Careers are funny things if mine has been anything to go by. My career planning started as a small child dreaming of being a school teacher, lining up my toys for lessons each day in front of my small blackboard and making my long suffering younger and later school almost phobic cousin participate in pretend lessons during the school holidays – sorry! So, I did all the right things, work experience at my old primary school before heading off to do one of those new fangled B.Eds. Then came my first teaching practice...I HATED it! But I carried on regardless, got my degree and headed off to work in a related industry where I discovered publicity...I now know that was social marketing and Public Relations. I followed this path through a variety of roles for many happy years working long hours, enjoying myself trying to get the work life balance right when my young son asked why I couldn’t be at the school gate like other Mums and so on.
Then one day I realised I had really done enough and was no longer contributing as effectively as I used to...I hadn’t quite done a Campbell and become the story but I wasn’t doing my organisation any favours either. It took me quite a while to realise this and there was a lot of anger and heart searching on the way, a bit like going through bereavement only this time I was grieving for the person I used to be and could no longer be. It never ceases to amaze me now how much of my ‘identity’ was wrapped up in what I did each day, how much of ‘me’ was my career. I won’t bore you with the gory details of what went on and how I felt over a period of some 3 years suffice to say I can now look back with the wisdom of hindsight and wish there was a way of helping others who have reached this point but still don’t realise that.
It may be that some of these colleagues, friends - whomever - are facing a cross roads in their lives through age, health, boredom, fatigue; it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the recognition of this point and how they eventually come to terms with it. I often remember the dreadful moment when a former boss of mine suffered a stroke in his mid forties and really struggled to come to terms with the fact that he would never return to his career as he knew it then. Very much younger than when many of us face this turning point he spent a long time in denial but eventually good sense prevailed and he realised he owed his family the respect of trying to slow down so he could enjoy more time with them rather than struggling on and shortening his life even further.
There are others who just don’t have that realisation and keep trying to return to their career, refusing to give in to whatever the circumstances might be – “I’m not going to be beaten” you hear them exclaim bravely – or is it selfishly? Let me explain my harsh statement...
The guy who has been overlooked in reorganisation after restructuring after service re-engineering becomes bitter and twisted by the perceived demotions. But he does nothing to move on either physically or mentally harms the working relationships with colleagues and former friends, puts undue pressure on his family as he slips into a black depression is no better than the people he sees as being to blame for his slide from favour. The woman whose ill health is not so bad to make the organisation pension her off but who can no longer do her job as well as she used to ends up taking advantage of her colleagues’ goodwill – while it lasts – and shortens her own life expectancy to the detriment of her loved ones is frankly, plain selfish. The leader who starts to run out of steam and coasts towards retirement avoiding innovation and change brings down their organisation or team leaving them behind the competition and ruining young careers on the way through.
These examples and many others are symptomatic of the way we fail to manage our workforce as it ages and matures. Organisations do not think about ways to make it easier for people to downshift without losing face. If we took a more constructive approach, we could help people ease into a new identity without killing them or embittering them – or their colleagues. We should allow them to support the upcoming generation of leaders and pioneers as we teach respect for the work life balance.
I can recall being enraged I was not being given the chance of the next big job even though I knew my sell by date had been reached some months earlier and my best before was fast approaching! I still had a lot to offer but not at the pace I had to work at up until then, my brain could no longer cope and that in turn caused my emotions to overrule my rational behaviour. I was irritable with my family, OK – more irritable with my family! I became paranoid with colleagues. I retreated into myself. Then I realised that status was not the be all and end all of my life that I could ask to change my lifestyle and downshift. OK financially I was in a position to pay off the mortgage so whatever happened the roof would remain over our heads but once recognised I could still be a whole person without THAT career I found a new spring in my step, my confidence returned, I became the old me – and I was comfortable with it.
So chaps – if you are feeling jaded, if you’ve had spells of ill health, if you are pissed off... stop – for all our sakes!
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Letting go
Half term has been very different this time with the one and only spreading his wings and heading off on a school trip. Now, he has been away on trips before but they have always been in this country and have been ‘fun stuff’. This one has been quite different, destination Poland – Krakow to be precise, and included a visit to Auschwitz. As I write I am sitting waiting for the phone call to say he has landed safely at Luton Airport and is heading back home. I wonder what he has made of it? Did it stir difficult emotions? Did he allow himself to express those feelings? Will he talk to u about it all?
The only contact we have had was to let us know he had arrived at the hotel in Krakow a few days ago and that the room was OK if a little small for him and his two room mates. Will he have eaten well? Will he have slept well? Did he have enough warm clothes (I wasn’t allowed to participate in packing!)? So many questions but I MUST resist the temptation to ask them…yes he’s a teenager and I am not allowed to ‘cross question’. I know we will hear about the interesting stuff in the fullness of time but it is so hard as a Mum not to want to know minute by minute accounts. I’ve got to get used to this as he gradually grows away from my influence...or do I mean control? The GCSEs will be taken this spring/summer and then it’s 6th form – oh yes, and he’s the oldest in his year so driving lessons are on the list for September. Something else for me to worry about.
But as I think back to when I was 16 I was doing so much more so why am I worrying? I was the youngest in my year so perhaps that was what made it different? And yes, it is different for girls. We mature differently and in different ways. The world was very different then – full of the same kinds of temptations but somehow safer, or was it? I was interested in having a good time, getting into pubs and pushing the boundaries. He is much more private and happy to be in his room communicating in this new virtual world. He is interested the political world around him, much less superficial than my teenage years. But I know he will start to go out and about on his own soon enough. He is already talking about other places he wants to visit – that scares me because I have never been a great traveller, I think I am rather like a fine wine! But I have to let him become his own person, he’s not my little baby anymore he is a young man and needs to discover things for himself…just like I did as a young woman.
Post script: He got home safe and sound full of excitement at the riots in Krakow that greeted the NATO leaders, impressed by the North Koreans he met (nicest people there Mum) and insensed by the size of Air Force One parked on the runway of the airport!
The only contact we have had was to let us know he had arrived at the hotel in Krakow a few days ago and that the room was OK if a little small for him and his two room mates. Will he have eaten well? Will he have slept well? Did he have enough warm clothes (I wasn’t allowed to participate in packing!)? So many questions but I MUST resist the temptation to ask them…yes he’s a teenager and I am not allowed to ‘cross question’. I know we will hear about the interesting stuff in the fullness of time but it is so hard as a Mum not to want to know minute by minute accounts. I’ve got to get used to this as he gradually grows away from my influence...or do I mean control? The GCSEs will be taken this spring/summer and then it’s 6th form – oh yes, and he’s the oldest in his year so driving lessons are on the list for September. Something else for me to worry about.
But as I think back to when I was 16 I was doing so much more so why am I worrying? I was the youngest in my year so perhaps that was what made it different? And yes, it is different for girls. We mature differently and in different ways. The world was very different then – full of the same kinds of temptations but somehow safer, or was it? I was interested in having a good time, getting into pubs and pushing the boundaries. He is much more private and happy to be in his room communicating in this new virtual world. He is interested the political world around him, much less superficial than my teenage years. But I know he will start to go out and about on his own soon enough. He is already talking about other places he wants to visit – that scares me because I have never been a great traveller, I think I am rather like a fine wine! But I have to let him become his own person, he’s not my little baby anymore he is a young man and needs to discover things for himself…just like I did as a young woman.
Post script: He got home safe and sound full of excitement at the riots in Krakow that greeted the NATO leaders, impressed by the North Koreans he met (nicest people there Mum) and insensed by the size of Air Force One parked on the runway of the airport!
Monday, 2 February 2009
first food for thought
Do I really want to blog? - I’m not sure but I think I should give it a go, after all I am sufficiently opinionated and I like to have a good rant here and there. Plus who knows, I could actually learn something if people can be bothered to join in and respond here and there. My ego is big enough but I am actually quite shy so it’ll take a while to get going methinks. I don’t like to think I have ever been one to go on and on until I have bored the audience into submission – but maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part!
Well brace yourselves, here goes…
Just recently I have felt moved to write a letter, well actually pen the odd email (can you pen and e mail?)about ‘Master Chef’. It’s about the only reality TV I watch (granted I had a short flirtation with ‘strictly’ purely because I am a big fan of Julian Clary and just so wanted to see him continue his spats with the judges).
I thoroughly enjoy the programme and enjoy having my taste buds teased by the sight of some very interesting food – ‘TV DOESN’T COME TASTIER THAN THIS!’ But...I have increasingly become enraged by the round in the professional kitchens of those flashy restaurants. The contestants suffer in the heat and pressurised environment with ‘Chef’ yelling at all and sundry – fine, that’s what they signed up for and if they want to get ahead they’ve got to be able to take it. But…it’s the food, the waste of the food, which has got me overcooked.
OK, so the fish is just a bit off centre from the watercress garnish but it is perfectly edible.
OK, so you wouldn’t want to send it out looking a bit frayed round the edges. But…do you really have to sling it in the bin?
Surely someone could eat it? Surely the staff could have the rejects for a snack at the end? Surely the dish could be frozen and passed on as a ready meal to some deserving cause?
I guess it’s my upbringing of not wasting precious food and being made to clean my plate come what may that lies behind my fury. But I strongly feel it is obscene to sling out good quality food when there are many who will die for the want of much less. Perhaps I have got it all wrong and there are restaurants out there doing the decent thing with their rejects – but it doesn’t look good from where I sit each Monday to Thursday evening. I wonder what our campaigning Chefs like Saints Jamie and Hugh get up to at their establishments?
Right, that’s better, it’s off my chest. I promise I won’t be quite so intense each time I write. But I’ve been stewing on that one for a few episodes now. I shall mull over some more thoughts and I may just blog again soon – unless this one ends up in the bin!
Well brace yourselves, here goes…
Just recently I have felt moved to write a letter, well actually pen the odd email (can you pen and e mail?)about ‘Master Chef’. It’s about the only reality TV I watch (granted I had a short flirtation with ‘strictly’ purely because I am a big fan of Julian Clary and just so wanted to see him continue his spats with the judges).
I thoroughly enjoy the programme and enjoy having my taste buds teased by the sight of some very interesting food – ‘TV DOESN’T COME TASTIER THAN THIS!’ But...I have increasingly become enraged by the round in the professional kitchens of those flashy restaurants. The contestants suffer in the heat and pressurised environment with ‘Chef’ yelling at all and sundry – fine, that’s what they signed up for and if they want to get ahead they’ve got to be able to take it. But…it’s the food, the waste of the food, which has got me overcooked.
OK, so the fish is just a bit off centre from the watercress garnish but it is perfectly edible.
OK, so you wouldn’t want to send it out looking a bit frayed round the edges. But…do you really have to sling it in the bin?
Surely someone could eat it? Surely the staff could have the rejects for a snack at the end? Surely the dish could be frozen and passed on as a ready meal to some deserving cause?
I guess it’s my upbringing of not wasting precious food and being made to clean my plate come what may that lies behind my fury. But I strongly feel it is obscene to sling out good quality food when there are many who will die for the want of much less. Perhaps I have got it all wrong and there are restaurants out there doing the decent thing with their rejects – but it doesn’t look good from where I sit each Monday to Thursday evening. I wonder what our campaigning Chefs like Saints Jamie and Hugh get up to at their establishments?
Right, that’s better, it’s off my chest. I promise I won’t be quite so intense each time I write. But I’ve been stewing on that one for a few episodes now. I shall mull over some more thoughts and I may just blog again soon – unless this one ends up in the bin!
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