Help Wanted

Well here I am, at it again.  I read over my last post and realized I asked a critical question, but never really answered it.  My question was "Am I a loser?".  That's a hard one to answer, or, at the very least, an easy one to ignore.  The term 'loser' is used so often these days, and sometimes not always in a fair way.  What constitutes a loser?  We can watch television and see a celebrity do something stupid and comment "What a loser", but in reality, are they?  They appear to have achieved a lot in life - fame, money, success... but then they make one slip up and everyone bombards them with criticism.  Geez... that doesn't leave much hope for the rest of us then, does it? 

I decided to take a condensed, candid look at my life, weighing a couple of my accomplishments over my shortcomings.  I took the step by step approach.  I'll give myself one step forward for each accomplishment and two steps backward for the things I consider 'failures' or, at the very least, pitfalls.  It's my own personal, albeit sad, version of Chutes and Ladders.

I graduated high school.  One step forward.
I graduated college.  One step forward.
I graduated high school in 1983 and finally received my bachelors degree in 1997.   That's a biggie.  Two steps back.  I should have followed through and had my B.A. in 1987.  Instead, I blew ten years of my life doing God knows what.  I can't even remember what had been so important as to trump my college education.  After receiving my college degree, I went on to do absolutely nothing with it.  I didn't pursue a Masters, but instead rested on my laurels and floundered in dead end jobs waiting tables, bartending, cleaning houses, and then fell ass backwards into film and video production.  Hmmmm.....  it's not looking too good for me right now.  But do I consider myself a loser?  Not yet.

I had my first son in 1998.  One step forward.
I had my second son in 2006.  Another step forward.
I had my second son when I was 42.  That's another biggie.  While other women my age were feverishly working on their careers, trying to balance it all, I once again put any semblance of a career on hold to stay home and nurture my newborn.  It was during this period that I realized I really needed a job I could do from home.  After all, I didn't want to put my young son in daycare and have a stranger experience his toddler moments, first step, first word.  In truth, I didn't want anyone bonding with him but me.  Selfish?  Absolutely!  We definitely needed to be a two-income family, but I ignored all the Dr. Phil and Oprah episodes centering on that subject.  Instead I let us sink into debt so I could play "Stay At Home Mommy" no matter what the cost.  So I'll reward my selfish and unproductive last three years with another two steps back.

Looks like I'm neither moving ahead nor falling behind.  Ahhhh - the classic and most comfortable position for an underachiever like me.  Status quo can be quite tempting and quite validating for those of us with no particular place to go and no short term goals begging to be met.

So what is my verdict?  Do I officially consider myself a loser?  Kind of.  Does that count?  I mean I definitely could be farther ahead in my career, but I've also enjoyed my time with my boys.  And it's not like there are a million jobs out there for writers.  A good friend of mine described the current state of online writing jobs as Journacide.  The death of conventional writers.  If you Google 'writing jobs', you'll find thousands of sites dedicated to helping all of us struggling word jockies find work.  The problem is, there are more 'opportunities' than actual, paying jobs out there.  I have spent countless hours investigating site after site only to find many are just preying on our desperation.  And many offer to find you a job - for a fee.

There's a small advertising agency in New Jersey I have done work for.  They call me on occasion to brainstorm and come up with creative ad concepts for a very boring industry - construction equipment.  The advertising in this industry does not conform to any of the usual parameters of advertising.  For instance - 'Sex Sells' does not apply here.  And that knocks out a lot of options in advertising.  Every so often I get called in and get a few hours of work out of them.  And I am grateful for those hours.  It's during these meetings when I actually feel like a grown-up, doing grown up things.  I feel productive.  I feel as though I am contributing.  I feel needed. 

My mom says it's good for me to get out of the house and be in a different environment.  She couldn't be more correct.  Those brief moments of brainstorming over how to make a front loader attachment for a tractor interesting are sometimes the best hours of my week.  I grasp onto them because for a fleeting moment I am not 'Mommy' or "Babe".   For a nanosecond, my responsibilities span beyond the dishes and the laundry and the overflowing cat box.  I get up, I shower, I dig out my best 'officey' clothes, do my makeup, style my hair, and get into my car. 

Gazing up at the house as I back out of the driveway,  I see my little one in the window looking out at me.  Behind him stands my husband with a somewhat forlorn look on his face.  It's as if they both know given the chance, I would skip our exit on my way home and keep driving until I hit Lake Tahoe and disappear into the wonderfulness for about a month.  But I wave to them as I pull away and for a split second, I am sad to be leaving.  But the farther I get from the house, the more excited I get at the thought of being in an environment where my opinion on things other than what's for dinner will actually be appreciated. 

I drive along and fantasize about the interesting conversation that lay ahead.  I am already mulling ideas around in my head and practice their presentations outloud in my 2003 Suzuki as I make my way through the Delaware Water Gap and into Jersey.   "This is great!" I say to myself as I pull into the parking lot.  I get out of my car, grab my adult-looking work bag and my bottle of Poland Springs water and check my look in side mirror. 

As I'm walking toward the building, I am suddenly hit by a mini panic attack and overwhelmed by insecurities that were almost non-existent five minutes ago.  What if they hate my ideas?  What if my stomach growls during the meeting?  What if I don't have anything more interesting than what they have come up with between all of them?   Suddenly this doesn't feel fun and  I wonder if I made a mistake.  Maybe I should have researched it more.  Damn it, I should have asked for more time! 

As my hand reaches out for the front door of the building, I am overcome with a burning desire to be back at home, shuffling through the kitchen in my robe and slippers, robbing the coffee maker of the last mouthful of grimy, but still drinkable morning bliss.  At that very moment, I'd give anything to be in my sweats, picking up Lego pieces off the floor.  Then I think "What the hell is wrong with me?"  Here I had been given the opportunity to show people what I've got and before I can even begin, I'm wishing I were done.  Maybe I really am a loser?  Am I a loser? 

Nah...I'm just an underachiever.