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My job with HandyCapable Network ended last Saturday. There are one or two teensy details to take care of, but I've moved out of the office entirely. Now I'm working...in fits and starts...to move into my home office in preparation for working here--mostly-- at my new job, Salesforce consultant with Cloud for Good. (www.cloud4good.com)
I haven't really spent any time actually organizing this space for close to ten years. At one point, I did move most of my writing life out of here, in preparation for my new nonprofit tech career. It's gone well, as a career, as I reflect. I am digging into paper folders I haven't looked at for years, and marveling at just how much I actually know about this subject. I can see that I've given myself a doctorate-level course in nonrprofit technology support and I feel actually proud of all I've learned since the age of 55, when Nancy Jones stole my father's estate and left me with enough time to go back to school. I could have been a "typical" faculty wife, if there is actually such a thing, and dabbled: an econ course here, an art history course there. Instead, I focused on information systems and found such a sweet spot there I'm still avidly pursuing this knowledge.
I'll only be gone for two weeks-- basically the same time off I had last year. I found what may be the last thing I wrote as a "writer" -- from 2002, reflecting on what coming back home feels like after a long time traveling. I love the voice I had then. I love the authority I had on the topic of travel and intercultural encounter. I understood it. It was my life.
Sometimes I wonder who she was, the woman who wrote all those smart, deep, beautiful things. And I know that nobody ever steps into the same stream twice. The stream is never for an instant the same stream. My Self is never for an instant the same Self, either, but it takes these huge shifts, these life-changing decisions, to become fully aware of this. At least that is what it takes me.
Well, there is a poster staring at me from across the room that needs tossing. I'm back to it.
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Things are falling into place now. I spent last week contacting clients to let them know I'm leaving HandyCapable and moving to Cloud for Good. I've got a bunch of work between now and the end of the job at HCN, but it does feel as if the transition is going well. I went to my now boss's home to tell her about my decision to leave and we had a good long and, I think, productive talk there. This is not easy on her-- we created this position together, we imagined how it would be together. I think, looking back over the past year and a half, we did some pretty awesome things together. Even so, it is time to move on and Cloud for Good looks like an excellent investment for my time and talent. And it does look like I'm taking one of my clients with me, if not two or three.
My first husband used to castigate me: "You came to me with nothing..." Well, of course, I was a drifting hippie at the time. I'd sold my Mustang, left my school teacher job, done my first hitchhiking trip to Europe...I was floating on my own confidence...But still, I like the idea of not going to C4G with nothing.
We're also starting to think about our trip to France. We leave on May 17th and I return on May 31st. JF just heard about a delegation (including our brother-in-law, the Iraqui Kurdish painter) to Iraq that may very well happen after I leave and he is pretty excited to invite himself onto that delegation. It's some kind of exhibition or conference or something, featuring Kurdish artists. Way cool.
I spent the morning buying iPhones. I can't believe I am succumbing, but there it is. Daughter Natasha AND new boss Tal are on it. JF is thinking this may actually help his phonaphobia...not sure if that's the correct diagnosis for a guy who can't figure out texting on a regular phone. I even figured out what to do when we go to Europe (get a Global plan for the month) and India (unlock the phones and get an Indian sim card for the time I'm there.)
I had planned to finish up last month's finances this weekend. I could still do that if I could actually focus. The mind wanders, though...laundry...getting my iPod sync'd...going to see my buddy Danna for an hour or two...Philosophy will have to wait for another post...
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Vaguely frustrated with myself today, at my shortcomings as a gardener-- that is, I'm a NULL gardener and think somehow I ought to be at least a bit of one. We went over to see Erin and Don Friday night-- a couple that we both get along with really well, which is already something. Couples who tell the truth have to admit that rarely to both of you get along with both of them. Mostly the girls can relate and then, somewhat less often, the guys can relate...or it's the guys first and then the women make nice with one another. But Erin is a nonprofit admin and Don is-- well, while he really is a mortgage banker for a day job, his Real Life is spent as a musician and a chef. They have an extremely cute house just down the road from both yoga studios...what luxury...being able to walk to yoga!
Anyhow, their yard is just really nice. Flowers and mulch and curvy beds and the whole thing looking like someone has spent actual time out there making it look nice. JF claims to have spent many many hours out in our yard, and I can attest to numbers of oddly placed trees and pampa grass and some azaleas that were already here when we moved in and other stuff sort of stuck in various places...but really, it is NOT a well-tended or well-manicured or even a nicely riotous English-y garden. And what have I done to make it any of that? Precisely zilch. Every other year or so, I dedicate myself to getting out there for...ONE HOUR A DAY, or TWO HOURS A DAY or something totally unrealistic. I get up early and find the damned tools-- or I go out and buy a new set of those little gardening hand tools that look so useful, and then spend my allotted time either yanking on the completely in charge ivy, or wrestling with this one silly little corner of the yard that has for years been "mine" without ever getting the kind of attention or aesthetic awareness it deserves.
I leave at an ungodly hour for Memphis, to meet my new boss and to scope out my new situation. I think I'm just nervous. I went out and bought a box of Good n Plentys and ate the whole thing. We are still onto our Enneagrams these days, and Seven (that's me, The Enthusiast) has a deep passion, and that's gluttony. Hello!
I will try to check back in as the two-day visit goes on. In the meantime, no news is probably good news. Spider Solitaire can see me through it.
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So, I get up in the middle of the night. Toddle around, maybe getting a class of water. Somewhat absentmindedly, I get on the scale. We have this very large font digital scale that you have to step on to get it working. But then wait before you actually climb aboard until you see the 0.0 lbs. on the screen. And it's finicky. If you stay too long...because you are absentmindedly weighing yourself in the middle of the night, the display goes off. Also, I can't really see it from my height, so I have to get off just to read the durn thing. I have to read quickly, though, because the display goes off once I step off. All this to say, it's finicky. I have observed this phenomenon, though, that had me really puzzled. I'd weigh, go back to bed, and then when I got up for the actual day, I'd do my official weigh in for the day...and I'd have lost a whole pound while I was asleep. Are you like me? I figure that you don't lost weight while you're asleep because you aren't DOING anything. You're kind of on hibernation mode. How can I possibly lose a WHOLE POUND between 3am and 7am? While reading my new history book, Why the West Rules, For Now by Ian Morris, I picked up a factoid that I just checked at Google. Your body's brain activity accounts for TWENTY PERCENT of your calories burned. That's TWO ZERO. Then again, there are the hot flashes. Let's call them my Personal Summers. We associate them with menopause and I for one thought that was something pinned to that particular time of life. Like skinned knees and age 10-13. Like waking up in the morning with a hangover in your early twenties. My hot flashes while sleeping have followed me well into my sixties. The other time I have them is, I have only recently noticed, at the end of a yoga session. Savasana comes at the end of a yoga practice and it involves, as one of my teachers used to say, "Paying attention to the consequences of your actions." You relax. You really really relax. That is the point of the pose. They don't call it Corpse Pose for nothing. And, if I'm really relaxed, whoosh...I'm also hot all over. You BURN calories, right? Actually, a calorie is a measure of the heat that is necessary for the functioning of the body. A unit of heat energy. The kcal is the amount of energy required to raise 1 kilo of water by 1 degree Centigrade. So there you have it. Take a hot flash-- that's heat all right. And dreaming-- that's intense brain activity. And you can lose a whole pound just deciding to go back to sleep. Of course, I'm awake now...it's 4am. But I have this history book going, so that may be just what I need to go back to sleep and lose that last pound before I wake for my Sunday.
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There is one more step I have to take to be 100% sure...hahaha...who is ever that sure of anything? none of us... that the job I've accepted is the one I am going to take.
Some time ago, I saw an ad for a Salesforce consultant on one of my lists...it was eventually posted on all my lists...and sent myself an email saying, "Apply for this job." This is not the first time I've done that, by the way. Sent myself an email. The applying part never really happened. Partly because the jobs weren't EXACTLY what I was looking for, or it was clear I'd have to move to East Anglia or someplace. This job also had...can be a remote location...i.e., you CAN work from home.
Actually that is not my preferred way of working. I was a freelance writer for 15 years. I know what Work from Home entails. There are some important differences, the biggest of course is that freelance means you are just out there-- no boss, no deadlines except the ones you impose on yourself, no objective criteria for judging how well your work is (except..."Did it get published?"...and we all know that THAT is often as much a matter of luck, circumstance, did the editor have enough coffee by the time he/she got to you? etc.) On the other hand, one of the lessons from my 15 years in exile from the world is that I am a PEOPLE PERSON. I'm good with small groups; I'm good with large auditoria filled with people; I am good in a classroom. I am not all that happy sitting alone at my desk for weeks at a time.
It does look like this job will have the elements that could make it a success: A boss, deadlines, projects that I know how to do and that are interesting to me, a spot on my lifelong learning curve, and training.
The money is fine-- though of course I've low-balled myself. I was talking with my high-roller Salesforce guy yesterday and he said that Salesforce consultants get $200/hour. (Just to put that into perspective...If you can bill only 10 hours a week, that still comes to over $100,000 a year.) Ha. What matters to me, and this is something that needs to be clear with my new boss, is that just because I'm working for less than the going rate, I don't get less-than-the-going-rate types of jobs, or attitude.
Once, when I was negotiating with a project manager in Nepal about a library system I proposed for him, we talked about what would be an appropriate salary for me.
The way I look at a salary is this: First: What do I need to fulfill my obligations, pay the rent, eat, drive my second-hand car, heat/cool the house, have hot showers and a bit of travel in my life. JF's salary basically provides this stuff, though we have recently taken on an added obligation to provide for our quirky not-all-that-employable son and that's my part of the financial obligation. In general, the What Do I Need? question low-balls just about any job I would qualify for. It was true in Nepal as well. I was on the road, I was traveling REALLY CHEAPLY-- less than $10/day at the time. My needs were few.
So the second question, and perhaps the more important one: What do you need to pay me in order to respect the quality of my work? In Nepal, we added a nice chunk of money to the equation so that the admins back in Germany would take my proposal seriously.
So I've got a trip to Memphis planned for the end of the next weekend, and I'll look everybody in the face and I'll see what the situation feels like. As I told my proposed boss: I'm an old hitchhiker. I've stood on the sides of roads all over the world and looked into the car and into the face of a stranger and asked myself, Do I want to trust my life to this person? And in that split second, made the decision. It's not fashionable to hitchhike nowadays and most of my age-compatriots sort of faint when I talk like this, but my proposed boss said he'd recently backpacked in Guatemala and so he knew what I meant.
I will be good for this company. The next question, and I expect it to be answered to my satisfaction in Memphis, is will this company be good for me? I expect so. That's why I wrote myself a note: Apply for this job.
Still and all...Change is a-comin'. What will it mean? It's exciting and scary.
My old boss has, true to her nature, absorbed the changing landscape and has taken on the challenge of figuring out what to do next. It was a blow and a shock to her, I know. She and I thunk up this position, and we've been friends for longer than we've been colleagues at work. I'm committed to helping her with this transition and have already proposed several possibilities. But this new job offers opportunities that she couldn't and now that she's had some time to digest the facts of life, I think she sees that. I'm so glad we aren't going forward with acrimony and tension but with "roll up our sleeves and get this next thing done."
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