Will Date for Food

A few months ago a story broke from my home state of Washington about a man who took his nine year old with him to a mini mart where he proceeded to rob it at gunpoint - claiming he had lost his job and needed financial help to raise the daughter, Meadow.

I've been thinking about that story quite a bit recently, and wondering how many of the unemployed people in this economy find themselves desperately considering less-than-legal-or-ethical means of making the almighty dollar. 

The question is no longer "How Low Can You Go?" but rather, "How Low WILL You Go?"

I wonder when I myself will consider sex, drugs and rock 'n roll as legitimate forms of income. Don't misunderstand me - it's not as if I'm getting offers to star in porn or swallow bags of heroin and run across the border on a daily basis. And even if I did find myself in possession of one or two extra bottles of Vicodin or Percoset - I don't have the foggiest idea of how to move it - What do you do? Sell that stuff on Craigslist? Good Grief.

Clearly, hard core criminality is not for me. So what else is there? Stripping? I'm sure The Dream Palace is always hiring, and even if I don't make much money, writing about the shady world of strip clubs worked like a charm for Diablo Cody with Candy Girl - and look where the writer of Juno is now! Somehow though, I don't think the book buying public needs TWO memoirs of a middle class stripper.

As freshmen at Arizona State University, my college roommate and I used to play a game called "Who can see the most movies for free?" Although the game was mostly a joke, it's true that shortly after orientation we had been introduced to the value (financial or otherwise) of casual dating - and an addiction was born.  With both of us having been firmly attached to specific sweethearts throughout high school, college offered us the opportunity to get to know some wonderful and some not-so-wonderful men, and revel in the movies, dinners, drinks and weekend trips that every savvy girl experiences on the dating scene.  Ah the good ole days when I was just expected to show up, look cute, make good conversation and say thank you.  

Wait just a minute! I'm still perfectly capable of those things! In fact, now that I've perfected fashionably late - casual dating should be even better!  So long feminist ideals and Hello Sugar Daddies! Anyone up for the job? I promise to be charming and fabulous so long as you give me enough time for me to volunteer, and have no problem investing in the multiple business start ups I am currently working on.

While I wait for Mr. Eligible Wealthy Bachelor to come along, I must do something, for a girl cannot live on blogging alone.  What will it be - Burger King? Nah, too greasy. Landscaping? No way - too sweaty and upper body strength is not exactly my calling card. Professional poker playing takes up too many nights, and gas station attendant puts me too close for comfort with potential gun-wielding Fathers Of The Year. Alright, so slinging coffee at Starbucks it is.  Who knows? Maybe I'll meet my future employer in the drive thru? One can only hope.

The Truth Hurts?

I’ve heard it’s better not to tell future employers the truth about losing your job. My friend JP is a fan of the phrase “Management and I had an irresolvable difference of opinion regarding a company policy.” Others prefer the innocuous term “Laid off” and at least one person has told me to leave the last eighteen months off my resume completely. As if it didn’t exist. As if all the things I accomplished and learned just never happened. 

But it did exist, and I produced some truly wonderful work while at this agency. I also made some mistakes.  I’m not denying that.

There were four significant days that contributed to my painfully quick slide to demise. Let’s revisit: Day 1 – arrived for a meeting in Tempe that turned out to be in Paradise Valley. 45 minutes later I finally made it – late of course, but in good spirits, as were everyone else. Day 2 – got stuck in traffic on Interstate 60. That’s Phoenix commuting for you, and I did get there, just a bit late. Day 3 - simply did not book enough time between meetings to get from one to the other without being…you guessed it, late again. Day 4 - was so ready to prove myself that I had the meeting room set up fifteen minutes ahead and I sat by the office door waiting to greet the client and walk him to the conference room myself. 20 minutes later, I was informed that said client had entered the backdoor, found his own way to the conference room and the meeting had begun without me. My spirit crushed, I walked into the conference room and was for the last time – late.  That’s it, game over, thanks for playing.

While I try to make up for my shortcomings with wit and charm, intelligence and style, I do know that I had something to learn from this experience. And what did I learn? 1 – NEVER assume you know where a meeting is being held. 2 – Listen to NPR in order to hear traffic reports instead of rocking out to a CD the cute guy in PR gave you. 3 – Remember that the first of two meetings will always run long. And 4 – Pace a path between every possible door that a client could walk through. Better yet – put a tracking device on his Blackberry and lock the conference room door with the only key glued to your hand.

Brazen Careerist author Penelope Trunk opines that being fired is a time learn what you want in a job, and to articulate those things to a future employer. Right. And this would be me:

“Hello Mrs./Mr. Potential Employer. My ideal position would be one where I could be creative and strategic, where I could try out new ideas and work on alternate forms of revenue generating. Where I could make a difference in the world, and where I would never have to be on time for anything.” 

JP thinks this means I should go into business for myself. I would like to agree, but unless I plan to never work with or around any other human again, ever – I’m afraid I’m my options are limited. Being fired for this was awful. It was unnecessary and unhelpful, ridiculous and disheartening. Being early all the time is a pain, feels rigid and not even very possible. It sucks, but I’m going to do it. I have to – if only to be happy healthy well-adjusted and popular.  What do you think, friends?