The question, then – and I am not the first to ask it – is …who the hell cares? That is still how my own “blogging” occurs for me. But everyone says I must.
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At the beginning of my so-called career, as I like to refer to it, I indulged my fancies – and worked at a bunch of different jobs. Jobs seemed easy to get in the 1970s, if you were young and cheap (Gee, not so much has changed).
Young women with liberal arts degrees – the ones I knew – started out as “administrative assistants,” shared urban living situations with roommates (much as they do today), and dined at home on inexpensive and readily available forms of protein like fried chicken livers – back in the day when eating at a restaurant was still considered a luxury and before people with no money used credit for everything.
As I had little idea what to do with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science, and was more concerned with paying the rent, I took whatever job came along that seemed interesting: moving vortex blowers around the globe for Hitachi America; providing secretarial support to a soon-to-be-legendary San Francisco graphic designer and his band of talented young protégés, many of whom would one day be pretty famous in their own right; or teaching colleagues to use the one Selectric typewriter at a carpet manufacturing plant in Ibadan, Nigeria. Work and play, work and play. What else was there? (Then my own children came along in the late 1980s and changed everything. Duty and responsibility, duty and responsibility…)
The next 25 years, though not without hiccups (can you spell “Y2K,” “dot com,” “mortgage crisis?”), gave birth to worker “free agency,” and I happily took the new ethos as a validation of the way I had been approaching life all along. The next generation – the seeds of my own, I guess – created a Free Agent Nation, and a lot of them got rich doing it. Company jobs were clearly no longer secure, the social contract was broken; and our kids were smart enough to reinvent the whole construct for themselves. Yougoguys!
But here we are in 2014. I am in the “Third Third.” Kids are grown. I get to choose. I spend my days as a financial advisor, helping families save and invest, – a form of fitness coaching which I love. It’s an awesome contribution to people and an ongoing discipline for myself. I sometimes go to a corporate office, sometimes work from home – so that on snowy days like this I get to stay warm and dry. I write at last. I edit the work of other writers, which I love. As a board member, I get to help nonprofit organizations that I care about: news women, playwrights, educators.
So who the hell cares? Who is out there, who else is stepping out onto the skinny branches in the Third Third and doing the same. Who are you? What are you getting up to? Speak to me!