THREE of the FOUR people (the most sad, yeah? LOL) who voted in my Twitter poll want to hear more about my job life right now.
ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE. Here we go.
Right now I have three part-time jobs. I work at Rapha Boulder, Athleta, and I’m starting some freelance jobs, like, today. Along with “I live in Colorado,” that sentence is something I never thought I’d write.
But here I am, living among the mountains, pulling espresso shots, and learning the subtle differences between Athleta’s 30+ pairs of black leggings.
Thursday, October 25, 2017 marks three weeks and one day as a Colorado resident, but it feels like months. I’m not sure I’ll really start counting my days as a Coloradan until I have CO “Share The Road” plates on my car. It just feels more official, you know?
The thing is, I came to Colorado unemployed. And shame on me according to most of my family and a very opinionated LinkedIn connection. “Lunacy,” he said. To which I replied: “Call me crazy then.” (The why? Read it here.)
I left my last position, apartment, and life in Florida with nothing but my cousin and snow-capped mountains in front of me. It’s all I needed.
My new full-time job became finding a job, and I’m rusty to say the least. It’s been about five years since I had to convince a bunch of strangers why I’m the woman for them. I learned pretty quickly that writing jobs are scarce here, and with the ad market so volatile, it’s a game of right place, right time, and who you know. Anything that had any sort of relation to my skillset, I submitted a resume. I worked hard to make connections before I came out to Colorado, but few materialized into anything but a string of vague, unanswered emails.
After a week or so I was sitting somewhere in the middle of frustrated, defeated, and desperate. I wasn’t going broke just stir crazy, which is a strange shade of worse. My cousin and her husband work really hard—she juggles no less than three jobs at a time, and he is up a few hours before the sunrise doing manual labor.
Each day I would sit in front of my computer for hours searching and applying and searching and applying until it seemed there was nothing left on the Internet I hadn’t already seen. My mom tried to help, sending me emails and texts full of links that I had either already combed through or those I wasn’t nearly qualified for. Every day I would wake up to auto-generated emails that began with: “Cyndy Edwards thought you might be interested in this position at…”
To break up the monotony, I’d head out to the trails or hit the road by bike (before I was hit). Funemployment was forcing me to do the things my soul needed—the things I came out here for: explore, adventure, get lost in the mountains and embrace the suffer on the way up. With beautiful weather every day, Colorado makes it nearly impossible to sit inside.
Over all the miles I was putting in, I sort of let go of finding anything writing or advertising-related. I’d sent about 150 emails at that point and got maybe 3-4 “we’re good, thanks” replies. So over those miles I thought about what I really LOVED to do—help people, talk about running and biking and exercising for the love of the suffer not the smaller jean size, and coffee.
Into the search bar those buzzwords went. And out popped everything I was expecting but hadn’t quite accepted: retail associate and barista. I don’t think any job is below anyone, but it did feel a little like a downgrade, especially pay-wise. GIGANTIC downgrade.
The price of happiness, I suppose?
I started getting calls back. I took interviews, and created a new resume filled with customer service and restaurant experience from a past life. I got more calls back and a couple follow-up interviews until those handshakes and conversations turned into job offers.
So. Three part-time jobs to make up a full schedule. What is my life right now?!
Messy, yeah. Backwards and upside down, for sure. But also really ok right now because each of these jobs feeds a part of me that got neglected for five years. These aren’t going to be forever, but I think they will help me figure out what pieces of the part-times I can seek out in a full-time.
Does any of that make any sense at all? (The title of my autobiography.)
Push yourself to find out what you want. We only have so much time here, ya know, so maybe don’t spend it doing something you hate.
Push on, PUSH ANIMALS >>>