These days, my life goes like this: wake up / drive to San Francisco (usually at 1am) / work for 9 hours / drive back to Sacramento / eat something / shower / sleep. Repeat. Beyond these basic things, I am barely functional. My apartment's a mess. I have almost no social life. I cook quick meals out of a box, so I've put on weight and now feel disgusted with myself. I spend most of my days off sleeping or napping between Netflix binges. I am entirely dependent on my cats for affection, as I never know when I'll get a hug from a friend (see aforementioned lack of social life/newly-adopted hermit-like lifestyle). Cleaning the kitchen has become a legitimate accomplishment. It's sad and pathetic, but it's the truth.
Before I continue, let me be clear. I made the decisions regarding my career myself and I do not regret them. I am not trying to throw myself some selfish pity-party. I am incredibly grateful to have a job working with people I like that allows me to pay the bills and then some. I have a say over my own schedule (to an extent anyway). I realize how fortunate I am, I truly do. Fortunate? Yes. Happy? No. I still want to get out of news. The more time I spend in a newsroom, the more I realize it's not the life I want. I'm tired of 3:00 a.m. shifts, over-inflated egos and reporting on the community, rather than feeling like a part of it. I want to meet new people and do something (ideally) that makes a truly positive difference in the lives of others. But when it comes to the search for that satisfying new career, things are going nowhere, fast.
I hate that idiom. Because it's not fast. It's slow. Mind-numbingly slow. I left my job in Sacramento roughly five months ago. I've been commuting to/from San Francisco for about four. But it feels like it's been a year. I've been scouring online job postings and networking like a social butterfly on crack. I've applied for probably close to two-dozen jobs, all of which I truly believe I would enjoy and all of which I know I'd be able to do well. I send applications. I follow up. I have fabulous references. I customize my cover letters to each opening. I reach out to anyone who can put in a good word or point me in the direction of an interesting job opportunity. Everyone tells me I'm doing everything right. So why does it feel like I'm doing something wrong?!?
Dear Amy,
Thank you for your interest in <our company/organization>. Your resume and experience are impressive. However, the application process is competitive, and after reviewing resumes, we've decided to <go in another direction/move forward with other candidates>.
Please keep in touch. Best of luck in your job search. If there's anything else <we/I> can do for you, don't hesitate to ask.
Best,
<Name of person with whom I will probably not keep in touch>
When I first started this process, I said I wished every potential employer would follow up with me, even if the decision wasn't the one I wanted. But this isn't what I had in mind. Every one of these is like a sucker punch right in the gut. So formal. So impersonal. Every one of these You're-Great-But-Not-Really notes makes me want to curl up in a ball and give up. Throw in the towel. The irony is not lost on me - when applying for jobs, confidence is crucial. Not arrogance, but knowing beyond a doubt that you're capable of doing the job in question well. Yet every cold rejection letter cuts into that confidence, leaving more room for self-doubt.
When it comes to producing the news, I'm good at what I do. Some have said I'm really good at it. And I've seen many friends transition from newsrooms to the world of PR/PA/Communications very successfully. I know it can be done. And I know I have the right skills, attitude and work ethic to do it too. But failure after failure inevitably make me start to question myself. What am I doing wrong? Why am I not good enough? Should I just forget about it and settle for a successful-but-totally-unsatisfying career in news? I know from personal experience, the answer is No.
After my first year as a producer, my boss pulled me aside to tell me he'd decided not to "extend my contract." It was a two-year contract and it had only been a year. The "official" reason my boss offered was, "After a year with us, you're not where you should be as a Newhouse graduate." The truth was that the manager I worked directly under was the definition of a workplace bully. She went out of her way to undermine my self-confidence by belittling me, questioning me and mocking me in front of my colleagues. Even the News Director was intimidated by her - rarely questioned or disagreed with her. He was right - I couldn't do my job properly, but not because I wasn't smart, driven or skilled. Because I could never escape that shadow of self-doubt. I barely managed to make it out of the building before I started sobbing. Failure. It was unfamiliar territory. I was always the Honor Roll nerd in high school. Dean's List while juggling two degrees, sorority commitments and internships in college. I had a job lined up before I graduated. And now it was all falling apart. A friend/colleague who I looked up to very much (and still do) ran after me as I left. He gave me the biggest bear hug and said something I'll never forget: "Amy, it's okay to be upset. Go home. Have a good cry. Call your mom. But you'll be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but trust me, this is the best thing that ever happened to you."
He was right. I went home, called my mom in hysterics and basically had a panic attack. But I had a month left on my contract to work. So I stopped crying and told myself I would take the high road - I wouldn't be bitter or nasty and I would continue to put 100% into everything I did. A few weeks later, my boss said he was so impressed with my attitude, that he was recommending me for a job at another station. It turned out to be a great fit - management was encouraging, not condescending. And I thrived there, gaining the confidence I needed to be successful in such a high-pressure environment. (Yes, I know it's the same environment I'm now trying to get out of, but that's not the point.)
So here I am, facing what feels like more failure. Five months ago, I was full of hope and optimism, the future bursting with promise. Now I just feel overwhelmed with discouragement, disappointment and continued uncertainty. And while I'm not always successful, I'm fighting that pessimism with what little energy I have to spare. I'm still plugging away at my job search, determined not to give up on a chance to be truly happy with my career. I do believe everything happens for a reason and I know I'll end up where I'm meant to be. I hope this will, again, be "the best thing that ever happened" to me.
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