Targeted

The awkward thing about the upcoming restructuring at work is knowing next to nothing about what is planned for the department, yet having direct reports be laser-certain that I do. And resenting me for it. It's so strange, because of course, there's nothing I can say to convince them otherwise: they have assigned me to the "them" side of us-versus-them. That's OK; they need to be angry with someone and I'm accessible and safe to be angry with. But on the other hand, it's difficult. It makes me feel like even more of an island.

An orphan's packing list

Today I missed my mother, and that made me wonder why I don't miss my father more. While they both were alive, I was so much closer to my dad. And in the years after my dad died, my mother and I bonded so thoroughly that I was almost grateful to my dad for going. Which felt traitorous, but there you have it. When my dad died, I thought I would, too. I was in so much pain I wished I could just jump out after him. But what's strange is that my dad was always partly so sad with this life that after he left it, he seemed to be so thoroughly gone. And my mother? She seems close, even in the third year since she died. I feel her sometimes, when I'm cooking, or when I'm dithering between decision points. When I want to cry, I miss my mom. She always seemed to know when something was troubling me to that point, and one look from her would start the flood. I couldn't cry around my dad, though, because it completely unwound him. Any hint of waterworks and he'd unleash a pervasive aura of fear and impending helplessness that would dry my tears right in their ducts. But he knew how to listen, so if I could hold it together we'd discuss what was bothering me and that always helped in its own way.

I've been gone for a couple of days, in the Central Valley for work. Now when I travel, I pack more carefully than I did when I was younger and could just fling outfits into a bag without having to worry about medicines, contact solutions and permanently missing parents. For this trip, I packed light: one change of clothing, plus the necessary toiletries, meds and potions. I took my father with me in the form of a letter I wrote him many years ago. And to keep my mother near, I packed her favorite ring - the one with the filigree setting and the dark purple stone worn smooth between its facets.

Chaos and opportunity

I'm no stranger to job hunting. But in the past, job hunting seemed kind of like dating. I was dating jobs until I found the right one. Now job hunting seems like looking for a lawyer when you know your spouse is going to file for divorce. I thought I'd found the right position, in the perfect department, and I nested into the roses and prepared to spend the rest of my career in marketing in this organization that I love. Now I'm in danger of being pitched out of my nest, and I'm working to keep my equilibrium in the midst of chaos, doing my best to be the consummate supervisor and professional so I can support my team and represent myself well in whatever networking and interviewing I manage to line up. I don't sleep well, but I clean up well, and I plan my strategies and lead my meetings and chalk up my gains, all the while knowing that in a few short weeks my work life will look very different. I look forward to a day when life is calm again. But, lesson learned: Network, network. Always network; and no matter how much you love your job, always be at least a little bit on the market.

Blogging my chocolate work

I started another blog - Cocoaluscious - where I can prattle on about my chocolate work. Working in chocolate is something I've loved since 1981, when I began working at The Chocolate Gallery in Santa Barbara. There I learned the craft of working with semisweet, milk, and white chocolates, and the science of cocoa butter and temperature and agitation. I worked there for more than four years and then left to get a college degree in journalism, which I parlayed into university communications, and after a few short hops the marketing communications job I've had for the last five years and which is about to disappear as I've known it. I've loved my job, and now I need to consider my options: Accept what I'm offered, if I'm offered anything; look for something else; or go out on my own again, but this time as a chocolatier (everybody and their cousin's monkey is freelancing in editorial these days, so I won't go back to that). It's likely I won't be able to do that last thing, the chocolate thing, though it's the thing I want to do the most. For one, it would cut my family income by a bit more than a third. For two, it'd destroy my ability to save for retirement (I've been working hard to catch up, as the last economic downturn coupled with my now-late dog's cancer treatment, drained all my savings). For three, I'm extremely debt-averse. Still, I can't stay away from chocolate work. So, I'll keep learning and maybe I'll keep dreaming, and for sure I'll keep writing about it.

New Year. New Me. Yeah.

Well it looks like the job I've known and loved is going straight into the loo. A big reorg will be happening up next month, and who knows what the corporate origamists will come up with. Today was a day when I couldn't handle the uncertainty, and I wasn't up for dealing with more meetings, more politics, and more petty weirdness, so I stayed home. Don't get me wrong: I still love the people I work with, and the people who report to me especially. That's precisely why I was feeling so awful: I have no idea whether after next month I'll be working with them anymore, and it's just wrenching. Today I came up against the wall of it, and I couldn't think of anybody at work without crying, so home I stayed. I trolled the job boards for a while and sniffled and felt sorry for myself. I did some chocolate work and felt a little better, but the minute I stopped I started feeling sorry for myself again, so I went out for a little walk, then came back determined to hit the gym. But then my lovely husband came home to pet my head and he enabled my wallowing by putting on "The Plan," which was good, and opening a bottle of cava, which was better. Then we watched "Julie and Julia." Now the achiness is settling back in around my heart, but at least I don't feel like bursting into tears.