I recently took to that wonderful Facebook to post a question I heard on the Adam Carolla Show podcast: Your porn star name is no longer “pet’s name/street you grew up on.” It’s now “favorite drink/biggest insecurity.” So what’s yours?
Nice to meet you; I’m Cherry Coke Total Lack of Career Success.
I was bombarded with some hilarious answers that all followed the same trend: My friends think they’re fat.
I’ve got a college buddy in LA who is one of the best money managers I know, and he believes he has man boobs. My friend in Salt Lake who just landed a job as a marketing director for a radio station was concerned that she’s a fat girl. And my former boss who climbed to be the general manager of a quintessential boy’s club thought she was a “chubby bitch”.
I got a ton of laughs out of everyone’s responses, but I also felt the urge to strangle most of them while screaming “So what if you don’t like your body! I am a size six, and I was on unemployment for over a year! I worked in a donut shop!”
Unlike most Americans, I wasn’t laid off; I quit. The fucked up thing is that I don’t regret it. In fact, if I had it to do again, I’d quit in spectacular fashion. Perhaps I’d tell my boss what a worthless, under-qualified piece of shit she was. Ah, a girl can dream. I had eight months worth of savings when I quit, and I collected unemployement since I was able to prove to the state’s satisfaction that I came from a hostile work environment, brought that to management’s attention, and both management and HR chose to do nothing. (I still have the letter from the state. It makes me smile.) I have a bachelor’s degree in Supply Chain Management and an MBA from Arizona State. I have 12 years of experience in my field, and I taught business at Scottsdale Community College for three years.
I didn’t find full-time work for 18 months.
It only recently hit me that I have a lot of anger over what has happened in my life over the past three years. A few things pushed me to realize this. For starters, my friends who have had career success are insecure about their looks. I want to shake them until they can all appreciate what they’ve acheived. (Side note: I happen to think they all look great!) Second, I started a new job this year doing exactly what I was doing in 2003. The gal who trained me on SAP had just graduated from ASU two months prior. And lastly, this link;
This link made me want to fucking spit nails.
So instead of medicating myself, I’m getting my anger out here over a series of blogs about the life of an unemployed MBA.