Posts Tagged With: career

Conformist Success?

I like to think sometimes that I am a nonconformist, but really I work within the system, and today I am tentatively excited to announce that I’m taking what I’m hoping is a step up within that system. I’ve gotten accepted for a new job. I don’t expect it to be perfect. Nothing is all it’s advertised to be, but I can say that the workers there that I saw through the large glass window while I waited in the lobby for my interview, well…they seemed happy. Happiness at work is something I value highly…though a laid back dress code, flexible hours, and benefits don’t hurt either. I wonder what the names of those people are? I wonder, what are their stories?

I’m taking a risk. Today I have to tell the owner of the grocery store, see if he’ll keep me on part time or not. Today I’m taking a tangible, somewhat scary step forward in response to my restless spirit, of late. I’m accepting the possibility of leaving my comfortable, routine job entirely after my two weeks’ notice is up. I’ve always appreciated the lyrics to the Carmen song that defines faith as “Stepping out on there and finding somethin’ there.” I feel like I’m stepping out on air right now, and I really hope that I do, in fact, find something there. Yet I realize that I may not. And, if that is the case I’ll have to find something else, maybe a lesser job. Performance based employment is risk. Telemarketing isn’t  exactly what many would consider to be an honorable career. But, for me, it is at least a refusal to settle. I see so many people who have given up and settled for a job at the store permanently. Sometimes I see the sentiments that caused them to content themselves with this lot in life in myself, and that scares me. So yeah, that’s what’s new in my life. I’m becoming a doer, and not just a talker. We shall see how it all turns out. Not many people would consider a job of this nature an adventure, but for me it is, and I’m setting out to prove all the naysayers wrong.

So, that’s the long and short of where I am right now. Actually, it’s the short version. There’s more that it isn’t ready to be written yet. But I can’t leave a post as short as two paragraphs, so I’ll share this poem of St. Francis that I happened upon framed on the wall at my sister’s future college. I may write on it more on the future, I know not. For now I shall commentate only that it was thought provoking for me, and I would love to hear your reactions…

 

” 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
                                                                                                 “

 

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Mess Of Ponderings

I think I shall go buy a new wardrobe because the old one doesn’t suit me anymore. How cliche, money-wasting, and impulsive, right? Did I mention that, yet again, it is late and I am writing even though I have to get up at an udgodly hour for work? Old habits never change, do they? Nor do old sins. I struggle with the same things over and over, as any faithful reader of my blog would attest. Meanwhile, Christian movie reviewers at http://www.pluggedin.com condemn this film partially ( I get that there are other condemning factors) for its underlying theme–questioning people’s ability to truly change. I look around me and within myself and question too.

Anyhow, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a thought provoking movie. Its premise has been the start of several fascinating conversations at work regarding whether or not coworkers would want any portions erased from their memories…when I get the chance to talk. Sometimes it feels like people only listen as a courtesy, and promptly butt in unleashing their problems as soon as a civil point for opening that topic presents itself. But I suppose I have no room to complain. Recently I went to my self-assigned honorary grandmother’s house (she’s a coworker). It only took a few caring questions, and then there was no turning off my babbling. I felt guilty after…but sometimes a person needs to just get everything out, you know? She thinks God wants me to stay at this job right now. I’m not so sure.

Speaking of needing to get it all out… I got a call while at work the other day from an elderly customer. She wanted to know about dog food, although she didn’t yet have a dog, nor any especially hopeful prospects of obtaining one. It ended up that we discussed much more than dog food, however. She told me of her heart problems, she has them like her dad did only worse. They didn’t have the money  to fix him, so his killed him, and her problems, well, they’re past the point that doctors can fix them even though she (apparently) has money, yet she is bound and determined that she’s going to go join the military. After all “Everyone in this town is a nutcase. Don’t you think so?” She ended off saying she’d pray  for me. She just needed someone to talk to. Sometimes I think I get along with the old and the young better than anyone else.

I don’t know where this post is heading or where to end. Nothing has changed since last post. I’m still drawn to the new, but allowing my comfort zone and financial state to hold me back. I thought recently of the title of a John Piper book I once read, though I didn’t particularly care for it:” Don’t Waste Your Life”. Much like the book trailer for Rosalie de Rosset’s “Unseduced and Unshaken”, his title drew me–the questions suggested by it are compelling–but I found the book to be an unsatisfactory answer. How does one go about not wasting his life? How does one gain the willpower to be unseduced and unshaken? Where is the key to fulfillment, and strength, and dignity? Most Christians are afraid to go at  those questions with anything less that Sunday School answers, so, I suppose, to these authors’ credit, at least they tried. Anyhow, I’m once again off topic, and the hour is late. Unfortunately, sleep is a necessity  as is my dull job, at least until I happen upon something better. I suppose this post is naught but a mess of ponderings.

Goodnight my friends.

 

 

 

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Restless

“I wanted to be a rockstar–sing for a living. I did for a while, I guess. I opened for a few famous bands…you wouldn’t know them. But hey, if that’d happened I’d never have gotten to work at this palace.”

Sarcasm runs thick in his last sentence. He works morning crew, up well before the sun to stock shelves; he sings for a local cover band on  weekends, always looking for a gig. He piqued my curiosity. I started asking others: “What was your dream job when you were younger?” She was hesitant to divulge.

“I don’t know…

“Come on there must’ve been something.”

“Well, I used to want to work at a bakery.”

You should. You would be good at that.”

“Oh, it’s too late now…”

Her attention to detail, the perfectly dribbled white chocolate accents on her once-a-year chocolate covered strawberries, her flawless fruit trays. On her off days she bakes cookies with her young granddaughter, then comes in showing pictures. (“Look how well she did for her age.”) Maybe it runs in the genes.

“I wanted to be a major league baseball player, but my realistic dream was to be a teacher.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, I didn’t have that nailed down yet…maybe History or Economics. A teacher and a coach.”

“Why didn’t you?”

My dad ran off with his girlfriend, and we were kind of backwards, you know…didn’t know how to get loans and stuff.” 

He would’ve made a great teacher and coach. He teaches in church now and again, using object lessons; he’s and umpire during the softball season in the effort to earn a little extra cash.

I’ve been restless lately, itching to move on. I think it’d be fun to work at a zoo or as a truck driver, or something… Maybe it’s stupid to want that. My manager is amazing. He gave me two ice cream sandwiches today, slipped me money to take a coworker who’s been down out to eat last week.  You can’t put a price tag on that. Money shouldn’t matter, even if I could make more money working at McDonald’s than here, but, at the same time I don’t want to work produce my whole life long. I want to make a difference, see the world–but also watch my brother’s grow up. As usual I’m conflicted.

I don’t want to be a tragedy like their stories. Years go tricking by. I have enough dreadlocks to enjoy, but not too many to hide. Could I get hired? Do I want to? I’ve not always had much luck with that in the past, but now I can say I have some job experience under my belt. Even so, there aren’t many options for jobs around here, unless I want factory work. Or I could move. Now there’s a scary prospect.

These are the thoughts that occupy my mind, my time. Is this restless a prompting of God, or my own selfishness manifested? I’ve always been enticed by the idea of travel, being a vagabond as described by Robert W. Service in his poem The Men Who Don’t Fit In:

“There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
    A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
    And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
    And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
    And they don’t know how to rest.”
.

But that’s just the first stanza. The rest reads:

.

“If they just went straight they might go far;
    They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
    And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
    What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
    Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
    With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
    Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
    Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
    In the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
    He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
    And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
    He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
    He’s a man who won’t fit in.”
.

No matter what I do I’ll never fit in, but it seems to me that this is the part of life where I choose if I’ll go straight and (supposedly) far, or bounce around everywhere and get (supposedly) nowhere., My instinct says go roam, though my comfort zone holds me back. Any advice for someone on the brink? Any stories? What did you dream of being way back when?

Categories: Journey Prologues., My Life, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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