Progress, Itty Bitty Progress

Have you ever had those moments where you know your career, that little blip on your radar that suddenly consumes a third of your day, Monday thru Friday, for forty-plus years, may be on some surreal path?  I sorta had one of those moments this week, but let me give you some context first:

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It was October 2005, a time of the year where the temperature drops enough so that the fumes from the nearby chemical plant weren’t detectable from my office building.  The past few weeks had been probably the most tumultuous of my short career, and my mind was taking me places far, far beyond the limits of the drab conference room wall in which I was seated.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, this meeting — a gathering of nearly twenty managers, peers, and conference call participants in the UK and Germany would further stoke the recently-lit career coal burning inside me.

I returned from Berlin in June of that year with a newfound sense of a) appreciation for the opportunities I had in such a short timeframe and b) confidence that I could really go anywhere if I challenged myself to give it the ole’ heave-ho.  Wishful thinking?  Yeah, but don’t try to drag a 24 year-old down; pessimism is a word that some crotchety thirtysomethings invented in the 60’s.

About a month after returning to the States, an opportunity opened in the department I hoped to enter in the near future — it would place me in charge of our European customers, which meant I’d be able to sporadically return to Germany every so often, a country I would almost call a part-time lover if it were human.  The aura of progress hovered about my heart for the first time, realizing that this opportunity presented an incentive I had not yet received in my short time as a businessman: a promotion.

My qualifications were lacking; even my own manager agreed with that.  The CVs of the other candidates for the job couldn’t even fit all their content on one page, whereas I had trouble filling three-quarters of mine.  I wasn’t really a businessman.  I was a junior engineer that just happened to strike a lucky deal and end up overseas for a while, right?

The interview came and went; I didn’t expect much.  My manager informed me that he was going to freeze me in my position for six months — I was somewhat tight-lipped; after all, I was pretty sure I had few other options.  Nevertheless, my desire to explore new opportunity didn’t wane and I applied for another opportunity up there with those Euro-folks.  The hiring manager, ever the honest and forthright person for which I had immense amount of respect, caught me in the hall and motioned for me to speak with him in private.

I won’t recollect the exact feelings I had during the discussion, but one was unique…it was something I hadn’t yet really felt, so I didn’t understand how to best confront it.  Basically, the manager told me that they had the contract ready for me to sign — I HAD the job — but my current manager refused it.  Ah, that emotion…to this day, I didn’t know if it was helplessness, a sense of betrayal, or simple seething anger, but it made me realize something: I couldn’t trust others like I used to.

Fast forward to October.  I’ve prepared this meeting for a project I’m undertaking in the job I feel trapped in, and I gave it gusto, directed responsibilities, and got the damn thing greenlighted by representatives in three countries.  And that was the point where I realized that, hey, I could probably hack it in the business world okay, and I didn’t need to be pushed under the thumb of others that I didn’t trust with my well-being.  That afternoon, I requested my first MBA info packet.

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This Tuesday, my supervisor and project manager was out of town for our normal update meetings.  I was, admittedly, a little nervous — after all, how much can someone POSSIBLY talk about transit buses after only spending six weeks on the job?  Nevertheless, here I was, surrounded by five managers, expected to deliver a whole set of tasks and responsibilities while also keeping the meeting flow at a good pace.

And it happened.  In a moment of which I can only describe as cubicle-zen-like (e.g. A moment of zen which doesn’t necessarily need to be shared beyond the walls of your desk, but is still pretty rad), I realized that these people trusted me with the well-being of their organization.  It was…well, it felt like an honor, I guess.  The company they’ve poured a huge amount of their lives into, and one which serves over two million Chicagoans per day, deserves the full attention of someone with its best interest in mind.  And to be considered as such a person, in their minds, is both undeserving and humbling.  Challenging, too.

There’s an old, worn-out cliche that many of my fellow yuppies tend to use: “work to live, or live to work?”; it’s designed to suggest that it’s either one or the other, that you either make money and live joyfully off its fruits or simply spiral into a hulking mass of corporate lambswool.  But what if I choose to “Live THROUGH Work” and say that my job is merely an extension of the life I live every day?  Can I apply the same level of service, quirkiness, and desire to my work (and my clients) as I do to every other facet of my life?

I sure hope so.  And in the meantime, I hope it serves as a good litmus as to where I should be taking this pricey ole’ degree of mine.  I’ll keep an eye on the coals.

It’s a Drama, not Dramatic.

Sometimes, while walking to and fro my respective transit stops, iPod blaring, I envision a video camera following my every move, wondering what plot the director of a feature film would be preparing as he shoots this introductory scene:

Anonymous young professional, neatly dressed, headphones wedged in place, passing by the corner Starbucks, stares into the distance and cracks a wry smile…

Despite whatever’s on the playlist at the moment, I always have the lyrics to another song rattling through my cranium:

This is the soundtrack for our movie.
Would you tell me when we get to the best part?
I’ll play it for you.
Oh no, I think I’ve lost this one.
Can we try again? — “Sountrack for Our Movie”, Mae

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Do you ever get the feeling of surrealism, almost as if you’re attempting to self-transcend into some fantasy world, where we examine our circumstances and decisions from a seven-foot level? We try to oh-so-slightly step out of ourselves for a moment and wonder, awestruck, at how life unfolded to bring us to the point we currently encounter. How would the director prepare this scene?, you wonder.

I once thought that going back to school would allow me to live a real-life fantasy, more MTV Cribs or Man vs. Wild, less Forrest Gump. But here I am, nearly a year after quitting my job, turning away from an opportunity to join the Peace Corps, and exploring the ironically named Real World once again, and the most profound discovery I’ve made about myself is this: I still have the unfortunate capability to hurt others. On this truth, I realize that the soundtrack for my movie would probably be rife with emotion, both joyful and depressing. It would be a drama.

It’s morbid, sort of. We like to set enlightenment on a platform and assume that any rational, intelligent, and accomplished person will be successful. And many people meeting those characteristics do end up that way. But your laurels are not redeemable for the failures, nor are indulgences available to compensate for the pain we cause others in our worst moments.

Perhaps it’s a lesson that I’ve learned more than ever recently: as a future business leader, I may literally be the keeper of a man or woman’s quality of life, whether it’s through a paycheck or a social program. And I know, for certain, that I won’t always make the right decision. People will be hurt, and I will be to blame.

But maybe all these chapters in life, separated by dog-eared pages representing a new job, a new city, or a breakup (the timeless Minneapolis rock group Semisonic said it best: “Every new beginning//Comes from some other beginning’s end“) , serve an individual purpose in preparing us how to endure when others may be hurt by our actions.

Business school will not turn you into a saint. It will, though, open up even more opportunities for you to potentially hurt others by your actions. How the director would perceive the next few scenes, well…that’s for each of us to explore.

I hope my movie has a happy ending. Like Forrest Gump.

The Affair: I Bet Clear Admit Wasn’t Expecting This…

Ooooh baby….

Yeah, you. The one in the taupe dress.

I could tell you’re from Brazil the moment I laid eyes on you. Let’s not make haste, honey. The jungle’s full of wild animals, but here’s one that resides in his own urban jungle. Rawr.

And the tape you used to keep that beautiful garment secured around you…I see how you play your game. My house keys don’t discriminate, my Brazilian belleza.

…what’s this? A bill? Well, sweetcheeks, just go ahead and mark yourself down at a discount — my entourage over at Clear Admit’s got me on this one. But don’t you worry, I’m gonna treat you like you were an MSRP purchase. Oooooooh yeaaaaah.

…let’s set that itchy outer covering out for recycling. That’s right, woman-o-war, you’re not just getting a real man, but an eco-friendly chap that has Al Gore on speed dial and has the digestive system reminiscent of a hydrogen fuel cell.

Wow, you’re a lot more pale than I expected for a Brazilian. No matter. Let’s give the tabloids some dirt.

Alas, my Kindle, this night of unbridled passion must end somewhere. From now on, I look forward to stuffing you in my lappy bag for years to come. Let’s never forget this night of….um….

I need a cigarette.

Yar Har Har, I’ve Fooled ‘Em So Far!

Sooooo, nothing like this has happened yet at my job, which means I’ve been doing quite well in masking my own inability to lurn:

I think they’ll catch on at some point.

In the meantime, let’s look back at the process that got me here in the first place.  Since this happens to be the Year of The Full Circle Comerers™, add another one to the list:

The Managing Partner at one of my target post-graduation firms happens to be on the board of my non-profit.  I bumped into him tonight at a seminar of which he was a panelist.  After exchanging pleasantries he mentioned that he’d be at our upcoming board meeting (at which I’ll also get to meet Mayor Daley, yeesh).

What are we gonna discuss?  Oh yeah, that office in Johannesburg he helped start.

Talk about Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon Robot Consulting Firm uh…networking.  Yeah.  More to come from the City as it develops…

(P.S.  Coming Soon: m@ has an affair with his ClearAdmit-supplied Kindle.)