How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?
First, even though my job is ending earlier than expected this Friday, I’m not overly upset, panicked, or blaming myself. Why’s that? It’s because of what appeared to be a horrible failure at the time, and certainly the nadir of my working years (that’s saying a lot, since I had a couple of workplaces implode under me). I think maybe some of you readers might learn something from this experience, and since I’m retiring, I can share how I screwed up. (If I’ve already told this story, well, here it is again.)
Back when Lee and I were first together, we went through a spell of job challenges. A great long-term contract at 3M fell through because their business was talking, and all I could get were short-term gigs after that. Meanwhile, Lee also lost his job at Dell. I had two children in school, one heading to college, so it was all a bit scary.
I hit a spell where nothing was coming up, so I took the first job where they would hire me. The salary was very low, and the people I interviewed with seemed more interested in getting a body in a seat than my qualifications. But it was at the University of Texas, so I had dreams of security and a pension dancing in my head.
I ended up in a miniature cubicle in the UT Tower (where famous murders occurred) working with an accounting software package that was still housed in its original mainframe and had an ASCII UI. Two of the people I interviewed with had already left by the time I started, and from the first day on, three of the women in the group disliked me. I did my best to learn the system so I could provide help to callers, but even when I did know an answer, they told me I didn’t answer questions right. I needed to stop empathizing with users and stop assuring them their questions were legit, because this accounting software was GREAT and should only be praised for its greatness. It got more and more stressful every day, and to top it all off, I rode a bus at the crack of dawn and at rush hour going home, because I couldn’t get parking. I barely saw my family.
I kept trying, though, took extra education, got help from and assisted the one or two nice folks, then lost the only really nice coworker, who left for a better department. That should have been my hint to flee.
I remember it sounded like snakes hissing as the Mean Girls complained about me and tapped away carping about me in chats. The boss was even worse. She was some Dean of something and told me I was a big disappointment and offended my coworkers by mentioning I’d been a stay-at-home mother, but I promised to do my best to meet the decrepit accounting software support needs. It was like hell in a tiny tower. I started shaking all day. I couldn’t have done a good job if I tried.
Finally the time came for my 90-day review. The Dean just ripped me a new one, informing me how unqualified I was, how bad I was at user support, and such (they could not complain about my writing!). Here’s the worst part. Did I get up and walk out of there? No. I begged and pleaded with this awful woman, saying I needed to work or my children would lose their home. I honestly thought that is what was going to happen…I was going to fail to pay the mortgage and we’d be evicted.
Of course that didn’t happen. But I was so disheartened and down on myself that applying for other jobs was hell. Why would anyone want to hire such a poor worker? I went on unemployment, which at least fed us, and then, sure enough, opportunities arose. I did a bad job teaching Excel for a while (I did fine with Word–I’m not a numbers person), then started on the upswing when I got a GOOD contract for REAL money with people who became lifelong friends. But it was a SLOG getting my confidence back.
That experience taught me that no job is worth debasing yourself for. Yes, we need to work to pay bills and all that, but jobs exist. The next time someone started treating me like a pariah and making work torture, I left. Now? I’m not going to work unless it’s something I enjoy doing with people who are reasonable business folks. Mean Girls/Boys and power-hungry backstabbers won’t get a chance ever again.
I’ll write more about this tomorrow, but I’ve been touched by many kind birthday wishes. It reminds me I’m loved and cared for.
The Hermits' Rest 