I never would have thought, even three weeks ago, that my 28th year would turn out to be so different from my 27th, or all the ones before it. But the way it worked out, I ended up going into work on my birthday and telling my boss I had another job offer, giving him three weeks’ notice.
I wasn’t looking for another job, though I knew that I should be. I love my job and I have a lot of loyalty to it, because it’s my first “real” (I guess by real I mean full-time, consistent, salaried) job in publishing. Everything I had done in writing and editing before this had been part-time, or freelance, or local town paper type work. And so I feel some kind of obligation and emotional attachment to the job and to my boss, for being the first to take a chance on me, and for giving me the opportunity to do what I love and what I knew I was always meant to do.
In many ways it’s been the perfect job for me; I listen to my iPod and write and proofread all day, no one talks to me, and there is an endless supply of free flavored tea. If you know me, you know that this is my idea of heaven. I was promoted after a year from Assistant Editor to Senior Editor, and I suspect I had another big raise coming to me next month when my two-year anniversary came along.
Unfortunately, the job doesn’t offer any room for growth. There are two magazines, with two editors on each one, for a total editorial staff of four. So there’s no room to move up, no place for advancement; what started out as an entry-level position is doomed to be so, with the same duties and responsibilities, forever and ever. No matter how long I stay here, my job isn’t going to change and grow with me---I’ll just be getting older, and staying second in command in a staff of two, eternally.
This new job found me. They called me out of the blue a few weeks ago and said they had my resume on file from a previous position, but that something new had opened up for which I might qualify. After using my half-day Summer Fridays to go in for three interviews in a row, they offered me the position of Associate Editor for a pharmaceutical publication.
The commute is going to suck for the first month or two while I’m “training,” but after that I’ll be moving to an office that’s about an eight-minute drive from my house. Our schedules work out in a way that Allan will drive me every morning, and Access Link can take me home every day. And if something ever happens where either Allan or Access Link can’t come through, a cab ride there or back is still cheaper than my round-trip commute into the city is right now.
I’m terrified. I’m terrified of leaving my first “real” job and finding out that I hate the new one, or that they hate me. I’m terrified of finding out I’m not capable of doing what they expect me to do. I’m terrified that I’m not professional enough for the corporate world of publishing. I’m terrified that my stupid vision is going to be an issue and get in the way of me doing my job well. I’m terrified that Access Link is going to leave me stranded or not have the commute times that I need and I will be eternally stressed out because of them. I’m terrified that I’m shooting for something bigger when maybe I’m only qualified to stick with the mediocrity I’m comfortable with. I’m terrified of being a small fish in a big pond instead of the other way around. I hope I’m doing the right thing, because there is only moving forward, no moving back.
This year, I will learn how to conduct myself in an actual professional work environment. I will learn how to use a laptop for work despite all the eyesight trouble I may encounter, and shuffle between two offices. I will depend on others for help and transportation. I will learn HTML and CSS, and InDesign. I will understand the pharmaceutical industry. I will start my retirement savings. I will go back to school to finally get my MA in Journalism. I will re-learn how to study and manage my time and do homework again. I will leave the comfort of my first job, shed the training wheels, and do what is best for me. I will plan my future. I will make myself more marketable. I will step off the hamster wheel of work-sleep-repeat, and propel myself forward instead of in circles for once.
I will put my past behind me, and stop hating myself for the fact that it took me four years after college to begin my life. I will stop regretting those years I wasted working in daycare, and start working my ass off to catch up to everyone who started their careers at 22 instead of 26. I will conduct myself and make choices for myself in a manner that is fitting for my age level, my career level, and for where I want to be headed.
And three weeks ago, I had no inclination at all that change was coming.
