Friday Five – risky business
1. What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?
Forget petty crime, sexual exploits, or exTREME sports. I did what you’re never supposed to do. I quit my job without having another job waiting for me.
I loved my job very much, even though it didn’t pay well. I got a promotion within several months of starting at the organization. Unfortunately, I got promoted into the supervision of the boss’s daughter. I was never given a formal job description, but the jist of it seemed to be:
- Gwen will write or design a really good piece of PR material, and then her supervisor will take it from Gwen, put her own name on it, and then return it to Gwen so that Gwen can disseminate it as applicable.
- Gwen will take her supervisor’s 6th-grade-level writing and convert it to good writing, and the process described above will take place.
- Gwen will participate in cozy conversations about hairstyles and shoes with her supervisor, until an important person walks into the room, at which point Gwen will be spoken to by her supervisor as if she is an ugly, incontinent dog.
- Gwen will attend fancy luncheons with her supervisor and listen to her supervisor criticize everyone else in attendance.
- Gwen will agree with everything her supervisor says in staff meetings, or else her supervisor will cry and then the boss and supervisor’s mother will take out her frustration on Gwen. (Ah, the family atmosphere of the non-profit sphere.)
I tried to resolve the situation professionally. I went to my supervisor’s supervisor (her brother-in-law) and made my concerns known. We had a meeting. I told my supervisor I was unhappy with her treatment of me. She told me that I was wrong. The meeting ended. My supervisor wrote me a long letter in her loopy cursive informing me that she had asked around with numerous professionals in my field, and they had agreed, without even having to meet me, that if I tried to find a job at their PR firms, I wouldn’t be able to qualify for higher than mailing room positions. My supervisor copied this letter and had it put into my “permanent file.” (I think the letter and a copy of my driver’s license were the only things in that file.)
I felt that I couldn’t quit because, you know, I have three children to feed. But then, a few snotty emails later, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I called a second departmental meeting and gave the big boss an ultimatum. Either they could take me from under the supervision of my supervisor, since I knew more than she ever would about tech writing and graphic design, or else they could give me a big enough raise to make putting up with her shit worth it.
They said they’d consider it. Then my supervisor wrote me an email saying that she had considered my request and she’d decided not to give me a promotion or a raise.
Sadly, it took a few snotty emails and weeks after that for me to finally freak out and quit. Then I spent six frantic weeks searching for a job. Then, desperate, I took a temp job in the insurance industry. And the rest, my sweet readers, is history.
2. What one thing would you like to try that your mother/friend/significant other would never approve of?
I’ve always wanted to pose for Penthouse with a mask covering my face.
Oh, and with someone else’s body digitally substituted for my own.
3. On a scale of 1-10, what’s your risk factor? (1=never take risks, 10=it’s a lifestyle)
Hmm. I guess I’m pretty riskless. Sometimes I think about stealing pens from work, or stomping into my boss’s office and demanding a raise, but then the guilt or fear keeps me from doing so.
Oh, wait… I answered incorrectly. My answer is 1 1/2.
4. What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you as a result of being bold/risky?
I tripled my salary within two years. (See answer to Question 1.)
5. … and what’s the worst?
There isn’t one. See, that’s why I don’t take risks. Unless they’re carefully calculated risks, in which case they aren’t really risks – they’re “decisions”. Or unless I am fueled by passion and feel a fire in my brain that indicates some sort of divine backing. I mean, the night before I quit my job without having another job waiting for me, it kind of felt like the Virgin Mary came to me in a dream and said, “Hey, Gwen, I can’t help you if you’re gonna stand around taking this crap like a dumb-ass. I mean, come ON.” And then the Buddha just nodded his head, because he’s calm like that, but he did agree.
So I only take a risk if all my superstitions evidence its righteousness, basically. And that’s pretty much always worked out for me.
