Here's what I'm talking about...I'm in a meeting with 5 or 6 other people...all men. We are brainstorming about a new client or a new project...who is the ONLY one taking notes...yep, that would be me. At the end of the meeting, it's decided we need a presentation. Or a powerpoint show. Or an excel spread sheet. Whatever is needed, WHY DOES EVERYONE LOOK AT ME?
Are you constantly following up with people to make sure they are meeting their deadlines? When there's a big meeting, do you have to go around and round up your colleagues? Do you always have to set up the screen, and the computer and run the powerpoint show?
If you do, you're the work wife.
(Early in my career, I was working at EDS and went to a meeting with two guys...one of whom asked me if I knew shorthand. I DID, but I wasn't going to tell him that!)
Friday, March 20, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Stages of Job Loss
I'm lucky. I still have my job. I spent some time over the weekend with a friend who has lost his (I hate the word, "lost." It sounds like you merely misplaced your job...it will show up any minute now.) He was fired. Let's call it like it is.
He worked at this company for 25 years. And understandably, he's having a hard time accepting it. He's still in the denial stage--I forget if that's the first stage or the second, but he is convinced the department he left behind will crumble without him. And it won't. Oh, there might be some missteps and some fumbling around, and a missed deadline or two...but nothing earth-shattering. And eventually, some of his former co-workers might even like the situation better now that he's gone. After all, no one is unconditionally loved (not at work, anyway).
He is convinced the woman who fired him is an idiot and will crash and burn in a spectacular manner. He will watch for it for a while and then, when the next stage of job loss sets in, he will stop looking backward and begin to prepare for his future. That's when he'll finally get a new job.
I think the hardest part about losing your job is when you realize people stopped missing you shortly after you walked out the door. Not because they didn't like or respect you. But because in this economy, everyone is doing less with more and jobs are scarce and people know you have to keep your head down and just plow ahead. But thinking about the ones who are gone just reminds you that you are one of the lucky ones left.
No time for regret.
He worked at this company for 25 years. And understandably, he's having a hard time accepting it. He's still in the denial stage--I forget if that's the first stage or the second, but he is convinced the department he left behind will crumble without him. And it won't. Oh, there might be some missteps and some fumbling around, and a missed deadline or two...but nothing earth-shattering. And eventually, some of his former co-workers might even like the situation better now that he's gone. After all, no one is unconditionally loved (not at work, anyway).
He is convinced the woman who fired him is an idiot and will crash and burn in a spectacular manner. He will watch for it for a while and then, when the next stage of job loss sets in, he will stop looking backward and begin to prepare for his future. That's when he'll finally get a new job.
I think the hardest part about losing your job is when you realize people stopped missing you shortly after you walked out the door. Not because they didn't like or respect you. But because in this economy, everyone is doing less with more and jobs are scarce and people know you have to keep your head down and just plow ahead. But thinking about the ones who are gone just reminds you that you are one of the lucky ones left.
No time for regret.
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