Memoirs and super successful blogs make writing about your life seem so glamorous or cathartic or even entertaining. But when you don't feel the desire to confront what may (or may not) be going wrong in front of your face, putting it on paper or on a computer screen for the world to see only makes those issues more real, more concrete, more tangible.
Which is why I guess the last several postings have been a) few and far between, and b) a drivel of emotional outbursts and questioning. Despite my best efforts to remain Queen of Denial, looking at the evolution of Make Yourself (or lack there of) belies the fact that there has been something missing.
In high school, I had a chemistry teacher, Mr. Bob Bewell, who was the eccentric, brilliant, nerdy, wonderful father figure of the science department. He of the tie-dyed lab coat is so beloved, a Facebook group dedicated to him and his quotes on life was created by former students. As a teacher and a father, Bewell always said he would try to answer any questions we had.
The one that I'll never forget was one day, the class smart ass (who shall remain nameless because in a class of 26, I'm sure 22-23 of us qualified) asked Bewell what the meaning of life was. He stopped discussing moles or ethelynes or whatever was that day's lecture, thought for a moment, and said, "Laundry. The meaning of life is laundry."
We all chuckled at the response, but he was serious.
"Life is exactly like laundry, because you keep working at it, and by the time you think you're done and you're all satisfied with yourself, you turn around, and there's another pile of laundry."
Well, Mr. Bewell, I've been through the spin cycle a few times since the beginning of 2011. But, in your (nearly) infinite wisdom, you were right.
I left Gannett on March 15 after surviving several "reorganizations" that came down from corporate headquarters. I survived because I was young and cheap, not because Father Gannett valued my skills, my hard work or my time. That was made evident when I had to accept the reorganized version of my job without knowing the days or hours. I went from Monday-Friday, 1:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. to Sunday - Thursday, 4 p.m. - Midnight, plus a new commute of 55 miles one way.
Between January 19 and February 4, 2011 I was given a raise, laid off, rehired, demoted and transferred.
And while I was fighting to keep a job that once seemed so promising, it now felt like accepting the position I had already held was a prison sentence. Those who decided not to reapply for their jobs during the reorganization were much happier than those who did stay on. Which told me all I needed to know.
So while working one job, I started interviewing for others. And lo and behold, NJBIZ popped up. All that mattered to me were the time requirements: 8:30-5, Monday through Friday, 20 minutes away. Because that meant a real life. A true, real marriage, with dinners and movies and a social calendar, not just a kiss goodnight and weekends crammed with the rest of life. It didn't matter what the atmosphere was or what the work was.
But as I discovered more about the company, an amazing thing happened. I discovered that I wanted the job for the job itself. I met people who had similar values to me. I found a newspaper that was growing and people loved to work for. It's anti-Gannett (or, maybe a Gannett refugee camp, or maybe even more accurate, a Gannett deprogramming site... there are four defectors in our office now, and more could show up any day).
Anyways, I'm writing again. I'm talking to people outside of the office. I have dinner plans. And I'm more myself than I've been in a very long time. People have told me they hear it in my voice, and see it on my face. Melinda Makes Herself Herself Again.
At the very onset of this blog, I wrote a piece about how The Butler Way says more about my resume than my resume does. And while my resume is more impressive these days, that still rings true. The key to finding value in my previous successes and failures, and to finding value in my work, was to join an office that believes in The Butler Way.
And while they may not line up word-for-word, NJBIZ employees are given a set of values when they begin that are eerily familiar to The Butler Way. Instead of those values being lip-service to appease shareholders and look nice in glossy pamphlets, they are adhered to and believed in. The Butler Way wouldn't work if the players didn't buy into the plan. But they do, and they have back-to-back Final Fours to show it.
I thought it was mere odd coincidence that many of my new co-workers were already pulling for Butler in the 2011 NCAA Tournament (some more than others), but the more I learn about what makes NJBIZ tick, the more I see the overlap in values and the obvious correlation between the school and the newspaper. Yes, Mr. Bewell, you were right. Life is like laundry. But now, my laundry is sorted, pre-treated for stains, and set to go on a normal schedule. And now I have help.
