An Exercise in Futility….

At the beginning of my senior year of college, I became pretty fed up with my major and the business school. If I hadn’t been only seven classes short of graduation, I would have changed majors and studied something a little more touchy-feely.

It wasn’t a big surprise to most people that knew me that I got a job in the hospitality/tourism industry straight out of school. I loved what I did and hated leaving it, but Washington, DC beckoned.

After a job misstep, I landed at an investment firm. I took the job not because I loved the investment side, but because the situation felt right and the people were good. I stayed four years for a variety of reasons, but left just after the start of this year.

When I left the investment firm, I was drained. My self-esteem was shot. I felt like I had been chewed up and spit out. My confidence regarding my abilities was severely frayed and looking for another job was not what I wanted to do. Instead, I wanted to curl up in a ball and lay in bed all day with the dogs. [and this is actually what I did for most of a month]

My next adventure took me to a trade association. The people were awesome. The association has major organizational issues. It would have been a great place for me to explore the association world and plan my next move, but the union job fell in my lap. I was there long enough to remember why I am an asset to any employer to and recognize that some former coworkers have incredibly skewed priorities and are horrible managers. It wasn’t me. It truly was THEM.

The common theme to these positions is that they involved me helping people, whether they were internal or external clients. I was able to leave at the end of the day knowing that everyone had gotten what they needed and were satisfied.

When friends started hearing about the union job, they were really confused. It’s easy to explain when I describe the benefits package among other things. The bigger reason that I think this job is a good fit is that I’m finally doing something for myself. I now have a job where I’m contributing to a greater good, but I’m able to walk away at the end of the day. I’m not mentally whipped when I walk through my front door. My coworkers recognize that while what we do is important, no one is going to die if something doesn’t get done. At the union, I believe I’m finally getting what I need.

I’m satisfied.

[note: I wrote this several weeks ago, but let it marinate for a bit before publishing.]