I have no career. I have a job, and it is the same job that I will probably have for the rest of my working days, but it is not my career. I think of a career as something that defines a part of me. And by no means do I want this job to be any part of the definition, the essence of me.
I have been with the same company for eleven years. It was supposed to be a part time grocery money gig, but it quickly escalated into something so much more. I was full time shortly after I started. In retail, there is a lot of turn over and a lot of idiots. The idiot part is true of all industries. Anyway, someone quit or something like that and the next thing I knew, 32 hours. I was a cashier, but spent most of my time in the photo department. Since I wasn't getting paid the little bit extra, I bitched and got the slight promotion. Then the crackhead that was the gopher for the manager quit. (And she really was a crackhead at some point. She couldn't get promoted because of her police record for drug possession.) I moved into the gopher spot which was really nice. I don't remember what the actual title was, but it later became an inventory and pricing position. I had found my calling.
The manager got promoted to a new store and he was smart enough to take me along. I flourished in the new store. We were a great team. We were close in age, knew all the same movie quotes and both drank Dr. Pepper. I was loving my job. Then he got promoted to another store and did not take me with him. In his defense, there was someone already there in the same position. But that did not help my feelings at all.
I continued at that store until a new position opened up. I became a floating inventory specialist. I traveled from store to store in Des Moines. I covered vacations, I trained people, I became the answer to a lot of problems. I was good at it. When I walked into a store there was confetti and cheers. Sometimes a parade!
I held that gig for three years. Then like a cold wind, change was acoming. There was downsizing and my job was eliminated. The folks at corporate didn't know that I was the Mr. Wolfe of the district. (Pulp Fiction reference, watch the movie, Harvey Keitel character without the bloody car!). I got put into a store and settled down to a normal schedule.
Three weeks after that settling occurred, Ashlyn got diagnosed. My schedule was adjusted as needed and I did the best I could. Work was a nice distraction some days and other days, it was a wonder that I didn't stab someone with an ice pick. I had no problem keeping up with my job duties and managed to get a lot of things in right (Anne) order. The management staff was understanding about my needs outside of work and they left me alone to take care of the store as I saw fit. That lasted for two years and then my job was eliminated, again.
Well, that is a bit of an exaggeration, it was revamped to include some management type responsibilities. I did not want management type responsibilities. I pouted, I stomped my feet, I bought a lottery ticket. I took the job for a six week trial. Hated it. Absolutely hated it and I turned in my keys.
Now, my job is in the cosmetics department. I am not ideal for this position. Oh, I can make a department look fabulous. I have the most organized stockroom area ever. All my signs are correct and neatly hung. But I cannot sell you something you don't want. I cannot convince you or me that this wrinkle cream will undo 78 years of living. I cannot produce anything from a shelf that will turn back 50 years of sun worship. I will point you in the right direction. I will read books and magazines so I can offer suggestions. Hell, I will even google Dr. Oz to see what kind of gospel is spewing from of his mouth. But my heart won't be in it because I want to fix things (other then your face), I want to train people to do it right (my way), I want to have a career.
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