One of the things I am not allowed to do is talk about my job. The first rule of Job Club is that you don't talk about Job Club. One of my least favorite social moments is when someone asks, "So, where do you work?"
That's when I start searching for an excuse to cut the conversation short. I do not want to tell people where I work, because then their eyes will grow to the size of canteloupes, and they will begin a rapid succession of questions: what's it like, can I get them a job there, can I do this, does it really work like this, you know I heard an interesting story about that place... and so on. Especially at "professional networking" events, I do not wish to reveal much about my employment, because then I become The Woman Who Works At Job Club, and I can see where it's all going. I try to deflect their questions with inquiries about their jobs, but it inevitably circles back to mine. And I can't talk about my job. At all.
What I can talk about is the fact that today, Miss T is a winner. In July, I entered an essay contest at the last moment. The prize for this contest is not a big fancy car or something material; it's an opportunity to meet with somebody whose career I really admire (which I value much more). This afternoon, I found out that my essay won the contest, and before long I'll be in New York City to spend an hour with this person. I feel energized and confident and validated, glad and thankful to have excellent news.
That's when I start searching for an excuse to cut the conversation short. I do not want to tell people where I work, because then their eyes will grow to the size of canteloupes, and they will begin a rapid succession of questions: what's it like, can I get them a job there, can I do this, does it really work like this, you know I heard an interesting story about that place... and so on. Especially at "professional networking" events, I do not wish to reveal much about my employment, because then I become The Woman Who Works At Job Club, and I can see where it's all going. I try to deflect their questions with inquiries about their jobs, but it inevitably circles back to mine. And I can't talk about my job. At all.
What I can talk about is the fact that today, Miss T is a winner. In July, I entered an essay contest at the last moment. The prize for this contest is not a big fancy car or something material; it's an opportunity to meet with somebody whose career I really admire (which I value much more). This afternoon, I found out that my essay won the contest, and before long I'll be in New York City to spend an hour with this person. I feel energized and confident and validated, glad and thankful to have excellent news.
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