MOMIL (Mean Ol' Mother In Law)

In-laws.  This word can strike terror into the hearts and minds of loving couples everywhere. It’s the one thing most people dread when they get married.  Lots of questions raised about in-laws: Will I like them? Will they like me?  Will they put pressure on the marriage or will they know when to butt out? 

We’ve all heard the horror stories, right?  About in-laws who have keys made so they can drop in unannounced at any time.  In-laws who prefer one grandchild over another. In-laws who insist that things go their way or else.  They don’t like our cooking, our careers, the way we clean, they way we dress, the way we live.  Yikes! It’s a wonder anyone ever gets married.

Let’s be honest; we’re really talking about mother-in-laws, aren’t we?  I’ve rarely heard much said about father-in-laws, although I’m sure the stories exist.  It seems like mother-in-laws are the ones who take the heat for just about everything.  It doesn’t matter if you have a very close relationship with your own mother or a strained relationship; either can make the spouse nervous. 

Early in our marriage, or maybe even before the actual wedding, I was sharing the legend of the bad mother-in-law with Hubby’s mom.  My mother-in-law.  She and I laughed at it, especially when I told her that now she would forever be known as my “Mean Ol’ Mother-In-Law”.  Or MOMIL, as she started calling herself. She even signs emails and cards to me with this moniker.

MOMIL is actually quite an impressive lady.  Either I’m lucky or she is, if I may be so bold, but we have a mutual respect and admiration for each other.  She has more gumption than many people I know.  My father-in-law retired just as we were getting married.  At that time, MOMIL had spent her life raising kids and volunteering, and had a passion for the church.  She decided it was time to go to graduate school to pursue a theology degree to become a minister.  At the young age of fifty-six!  For most of us beyond the age of thirty, the thought of immersing ourselves in a graduate program that included classes in Hebrew would be a torture that was too much to bear.  But not MOMIL.   She dove right in with students younger than her own children. 

Two years later she graduated.  And two years after that she became ordained.  MOMIL had finally embarked on her career – in her sixties.  Taking the reign of a church as the one and only minister is tough for anyone, much less someone who is a bit more advanced in years than the average college graduate. But MOMIL jumped in, fighting one challenge after another in pursuit of her dream career.  I’m embarrassed to say that in this day and age she even fought gender discrimination.  Seems like we should be past that.

MOMIL had guts.  She was willing to fight for what she wanted, even when naysayers told her she was too old and, heaven forbid, too female.  Nothing was going to stop her and she figured out a way to make this dream a reality.

I am hearing from many who are looking for work that it’s too difficult to find anything in this economy, that companies aren’t hiring, that companies only want younger workers.  I’m appalled when I hear people in their forties and fifties say they’ve given up because they are too old.   I’ve even had people tell me that they hate their jobs/careers, yet they say they are “too old” to do anything else. Are you kidding me?  Once you hit your mid-thirties I think you should be able to try anything that you want. Just set your mind to it and go for it.  Do you want me to send MOMIL over to knock some sense into you?

When I think about all that MOMIL has accomplished – at an age when most folks are considering retirement – it gives me hope.  It gives me courage and strength to know that it’s never too late to try something new and go after your dreams.

Now in her seventies, MOMIL finally retired last weekend. Sort of.  She gave her last sermon at her church; there was a luncheon for her afterwards; we took her to a family dinner.  Then we waved goodbye as she drove off to a church conference meeting – in preparation for her new part-time ministerial job at a different church.  Once again, she looked at the situation, decided what she wanted (to work part-time), went after the job and got it.

To anyone reading this: still think you’re too old to find a job or work that you love?  Way to go, MOMIL!

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Plenty of Room

All I could hear was Hubby’s side of the conversation, an occasional question, followed by “uh-huh” and a splattering of other information.  Hard to tell exactly what he was talking about or who he was talking to for that matter.  Of course my fever and congestion had me so foggy that he could have been singing Lady Gaga and I wouldn’t have recognized it.

“Of course you can stay here; there’s plenty of room”, followed by a click of the receiver. That’s when I perked up, propping myself up from the couch enough to ask him who he had been speaking with.  Not that it really mattered at that point because apparently we were about to have company stay with us.  If I’d had any strength at all or if my senses hadn’t been dimmed by the heavy antibiotics, I’m sure I would have shrieked at him about the fact that this was probably not a great time for company.

After all, I hadn’t seen the outside world in a week, much less had a shower.  Our house, which was usually clean enough for a surprise visit, had the stale smell of take-out containers and was decorated with used tissues, cough lozenge wrappers and assorted blankets and pillows strewn about.  The dog hair was piling up all over the place, making our carpet a mélange of texture and color.  All I could do was lay back on the couch and hope that the dishes in the sink would miraculously put themselves into the dishwasher. 

“Seriously, sweetie, is it really a good idea for others to be in the same house with me?”  I could see he felt bad for even offering.  Hubby had been sick too, although he managed to recover quickly.  My illness was stuck to me, like gum to the bottom of a shoe. 

Nothing to do at that point but accept the fact that we would have guests.  Lovely guests too, it’s just that I was in no shape to host, seeing as I was barely able to make it from the bedroom to the couch.  So I made it my goal to feel better by the time they arrived.

That time is now, and unfortunately I’m not much better.  I did introduce myself to the shower, which was great, but my head is still foggy and I can’t seem to go anywhere without some sort of liquid to soothe my throat.  Hubby has helped rid the kitchen of the piles of take-out containers and showed the dishes how to get into the dishwasher.  Yet the dog hair remains, left for me to handle while Hubby is out. 

I realize the company will be here soon and the dog hair has to go.  But where does it have to go, I ask myself?   Still shrouded by the head fog, I wander the house trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with the dog hair.  Ah-ha! The vacuum cleaner.  I see the vacuum; even have both hands on the vacuum.  Yet somehow it’s become freakishly heavy and I’m unable to move it out of the closet.

Wow, why is vacuuming so hard? I must be weak from the flu.  I try to push the vacuum back and forth, but the hair just seems to stay put.  Oh, it would help if it was plugged in.  Trying again, I start to make head-way.  After just a few back and forths and sweating profusely from the fever, I take a break.  Next thing I know the dog is waking me with her kisses, urging me to get up before the company arrives. All I want to do is lay on the carpet. When did our carpet become so comfortable?

Ding dong!  Oh no; are they here already?  Where’s Hubby?  The dog’s bark tells me it’s not our guests, just our neighbor asking something about the yard, or the trees, or the fence, or something.  I lay back down to rest on the carpet.

Sigh.  I hate being sick.  Just hope I’m better before the doorbell rings again.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Victory Lane

Memorial Day is one of my favorite holiday weekends.  First, it’s three days.  Who doesn’t love that? And of course the symbolic remembrance of our armed forces makes it special.  The official start of summer is a plus too, although I’m not looking forward to the possibility of another record-breaking heat wave. 

My favorite part of this particular weekend is the Indy 500. I became fascinated with racing after attending my first Indy 500 years ago.  It is a spectacle like no other event I’ve been to – including the Kentucky Derby, the Tournament of Roses and the NCAA national championship football game.  With attendance of around 400,000 the track becomes its own city.  The tradition, pomp and circumstance are worthy of royalty.  The military tributes bring tears.  So does the singing of certain songs by Jim Nabors and Florence Henderson, although I’m usually not crying because they’re good.

Hubby and I watched from home this year.  Still fun, but not the same as being there in person. For years the Indy 500 was part of my job, and we spent Memorial Day weekends at the race.  This year as I watched the race, the memories came flooding back: strategy and planning would start the year before the race, followed by campaign development, tactics, on-site and finally execution.  I had great co-workers and we all had so much fun that I would pinch myself to make sure that this was really my job and not a dream.  We used to laugh so much it was hard to get work done. And the stories I could tell!  Names would definitely have to be changed.  Yep, what happens at Indy stays at Indy.

The biggest lesson I learned from the Indy 500 is to never give up.  These dedicated athletes – the drivers, the crews and team owners – fight every week to make it to the winners circle.  With big bucks on the line, jobs can be lost when things don’t go the right way.  The drivers are strapped into their cars for several hours or more, depending on the number of incidents.  They are always thinking about how to improve their position on the course, and are in constant communication with their crew as to how the car is handling.  Even when they are in the final laps, the drivers and teams never quit trying to win.  After all, anything can happen in a race. Leads change in hundredths of a second. 

I was watching two specific drivers this year, both of whom were fighting for the win. Having worked with both of them in the past made it even more special to watch.  One is a long-time veteran and knows that he has to win at Indy soon if he’s going to at all.  The other is equally deserving, fighting for his family name.  No pressure there, huh? 

As with many races, it came down to the wire.  Both of my favorite drivers pushing and working and strategizing until the last second.  Unfortunately neither won.  But after the race, they were already talking about next time.  And both showed great poise in defeat.

I need to remember this when looking for new opportunities.  Never say never; never give up.  Don’t quit trying even when it seems impossible, even when the job is a long-shot at best.  You never know. At some point, the job will be right for me and I’ll walk into victory lane.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Dream On

Still thinking about my niece’s college graduation.  I’m bursting with pride that she achieved her goal. She busted her butt, taking heavy course loads and extremely difficult classes.  Classes that I would have run from before ever purchasing the book.  And she was beaming as she received her diploma.  At least I think she was beaming; it was hard to tell given that we were seated on the far end of the arena. Either she was happy, or she was embarrassed that her cheering section jumped up and screamed so loudly that it echoed. I think we may have scared those sitting calmly around us. My apologies.

I remember feeling like my niece. One of my best memories is graduating from college and feeling like I had just finished the hardest, longest, most kick-butt marathon ever. Receiving my masters’ degree was even more thrilling – a newly minted degree and my dream job waiting for me once I stepped outside.  Seemed like the world was full of opportunities.

I’m a bit concerned about the new robes I saw at the graduation, especially in today’s economy.  I’m wondering how many of them have a job waiting for them.  As a board member for a collegiate graduate program, I know that many choose to continue their education simply due to the scarcity of jobs these days.  It’s hard to bask in the recognition that comes with a robe when all you really want is to put the knowledge to use and start your career.  Continuing to grad school also creates an issue for those who must have a graduate degree to pursue their dreams, such as my niece. Now she’s in competition once again simply to get in to a graduate program.

This also raises concerns for those of us already in the work force, especially for anyone in lay-off land. Now we’ve got to compete for jobs with this new batch of robes.  They’re smart¸ ambitious and full of energy. They have yet to be jaded from years of working long hours for dwindling benefits without much recognition.  Oh, I know; it’s just a matter of time before they experience the feeling of burnout.  But still, it’s competition right now for the thousands of unemployed.  I could argue that experience can outweigh academic “smarts”, except that in the real world youth plus new degree equals high level job, even if it’s low paying.

I’ve spoken with both sides of the equation about this situation.  Friends and former colleagues who are considered veterans in their fields are having trouble finding work.  For those of us who have pieced together work after being laid-off, many are underemployed (translation: low title and low pay) or are in a job that doesn’t suit us yet we can’t afford to leave.  Desperate to find something better, the competition is fierce with these new robes vying for the same jobs.

The students are concerned too.  Many are forced to work multiple unpaid internships before finding a company that will hire them – and actually pay them.  Wow. I’m not talking about students who skated by with barely passing grades either.  Even my niece, who was a T.A. as well as a leader in numerous college organizations, participated in an academic mission trip, has hands-on work experience and whose grades are what I would consider stellar, is concerned simply about getting into a graduate program to continue toward her dream career.

One thing I do know is that we all – new robes and career veterans – have the opportunity to make our career dreams come true despite the economy and anything else that might get in our way.  That may mean accepting a job with a lower title and salary than we’re used to, or for new grads it may mean bunking with the parents while working an unpaid internship. It’s all about getting experience, no matter how insignificant or tough it may seem at the time. 

As my favorite new philosopher Steven Tyler of Aerosmith fame said recently, “You have to have a dream in order to realize the dream”.  Well said, Steven.  Rock on, graduates.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Robe Envy

There had to be 1,500 robes walking solemnly into the ceremony. The arena was hushed as parents, relatives and friends watched the procession.  Occasionally a camera flash pierced the silence.  One by one, the robes took their place and the ceremony began.  This would be one of five such ceremonies over two days.  Yikes; that’s a lot of robes.

My niece was in one of those robes. It was her college commencement.  Hard to believe she’s old enough to graduate from college, and with a degree that is way more difficult than mine.  I could tell from the dangling cords decorating her robe that she was a member of an honor society.  Something I never achieved during my collegiate years.

With six nieces and nephews, Hubby and I will be attending many commencement ceremonies over the next 15 years. That’s a lot of robes; many heartfelt commencement speeches by dignitaries; a lot of listening to “pomp and circumstance”. Wonder if we could get Aerosmith to play at one of these things? Sure would be different.

I loved watching the doctorate candidates, followed by masters and then bachelors, each in a robe.  It was then that I discovered I have robe-envy.  Sure, I have the masters and bachelors robes.  But I want the fancy robe, the one with the velvet trim and colored hood that comes with obtaining a PHD.  Since I have no aspirations to become a professor, the degree would have little significance for my career and wouldn’t lead to more money.  I just want to say I achieved the feat.  It would be fun to have my friends call me “doctor”.  And the robe itself is beyond coolness.

Honestly, I just want the recognition that comes with working hard to achieve a goal.  And to hear someone cheering for me.  That’s not too much to ask, is it?  Hubby says I should go for the robe and the PHD that goes with it, if I want to.  Still contemplating the idea of going back to school.  It’s been a while since I wrote an academic paper.  The idea of research makes me a bit nauseous.  Of course I guess it might be easier nowadays, with the Internet. No more nights at the library trying to figure out the Dewy Decimal System simply to get a book that turned out to be less than good.  I’m still mad at that Dewy guy.  And all that reading!  If it’s not a romance novel or People magazine, I’m not too interested any more. 

Still, the lure of the robe is tempting. The feeling of accomplishment that comes with achieving a goal. And the recognition from others that I did it.  I made it. My hard work paid off.  Recognition like this is rarely seen once you enter the work force.  If you’ve ever been laid off, you know that getting recognition for your work – no matter how small – is really valued. And missed when you’re without a job.

So yes, I’m considering the possibility – however remote – of attempting to get the fancy robe. 

In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for the recognition that comes with working hard and that my years of experience are valuable.  I may bling-out my bathrobe until I can get the fancy robe.  Go ahead and be jealous. Robe-envy is hard to shake.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Planning to Leave

Hubby laughed at me last night.  This isn’t entirely unusual as some of the things I do and say are funny.  And Hubby has a quick wit; it doesn’t take much for him to break into laughter.

Although this time I was being serious.  Aside from my “real” work, I’m also the official travel agent for our family and I was diligently planning our summer vacation.  I’m usually the one that starts the initial conversation about vacation months in advance, as well as the one to push, prod, drag and otherwise coerce Hubby into getting with the program.  Don’t get me wrong; Hubby enjoys taking a vacation as much as I do. It’s just that he seems unable to focus on the planning of a vacation. 

In the back of his mind, Hubby knows that he wants to take a summer vacation. He even has a good idea of the dates he’d like to go on said vacation.  It’s just that since the trip is not imminent, meaning tomorrow, he doesn’t focus on it.  I’m pretty sure if I didn’t drive the vacation bus, Hubby would wait till the last minute and try to throw something together. (Must be a guy-thing) This would be OK if our standards were the same as they were when we were young without much money. We’d simply pack a tent to go camping or drive a couple hours to another city for a few nights in an economy-class motel.   Hubby disputes this last statement, as my camping days were pre-Hubby and he hasn’t actually seen me camp. But I have camped; I have pictures to prove it.

Hubby has learned that when it comes to vacations, economy class is not how I roll.  I’ve paid my dues; we make money now and I enjoy vacationing in style, a la “lifestyles of the rich and famous”.  That means staying at a four or five star resort, being treated like royalty and basking in the luxury.  I mean, why not?  If I can’t live that way year ‘round, then at least I can live that way for a week on vacation.  Good news is that Hubby has also become accustomed to this way of vacationing.

I had secured a week at our favorite resort and needed to tackle the airplane reservations.  Hubby had heard my pleas earlier in the day about finalizing the trip and he even suggested we sit down together to finish the job.  Sweet!  I don’t mind making the reservations but I’d really like his input.

We had a couple decisions to make. Do we take an early morning flight out to maximize our first day, since we’re going west? That’s a no-brainer; of course we do. We can be lounging at the pool by noon.  But what about our return flight?  We want to maximize our time away yet it’s always tough to arrive late at night and assimilate back into the “real world”.

All of a sudden I panicked as I envisioned our trip.  The glorious feeling of arriving, with a week laid out in front of us and nothing to do but relax.  As my mind wandered I envisioned the first few days of bliss, then my thoughts raced to the last couple of days, and the depressing feeling of leaving paradise to return to the grind took hold. A tear accidentally ran down my cheek.  Hubby looked at me, quite puzzled. “What’s wrong?” he asked.  “I’m already sad about leaving our vacation to return home”, I replied.  That’s when he started laughing.

“So you’re planning on leaving a vacation we haven’t started yet?” he said.  More laughter. Lots of teasing. “Only you would think like that”.  While I admit that I am unique in good ways, I certainly don’t want to be called out like this. 

Actually, planning to leave helps me.  If I can envision what it might be like, then it doesn’t seem to hurt as much when it actually happens.  I deal with lots of things that way.  I’m always planning and thinking about different scenarios – in work situations as well as life.

Planning to leave a work situation is something that everyone should do, in my opinion.  Whether I leave a job on my own, or even during the lay-off when the decision was out of my hands, I always consider what it will be like and think about next steps.  Being a bit on edge keeps me focused on the fact that my current job is probably not my last job, and I keep myself open to opportunities as well as constantly net-working.  No matter how I leave a job, I’ve given it some thought and am at least somewhat prepared.

Hubby can laugh all he wants.  He’ll be the one crying as we leave the resort.  Since I’ve already thought about it, I’m prepared to handle the situation.  I’ll bring a box of tissues for him.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Truth in Interviewing

I’m not good at lying.  OK, I can do the innocuous “of course that dress looks great on you!” But when it comes to serious lying, that’s definitely not my forte. I wear my heart on my sleeve – and sometimes my emotions live there too.  Like an open book, you can pretty much tell what I’m feeling at any given time.

Most of the time, this is a good thing.  People know that they can trust my word.  Sometimes it’s not what they want to hear. But they know I’m telling the truth. 

This “skill” of mine is not always effective.  For example, I would be a terrible contestant on “Survivor” – and my inability to effectively lie is only one issue.  First, I would be voted off right away simply because I would want to spend the first few days building an adequate shelter instead of hanging out on the beach like it was a vacation.  If there was a lack of organization, I would step in and try to lead the tribe, another no-no if you want to stay in the game. Not to mention the whole issue of living outside. Yuck.  But the ability to weave and maintain an intricate web of lies with a straight face would lead to my demise. I must not be smart enough to keep all the stories straight.

When you think about it, isn’t interviewing for a job similar to lying?  I can hear you disagreeing with me.  “Of course not!”, “I would never lie to get a job”, “It’s more like acting, but that’s not lying, per se”.  Okay, call it what you want, but face it – there are times during an interview when we absolutely have to stretch the truth.  We have to lie.

This is especially true when you’re in lay-off land, searching for your next opportunity.  At least it seems that way since we don’t want to turn any chance down. Each interview could be a ticket to employment.  So how is someone like me, little miss “hard to keep a straight face”, supposed to get through the interview process?  I can be knocked on my side with the very first question, “Tell me why you want to work here?” Even just writing that question causes me to go all “deer-in-the-headlights”.

While I don’t have a magic potion to make interviewing easy, I do have a little trick I learned while working in PR.  In preparing for possible media calls and interviews, we prepared a “Q&A Document” – sort of a script.  It’s actually quite brilliant.  The goal was to write down all the possible questions that a reporter might ask the company. Even off-the-wall questions were OK.  Then we had to prepare written answers to each question.  At the top of the document we listed our talking points, those two or three key messages we wanted to tell about our company in relation to the story.

I’ve adapted this same technique to prepare for job interviews.  It’s a great way to collect my thoughts before the interview and develop solid, truthful answers.  Once I developed the first set of Q&A, I’ve only had to tweak it for different interviews.  I especially like the reminder of my key messages, listed at the top.

The best reason to use this tactic is that it helps me determine exactly how far I’m willing to stretch the truth and it allows me to become comfortable with my answers.  If I’m not comfortable with these answers at home, I’m certainly not going to do well during an interview. 

For example, am I always willing to relocate for a job?  Probably not.  Yet my answer needs to leave room for the possibility without making promises that I can’t keep, i.e. “I would consider relocating”. After all, I don’t want to be eliminated before the interview starts.  Once the discussions begin I may determine that the opportunity is indeed worth a move.  

It’s a fine line to walk between full-disclosure and flat-out lying, yet one that we have to walk as we pursue new opportunities.  We just have to be comfortable with our answers. 

Just for fun, I thought I’d share what I would love to say during some interviews, but the fact that I want to be hired prohibits using these answers.

Fun Interview Answers

Q. Why do you want to work here?

A. Honestly, I have no idea except that my friend told me you were hiring and I heard you have a good vacation plan.  By the way, how soon can I take my first vacation?  Did I mention that I plan to work here a few months, then take off to “find myself” as I back-pack through Europe?

Q. Tell me about yourself.

A. Aside from being well-educated, I’m cute and have an amazing sense of humor.  I’m sort of doing this career-thing until I decide what I really want to do with my life. Oh, and I enjoy critiquing people’s fashion choices.  By the way, that’s a nice tie – is it a clip-on?

Q. Where do you see yourself in five years?

A. I was kind of hoping we wouldn’t have to discuss this right away since it’s a bit awkward, but I want your job.  Preferably sooner than five years; maybe within twelve months. Actually, what are your plans?  Any idea when you might move on to your next job?

Q. Our corporate offices are out of state. Are you willing to relocate?

A. Oohh – didn’t see that coming.  Depends; what state are we talking about?  I’m willing to move to a ski-resort town, or possibly Hawaii.  But that also depends on how much additional money you’ll pay me.

Q. Let’s talk salary – can you tell me where you were compensation-wise at your last job?

A. I can tell you, but I’m not going to.  Duh!  Haven’t you heard the phrase, “he who talks money first loses”?  Besides, from the looks of this old furniture in your office, I’m pretty sure you can’t afford me.

Q. Thanks for coming in; we’ll get back to you in about a week. Do you have any questions for me?

A. What kind of gym membership do you offer?  How’s the food in the cafeteria? I smelled something coming in and it was less than pleasant.  And thanks for humoring me by saying you’ll call me back. Even though I know better.