it is not the job that defines me

The end of a job is always bittersweet for me. Understatement. Sometimes, it is downright traumatic. I started working shortly after I turned 18 and it wasn't a job at an ice cream shop or supermarket. I officially had a contract with a major network as a radio announcer. I was a weekender/pinch-hitter initially. A couple of months in, I got my own daytime, weekday time slot and also did a weekend tandem show. New contract. Professionally, I think I did very well, despite the format and directive changes in the station and all the adjustments that I needed to make in my personal life and school to accommodate this job that was slowly becoming the center of everything. But leaving that first network was dramatic, to say the least. 

I was a young woman in the years before therapy was widely available (counseling or a priest was the next best thing) and Prozac was just taking off for college age kids to deal with... whatever they needed it for. Life. In my case, I can argue that it was more than your average person's life. This is show business now. Showbiz lite, I would call it. The invasion of privacy that I had to deal with though, it takes special skills to deal with things like that. To think that this was before the age of social media and I wasn't even a movie actor or anything of that level. But people knew when I went to work and where I worked. That's not hard. Turn on the radio. Eventually, the more curious individuals would get personal information: phone numbers, addresses. I think my parents definitely worried when "fans" started showing up at the house although they seemed friendly and they would bring gifts. It was just a little concerning that they had our address and I had no clue who gave it to them.

Barring the privacy issues, there were actually other elements in the network that made it hard to stay in that job. There's always a catalyst. That one event that finally makes you say, I'm done. That feeling that you were being pushed out, the reason doesn't even matter. I was young enough to say, I don't need this. I have my whole life ahead of me. So I attempted to walk out but the boss gently reminded me that I had a clause in my contract that required a two-week notice and, guess what? It was survey week too. So I had to stick it out and give them a great show, just crying my eyes out before and after each 3-hour run. They couldn't care less how I was, only that I got ratings. Boss walked with me on that last day, on the long walkway down to the parking lot, and I was out of that building... forever.

I hardly had time to mourn that job because someone got wind that I was quitting and already wanted me to check out their station. I did that, and politely said, thank you for the opportunity but I don't think more of the same is what I need right now. I wanted a fresh start where nobody knew me and I didn't have to say my name or show my face. I wanted to walk in, do an audition and get signed because they believed I could do the job. So... this story repeated itself, every couple of years. I just keep messing things up, I thought. I spent 5 years at one place... until I finally hung up the live show cap. The catalyst on that day was the stupid printer. I finally managed to beg someone for ink to print copy that morning and when that was done, the technician asked me, "What are you printing now?" "My resignation," I said. Bzzzzzzt, bzzzzzzt, whir whir, paper slide. Tape it to the boss's door. Buh-bye.

At this point, I needed to disassociate myself from the job because on that very day, I got offered a chance to just do voiceovers. Voiceover work is great. Years ago, didn't I say I wanted something that didn't require me to say my name or show my face? Well, here it is. I needed to think about it though, because change is hard. It's a real shift from live radio, a lifestyle I had gotten used to, but it was potentially worth more than the little side contracts I got from small-time cable channels. I could still keep those, because those were all TV. This was a real opportunity, network voice, just the FM stations nationwide, and they told me to give them a number. <big breath> I reached out to friends, a tight circle of former (advertising) agency folk, and one guy that became my friend after a chance meeting in the waiting room of a post-prod house. This guy, who had said goodbye to live radio and successfully transitioned to mainly VO work, was the most helpful. I had long conversations, got very drunk (this was possible) and in the next days, I made a decision. 

Record everything. That was it. My 15 minute job, my now husband called it. There would be light days for sure, and days when a lot of scripts needed to be recorded, but I also got to spend a lot of time just hanging out while waiting for them. I was not usually needed until the end of the day, when all the copy was in, but I may arrive around 1 or 2PM, have a Coke with one of the guys while he had a smoke, stride into sales and chat with those guys, a little PR, saunter over to AM and meet people there, like this kid and his parent who I would later work with for independent producing projects. A month later, on my birthday, I threw a big party and invited all the on-air and production people. They came. My boss said, "Wow, it took you to get these people to show up for a social." Yep. I'm sure the free food and drinks was really what did it. It's a tried and tested strategy, I promise you. Sadly, I only stayed with them for a year because... life. I finished my contract and helped them find a replacement. No big drama over printers or surveys. I was moving away. The staff gave me the prettiest Swarovski necklace, with a guitar pendant, as a going away gift. I cherish it. I switched the chain out to a real gold one that was more durable and didn't oxidize but the pendant remains exquisite. 

And so came another period of disassociating myself from the job. I was, at this point, still introducing myself as a broadcaster but without that job, who the heck was I? I got married, had one child, and it took 2 years for me to finally get comfortable with not having a career to speak of and find another focus. Well, hello, child. Mommy is going to be your tutor and you are going to be an amazing little student in my pre-school for one. But that whole time that I was writing daily lesson plans for the two year old, I was also finding myself and re-learning the things that actually, truly mattered to me. When people ask me, what do you do? Oh, absolutely nothing! Or I would come up with even crazier responses like, I just sit on my ass and spend my husband's money. Hahahaha. Real Housewife but without the $$$$ and the city. But I learned to listen to myself, to stop, think, and if the urge to take something on won't let go, only then do I jump in. 

I like to use the word disassociate a lot because I've often felt like when I meet people, the first thing they want to know is, what do you do? Your sum total as a person then becomes defined by the answer you give that question. If you say, I'm a teacher, then that is what they associate with the concept of you. But I am so much more than that! We all are. Realizing that, embracing that, that is freedom. Now you're free to do what it is that you really want, what it is that you're really supposed to do.

What is my life today? 

All my experiences, in life, and on the job, are now a part of me and every endeavor that follows will benefit in some way from all the things that I have learned along the way. The difference is that now, it is not the job that defines me. 

I could give you real life scenarios, what would you do? Maybe nothing as extreme as The Lost Bus. We're not all going to be given a chance to drive a school bus full of little kids away from a fire or be the teacher that kept everyone calm when there was a life or death situation. Everyday is a life or death situation, if you think about it. You could cross the street and be hit by one of those cars that never stop for the stop signs all around the neighborhood. End of the world, remember?

What if, as you were driving away from your house, some old man stops his car in the middle of the road and attempts to flag you down because he needs directions? Do you ignore him? Do you stop? I slowed down enough for the car behind me to expect me to stop. Then I rolled down my window. He shows me his phone and says, "Where is this building?" Pause, as I look at his phone. "X-Ray," he continues, in an accented voice. I tell him where the building is, and that he is to drive to the parking lot. "The entrance to that is right up ahead," I say. Then I drive off because there's that car behind me. But I needed to know, did I truly help this man? As I get to the end of the street, I decide to make a U-turn, drive to the parking lot I directed him to and I searched for him. I found him! I said, "I'll walk you." He didn't protest. I didn't want to leave until I knew he was where he needed to be... because that's where I needed to be, and not the person wondering if he made it to his appointment. 

It's not my job, but this act, this is what defines me. This is who I am today.

Playlist Recommendation: The Way It Is, Bruce Hornsby & The Range