Starting Over is Hard to Do - Finding Empathy and a New Job

As you may know from a piece I did a while back, a little more than a year ago I left a high-paying, high-profile job to take a career break. People thought I was crazy. But I did it for my mental health. I did it to find myself again. I did it because after 18 months of planning, I could. I had an amazing year-long break from employment. I travelled to Peru, Jordan, Belize and Hawaii. I attended a handful of weddings of my close friends. I showed off my country and celebrated Canada's sesquicentennial (that's 150th birthday if you don't speak casual Latin) with friends from abroad. I reunited with estranged family. I was there to help family and friends for big and little life events. I learned new skills and dusted off old ones. [gallery ids="2378,2357,2342,2047" type="rectangular" orderby="rand"] But something I did not do a lot of was make money. It began seriously cramping my globetrotting plans. Eventually, I had to begin searching for my next career opportunity. Or start learning rail lingo for my adventures as a hobo. Anyways, I pulled together a couple versions of the ol' resume, got peer feedback, updated my online profiles and started my search in earnest. I was all set for an easy transition back to the working world. Then a couple unexpected things happened. Life happened. Thing 1 - Emoting is the Worst As you may know, I am uncomfortable showing emotion - especially crying in front of people. When I was testing the water with my job search, an amazing mentor and friend of mine referred me for role. It was with a good company with good leadership and good benefits. The role was in my specialty and in line with the work I had been passionate about at my prior job. All in all, the kind of opportunity people would fight for, would be so grateful for. My brain, however, had a different take on things. While trying to write a cover letter enthusiastically explaining why I was the best candidate for the role, I burst into uncontrolled sobs. I know, right? WT actual F? I am uncomfortable with emotions and try to never emote in public. So this threw me, the unfeeling robot, for a loop. *Error 404: Page 'Rational Thought' Not Found* *Bleep bloop* Trying to get to the bottom of the tears, I walked through all the elements affecting me at that moment. The prospect of working again? Nope. Working for a small company? No. Working in sustainability? No. Working in the same industry I had just left? Ding, ding ding! I knew I wanted a change and the chance to learn about a new industry when I left my old job, but somehow let myself ignore that key consideration when searching for a new job. Derp. I was shocked at how readily I forgot one of the fundamental reasons I made a big life change. So I ended up doing something else I'm uncomfortable with - I told a perfect stranger what I was feeling. (BARF!) I called the job recruiter and explained that I wouldn't be applying for the position because I was having a strong negative reaction (gushing from my tear ducts) to working in the industry again.

I dreaded being vulnerable with someone I considered an influential business connection, because vulnerability is not welcome in the business person's businessy world of business. But it couldn't have gone better.

He empathized and opened up his own life in a small way, sharing his story of when he knew an opportunity wasn't right. He offered support, saying he'd keep me in mind for future opportunities, reviewed my resume, and asked if I knew what I was looking for in a new job. He respected my honesty, which led to him asking for referrals from my network knowing he could rely on a truthful assessment (two hires so far!). So watch out businessy world of business. Vulnerability and emotion are proving powerful allies to me. I may just decide to embrace them. Thing 2 - Being Wrong is the Worst With emotional breakdown number one out of the way, I was fortunate enough to have secured a couple job interviews that didn't make me break down in apprehensive tears. There was a role with an amazing organization dedicated to providing support and service to children of abuse. It was an org I had my eye on for a while, thinking it aligned my social conscience and business sense. It was an org several colleagues and friends said I would be "perfect" for. It was my best, most exciting prospect. Confident in my resume, well researched, feeling excited and fat butt squeezed into my fancy business outfit of business, I headed off to the interview. And then things went pretty wrong - and I don't mean the freak snowstorm that crippled services in the city. Throughout my interview experience with the organization, little red flags started popping up... [caption id="attachment_2558" align="aligncenter" width="320"] Some warning signs are more obvious than others.[/caption] I was on time but shown into the wrong waiting area, which was coupled with the interviewer not being told I had arrived. Eff. Eventually, I was rushed over to the interview area about 10 minutes late only to find the interview scheduled directly before mine was running late. So I sat another 10 minutes until the other candidate and my interviewer came out. They proceeded to stand in front of me and talk about their "amazing" mutual connections and how great the conference they had attended together had been. Eff. Once I was brusquely shown into the room, the first thing the interviewer said to me was that my time would be cut short because she had an important meeting at the top of the hour and her other interview had gone over. What the eff. The next thing that was explained to me were the role expectations - they had significantly expanded since the job post to become unrealistic and the salary had not been increased to match. The next thing that was described to me was the culture. By now, I am savvy enough to know a few common misnomers - that a "cause-driven", "above and beyond", "give everything" culture translates to overworked employees burning out because they are expected to do it all for a good cause and not for appropriate compensation or with respect to work-life balance. The last thing I observed was the attitude and behaviour of the interviewer. It was actually the CEO and my intro to her leadership was a lack of respect for my time or actual interest in my application - I would expect a leader to look up from her phone in an interview. I had clearly been brought in to ensure the incumbent candidate in the interview before me was perceived to have had fair competition. But I did not receive fair consideration. Things were not going well, which also meant I had nothing to lose. Normally an interview ends with questions.

I had lost interest in the role and frankly the organization by this point, so I decided to end by sharing my feedback instead and told them how they had made me feel. This instance of vulnerability and emoting didn't go over as well with the recruiters as the last time I told a perfect stranger I had *gasp* emotions.

But I left happy knowing I was wrong. I was wrong about this opportunity. I was wrong about the organization. But I was right to get my hopes up. I was right to go for it. And I was right to walk away. Thing 3 - The Actual Worst Continuing on with my interviews, I was fortunate to find an organization that was excited to have me and a role to which I could bring value. With my start date set nine days after my last interview, there wasn't much transition time. But I was ready to hit the ground running. Until it fell out from under me. The day I signed my offer letter was also the day my beloved kitties got unexpectedly and seriously ill. For the next three weeks, we were in and out of pet emergency rooms and vet offices trying to get them back to health. It was a struggle to pay attention or maintain any composure during the first few overwhelming days at my new job. The pressure of the role combined with the desperation to be able to help my pets was leading to sleepless nights, foggy days and forgetting to eat. It was not how things were supposed to start. It was the Sunday afternoon before my second week when I lost my sweet boy Dashy to medical complications. I lost his brother, my playful crocodile Nico, on Thursday afternoon. I was crushed. It was not how things were supposed to end. [gallery ids="2554,2555,2556" type="square"] My leaders and my new coworkers, who barely knew me, were understanding and supportive when I basically didn't show up to work for a week. My leader, out of compassion and to stem questions, shared with the small team why I wasn't in the office. Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about her sharing this information. The positive outcome was my team giving me the time and space I needed to grieve without jumping to conclusions about my early absence. The challenging outcome was with their outpouring of empathy. I found myself crying in the workplace every day and every time a teammate said they were sorry for my loss or asked how I was doing. I was wrestling with the fact that, to me, my grief was private - it was about a deeply felt personal loss that even now I was extremely hesitant to share in a public place - but everyone at this brand new place of employment knew. Knew that my heart was broken, knew that I was one breath away from tears, knew that I had aching, ugly emotions. I was wrestling with the fact that their first experience of me was raw vulnerability, a side I don't like to show at all let alone an entire workplace. It violates my "no crying at work/okay maybe but only in the privacy of a bathroom stall" rule.   A Touch More Human So what does any of this have to do with a travel blog? Part of what I am working to do on Wayfaring Ways is to share experiences – especially if they are hilarious, awkward or uncomfortable. So I’m sharing my experience of starting over in the working world precisely because it makes me uncomfortable.

I’m learning to equate being vulnerable with the deepest kind of bravery – the bravery to truly empathize with other humans and the willingness to let them empathize with you.

We so rarely have the opportunity to make connections on a real, personal level when travelling. After all, we’re usually just passing through. But maybe with a little bravery and a small willingness to share more of myself, my next adventure could be more meaningful. Oh and maybe there will actually be a next adventure with this return to the working (and paying) world.