#MicroblogMondays: Fifteen

Today marks my 15th anniversary at my organization.  Wow. When I started here in 2000, I was not yet 23. It was my second full-time job. 9/11 happened while I was here. I got married. I started and finished grad school. I struggled with infertility and celebrated D’s birth.

I’ve worked in 4 different groups and had 8 different supervisors.  I’ve changed positions pure IT and web development to my current role of knowledge management and market research. I’ve been a manager for 6 years. I’ve been through three re-orgs and two rounds of layoffs, 7 offices and three buildings. And a new name.

In 2000, I had no intention of staying 15 years or inkling that I would. I’ve gone from being one of the youngest employees to being one of the long-timers. Sometimes I feel silly when I tell people how long I’ve worked here – isn’t that passe now?

It has definitely had its ups and downs as any job does, but I like what I’m doing and the people I work with. Our mission still resonates for me, and I’m proud to be a part of it.

Fifteen years. Turns out I can retire in 16 years, but who’s counting?

Ch Ch Ch Changes

When I walk into work tomorrow, my org will officially have a new name. My org is 60 years old, and this will be its 3rd name but I have only known it by its former name for 15 years. I’m anticipating taking cheat sheets to meetings so I get it right.

Tomorrow we also officially launch our new website. This is the first website in 15 years that I have not managed or overseen. 

And in mid-September, we will transition from our home-grown reporting system to a more robust CRM platform.  I didn’t build the home-grown system, but I was responsible for nurturing it over the last 15 years.

I could make all of these changes about me and how it feels a tiny bit like I’m being erased, but that is foolish and myopic. Change happens. It comes whether we want it or not. And it is often bittersweet.

That’s what I leave you with: change is bittersweet, yet inevitable. Maybe it is its inevitability that makes it bittersweet. Change and the march of progress don’t care about feelings or length of time served. They are unsympathetic forces that just happen.

I think that is supposed to make me feel better?

It’s Hard Out There for a Working Mom

This piece made the rounds last week. In it, Katharine Zaleski apologized for the condescension and outright disdain she showed towards her coworkers who were working mothers.  Her apology might have been more tolerable if it had come before she herself became a mother and realized that gee, it’s hard out there for working moms.  Zaleski has seen the error of her ways and is co-founder of a company that seeks to match women with work-at-home tech jobs.  Her piece rubbed me the wrong way because of her privilege that eased her decision to lean in or lean out.  The majority of women don’t have C-level positions at start-ups coming their way.  At the very least, I hope I wasn’t nearly the asshole she was to working moms in her office before I had kids.  And really, that’s the crux of it.  Was it really so difficult for her to attempt a modicum of empathy for those women? Was it really that impossible for her to think that maybe she might have kids someday and how would she like to be treated in the workplace?

One of the best responses to Zaleski’s piece was adamant in her refusal to accept the non-apology.  Anne Born notes that being a working mom would have been more bearable if just one person had backed her up or spoken up as she received comments and side eyes doubting her work ethic. By not extending any support, no matter how small,  women like Zaleski became just “one of the guys.”  And Born is writing about what she experienced in 1997, a time not that long ago. She concludes:

I worked with too many women like you, Ms. Zaleski, who reinforced that I was just a lesser version of the other women I worked with who did not have such tedious family obligations. Working women are worth less enough already without your help – or your apologies.

Sometimes I think that with all the media coverage of “leaning in” and telecommuting, we think that it is easier to be a working mom than ever before. This topic has been on my mind a lot, especially since in NC, children missed almost 2 full weeks of school due to snow and sleet in February and for many working parents, that time must be made up or vacation used.  Working from home is not permitted in all workplaces.

The truth is that it is still very hard to be a mom who works outside the home. It’s even more difficult if you need further accommodations.  I think that there is a perception that daycare and programs like after-school care make it easy to work 8-5 if you are a working mother. That’s true if everything goes to plan, but what I and several other women I know have learned, it is as fragile as a house of cards.

• Think of the mother whose child qualifies for one of the few free preschool options available in NC. The problem is that while these preschools end when the school day ends, after-school care is not available for these students. The mother will need to leave work at 3:30 to transport her child to some other program so she is able to return to work in order to fulfill the hours she is expected to work. The logical answer would be to let her telecommute but sadly, her position classification makes that option unavailable. She also cannot take her lunch hour at that time because OSHA rules dictate that she take a break after 6 hours of work.
• After-school care is a godsend, but imagine if you are a mother whose child cannot cope in the school-sanctioned program.  Maybe the child is acting out or just not coping well and on the verge of being expelled.  Maybe the mother can hire a student to transport her child home and stay with the child until after work or maybe, if she’s lucky, she finds an alternative program that will pick up her child from school and take her to a program that is more suited to the child’s needs.  While this mother will be relieved to find any option that works to keep her child safe and engaged while she fulfills her expected hours, these options cost money, likely more money than the school-sanctioned after-school program. These are also options that are likely more available in larger cities than smaller ones. What would be the answer for the mother who lives in a small town?
• Maybe your child is in a small school that is perfect for your child’s needs, and your child is thriving, but the after-school program goes only to 4 PM.  Maybe in this case you have the ability to make up some of the missed hours, but you live in fear of a meeting being scheduled late afternoon and any hint that you might not be a dedicated employee who deserves the responsibility she has been given. You worry that coworkers view you as Zaleski viewed her coworkers who had children.

It is easy to say that these women should find other jobs that are more flexible, but the reality is that many workplaces are less flexible than you imagine.  After all, even Yahoo rescinded its telecommuting policy.  I work for the state and while there are drawbacks to being a state employee (flexibility being one), it has decent health insurance, paid time off and security. It is also one of the largest employers in my state. It isn’t that simple to go get a new job, especially when children are involved.

I applaud Zaleski for her epiphany (even if it is infuriatingly late for those women she worked with prior to having her own child) and her effort to make things better for working women through her new company. The problem is that her company will help only a small subset of working women: those with in-demand technical skills. What about the rest?  What about the factory worker or hourly office worker who finds herself walking a tight rope of child care and praying that the few options that exist will work for her family? What about those women for whom telecommuting is not allowed? What about women who have children with special needs or needs that mainstream programs cannot support but who still need to or want to work?

We still have a lot of work to do to help mothers succeed in the workforce.

 

 

A Little Bit of Nonsense

I learned some new facts this week.

First of all, I attended mass with Daniel at his school Thursday morning, and the priest began the service by chastising the congregation for taking down their Christmas trees and decorations, especially their manger scenes. I didn’t expect to hear that, so I paid extra close attention. It turns out that the Catholic church celebrates Christmas until Jesus’ baptism day (the Sunday following epiphany). My thoughts immediately turned to my house in which our Christmas tree still stands proudly, fully decorated and lit every night. It’s not every day that I feel virtuous in a church, so I relished the moment.  So take note: if your Christmas decorations are still up, you are not a slacker; you are devout 😉

Secondly, I discovered a variety of apple I had never heard of before: Cripps. My first thought was that was a bold way for the gang to make some legitimate money and market itself. Would you have to launder money made from selling branded apples? I can see it now: “Hey, Aiden’s mom packed him a Cripps apple in his lunchbox! Wish my mom were that cool!”  It turns out, though, that Fresh Market (where I spotted the aforementioned apple) was being cheeky because the Cripps apple is better known by its other name of “Pink Lady.” When I tweeted about it yesterday, my tweetstream soon devolved into Grease references and quotes. A Pink Lady to a Cripps is quite a transformation.

Thirdly, I found a new brand of yogurt.

Sounds yummy!

You see, I’ve always liked quarks. I don’t know why. God knows, I’m no scientist and find physics as mysterious and improbable as others would ghosts or magic. Maybe it’s the word and something delightful about the “qu” combination. Maybe there is something “quirky” about “quarks.” Maybe it’s because the names of the 6 flavors of quarks display a whimsy that you don’t often associate with particle physics. I think I need to buy some of that yogurt.

***

The three of us are back to work and school and our normal routine this week. Daniel and I are grumpy about it while Jimmy is less so because his “demotion” came through before the holidays, and he now gets to work at home. It’s a good change because we had discovered that some of the household tasks that give us fits – laundry, dishes, etc. – are so much easier when one of us has even a few extra hours at home during the week. While I don’t expect him to become a househusband, it is great knowing that he could do a load of dishes or run to the grocery store every once in a while. We think it will be a huge help although it’s difficult not to be a teensy bit envious as Daniel and I suit up in our school and work clothes while Jimmy gets to stay in his PJs if he wants!

I hope the first full week of 2014 was kind to you!

No More Meetings in 2013

No more meetings

No more paperwork

No more stifling

Dirty looks *

Tuesday at 4:30, I closed my office door and practically skipped out to my car.  I was finished – DONE – with work until January 6, 2014. Cue confetti, popping champagne corks, cheers of jubilation.

I was desperate to get to the last day.  The weeks before had been insane with Jimmy being on call for 2 weeks and then more meetings than I thought possible. My stress levels were through the roof: I even started itching like crazy last week, and I think it was stress-induced hives.

But vacation is here at last.  Daniel is in school until tomorrow, and Jimmy’s last day of work for the year is today, so yesterday and today I have had the house to myself and have been purposefully slothful. It has been blissful.

Tomorrow the sprint towards Christmas begins. I need to attempt cards, finish shopping, wrap gifts, figure out a menu for Christmas Eve, make ornaments with Daniel. Oh and Santa is coming through the neighborhood on Saturday, and we are headed to Mocksville on Sunday for Christmas #1. Whew!

It always seem like everything happens at the last minute during the holidays, but it comes together somehow. I’ll think about that on Friday. For now, I’m going to put my feet up and read. I have a few more hours of solitude left.

* my apologies to Alice Cooper 🙂

Imagining Small Things

Daniel’s school is about 5-10 minutes away (depending on traffic) from where I work. It’s wonderfully convenient, especially if I take the side streets instead of the main thoroughfares to get to work.

One of the side streets I take is a winding, narrow street that has been gentrified. It has a mix of quaint houses and stylish new apartments. A few years ago, I truly would have been nervous driving down this side street (justified or not) but no longer.  The far end of the street closest to my workplace has the Governor’s School for the Blind and a historic park.

About three-quarters of the way along this street is a sign saying, “Hidden Driveway.” It has caught my fancy. I’ve been down the street enough times not to see anything that resembles what I would consider a hidden driveway. I assume that maybe what they mean is the School for the Blind’s driveway because I see no other likely candidates.

However, every time I see the sign, it gives me a thrill and sends my imagination into overdrive.  This street is tucked away enough to make me wonder what serendipitous things we might find there.  When I think of a hidden driveway, I envision an entire household living underground.  When a sensor beeps, telling them they are clear, part of the foliage on the side of the street is thrown back, and a car appears. It enters the street and the house recedes from sight again, the secret safe. Hidden driveway indeed.

Maybe this household has decided to live off the grid. Maybe they are protesting world conditions. Maybe they just want to reduce their dependence upon foreign goods. Who knows? I picture them defining their interaction with the world on their terms.

When a household is so different from yours (as a family living underground or hidden in plain sight would be), you wonder how they deal with typical family issues. How do they deal with the preschooler’s whine, “I don’t WANT to eat that?” Or the fight over who cleans the cat litter? Or doing dishes? How do such mundane tasks fit into the focus upon broader issues?

Shortly after the sign, I turn onto another street. Work is practically within sight. I miss the whimsy suggested by the “Hidden Driveway” sign. Reality will be crashing in again soon.  Maybe one day, if I’m really fortunate, I’ll see the people who live there. If I’m not so jaded as to make it impossible.

What are your magic moments during your commute?

What I Did At School Today

Today was my rescheduled time to talk to Daniel’s class about my job. You might remember that my scheduled time last week was postponed due to vomitapalooza (my car still remembers and so do I when the air is just right).  Unfortunately, today didn’t start off well because there was a wreck on the interstate that caused major traffic issues.  Daniel and I were in the car for an hour and arrived 20 minutes late.

The teachers graciously let me have a few minutes, and I sat down in a minuscule chair with my props.  I had decided to focus more on what my organization does (works with manufacturers) and then talk a teeny tiny bit about what I do (market research & playing with data), capped off with Krispy Kreme doughnut holes…made in NC you know!

I started off by showing some of the products made in North Carolina I thought they might recognize: a can of Campbell soup (they don’t like tomato soup based on the chorus of “ewwwws” the can received), a hat with Cheerwine on it, deodorant, and last but not least a model of a school bus (Thomas Built Buses are made in the Triad).  Then I explained that my job was to talk to manufacturers and pass along that information to my coworkers so they could help them better. I figured that sounded better than “I stare at my monitor all day while I crunch data and attend a billion meetings.”

The teachers guided questions about what my hours were like, what I studied in college to do my job, who I work with, etc., but the kids’ questions were priceless as I had been warned.

One little girl asked my favorite question:

Do you get to eat candy at work?

She was on a candy kick, apparently, because her next few questions and comments all revolved around whether candy was available and how much of it she would eat!

Another little girl was very interested in where I eat lunch and whether I like the band that plays at the university’s sporting events.  A different little girl asked how old you had to be to work where I do.

The children, all 4 and 5-year-olds, were mostly well behaved and adorable.  They also had the attention span I expected them to have and made me laugh a lot.

There wasn’t time for me to give them the doughnut holes then, but I left them with the teachers for them to have after lunch.  I was thrilled to find a sweet card from the class in Daniel’s backpack today.

Card from D’s Pre-K Class

I hope my talk was a bit interesting.  At the very least, maybe I left them with an idea that we still make things in North Carolina. Daniel wouldn’t leave my side the entire time I was in his class, and I hope he was proud of me.

Who knew that speaking to a Pre-K class would be as nerve-wracking as it was?

***

PS Thank you all for the support on my wreck and the humiliation I felt (and still feel a bit). While I wish none of us suffered from this fear or have had similar situations, I’m glad to know I’m not alone. I’m going to start chanting, “You’re human. You’re human. Mistakes are a part of life.” I’m truly grateful for your support and commiseration.

My Awful, No Good, Horrible Day

Sometimes you have a bad feeling about the day ahead from the get-go. That’s how I felt about today. I don’t know if it were because I had another day of meetings, meaning there would be little productivity or because it was Tuesday (because the theory at work is that Tuesdays Suck) or because I had to head to Main Campus for a meeting, which always results in logistical nightmares (I work for a university). I even said to a coworker before leaving for the meeting on Main Campus that I had a bad feeling about it.

I decided to drive to the meeting despite the construction snafus because I couldn’t figure out which bus to take and time was running out. The meeting itself went well, and I felt greatly reassured that we had managed to find the closest permitted parking area easily and found the building in which our meeting was to be held with ease. We were even early!

The drama didn’t happen until we were almost out of the parking garage. I don’t even know how to explain it. I was getting ready to turn right. Another car was getting ready to turn left. I tried to brake but my brain froze, and I ended up hitting the gas instead of the brake. Several times. I hit the other car (a Mini Cooper!), spun it around and drove into a pylon in the parking deck.

I was mortified. Shocked. Stunned. How did this happen? Fortunately, my speed was probably only a few MPH, so the damage could have been a lot worse.  My Honda Pilot had cosmetic damage and the Mini Cooper had a bit more but was considered drivable by the police. More importantly, no one was injured. We were all shaken up, but no one had any injuries. Heck, my air bag hadn’t even deployed.

We spent an hour in the parking deck while campus police documented everything. I freely admitted fault, and I felt horrible. I wished I had been alone in the car because at least then my humiliation could have been witnessed by only myself (and of course the poor car I hit).  Oh and the many, many cars whose inhabitants gaped at us as they drove by.

I held it together pretty well until the end. When I was talking to the police officer, I started to cry. Also, how do police academies manage to cultivate the skill in which you feel like a criminal regardless of what happened when you are talking to an officer? Once we were free to go, I dropped off my coworker, sat in the parking lot and cried, and called it a day.

I feel like I overreacted, but I’ve always been like this.  If I do anything “wrong” or “stupid,” I feel awful. Terrible. I practically get out the hair shirt and whip. Is that a normal response? Why can’t I just say, “I screwed up. It happens. It was an accident” and move on? I’ve always felt pressure to be a good girl and to do the right thing. Any deviation from that – any at all – and I am nauseous and self-loathing. And it’s fear. Fear of messing up. Fear of doing anything wrong. Fear of being seen as less competent and therefore, less worthy. Am I weird or is this a feeling many (if not all) women can identify with?

Meanwhile, Daniel, when he heard about the wreck said, “I will ROARRRRR at the other car.”

Inhale. Exhale. I know I’ll feel better tomorrow (especially once the scene stops replaying in my head), but I feel fairly shitty tonight. And I hate that. How can I feel able to take a risk or make a mistake if my reaction to any repercussions is so out of proportion?

So yeah, Tuesdays suck However, I can recommend the Honda Pilot if you are looking for a car that will do well in a wreck.

While the wreck isn’t funny, I have to share this picture.  It gave me a much-needed giggle. My front license plate is the flag of Scotland. The Mini Cooper displays the Union Jack. If you know anything about British history, you will understand why this picture is the tiniest bit amusing.

Scene of the crime

 

It’s a Bird..It’s a Plane..It’s KeAnne Going to Another Conference

Today I felt like I had a split personality. By morning I was “Mommy,” dressed in ratty, stretchy, slouchy PJ pants and a t-shirt that had seen better days. I made Daniel pancakes for breakfast and tried to keep him entertained (because he felt 100% better and was frustrated that we wouldn’t let him go outside) while fighting off my own case of the queasies. By afternoon, I was Professional KeAnne, dressed in work clothes and downtown for the first part of a conference.

It felt really weird and for the first little bit, I felt like I was playing dress-up.  Sometimes after I take a day off – for vacation or for illness – re-entry is difficult. It is amazing how little time it takes for me to become enmeshed in the cocoon of home. It’s surreal. It’s like the real world doesn’t really exist outside of what I read on Twitter or my news sites.  We don’t have cable any longer, so any TV we watch is on demand and doesn’t include news. I’ve gotten better at not checking work email, so it’s like another tether is fraying.  I’m not saying it’s a bad thing; it’s just interesting how quickly being “off the grid” in a way takes hold.

If you follow me on Twitter, you probably already know that I was at a conference today based on the number of tweets I made.  Feel free to mute me until Thursday night if you need. I won’t be offended.  The conference is the Internet Summit, an annual digital conference held in Raleigh.  This is the the 6th year of the conference, and I’ve been to almost all of them. I was at the first one in Chapel Hill in 2008.  That one was interesting because my cousin gave birth to her son at the same time, and his birth kicked off the Year of Boys our family was about to experience.  Four babies.  All boys. November 2008, February 2009, May 2009 and June 2009 (Daniel).

I like the Internet Summit because it is a good conference with a nice mix of topics that appeals to techies, marketers, innovators and everyone else.  After years of being on Twitter and going to local conferences and events, I swear that everyone looks like someone I know.  Some of the ladies I’ve met locally through blogging are attending professionally as well, and let me just say that it is odd when worlds converge.  To Beth Anne, Kathleen and Brandy, I apologize if I seemed overly stiff and weird!

In the past I’ve attended a lot of social media sessions since that was part of my job.  This year I justified going based on the “Big Data” and data analytics sessions.  It is all interesting content, and I’m sure I’ll have a post or two to write about it. I feel at home at this type of conference because I really “get” the content.  Last week’s conference wasn’t in my field exactly, so I felt more like a fish out of water.  It’s good to be with people who spend the conference tweeting and taking notes via laptop or tablet. It feels right.

Tomorrow all of us re-enter the real world again. Daniel will return to school and go on his field trip to the history museum.  Jimmy will have a full day at work.  I’ll try to accessorize well (you should see some of the outfits) and head to the convention center for day 2 of the conference.  It was already going to be a short week for me and Daniel because his school is closed on Friday and Monday for parent-teacher conferences, so after this one day of returning to normal, we’ll be home again.

Fingers crossed that our one day of re-entry is smooth.

 

Lame-O, NaBloPoMo Post

I admit it: this post is being published only to fulfill the requirements of NaBloPoMo. Everyone likely has one post like that, right?

I’m home. Back in Raleigh. On terra firma and with my luggage, which earlier in the evening seemed unlikely (the luggage, not the terra firma part). Another series of very full flights and by the time I had raced through the Atlanta airport after my flight from Nashville landed (which looked like a lovely airport by the way), making it to my gate just in time to board, I was feeling a bit punchy and irritated at those passengers who tried to cram large carry-ons into the overhead compartments, holding up the line.

They had the last laugh because luggage shifted during the flight to Raleigh, causing the hatch door to be stuck. No one could get it open, which meant the rest of us poor suckers who had checked our luggage were left to cool our heels at baggage claim for an hour.  Eventually, Delta Baggage Services told us that the crew was going to have to remove seats in order to get to the luggage and our choices were to wait for who knew how long, come back later or have the luggage shipped. I chose to leave, thinking the only thing I really needed was contact lens solution, and I could buy that easily.

Just as the exit door opened, several passengers yelled for me to return, saying that the crew had gotten the door open and our luggage would be here soon.  Another 15 minutes passed before our precious bags emerged from the bowels of the baggage claim area. I claimed mine with a good deal of ferocity and stalked off. I knew it had been a long shot because of the time my plane had landed, but I had hoped to be able to make it home to kiss Daniel good night.  Instead, he’s snoozing well and we’re finishing up a few tasks that need to be done for tomorrow.

So to my fellow passengers with checked bags, I apologize for jinxing us.

It wasn’t completely awful. My seat mates were a father and his 4-year-old little girl on their way to visit grandparents.  The little girl kept us entertained in the baggage claim and hugged me several times.  She offered me one of her chocolate cookies, and when I told her thanks but no thanks because I don’t like chocolate, she looked at me curiously and asked, “why do you not like chocolate?”  It was just like how Daniel would have asked it.

Back to work tomorrow, but I am so looking forward to being the first face Daniel sees tomorrow and giving him a huge bear hug.

It’s good to be home.