I know I’m a pain to my family.
They’re nice enough to not call me that to my face, but I see the roll of the eyes, the shrug of their shoulders.
I don’t want to be self-righteous about eating healthy, and god knows I don’t use those two words together:
But. Continue reading
This Valentine’s poem is in response to the blog contest by Susanna Leonard Hill, children’s author and blogger. The rules are simple: in 214 words or fewer, entrants must write a Valentine’s Day story or poem for children ages 12 and under, where one of the characters is grumpy. Special thanks to Mike Allegra and his fabulous grumpy cupid for encouraging me to enter. Continue reading
My first reaction when the new marketing director suggested that I sell myself surprised me.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” I asked.
I was being facetious. I hope.
“Because you’re not in charge of marketing and promotion,” M answered with a self-satisfied smile. She was as serious as a successful sale.
We had bonded immediately upon M’s employment as the second woman hired in a non-secretarial positon at the company.
Six months earlier, I had become the first female in the northeast office to sell outdoor advertising space.
Now, each morning when M and I arrived at 8:30, the doors of the bleak old building flew open to our new ideas, fresh enthusiasm, and bold determination to “make it” in a men’s only enclave. Continue reading
We all have times when we look back and moan, “what was I thinking?” I’m not talking about the petty times when we sign up for a half marathon or eat that second brownie.
I’m talking about a decision that tugs at our sense of values and, well, our sense of “self.”
Can you tell I’m procrastinating about revealing my marketing shame while delving into my new “writing career”? Continue reading
My career as proofreader for a feminist newsletter ended with a whimper, not a bang.
As much as I hated that first job in a “writing” profession, I still didn’t want to disappoint my boss, Pauline, a difficult woman who I grew to admire. She had no heart, but plenty of passion and skill. She even “promoted” me to write marketing brochures about the merits of our feminist newsletter.
Readership increased from 10 to 90.
Pauline forced me to write draft after draft of those brochures, teaching me how to edit down to sharp sticking points.
I sharpened my pencils, walked on tiptoe and never, ever opened the refrigerator door again (see A Towering Tongue Twisting Career Turn).
I celebrated a year later when the CETA grant expired by replying to dozens of “position available” ads. I was now a free woman with a M.A. in English and a year’s experience.
Still, no one wanted me. Continue reading