Last In, First Out

When I graduated from a prestigious art school during the Reagan years, I mean the mid-80’s, there were no jobs to be had in my field, or many others for that matter. Four years of student loans, hard work and sleepless nights led me and my BFA degree straight into the field of banking as I changed direction to earn a paycheck.

Back home with my parents after four years of freedom was depressing, to say the least. I put all my time and effort into the teller job that I began the day the space shuttle exploded. It should have been a hint at the direction this job would take. My first promotion was on Friday the 13th of November. Shortly after my 25^th birthday, I had worked my way up to bank manager and took over a new branch. I lost interest in the position the day we were robbed at gunpoint. I didn’t last there much longer.

With my BFA in hand, I moved on – as a temp – to a Fortune 500 Company about a half hour away. I remember telling my boss, Phyllis, that she would soon realize that she couldn’t live without me. I started out in bill collection. I was given a territory that no one had touched in a year. The towers of mail and paperwork tumbled over the desk. Although I was a temp, I was the first person to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. It took me six months to clear up the mess that I had inherited. Several months later, Phyllis hired me on full time. She was eventually promoted and I became the manager of the newly revamped collection department.

After six years doing bill collection, I got married and moved to New York where my new husband was a school teacher. The Connecticut commute would take me between 90 minutes and two and a half hours each way, depending on traffic. I’d leave in the dark and come home in the dark. At my husband’s urging, I resigned my position and tried to return to the arts where I belonged. I went back to college to re-invent myself as an interior designer. I was hired by a showroom owner in my first semester of design school based on my portfolio alone. I continued with school full time and graduated with honors while working for her full time. In all, I would end up working for three showrooms over the next few years.

When I got laid off from the third showroom (last in, first out) due to their dwindling business, I decided to go into business for myself. My company picked up two clients and I was off. I also decided to work part time for a jewelry company (I actually designed and sold my own line on the side) until my business became self-sufficient.

While I was on a pre-approved and well-earned vacation, I checked my emails for the following week’s work schedule. Instead, I received an email stating that even though I was their top sales person, I was the last to come and due to the sagging economy, I’d be the first to go. Ever been thought so little of that you were let go via email? Trust me, it’s demeaning.

That email came three years ago. My company, which had been taking off, eventually crashed and burned when the economy crapped out. So many people were losing their jobs that when it came to a choice between feeding one’s family and buying a $4,000 sofa, which would you choose? One of the showrooms I used to buy things through still owes me $685.83 from 14 months ago. By coincidence, this is the same woman who hired me those many years ago when she saw my portfolio.

These next blog entries will be about the perpetual reinvention cycle that so many of us have been forced to create since America’s latest economic collapse. So, change those verbs on your resume, audit a Microsoft Office class at your local college, put down (or pick up) the Xanax, and hang on for the ride.