Calling In Sick

It had to happen sooner or later.  It makes me so frustrated.  I just hate it.

I should have recognized the symptoms over the weekend.  Something just didn’t feel right, like I’d worked out too hard at the gym.  Except that I hadn’t been to the gym in the past few days.

Then it hit with a vengeance.  The tickle in the throat, the sudden chills.  By dinner time it was a full-on attack, with my throat burning and my entire body aching.

What’s up?  All through the holidays I tried to eat right, exercise and get enough sleep.  Especially with the added stress of job hunting.

I’m pretty sure it was the last holiday party that got me.  Lots of folks in close quarters.  Especially the “close talker” – you know, the kind that invades your personal space.  This one cornered me with nowhere to run.  I tried to back away, but there was no room.  Trapped! So close that I could feel his breath as he spoke.  Ick.   I would have offered him a Tic-Tac if I’d had one.  Or maybe I should have sprayed a disinfectant to kill any potential germs.

And now I’m sick.  Mr. In-Your-Face is just fine I’m sure, and probably close-talking someone at his office right this second. 

I allowed myself to sleep a bit late this morning.  When I finally had the strength to get out of bed, I grabbed the phone to call in sick.  Funny thing, how do you call in sick when you’re laid off?

It seems cruel to be reminded of the lack of work when you’re sick.  Isn’t there a hotline like 1-800-IAM SICK, or something? Anyone I could call to let someone know?  There’s got to be someone who could listen to my hoarse voice and cough, someone to justify the sick day.  Hubby doesn’t want to get near me for fear he’ll catch the dreaded crud that I’ve got.  I don’t blame him.

The dog tries to console me as I drag myself to the couch. She brings me a squeaky toy, hoping that a quick game of toss will make me feel better.  I accept the slobbery toy, figuring her germs might somehow be a cure for the crud.  Unfortunately, the crud stays and I have a hand full of slobber. Her attention is nice, but she doesn’t understand why I’m upset.  No one to call, no one at work wondering if I’m really sick or wondering if I’m able to get some work done as I lay on the couch. 

Sigh.  Sick with the crud and no one cares.  Not entirely true; Hubby cares and so does the dog, but I’m talking about the stressful kind of caring that comes with worrying about work while you’re sick.  Humph. I can’t even enjoy the sick day since there’s nothing to worry about. 

Do you suppose the good people at Career Builder or Monster want to know if I’m sick?  They’re probably wondering why I haven’t been online to look for new opportunities. 

Even Facebook isn’t interesting today.  Those who are working don’t want to hear about my sore throat or runny nose or that I’m still in my p.j.’s.  They would make all sorts of comments about how nice it must be not having to worry about work.  If only they knew.

Whine, whine, whine.  I guess that’s what I’ll do today.  Just in case you were wondering, I did call someone.  Our local pizza delivery guy.  At least he knows I’m sick and he offered to bring me a pizza for only $10.99. 

Pizza and whine.  It’s a good day to be sick.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Forced Family Fun

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukah!  Happy Kwanza!  Best wishes to you and yours as you celebrate the holiday season.

We’re on a plane.  Not right this second, but we will be shortly.  A quick day trip to spend time with my family.  All of us, together under one roof.  Lots of fun; tons of food.  Yes, it’s a long day.  I think of it as a time-honored tradition, one that we all agree to even if it is just once a year.

My friend refers to holidays as Forced Family Fun. 

At first I thought this was a bit sad.  Doesn’t everyone want to travel great distances or host large groups, all in the name of family tradition?  How could you miss Auntie’s famous yellow Jell-O salad with potato chips, the one that no one eats but tradition says we’re required to have? How about the high-decibel shrieking of dozens of kids running through the house?  What about peace, love and harmony? Earplugs, anyone?

Who am I kidding?  As much as I love my family – and I really do; they are the best – sometimes it just seems like too much.  Stressed out from work, overwhelmed with the millions of things going on in our lives, with no time to relax and enjoy the season - for Hubby and me, family time is the last thing on our list.  Top of the list is sleep, followed closely by a couch potato contest to see who can remain on the couch the longest. We’d just like a day without obligations to enjoy the peace and quiet.

 Yet every holiday, families around the world spend time and money simply to be together. 

We load up the car, drive long distances, sleep on the floor or the couch or wherever, share a bathroom full of toddler toys, step all over each other in a house that’s too small even for the family that lives there – and for what? A turkey dinner?

No. We do it for family.  Tradition. A sense of belonging.  And most importantly, for us.

It’s not always easy to travel to these get-togethers, nor is it easy to be the host.  And when people start getting cranky I try to remember that there will be a day when the older relatives are gone and we’ll be left to fend for ourselves.  We’ll long for the day when we actually were required to be somewhere for the holiday, and we’ll actually miss the shrieking kids as we try to re-create Auntie’s Jell-O salad.

Maybe the holidays are Forced Family Fun.  You know what?  Bring it on.  I’m ready.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

Time is a Funny Thing

Time is a funny thing.  Seems like it either moves too slowly or too fast; never at the right speed. 

When I was a kid, time seemed to move at a snail’s pace during the school year.  Especially around Christmas.  As soon as Thanksgiving was over, mom and dad would start decorating and shopping.  Sis and I started counting the weeks, days and minutes until Christmas.  It was both exciting and agonizing.  Once the brightly wrapped presents came out, we could hardly contain ourselves, pleading with mom to let us open just one present early.

After the holidays, time seemed to come to a screeching halt. All I could see were the endless months of school ahead.  It was hideous.  Despite that I was a good student and basically enjoyed school, it still seemed never-ending.

When the final bell rang on classes I’d run home, thinking about the long, glorious summer months that lay ahead.  Sleeping late, swimming, bike riding, skating and watching cartoons with no responsibilities. It was awesome!  Yet with the blink of an eye, it would be time for school again.

The older I got, the faster time moved.  At college, school became a year-round task, measured by semesters and short breaks.  Summers were fun but definitely not care-free since I attended summer school each year.  A normal class load on steroids is not, by definition, fun.  Gone were the illusions that Christmas was light years away. 

When the lay-off hit, the first thing I thought of – aside from looking for work – is that I would finally get some time.  Time to do the things I’d been putting off, clean the closets, hit the gym, connect with old friends, finish at least a dozen projects that were in various stages of completion and of course, relax.  Others told me to be careful, that time moved slowly without work and that I’d get bored.  Something must be wrong with me because I’ve never been bored. During the first few months I was the busiest non-working person ever. Hubby and I joked that it’s hard to believe we ever had time to work with all the other stuff there was to do.  Time just flew by.

As I took on consulting gigs and assorted part-time work, once again time became a blessing and a curse.  Productivity went up the busier I became, yet personal satisfaction decreased as I was stretched so thin.  Gym work-outs became 15 minutes – if that – and personal goals were put on the back-burner.

The constant struggle to focus on career, look for a new job, and/or build a consulting business, make money in the meantime, and find time for family – that’s where I’m at now. 

To top it off, my one day each week that’s supposed to be dedicated to working on personal goals has become a fire-drill for the umpteen other things that I’m trying to juggle.  It’s hard to eliminate any of the items on my plate as they are all meant to help my career.  And it’s frustrating.

Maybe I should develop a time machine or other contraption that would slow things down, allow me to savor the moments.

Despite the time crunch, there are plenty of positives.  The good news is that I’m vertical.  And I’ve got options.  Too many options, but at least I’m engaged in the game of life.  I’m happy to have things to keep me busy, as I hear from others in the workforce that they are worried about their jobs as work slows down in this economy. I need to remember this when I get frustrated.

Yes, time is a funny thing.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

Inspiring Greatness

I don’t remember much about our first meeting, except that I was somewhat in awe.  Trying to stay “cool”, I spoke to him directly and honestly, answering his questions and posing questions to him. I didn’t really think much about it at the time.  A famous jewelry designer, we were opening one of his new stores and there was work to be done. 

Something struck a chord between us, this awe-inspiring gentleman and me.  I was amazed to meet the man who built a business from the ground up and designed the jewelry I was wearing.  Later he would tell me that he was impressed by my academic credentials and day job, wondering why I was working part-time at his store. 

Inspired by this meeting as well as my experience working at his store, I left a misaligned career in engineering (my day job) to pursue a graduate degree that would launch my second career as a retailer.    Mr. J and I somehow stayed in touch. Not sure if I reached out to him or if he reached out to me – doesn’t matter.  The point is, we remained in contact. I even worked in his store during breaks from grad school.

At graduation I was ecstatic to land my dream job, and of course Mr. J was cheering me on, almost as proud of me as my own parents.  I kept him updated on my achievements and career movement; periodically he would pick up the phone to check on me.  I loved getting those calls. 

It’s been years since our first meeting and I still love talking to Mr. J.

My architect Hubby enjoys visiting with him as much as I do, since Mr. J is a designer and has an interest in architecture.  He even had an interview with Frank Lloyd Wright when he was younger!  Oh, the stories Mr. J can tell.  We never cease to be amazed at all that he’s experienced and accomplished.

One of the biggest things that Mr. J has accomplished is inspiring people. Customers are more like groupies, all eager to tell employees when they first received one of his designs.  Most have never met him, but feel an emotional connection to him through his thoughtfully designed items.    

Mr. J doesn’t know it, but he inspires me every day.  He politely brushes it off when I tell him I owe the career that I love to him and his encouragement.  He doesn’t believe me when I tell him how his company was a pioneer in certain areas. I think my praise embarrasses him.  But it’s true.  And I’m not one to dole out unwarranted praise.

Whether he likes it or not, Mr. J is my “unofficial” mentor.  And I couldn’t ask for a better one.

I do wish that I’d understood the role of a mentor earlier in my career.  If so, I would have picked up the phone to Mr. J more often, asking his advice about certain career moves.   Maybe I would have made the same choices; maybe not.  But I haven’t taken advantage of his experience and knowledge like I should have. 

When I lost my job, I took a part-time job at the store where it all started. I called Mr. J to let him know.  He gave me a pep-talk, encouraging me, telling me I would be successful no matter what.  He connected me with corporate folks to discuss job opportunities. He shared ideas and thoughts as I considered working for myself.  Inspiration at its best.

I’ve got a chance to inspire those who are just embarking on their careers.  I’m actually a mentor now myself. Unlike Mr. J, I pro-actively took on this role.   Like Mr. J, I wonder why these younger people want to talk to me and if I have enough insight to help them.

One thing I know for sure: I hope to encourage and inspire people like he did for me.  Even if I’m not famous.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

A Job-less World

True visionaries come around once in a great while.  I’m talking about those who not only envision the future, but actually make things that seem impossible come to life.

I’m not one of those people.  Oh sure, I have had my share of great ideas.  My challenge is in believing that I could actually make a seemingly far-fetched idea a reality.

Some of my more ‘visionary’ ideas came during childhood. Walking home from school was a huge pain to me and my friends.  It wasn’t more than 8 blocks, although it was hilly, we were in the Texas heat and I was usually carrying books and a lunch box.  It seemed like the most arduous task, this walk.  To pass time, we’d let our imaginations wander.  I remember wishing that cars would have refrigerators in them so I could always have a cold drink. Maybe they could have a place for snacks too, so I wouldn’t pass out from starvation.  Even a TV to pass the time during family road-trips.

I thought it was fun to dream, but this wasn’t something that would happen. Or at least I couldn’t figure out how to make it happen. 

While most cars don’t have refrigerators, they do have drink holders. Wish I could take responsibility for having made that happen! And video screens in cars are almost old-school. Even more fun is the wireless connectivity that enables us to have a phone conversation through the car stereo speakers.  I’m pretty sure this was thought up by a kid walking home from school as well.

Even if I’m not one of them, I appreciate the genius that true visionaries share with the rest of the world.

We recently lost one of these rare individuals. Watching the news story about Steve Jobs’ life, it was eerie to watch a clip of him from 20+ years ago as he told us what we wanted, when even we didn’t know we wanted it.

Steve Jobs said we wanted “full-color screens” and that we wanted to watch full-motion video.  Back when he made these crazy statements, I was just happy to have a desk-top computer.  Steve had the vision that our electronic devices not only should work well but should also be stylish and come in a variety of colors instead of black.  Little did I know that I would become addicted to Mr. Jobs’ creations. 

Most of us just learned the “behind the scenes” story of Steve Jobs’ life.  That he was adopted. That as a kid he was a trouble-maker. That he dropped out of college due in part to financial constraints.  Apparently one of the most successful people in world had set-backs, including being ousted from the company that he founded. 

Ouch. That’s got to hurt.

Being the true visionary that he was, Steve apparently chose to look forward instead of licking his wounds, moving on to different opportunities including Pixar.  Lucky for us, huh? I’d hate to think of Woody and Buzz Lightyear in the old, flat two-dimensional cartoon format. 

We can all talk about how impressive Mr. Jobs’ vision was, how impressive his intelligence was, how impressive that he made money, etc.   You know what is most impressive to me, and something that I can actually use in my own life? His “never give up” attitude. 

When he couldn’t afford college, he kept on trying.  When he was ousted from Apple, he found a new opportunity.  When he was diagnosed with cancer, he fought back and kept moving forward.   For much of his career, this was all done in the public eye.  How tough is that?

Those of us in lay-off land can learn from Steve Jobs.  True, we may not be the visionary that he was.  But we can pick ourselves up and move forward.  We can fight for what we want. We can envision ourselves in a new opportunity. And we can try to maintain a positive attitude.

The legacy of Steve Jobs will be forever in the history books.  Online books, of course. Read on an Apple device. 

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

Under Pressure

Lexus. Hummer. Mercedes. 300Z.  Think I’m at a car dealership?  Most dealerships I know wouldn’t have such a fine selection in one parking lot.

I’m in a college town, visiting at a student apartment complex.  Me and Ashton Cooper, my brand new Mini, are in town for a conference.  And I thought I had a fine ride.  Poor Ashton Cooper. He was so proud, and feels so out of place with all of these bigger luxury cars.  I tell him I’m proud of him and not to care what the other cars think.

As for me, I’m a range of emotions. Confused, appalled, amazed and yes, a bit jealous.  What are college undergrads doing driving such nice cars?  Might I add that none of these appear to be older models that have been passed down from parent to child?  They appear quite new.  Some still have paper plates. 

I’m sure the kids – and I hate to say it, but yes, they are kids – must need a nice ride to make up for the college living conditions.  You know, cinder block and wood shelves paired with an assortment of hand-me-down furniture.  One roommate brings the TV, one brings the microwave.  If you’re really fortunate, there’s a laundry hook-up in the apartment.  Extremely fortunate means one roommate actually has a washer and dryer to hook-up. Remember?

As I knock on the door of one of the units, I notice how nice the complex is.  Entering the apartment I’m stopped cold.  Whose dad purchased the 55” flat screen TV?  What’s this – there are flat screen TV’s in each bedroom? And each bedroom has a private on-suite bath? 

I step back outside to make sure I didn’t take a wrong turn and enter the Ritz Carlton. 

This place is unbelievable.  I’m told that this is not considered the nicest complex in town.  I’m also trying to figure out how I can move in.

The students plead their case.  “We’re under so much pressure. We’ve gotta have a nice place to live.” 

This is not my first semester, telling them to brace for a much lower standard of living once they’re on the own instead of living in a luxury apartment that came with all the furnishings. Rolling their eyes, they think I’m “old-school” and somewhat out of touch with the 21^st century reality that is college academic life. 

LOL!  You don’t know snot, young ‘un. 

OK, so I didn’t really say that. But believe it or not, I do understand the kind of pressure you’re under. I was here, remember?

Research. Essays. Lab assignments. Projects. Exams.  All-nighters. Non-stop studying while living in an environment with non-stop partying.  Whew – college was tough; I remember it well.

Pressure packed days and weeks that led up to one KPI (key performance indicator) for the entire semester: GPA.  I still shudder when I think of it. 

Not the pressure; my GPA.  Undergrad was not my finest moment as a student.  Thank goodness I had the chance to redeem myself in grad school.

And there was the added pressure to determine a career path to choose.  Heaven forbid a mistake was made here. Life could be over. 

Yes, I’m painfully aware of the pressure. Years have passed since graduation and I still have the nightmare where I’m at college, it’s the end of the semester and suddenly I realize that I’ve never been to one of my classes.  Now I have to try and pass a final exam.  I wake up sweating every time I have this dream.

Kids, I’ve got news for you.  You haven’t experienced real pressure yet.

Real pressure happens once you enter the work force. No holiday breaks and no summer vacation. No option to choose between summer school or just working for some cash.

Real pressure also happens with a lay-off.  Losing your job is one of the most tense, pressure-packed situations a person can be in.  Not to mention emotional.  If you’re past 30 when a lay-off hits, you probably have a mortgage, maybe a family to think about.  This is not a situation for the faint of heart.  One wrong decision now affects those who depend on you too.

I’ve discovered that pressure never really goes away. It simply manifests itself in different ways. Now the pressure is on to find a job, one that we like and also pays enough to cover expenses.  Time is the enemy as those of us in lay-off limbo desperately search for a source of income during trying economic times.  Even if you’ve financially planned for a lay-off, the pressure is still there.  

How nice it would be if studying hard for a good grade would land a job in our lap.   

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

It's All About the Shoes

Hi there! How in the world are you?  You look fabulous! Me? Oh, you’re too kind.  It’s been great catching up with you; let’s talk again later.

“Who was that?” Hubby asks.  “I have no idea”, I reply. 

Yep, it was high school reunion time.  That fun yet awkward situation where you feel like you’re in a room with a bunch of people you went to high school with, but you can’t quite recognize anyone.    

Yikes. This was going to be a tough night.

I kept hoping it was just poor lighting or that I needed new glasses or that it was because I hadn’t seen these people in quite some time.   After all, I know I look EXACTLY the same as I did in high school, right? Surely everyone else does too. 

Never mind that most of the guys had long hair when we were in high school.  And we women were each a mere 90 lbs soaking wet, back in the day.   Not to mention that all of us, men and women, had yet to meet Ms. Clairol or Mr. Grecian Formula.

I spent hours agonizing over what to wear.  You’d think this would be easy yet youthful insecurities started creeping in.  As any high school girl will tell you, if you so much as wear the wrong shoes, it’s over.  As usual, it’s all about the shoes.

“Hubby, do you like this outfit or this one?”  I ask.  “Uh, either look fine to me”, responds Hubby.  Sweet, I guess.    “Should I wear a dress or pants? Which shoes, the high heels or the flats?  What about earrings?”  I’m almost pleading with Hubby at this point; the party’s in an hour and I still have to pick up the cake. 

Hubby, in a desperate attempt to retreat to the living room to watch football, blurts out, “Why are you so concerned? It’s not like you have to impress anyone.”

Ohhh… those are the wrong words for a woman getting ready to attend her Xth high school reunion.  No, I’m not going to say how many years.  Let’s just say it’s been a few.

Deep down I know he’s right, although I’m not going to tell him that. Why am I so concerned about what others think of me?  Who am I so desperately trying to impress?  After all, I’ve enjoyed career success, traveled the world and married the man of my dreams.  Seems like that would be enough.  What am I worried about?

Memories come flooding in.  I enjoyed high school, although I didn’t consider myself to be in with the “popular” crowd.  I sort of stayed on the fringe of several crowds, with friends all over the place.  And boy was I shy!  Hard for my current friends to believe that of me, as I am definitely not shy now.

My BFF from high school is still my BFF, even though we live across town from each other.  I tease about being her “shadow” in high school.  You see, she was (and is) beautiful and very popular, always had a boyfriend.

I, on the other hand, was none of those.  I was – and in some ways still am – convinced that many people didn’t know my name except that I was “popular girls’” friend and locker-mate.    BFF insists this was not the case.  We’ll just have to agree to disagree here. 

Even if I wasn’t the most popular girl in the school, I had a great time.  We had a great class, and we remain very devoted to each other.  Probably more so than most high school classes.  Our experience was more “Happy Days” than “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”.

Back to the reunion.

Thank goodness someone in the group had enough sense to get name tags for the party – ones with our pictures from high school.  It was the only way we stood a chance of recognizing each other.

Walking in, I suddenly felt a safe feeling, as though I was visiting family.  Maybe long-lost family, but family just the same.  Warm smiles and hugs were all around.  With each new arrival, shouts and laughter rang out as we greeted each other. 

Gone were the cliques that were so evident in high school.  Jocks, nerds, ropers, long-hairs, band weenies, cheerleaders and all others were now together as one class remembering the great times.

We smiled politely as we tried to remember each others’ names without looking at the name tags.  We shared stories of family, children and friends. The conversations were lively, funny and sometimes surprising.

“How many children do you have?”  “Eighteen and counting” What???  At least I know what you’ve been doing since high school.  “And you? How are your children?”   “Ours are all married and we’ve got about a bazillion grandkids”.  Yikes.  For someone like me with only a four-legged daughter, I’m about to hyper-ventilate.

Memories were everywhere. “Remember when?” was heard over and over. Amazingly we remembered the words to our school song, which we sang together before the “awards” were given out.

Awards for “most children”, “married the longest”, “traveled the farthest” and “changed the least”. Personally, I think we ALL should have won for “changed the least”.  Ms. Clairol and Mr. Grecian Formula are the only ones that know otherwise.

Our group, together again, as tight as ever.  In fact I think we’ve gotten better with age. For the most part, the further away we get from high school the less need there is to impress.  We’ve all gained experience and maturity.  

I’m happy to be part of a high school class that remains so united after all these years.  And just in case you’re wondering, my shoes made all the difference.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved