When to Stop

"At this time we would like to extend an offer for Member Sales Representative for 25 to 29 hours a week, at $13.70 an hour."

"O- Oh!"

I couldn't help but react to the wage offer, because it was more than I was expecting. Retail banking had been my "plan C" for the past couple months. As a condition, I had determined that I would only take a position if it were with a credit union, as I believe commercial banks are inherently evil, and if my next career move were that humble I would need to be compensated by the knowledge that I was not going to work every day to accumulate more wealth for some distant shareholder or executive.

My plans A & B had been muddled about and tossed on their heads and shuffled and restacked and at that point I really didn’t even know what they were. Somewhere mixed up in there was the prospect of going to work for the corporate bookselling giant that I worked for, which would require a move to New York City and a humble salary that probably wouldn’t compensate for life in Manhattan. Besides that, there was the idea that my experiences had prepared me for corporate retail merchandise purchasing, planning, or allocation, so I’d applied to several dozen national retailers in various places.

Then there was the government sector. I’ve always thought it would be pretty sweet to plug myself into the bureaucracy somewhere, and not just because secretaries earn over 30,000 and have sweet benefits, but because I guess there is some quiet little socialist hiding somewhere inside of my brain who argues with the little capitalist in some strange equilibrium that I would need a whole other blog to explain. So I’d been applying to government jobs for several months as well.

Then I had come up with this other backup plan where I would take accounting classes in the evening and get some kind of entry-level accounting job while earning an accounting certificate, associates, or maybe somewhere down the line, a CPA license.
And then, finally, “plan D” had intermingled with “plan C” to varying degrees, and that was to just throw in the towel and become a manager at my superstore. However, the whole reason I went back to school six years ago was so that I wouldn’t end up trapped in retail forever.

Which is why, after the phone call, I tortured myself for several hours. It would be a higher wage, but shorter hours per day and less hours overall, which meant I would still have to work at the bookstore. But I had a friend who was teaching college and still working at the bookstore. Sometimes these transitions take time. It would also be 1/3 the commute I had been undertaking. But, I was still waiting for the call from New York, and I’d waited two weeks for them to return my phone call last time. However, credit unions are non-profit, and that’s kind of awesome. So, I called them back that same day.

“At this time I can confidently accept your offer.”

“That’s great to hear, we really look forward to welcoming you aboard.”

Details ironed out, I temporarily stopped pulling my hair out and delayed my existential crisis for another week or so.

Come back next time for: “Did I really go to school for 24 years for this?”

The Clerical Test

And so it came to pass that morning in our enthusiastic job seeker’s third month of seeking that he awoke bright and early in the morning and completed his pre-interview ritual. As meticulously groomed as he would ever get, and wearing the JC Penney suit he purchased on credit for just this occasion, he departed for the mortgage servicing company at which he would be given “clerical testing.”

He was excited by the prospect of working closer to home, having been commuting 46 miles to work for the past several months, but not as excited about the prospect of becoming an “entry level clerk” after having completed an Economics degree from a major university. However, this being the third month of his search, he was open to renegotiating his plans.

The mortgage servicing firm was located in two buildings separated by a long and slender parking lot. By 9:40 in the morning when he arrived, all the spots had been taken except for those in the very back, which were located beneath a small pond which had developed in a concrete depression. Nearby, there were two heavyset middle-aged ladies wearing jeans and t-shirts big enough to be sleepwear smoking cigarettes near a rear entrance to one of the buildings.

Certainly these couldn’t be his future coworkers, could they? “Mortgage servicing” must be a much more dignified task, necessitating at least slacks and a sensible blouse, right?

Not so, my expectant seeker, not so.

Within the lobby of the building, he found a bulletproof glass wall separating the clerk on one side from the mortgage-serviced on the other. Beyond that clerk, he could glimpse a room filled with more nightshirt-clad ladies diligently typing away.
Nevertheless, he dutifully completed his “clerical tests,” performing such complex maneuvers as describing a picture to which he was exposed for only 30 seconds, and concluding with a typing test (89 words per minute – please hold your applause until the end of the blog post.)

Back in his car, having waded back through the pond, he realized that there were certain things he was looking for in a job that he hadn’t considered until this day. Sure, there are intangibles that everyone considers in their job search in addition to wages. If they didn’t, then there would be a lot more competition for sanitation service positions. These intangibles include (to varying degrees for different people) things like:

* Working for a company that isn’t evil
* Working outdoors
* Working indoors
* Being able to socialize with your coworkers
* Being able to get away from your coworkers
* Easy access to daycare for your progeny
* Proximity to home
* Proximity to alcohol
* Flexible scheduling

For me, I discovered that among my list of intangibles, there might be an entry that goes something like: “not working next to a bespectacled middle-aged woman wearing a cat sweater.” However, I haven’t found a radio button on any of the job search sites for that kind of criteria. Until there is, I guess I’ll just have to keep reading between the lines.

By Way of Introduction

It is the year 2010, and finding a job is harder than it has ever been in my lifetime. Perfect time to graduate college, eh? Thank you universe.

This is the story of my search. I would call it a “job search” but it’s more profound than that, or at least I have myself convinced it is. “Career” isn’t quite right either. Gen-Yers like myself have “career” all tied up with “purpose.” We want jobs that feed our souls as well as our bodies. Unfortunately, in my case this push and pull has me stuck in the middle, neither making ends meet or being able to decide how to make a difference. I don’t want a job that simply makes me money, so I’m afraid to make a move that might leave me stranded in a job I hate that hurts my soul but with a salary too high to leave. I also don’t want to be so altruistic that I end up going broke trying to heal the world.

And then there’s the question of happiness. What will make me happy? Seems like it should be an easy enough question to answer. It’s not, because it’s all tied up with the above dilemma. What kind of work would I enjoy? What are my interests? I’ve been workshopped and career-tested to death and I still don’t know the answers to these questions.

Here’s some background:

I was a high school dropout at one point, who turned his life around and went back to community college and ultimately graduated from a big ten university last December, five years later than his peers. I have a great turnaround story but a sketchy academic record. I’ve been working retail since I was sixteen. Now I’m twenty-eight, and I’m treading water financially, working for a big bookstore and terrified that I might get stuck in retail like the other dozen or so degree-holding shift managers and salespeople I work next to every day.

Our parents and our TV shows convinced us when we were kids that we could do anything we set our mind to. I totally bought it. As such, I sometimes find myself jealous of people with more limited options, which officially makes me an evil, entitled American, not taking advantage of the many opportunities available to him, and the spiral of self-loathing continues lower and lower.

So, over the next few weeks I will explore the history and the future of my choices and I hope that someone gets something out of it, even if that someone isn’t me. However, in my eternal and ridiculous optimism, I am convinced that this blog will be a celestial beacon, shining like divine guidance on the answers to my questions and wiping away all of my frustrations. That’s how it works in the movies, right? There’s always some magic bullet, you just have to find it. Or, stumble upon it, as it usually goes.