone.

I’d like to take a second and go back to that personality test job one from my last rant made me take. It determined that I was ‘risk adverse.’ Which means, more or less, I’m uncomfortable when I don’t have clear direction and that I don’t take risks. (Well, let me share something with you, my whole life has been about taking risks whether I was comfortable or not. As a journalist, you can’t rely on ‘directions’ to carry you through. So I’d like to say about the Predictive Index Report- I think it is crap.)

When it rains it pours, a nice analogy we all have heard, and this one I will tell you merits weight in my book. As nothing I was trying seemed to work I decided to hit the road. Door to door. I had dozens of copies of my resume with me, dressed for success I popped in as many businesses that I could find that looked like something I might do. I wrote addresses down, phone numbers, websites and emails. With that I went home and drafted inquiry cover letters, attached my resume and references, and sent them off.

I wasn’t all that surprised as I didn’t hear from many of them that all. Some responded with a ‘check back again’ and I thought that was pretty good- at least I heard something. Then I heard back from one that actually sounded promising.

Sandwich Community Television (SCT) was going through a transition. A new logo, a new vision and new opportunities. It just so happened that I emailed them right in the midst of all this. And just like that I began communicating with Paula Johnson via email.

Eureka! I had finally found a business that was willing to take a chance on me. Not because they knew me, not because they knew someone that I know, because they saw potential in me.

The folks over at SCT started me about a month ago now as an intern on a part-time basis and it is there that I am learning some really cool things and making a name for myself. So as I tend to take the opportunity to rant about ‘the hunt’ I’d like to remember to give thanks too.

When all you hear from a potential employer is that they need someone with more experience (where do they suggest you obtain that), it’s businesses like SCT that actually take a chance on someone that make the difference. (Think Google and their team of creative people.)

I have to say, it’s reassuring to see my persistence pay off and to see sometimes, what you know coupled with your willingness to take risks, really does work.