The best way to avoid, or cope with, being thrown off the merry-go-round

Kate Duttro* made a great comment on Former Finnegan No. 3, and I thought I would reflect on it before going on with my personal tale. One of the best ways to arm yourself against the varied chances and changes of life is to keep on learning, as I have learned from my own experience.

Don't believe me? Well, consider this. If you have a job or pastime you like, keep learning to do it better. You'll become an indispensable asset to those you work with, and you won't be bored. Stay on top of new developments in your field, and you'll be ready for change when it catches up with you --  when a better position opens up, you'll be well-prepared to move into it. Or if your area of expertise is beginning to pall, start exploring related fields, and prepare yourself to make a lateral move.

If you are stuck in a routine job and can't see any immediate opportunities to move up or out, you can spend your leisure time learning something new, just to keep yourself from going crazy or perhaps to meet new people. Even if you stuck on the assembly line at the widget plant, you can become a cracker jack softball coach or salsa dancer or taxidermist or water rescue volunteer in your free time, and know that you are living a "value added" life, not just subsisting. And you won't make the dreadful mistake of identifying yourself by what you do for a living.

Another way to learn is to "re-purpose" something you already know. I ran across a woman on Facebook who is obviously a sympathetic soul and an avid crocheter. She became aware that cats with spinal injuries or leg deformities often develop friction sores from dragging their paralyzed rear legs; such animals often wind up in shelters but the unsightly sores frighten away prospective pet owners. This kind lady began crocheting little leggings for the kitties -- simple oblongs with yarn ties to secure them to the legs -- and found that they help protect the cats' legs and also appeal to prospective owner. Now she has a non-profit organization called "Leggings for Life" to help crippled cats. Take a look: 

I've read of other people who dealt with job loss either by promoting a hobby to a business (a stamp collector who opened his own online business after he lost his job) or learning to make a living in a related field when they couldn't find work in their own (a man laid off from a good job in network security who retrained as a locksmith and now installs and maintains home security systems). The fact is, such people succeed because they are able to shift gears without trauma, and they are able to do so because they are willing to learn.

My experience tells me that the happiest people are those who know how to learn, and have made a practice of doing so. When the ship of your life is wrecked, you'll have a better chance of survival if you've already learned how to get to the life boats, and don't cling to a sinking vessel. If the lifeboats are crowded, you'll be less likely to get tossed overboard if you know how to row, or can to learn to do so quickly ("fake it 'til you make it"). And if you've been shipwrecked before and have learned from the experience, you won't have to panic the next time it happens (you did learn to swim, didn't you?).

I once knew a motivational speaker who liked to say, "You're either growing or you're dying." Change is inevitable, but you should decide what kind of change it is -- do you want to grow, or do you want to stagnate, rust, rot, die? ("Gee, when you put it like that, Finnegan ...") If you are learning, you are growing, changing for the better, even if the knowledge you're gaining seems "useless" in your present circumstances.

*By the way, I looked Kate up after responding to her comment and found that she is a career change coach for academics, who has learned from her own personal experience as well as professional training. Check out her web site, Career Change for Academics.

Former Finnegan No. 3: Graphic design by the seat of my pants

After leaving the job at the blood center (with a boot print on my backside), I decided to look upon my temporary unemployment as an opportunity rather than a calamity (that was a little easier to do, once my former employer lost his bid to deny my unemployment benefits). I decided to pursue all leads that presented themselves, without ruling anything out until I had looked into it. Since I still didn't know "what I wanted to be when I grew up," for all I knew my "true calling" could turn out to be just about anything. I tried not to think about the fact that I was in my late twenties and now not only a (grad school) dropout, but I'd also been fired from a job that a trained monkey could have done (if he'd known how to type). 

Since I had no savings and no real ideas about what to do next, I procured a signature loan from my Dad's credit union and signed up with a couple of employment agencies that would help me find a job for a hefty percentage of my first year's salary. I interviewed for anything and everything that the agencies could line up, and turned down offers from all sorts of businesses. I just couldn't see myself managing a tire store or running the night desk of a motel; I might have accepted the job with the newspaper, if it hadn't paid as badly as the job I'd just lost, and required me to work the graveyard shift the first three years. (This also when I interviewed with the Johnson O'Connor Research foundation, as recounted in my previous "What I learned between Finnegans" post.)

On the strength of my experience designing promo pieces at the blood center and using a dedicated word processor that I had bought hoping it would encourage me to do some writing (this, at a time when "personal computers" were still rarities), I hired into the art department of a large professional association at the moment that it was beginning to shift from traditional layout to computer-based layout programs; my job was, for the most part, to execute on the computer what the designers came up with on their drawing tables.

Wow, I learned a lot in that job -- about graphic design, emerging computer systems, and just how much truth there is in Dilbert cartoons (which were very big at the time; see daily cartoon in this blog's sidebar). The art department had just been split off from the communications department as the result of the latest skirmish in a bloody turf war; as a result, the new art department needed a clerical assistant (that was me). The designers hated the fact that we were going over to "desktop publishing," so they both quit by the end of my first year there, and the art director soon followed them out the door. Not long after that, the art department was quietly folded back into the larger communications department, and the art "director" was just the art "manager" -- turf war concluded. Fortunately, I had kept a low profile and let the bullets fly over my head, so I was one of the few who emerged unscathed.

In fact, by staying out of the fray, I also managed to come out of it all on higher ground. I had been learning everything I could about page layout programs, publication design, typography, you name it; as a result, my job title, job description, and salary were upgraded annually to keep up with what I was actually doing. Before long, I was officially tasked with staying up to date on the various kinds of software we needed for publication design & layout. The second art manager who signed on, having at that time no actual artists to manage and too few freelance designers to do the work that needed to be done, found herself in a tight spot one day and asked me if I'd like to do a little design myself -- I was more than ready for her. Soon I was designing and doing layout for about half of the jobs we put out, and I even won an award from the local chapter of the International Association of Business Communicators for a newsletter that I redesigned. Eventually my job title was upgraded to "graphic designer" (although I was required to take one community college course in design so that I would have a "credential" to go with my experience and self-taught skills).

I was having fun, even if I did have to subdue my "inner editor" every time I cast my eyes on the dreary verbiage that passed for "business communications." (I learned to see words as just shapes on a page -- hard to do when you grew up read dictionaries as if they were pulp fiction.) As a kid I had for a time dreamt of becoming a book designer or a commercial artist, and finally the right side of my brain was getting some exercise. I was happy for a few years, but I knew it couldn't last; I realized that a "real" designer in my situation would be looking for a new job with new challenges, and I also realized that I didn't want to stay in design forever. There was too much of me that was beginning to feel stifled.

As long as I was learning new things I was happy, but the intellectual part of me was starting to  go stir crazy; the teacher in me, which had been awakened back in grad school, was starting to irritate my friends (I not only gave them books to read, but want to discuss the books after they'd read them!); and the student in me (never dormant for long) was itching for something new to learn. The tinder was dry and just waiting for a spark, which was struck one day when my boss was enthusing over a community college advertising course she was teaching. She loved her students! She loved being respected for her hard-won knowledge of her field! She loved the challenge of creating and implementing a curriculum, and a little extra income never went amiss. As I listened to her, I began to think that maybe a little part time teaching was just what I needed to keep from getting bored.

Well, I was right and I was wrong, as you'll learn in Former Finnegan No. 4. Meanwhile, if you're reading this and you would like to throw in a comment, feel free!

What I learned between Finnegans: Learning to be your whole self

Back when I was casting about for something new to do after being booted out of my lousy job at the blood center, one of the jobs I interviewed for was a position with the Johnson O'Connor Research Foundation, a non-profit organization that offers aptitude testing for people contemplating a change of life -- for instance, high school students trying to figure out what field to pursue in college, or adults experiencing career burnout. They offer a battery of tests that identify a person's natural talents and innate abilities, and then help the client find an occupation that makes use of those inborn gifts. Since the job I was applying for involved administering the tests, interpreting the results, and counseling the client, my interview process allowed me to undergo the testing myself, and to be counseled on meaning of the test results, at no cost. As a result, I learned some valuable lessons, about myself and about what we need to be happy in life.

Before I tell you what I learned, let me describe the process a bit. Anyone reading this who feels him or herself at a crossroads in life, or who perhaps feels unhappy or uncomfortable in what is, on the surface, a successful and fulfilled life, would be well advised to consider spending the money it costs to take the Johnson O'Connor aptitudes tests-- the benefits may prove invaluable, as they have been for me.

One thing I found was that this aptitude testing was nothing like the kind of standardized testing that school kids or college students take. The Johnson O'Connor battery of aptitude tests included things like manual dexterity, spacial memory, and the ability to discriminate musical pitches, as well as inductive reasoning and something called ideaphoria. In the course of the tests, I found myself doing such things as picking up tiny metal rods and sorting them into groups of five, while being timed; or seeing how much I could write non-stop over a set period of time, in response to a simple writing prompt; or trying to reconstruct a complex 3-D puzzle. There were also the kind of word-association tests that reminded me of the verbal part of the SAT, and intelligence tests I'd taken as a kid. Almost all of these tests were timed, but I was told not to hurry because speed was not necessarily a virtue (high-testing subjects were sorted into "slow-accurate" or "fast-accurate" results). While I didn't take the entire battery of tests, I was tested on eleven of the sixteen aptitudes, which I was assured would give a representative sampling.

After I had taken the tests, I met with the counselor to go over the results. I was eager to see what she had to say because I figured even if Johnson O'Connor didn't hire me, what I learned could help me find the right  kind of job. First, the counselor told me that, of the eleven aptitudes for which I had tested, I scored either "high" or "very high" in nine of them. Well, I'm sure I beamed with pride -- I'd always been a good test-taker, and was glad to know I hadn't lost my edge. But the counselor just sighed and shook her head. "No," she said, "that's not necessarily a good thing. It means you will always find it hard to be truly happy, because there will probably always be some natural abilities that will go unfulfilled. this can make you feel frustrated and dissatisfied with your life."

No infringement of
Looney Tunes copyright intended!

For a moment I felt like I was Wile E. Coyote, and had just been flattened by one of those giant Acme weights of my own devising. In my benumbed state, I heard the counselor going on to explain that most people have aptitudes that cluster neatly together, making it relatively easy for them to find occupations (job or hobbies, or both) that let them do what they naturally do well and, thus, it would not be difficult to achieve happiness once they understood what their natural talents were and found ways to use them. But since my inborn aptitudes covered such a disparate range, I would probably have difficulty satisfying all my natural inclinations at any given point in my life. I could try multi-tasking like crazy, or decide that, rather than trying to do everything at once, I would just do different things at different points in my life. But, one way or the other, I needed to realize that at any given moment I would feel "unfulfilled" in one way or another.

After I got used to the idea, I found my newly-acquired self-knowledge liberating. I'd always felt that there was some clearly-definable vocation with my name on it, something that I needed to find and claim, but now it seemed like that wasn't the case. I could quit my quest for the elusive "right thing" and just find something that was good for now, that would let me develop some (perhaps still buried) talent, knowing that a few years down the line I would probably need to change direction again. In other words, it looked like I was going to need to keep re-inventing myself from time to time, just to avoid being miserable. I've worn many hats since then, and have been happy doing so, even though sometimes I feared being a "Jack of all trades, master of none." I can see now that what seemed to be a wandering course was really just leading me up to the place I am now, which in many ways is the best place I've been so far. And this I owe, in part, to what turned out, in the end, to be a failed job interview.

You see, I didn't get the job with Johnson O'Connor, although they wanted to hire me, and I wanted to work for them. It seems the corporate powers-that-be wouldn't agree to keep funding the position, so I had to look for another line. (Sometimes I wonder what would have happened in the long run if I'd hired on with them, but things turned out alright anyway, as you'll read in the following posts.) But I'll always be glad that I was able to find out about the valuable work they do and to benefit from it myself.

The good news for all of us is that every single person has a unique combination of innate abilities that can be discovered and developed so that we can each live happy, productive, and fulfilling lives. They don't all have to be exercised in our paid employment -- plenty of people have routine jobs but happy lives, because they exercise their talents in other venues, such as hobbies, volunteer work, clubs, athletics, or just caring for their families.

If you're feeling dissatisfied with your life, or don't know what to do next, take the opportunity to reflect on the kinds of things you find most satisfying and see if you can find new ways of employing those abilities. Sometimes just a small life adjustment can produce huge satisfaction.

Have you ever discovered that you had a natural talent you'd never suspected? Or do you have some pastime that helps keep you grounded when the rest of your life is driving you crazy? Please leave a comment and let me know.

Former Finnegan No. 2: Making the world a better place through blood donation

When I ran screaming from graduate school, my only thought was to get out. I wound up returning to the area where my family lived only because I didn't know where else to go. I got an apartment that I shared for a while with my sister and started aimlessly checking the classified ads in the newspaper.

Looking for a job when I felt like a failure (a drop out!) was disheartening, and when I  was told that I was over-educated for just about any kind of job in the "real world," I believed it. I was high-minded but forced to try to fit into a practical, workaday world where I felt ill at ease. Since I wanted to do something that would be a service to society rather than serving crass commercialism, I took a really lousy-paying job at a local non-profit community blood center as a donor recruiter. There were some things I liked about this job: giving informative and motivational speeches to businesses and organizations about the great benefits of blood donation, designing promotional materials such as posters and bumper stickers. There were also some things I loathed, such as cold-call selling to line up new donor groups.

Unfortunately, from my boss's point of view, about 90% of the job was cold-calling, while I preferred to believe it was all about community relations, so I gave great promotional pitches and did virtually no cold-calling. I suppose a smart manager might have let me adjust my job responsibilities to allow me to play to my strengths in a way that everyone would have benefited, but I wasn't so lucky. After awhile, I was given a "lateral promotion" into an administrative support position and, when that didn't make me quit, they just fired me. (My boss assured me he was "doing me a favor." It didn't feel like it at the time, but he was right.)

It took me awhile to reap the rewards of this experience, but in retrospect I can see that this job helped me recognize in myself talents that the job didn't really make much use of -- such as public speaking and designing promotional materials. I also see that I hadn't yet learned what my grad school experience should have taught me -- don't just keep doing what you're doing if it's making you miserable. Try something else, even if you're not sure what that should be.

Former Finnegan No. 1: The Ace Student

Before I start describing the transition I'm currently going through, I thought I would begin with a little recap of my life up until I lost my teaching job at a Midwestern university a few years back. If you haven't already read "Dumped off the merry-go-round," you should do that first. I say there that I'm currently reinventing myself for about the fifth time; here are my former identities:
 

The Phi Beta Kappa Kid

I started off as an ace student -- National Merit Scholar, Phi Beta Kappa, double major, etc. Liberal arts the way. Very impressive to everyone but myself. I seemed to be the only one who realized I worked hard at being a good student because I had no idea how to do anything else. The problem is, the people who might have helped me find a direction in life either didn't bother (because I seemed to have it all together) or didn't know anything but academics themselves (faculty mentors), so they just encouraged me to go on to graduate school straight after college. (I fantasized about joining the Peace Corps, but I was afraid that might turn out to be too much "real life" experience.)

So I trusted my faculty advisers, took their advice, and three months after graduating from my tiny liberal arts college I was enrolled as a Ph. D. student in a comparative literature program at a humongous state university. As a Teaching Fellow I was instructing students just a little younger than myself but who completely lacked my zeal for learning, and I was taking courses in literary theory that managed to suck all the joy out of literature. I found grad school cold and competitive in an every-man-for-himself kind of way, so even though I was at a big university, I felt very lonely. I knew that I was there only because I didn't know what else to do. Pretty soon, I found that I was miserable, and this time I had no faculty mentors to turn to. After a couple of years, I simply fled back to my home state, looking to do anything except being an academic.

What did I learn from this experience? That you shouldn't keep at something just because you're good at it, if it's eroding your life in other ways. Unless you have faith in yourself, the praise of others will be cold comfort.